Can you live and die for Christ?

2^nd Sunday Easter

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

Just one week later and the scene is tense. The disciples are frightened and disbelieving, maybe even on the edge of freaking-out and abandoning the Gospel altogether. And who can blame them? For three years they've followed the man Jesus as he wandered the countryside teaching and preaching the conquering power of the Father's freely offered mercy. Healing the sick, exorcising the possessed, multiplying bread and fish to feed the thousands, the disciples had every good reason to trust that their teacher was exactly who he said he was. And then Judas sold him to the temple priests and the Romans nailed him to a cross. At the expected moment, when the Son of God should have come down from the cross and laid waste to his enemies with thunder and fire, at that moment, he instead cried out to his Father – Why have you forsaken me? – and died. Now his body is missing from the tomb and no one knows where they took him. Hunted as traitors and heretics, the disciples hide in fear, wondering what went wrong and why. To their surprise and shame, the resurrected Lord appears in their midst, and says, “Peace be with you.” Despite their lack of faith, their abandonment of hope, the Risen Lord shows them his mercy.

Or maybe he shows them his mercy b/c of their lack of faith and abandonment of hope? When Thomas the Twin returns to their locked-down hide-out, the other disciples bear witness to the Lord's appearance. He refuses to believe their testimony; he refuses to believe that the resurrected Lord appeared to them, showing them his wounds. In defiance and with all the arrogance of a modern American, Thomas announces, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” One week later – this week – the Risen Lord appears again in their midst and again shows them the Father's mercy, “Peace be with you.” And rather than punish his arrogant disciple, Thomas, the Lord does the unexpected again. He relieves Thomas' disbelief in the only way that Thomas could accept: “Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe.” The Lord's gift of Divine Mercy moves Thomas to an act of faith. He shouts, “My Lord and my God!” 

We can sympathize with Thomas' disbelief. We can sympathize with his faith. No doubt each one of us have lived through days and weeks of disbelief, and days and weeks of vivid faith and hope. We can even sympathize with the frightened disciples, locked away in their hide-out. Over the centuries, the Church has thrived in hiding and barely survived out in the open. We've ruled empires and been ruled by them. We've shaped whole cultures and allowed ourselves to be shaped by them. Whether we are hiding in fear of the State or openly thriving in the marketplace, there is one constant that never fails us: God's enduring and freely offered gift of mercy for the forgiveness of our sins. That offer, this gift never changes. Our Lord always appears in our midst and says, “Peace be with you.” The stillness of that hope and the constancy of that faith pulls us to believe in him and belief in him gently lays us down with love. Thomas' arrogant demand for physical proof is born of fear. If what his fellow disciples tell him is true, then he is obligated to act, to change, to become someone wholly given-over to the power of Spirit who is Love. That commitment is more than just frightening; it's dreadful, filled with the possibilities and promises of giving testimony to an event he himself did not witness. Can he bring himself to live as a follower of Christ and die as his witness when he does not/cannot know if Christ is truly risen?

That's a question we must ask ourselves. Can we? Can I live as a follower of Christ and die as his witness when I do not/cannot know if Christ is truly risen? It's one thing to live as a follower of Christ, to live using his words and deeds as my model. It's a whole different kind of thing to die b/c I live according to his words and deeds. Thus, we are tempted to surrender to the world every day. And in small, quiet ways we do. We surrender a piece of our freedom in Christ every time we sin. We surrender every time we fail to bear witness. And it will all end in total surrender to the world if we do not surrender totally to Christ first. A total surrender to the world will not end the Church. The Church will always endure. What will come to an end is the life in Christ for those who give up, for those who – like Thomas and the disciples – choose despair over hope, choose hiding-in over going-out. When Thomas sticks his hand into Christ's wounds he shouts, “My Lord and my God!” What went on in his head during those seconds btw feeling our Lord's torn flesh and his confession of surrender? Maybe he realizes his mistake and repents. Maybe he feels ashamed of his denial. Maybe he is convicted in his heart that his mind is wrongly closed to believing what he cannot see. Maybe, just maybe his fear is given rest and his anxiety is appeased by the knowledge that his fellow disciples have testified in truth: the Lord is no longer in his tomb! Thomas is made faithful by the radical truth that his Lord and God is truly risen! Knowing the Risen Lord and believing in the Risen Lord makes Thomas a man-sent-out, an apostle. A man who is what he does and does who he is.

Each one of us is made faithful by the truth of the Risen Lord. If you come forward this morning to eat his body and drink his blood, you are putting your hands into his wounds. Do not be unbelieving but believe. Do not be unknowing but know. And ask yourself: if I can live as a follower of Christ, can I die as a follower of Christ? To say yes I can is the beginning of your surrender.

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Justice & Mercy come together

5^th Sunday of Lent

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

You've seen those cop and courtroom shows where the lawyer asks the hostile witness a damning Yes/No question. The witness starts to give a detailed answer and the lawyer yells, “Answer yes or no!” The witness reluctantly answers either yes or no and the lawyer smiles, looks knowingly at the jury, and dismisses the witness. This is the sort of drama the scribes and Pharisees try to pull Jesus into. This woman was caught in the act of adultery. Should she be stoned to death? Yes or no?! Fortunately, for the woman, Jesus is no easily intimidated witness. He is the Just Judge who sees into the hearts of both the woman and her accusers. Jesus does what he always does when his enemies try to corner him with lawyerly questions – he asks one of his own: who accuses her? Where are her accusers? Let them cast the first stone to put her to death. While he waits for the stones to start flying, Jesus writes in the dirt. John doesn't tell us what he writes. In the meantime, no stones are thrown. No one speaks against the woman. Slowly, the mob slinks away, beginning with the elders. Then, justice and mercy come together and the woman is sent on her way with a admonition to sin no more.

What just happened? Is Jesus teaching us that adultery isn't a sin? No. Is he saying that the woman was innocent of the sin? No. Is he telling us that as sinners ourselves we cannot call sin Sin? No. To understand this bit of drama we need to understand Jewish Law. It takes two to commit adultery. Where was the woman accomplice, the man? According to the Law, he is subject to stoning as much as she. The one who witnesses the sin must make the public accusation. Where is the witness/accuser? If the accused is found guilty, the witness/accuser must throw the first stone, i.e., be the one to execute the guilty. The scribes and Pharisees make the accusation, but they did not witness the sin. No one in the crowd witnessed the sin. Jesus knows this. So, he dares the crowd to make themselves into sinners, criminals by executing the woman in violation of the Law. Nothing in this bit of drama says that adultery is anything but sinful. Nothing says that sinners can't or shouldn't call sin Sin. What this bit of drama says is that if you are going to use the Law to condemn a sinner, you'd better be following the Law yourself. Sin is sin. Sinners are persons. Call sin Sin. Call persons forgiven.

Jesus dares the scribes and Pharisees to follow the Law. They can't. Doing so would condemn them under the Law. To underscore his own accusation of hypocrisy, Jesus writes in the dirt. The Law forbids writing on paper on a holy day but allows writing in the dirt. Though John doesn't tell us what Jesus is writing, tradition tells us that he is alluding to the prophet, Jeremiah. Jeremiah cries out, “The rebels shall be enrolled in the netherworld.” To have your name written in the dust is to be enrolled in the netherworld as a shameful rebel against God. The woman's accusers watch Jesus writing in the dirt; remember Jeremiah's righteousness cry to God; and then ask themselves: are we prepared to be consigned to the netherworld as rebels against God? “In response, they went away one by one, beginning with the elders.” Confronted—even subtly—by their own failures in holiness, the scribes and Pharisees simply fade away to plot another trap for the Lord. Jesus says to the woman, “Go and sin no more.” He grants mercy to the sinner, the person while naming sin Sin.

And that's the difference btw man's justice and God's mercy. Man's justice condemns both the crime and the criminal. God's mercy passes sentence on the sin and forgives the sinner. By forgiving the sinner, God does what God Is: Love. Forgiveness of sin, showing mercy to the sinner is in no way an admission that sin isn't Sin. The righteous do not need mercy, therefore, only the unrighteous may receive it; that is, only those found guilty of sin require mercy in the first place. It's vital to our growth in holiness that we understand how God's mercy relieves us of the burden of sin. The weight of disobedience is crushing. Under the heavy load of sin, we cannot follow after Christ; we cannot complete our mission “to go and do likewise” if we are suffering in slavery to our disobedience. This is why the Father sent to Son to lift this burden off our backs. Christ has removed the yoke of sin and we are now free to follow him. When Jesus refuses to condemn the adulterous woman all he is doing is freeing her so that she might choose to take up his yoke and do the joyous work of witnessing to God's mercy. Adultery is still adultery. But no sin—not even adultery—can forever chain a soul in servitude when the Father's forgiveness is freely offered and freely received.

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Without the Father We Are Nothing

4^th Sunday of Lent

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

Tulane Catholic/OLR, NOLA

This parable has it all! Self-righteous religious folks. A disrespectful son. A father's disappointment. A family broken by sin. Loose morals, financial ruin, an inevitable rock-bottom comeuppance complete with pigs, and fraternal jealousy; then, conversion, confession, repentance, absolution, and, finally, rejoicing. Much rejoicing. This parable is about a father's mercy, a son's dissipation, another son's anger and...you and me. This parable, like all of Jesus' parables, works on several levels at once. It's about Israel's infidelity and a return to grace. It's about the Church's infidelity and her return to grace. It's about my faithlessness and yours and our happy return to the Father. The foundational truth revealed in the parable is fairly straightforward: outside a filial relationship with the Father we can expect little more than misery. Fortunately, the Father is Mercy and any sinner who repents and asks for forgiveness will receive it. We know this b/c Jesus eats with sinners. He doesn't eat with sinners to signal his approval of their sin, but to reveal the always, already opened arms of the Father, waiting to welcome us home. In confession and repentance, we are always joyfully welcomed home.

So, this is the Parable of the Forgiving Father. He's sinned against twice in the story. First, the younger son wishes his father dead by asking for his part of the farm. That's what this request amounts to: give me my inheritance now b/c to me you are dead. Second, the older son – sick with self righteous jealousy – criticizes his father for forgiving his disrespectful younger brother, saying, in essence and with much resentment, you are a foolish old man! What are the father's options here? He could turn away the younger son, pointing out how he deserves his slave-wage job, working with pigs. He could rant about the disrespect he's been shown by his sons. He could vent his disappointment and reject them both under the Law. Friends, family, neighbors, even the religious folks would applaud the steel in his spine and the righteousness of his anger. These two ungrateful brats want all that is his, but they do not want him. They want his wealth, but they want it detached from their filial obligations to him. Instead of bouncing them both out of his life, the father chooses mercy. Always mercy.

Do the sons' attitudes toward their father sound familiar? They should. It's the spiritual history of Israel, the spiritual history of the Church. It might even describe my spiritual history and yours. Since the serpent started chatting up Eve in the Garden, we've been prone to believing that we are capable of becoming gods w/o God's help. Over the millennia, we've turned to alien gods, foreign rulers, ancient philosophies, modern science, postmodern technology, materialist ideologies, secular politics and utopias, and sometimes just plain old-fashioned magic in search of a way to become gods w/o God. This is the sin of Pride, the root of all sin. And all sin is the rejection of our filial relationship with the Father. The younger son looks for salvation in wine, women, and song. The older son looks for salvation in being a slave to his father's orders. Both see their salvation as products of their own hands. Something they themselves can conjure up and live out on their terms alone. Both resent their father for his outsized role in their lives. They see him as suffocating, controlling, unlikable, and ever present. Most importantly, both sons fail to love, fail to give thanks, fail to honor where they came from and how they got there. They cannot be happy b/c they refuse to be joyful. They will not to surrender themselves to all that the Father has to give them.

If Lent is about anything at all, it's about practicing the spiritual art of surrender. That is, the art of turning ourselves over to the will of the Father and living our best lives according His commands. Yes, that sounds terribly old-fashioned and maybe even a little scary. But we are the freest that we can ever be when we think, act, feel, and speak in accord with our final end – eternity with the Father. The big and small sacrifices we choose to make during Lent work on us to turn us toward Him who best fulfills our deepest desires, our brightest goals. We can imitate the sons. We can wallow in the material stuff of the world, feeding our passions, and wasting our inheritance. We can wallow in our self-righteous adherence to the Law, judging sinners, and being resentful of our Father's mercy. Or, we can be like the father in the parable. We can choose to be elated that a lost son or daughter returns home. We can choose to throw a party for those who came to their senses and received the Father's mercy in confession and repentance. We can choose. We can choose to become like God with God. To be Christ with Christ.

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Can you receive a gift?

1^st Week of Lent (Th)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic Priory, NOLA

Even the wicked know how to give good gifts to their children. True. The question is: do those children know how to receive good gifts? Having a gift given is not the same as receiving it. I can be given a gift but receive it as an entitlement, or as payment on a debt. A gift isn't a gift until it is received as a gift – freely given, freely received. We are used to the tit-for-tat exchange of goods. No Christmas gift for Bob this year b/c he didn't get me anything last year! That's bartering, not gift-gifting. The gift of the Cross is not only freely given but universally given, given to all time and place. From the moment of creation to creation's final hour, the gift of the Cross gives eternal life – IF we choose to receive it as the gift it is. We are free to believe we are owed salvation or to negotiate for heaven. That nothing worthwhile is ever truly free. But Jesus says, “Even the wicked know how to give good gifts to their children.” If even the wicked can be generous to their children, why should we turn a mercantile eye to the Father's gift of salvation? Lent is our time to learn the good habit of freely receiving all that God had to give us.

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The Devil wants to worship you

1^st Sunday of Lent

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

“For a time.” For a time. The Devil departed from him for a time. Meaning what? The Devil is coming back. He always comes back. In that desert, after 40 days of fasting and prayer, Jesus is confronted by man's first and only real Enemy. The one who would sell the already broken promises of power, riches, fame, unbeatable security, and perfect safety for the price of your soul; the one who lies to Eve, telling her, “You can be a god w/o God”; the one who accuses us day and night before God, that one is bold enough or dumb enough to try his con game on Jesus. “If you are the Son of God...” IF you are who you SAY you are...jump through these hoops and prove it. It's a child's dare. Sneering, petulant, angry. It's also an attempt to bribe Jesus into revealing his Messianic mission and ministry before the appointed time. Jesus' reply is our template, a map for traveling through our own Lenten desert: trust the Father's loving-care; worship no other god; do not test His will. The Devil departs from him...for a time. He is coming back. He always comes back. And Lent is our time to train intensely for his temptations.

First, we have to understand what it is “to be tempted.” If the Devil shows up on a Friday during Lent and waves a plate of grilled tofu steaks under my nose, I can easily say no. That just doesn't tempt me. However, if he pops in with a dozen vanilla cream filled Krispy-Kreme doughnuts, well, he got my full attention. To be tempted is to be lured in. Seduced. Drawn into a sin by an apparent good. And that's the hard part of deflecting temptation – the Devil never tempts us with something that we cannot conceivably regard as good. He uses the apparently good to entice us into an abuse of the truly good. Money, e.g., is a good. But if I worship money as my god; if I have become Money – my being is defined by my wealth – then I can be tempted with it to sin. Same goes for all the goods of creation: drink, food, sex, leisure, security, friends, family, career. All good. But none is God. The Devil is an artist at taking a good and twisting it ever so slightly to make it damaging to the soul. He can twist it to excess – hoarding, gorging; and he can twist it toward waste – wantonness, intemperance. To be tempted then is to be hailed as a god by the Devil and offered the chance to worship yourself instead of your Creator. Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return!

How do we remember our origin and end in dust? Like any other 21^st c. over-educated, middle-class American professional, I am tempted by the glamours of security and comfort. There's food in the fridge. Bills are paid. Insurance secured. I have a car, a cell phone, a laptop. The temptation isn't to acquire more of each or even better of each. The temptation is to make these comforts and securities into my gods. To make them into who I am rather than merely using them as tools. I'm not denying the Father's providence by having medical insurance. But the fear of losing it can be used to tempt me into sin. Jesus says, “Man does not live by bread alone.” In fact, we do not live by bread at all. We live by the gift of God's love in which we live, move, and have our being. Without His care, there would be no bread to eat. Without his care, none of us would exist to need bread in the first place. So, our first response to any temptation is to thank the Lord for His loving-care. To thank Him for creating Krispy-Kreme (and money and sex and jobs) and for showing us His beauty in created things, including ourselves most especially. Turn the temptation into an opportunity to give God thanks and praise. And then watch the Devil flee!

Remember: all temptations are grounded in the possibility of committing the sin of Pride, the mother/father of all sin. Pride is the false belief that I can achieve godhood w/o God's help. I can do this salvation on my own. Wealth will save me. Science, politics, religion will save me. Technology will save me. I will save me. Something, anything other than God Himself can and will save me. The moment you entertain this lie, you open yourself to temptation. You literally invite the Devil to worship you and offer you sacrifice. His sacrifice to us is always the same: praise and glory in this temporary world. All the Important People will count you among their number. Applause. Awards. Prestige. The Best People will think you deserve to be in their ranks. All you have to do is lie to yourself, call yourself a god, defy the Father's will, and do and think and say whatever we say you must. When death comes for you – as it always does – you will be a god of the grave, a deity of dirt and ash. We did not create ourselves. We cannot recreate ourselves. And we cannot make ourselves into gods. Temptation is fundamentally a lie, a lie used to seduce us into the trap Adam and Eve fell into. Turn temptation into thanksgiving and see your way out of this Lenten desert.     

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Start shaking your sieve!

8^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

Lent approaches! Now is as good a time as any to ask ourselves: am I bearing good fruit, or am I bearing bad fruit? Am I producing love, mercy, justice, and faith? Or, am I producing hatred, vengeance, injustice, and infidelity? If you are anything like me, your fruit basket is a little bit of both. There's some impatience along with some wisdom; a bit of anger and some mercy; maybe a few instances of injustice and a moment or two of faith. Living in the world while not being of the world has never been and will never be as simple and easy as we might like. As my mother used to say while we worked in the butter bean patch, “That's a tough row to hoe.” But why is it a tough row to hoe? Why do we have to struggle to do the Good and avoid Evil? Well, we are rational animals. We eat, sleep, reproduce, work, play, and then we die...like any other animal. We differ from every other animals in that we are rational; that is, we have been given the gift of moral deliberation, the ability to make moral choices. And therein lies the problem. Thanks be to God that he has given each of us a conscience – the ability to discover and recognize moral truths when we see them. Jesus says, “A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good. . .”

Far be from me to accuse our Lord of begging the question! But what is a “good person”? A good person is one who produces good fruit. OK. But what is “good fruit”? Hitler thought murdering the Jews was a good thing. Mao thought destroying 4,000 years of Chinese history and culture was a good idea. Putin thinks invading Ukraine is a good idea. Is genocide, cultural suicide, and war all good b/c someone believes they are good? Obviously not. But that is exactly what most modern people believe – if I believe it's good, it's good. We may even hear Catholics say things like, “My conscience tells me that what you are calling a sin is actually a good thing.” These days the sin in question is almost always something to do with sex: abortion, same-sex behavior, premarital sex/cohabitation, etc. It's this era's obsession. NB the use of “conscience” here. It's used like a voodoo spell. Just add “my conscience tells me” to any sentence and whatever follows is magically good! That's not how conscience works. That's not how any of this works. Conscience discovers and recognizes moral truth. Conscience does not invent moral truth. So, we can ask: how does conscience work?

Conscience is easy to define and hard to explain. Conscience “bears witness to the authority of truth in reference to the supreme Good to which the human person is drawn”(CCC 1777). As Christians, we are gifted with a supernatural desire: to return to God, the Supreme Good. To return to God means knowing and acting upon the truth, making moral decisions that produce good fruit. As human persons we are both rational and passionate. We can rationally deliberate, and we can react emotionally. In our reason, we are most like God. So, our reason must rule our passions; our rational nature must rule our animal instincts and appetites. When passion rules reason, we are less like God and drawn away from Him. Hitler, Mao, and Putin allowed passion to rule them. Greed for riches, lust for power, anger with their enemies, envy at success, pride in their own strength. And millions died in war, disease, and starvation. Our own failures in choosing Evil will not produce death, disease, and destruction on the scale of a world war. But they will nonetheless lead to death, disease, and destruction. For ourselves and our loved ones. God gifted each of us with conscience so that we always know the Good to choose.

Like any God-given gift, conscience must be received, refined, and put to use. God gives you a gift, so you are responsible for cultivating and using it. Conscience is the gift of discovering and recognizing the truth. It's not magic. It's reason and revelation; that is, our rational minds and God's revealed truth. A well-formed conscience is one that has been shaped and is guided by right reason and Scripture. A moral judgment that defies reason and denies the truth of Scripture is not a well-formed conscience. If you firmly believe that one race of humans is lesser than another race of humans, adding “in good conscience” to your false belief does not make it true. If you firmly believe that killing a child in the womb can be morally good, adding “in good conscience” to your false belief does not make it true. If you firmly believe that sex outside of marriage is morally fine, adding “in good conscience” to your false belief does not make it true. Adding “in good conscience” to an Evil choice does not magically transform Evil into Good. We have chosen Evil and added lying to the charges. We have failed to cultivate a God-given gift and allowed ourselves to be duped by the Enemy.

So, how do we listen to conscience? Jesus tells us, “Remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly...” IOW, sin makes us stupid, that is, irrational. We cannot see Evil as Evil when we are participating in Evil. Aquinas teaches us that when we consistently choose Evil and call it Good we become fools. And fools never see their own folly. The first step then is confession, penance, and absolution. Be free of sin so that your well-formed conscience may shine. Then study what the Church teaches about moral issues. Not only what She teaches but why She teaches what She does. Our tradition is deeply rooted in reason, Scripture, science, and the natural law. Rely on the wisdom of the saints. When confronted with a hard moral question, I remind myself: “I am not as smart as 2,000 years of Church teaching.” Ask a friend who is advanced in holiness. Talk to your pastor. Next, practice, practice, practice; that is, practice making good moral choices. Yes, you will get it wrong on occasion. Go back to confession. It takes time and patience to acquire wisdom. Sirach says, “When a sieve is shaken, the husks appear.” But if you never shake the sieve, the wheat and husks remain together. Lent is coming. Start shaking your sieve! 

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Are you happy with your face?

7^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

Audio File

So...there you are: standing before the Just Judge. (You've died, btw). You're standing before the Just Judge, waiting your turn. Back in your parish – your family, friends, and co-workers have gathered for what you hope is a real funeral Mass and not a “celebration of life.” You need serious prayers right now! Not cutesy stories and a canonization homily! As the line moves you closer to your judgment, you remember something you heard once at Mass: at the final judgment, Christ the Just Judge will look into my face. If he sees his face in mine, then I lived in the world as if I were already in Heaven. I am ready for the eternal wedding feast. However, if he sees my face instead of his, then I lived in the world as one belonging to the world. He cannot recognize me. I have chosen to be excluded from the company of God and the blessed...forever. Unfortunately, it's a little late for soul-searching. You've died. The face you wear is yours for eternity. Is it Christ's or yours? How do we come to wear the face of Christ now, before we die? Jesus says, “Stop condemning and you will not be condemned...the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you.”

So, are you happy with your face? Is your face the eternal face of Christ, or do you wear the false face of the passing world? If the former, keep doing what you're doing! You're on the right path. If the latter, we need to talk. (I'm guessing that most of us aren't sure, including me, so we'll struggle on). Here's what we need to talk about: you and I decide for ourselves whether we join the eternal wedding feast or the eternal feast of worms. Now, this may be a revelation for you. And you may find this truth reassuring. I get to decide where I spend eternity! Great! At the risk of throwing ice water on your joy, I need to add: this is not a once and done decision; it's a daily, hourly decision we make with every thought, word, and deed, with every breath we draw. Since death comes like a thief in the night, and there is no changing your mind after death, vigilance is key. So, at the forefront of your heart and mind is the imperative, the command from Christ himself to love God, self, and others; to judge as you want to be judged; to measure others as you want to be measured; to forgive as you want to be forgiven. IOW, to be Christ in the world so that you will always be Christ when you leave the world. That's how we acquire his face for our own.

And there's no need to sugarcoat the truth here. You know it already: this is no simple task. Why is it difficult? I cannot read your heart and mind. When you do or say something that prompts me to judge you – tempts me to sin – I can't read your motivations. I don't know your heart or mind in that moment. I'm reacting to your words and deeds. I don't forgive you b/c forgiving you might lead you to think that I approve of your words and deeds. That I'm joining you in your sin. Maybe forgiving you will make you think it's OK to sin against me, or lead you to conclude that your sin isn't really a sin after all. Your words and deeds hurt me, angered me, shamed me. And I need to react out of hurt, anger, and shame. That doing so will not make things better is irrelevant. You have wounded my pride. Now both of us stand condemned. What's missing from these confused deliberations? Sacrificial love. Charity. And a very practical consideration: do I want to wear the face of Christ? The world wants me to react to an offense aggressively, decisively. Forgiveness is weakness. Vengeance is strength. The world also wants me at the table for the eternal feast of worms.

But if I choose to wear the face of Christ and to join the wedding feast of heaven at my death, then I choose forgiveness w/o hesitation. It is precisely b/c I cannot know your heart and mind that I assume grace and measure out to you mercy overflowing. I forgive you not your sin. You forgive me not my sin. You and I are human persons; we are not our sins. We are not our sins so long as we are capable of repentance and receiving God's mercy. At death, we lose the gift of repentance, and our face is set. If death were to find you right now, whose face would you be wearing while awaiting your final judgment? Remember: thief in the night. Vigilance. Always be prepared. In a little more than a week from now, we will begin the Great Lenten fast. We'll be reminded of our beginning and our end: ashes, dust. And we'll be exhorted over and over again to repent, to turn to the Lord, to believe the Gospel. Forty days is more than enough time to turn vice into virtue, to acquire the good habit of immediate forgiveness, to figure out whose face we will wear into the grave and before the throne of judgment. “The Lord is kind and merciful,” the Psalmist sings. His kindness and mercy is yours and mine if we choose it. The thief always comes. Choose wisely.

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"I feel seen"

6^th Week OT (T)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic Priory, NOLA

Kids these day have a saying, “I feel seen.” It means that someone has said something that “calls me out” or indirectly criticizes me. Mark's relentless skewering of the disciples for their lack of faith and their failure to understand Jesus' teachings...well, I feel seen. I feel skewered. And, of course, that's the point. Who am I supposed to be in the gospel story? Jesus?! No. That's the goal, sure. But it's not where I am right now. Right now, I'm not listening to Jesus b/c I'm hungry or crazy-busy or taking a nap or otherwise just putzing around, avoiding paperwork. Jesus is warning me about the dangers of falling into the vices of Herod and the Pharisees, and I'm just wondering if I can get away with adding another Diet Cheat Day to my weekly calendar. What's the problem here? One, Jesus' perspective is eternal. He sees it all at once. I don't. Two, he's w/o sin. I'm not. Three, he's the embodied Word of God. With baptism, I am too, but since I'm not eternal and remain sinful, I can't quite grasp what that means here and now. So, in between wondering what's for dinner and watching Korean candy making vids on Youtube, I manage to squeak out some prayer, some spiritual reading, a decade or two of the rosary, and maybe a little community time. Hardly the dangerous stuff of Herod and the Pharisees but also not exactly what Jesus is asking for. What is he asking? “Do you not remember. . .?” Honestly, no. When I'm whirling through another day of meetings and classes and NOLA traffic, I don't remember. I forget. If you “feel seen” by this Gospel, own it. Name it. And like any good habit, eventually the repetition of noting how you forgot will make you remember.    

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We are blessed right now

NB. The deacon is preaching this evening, but I thought I'd write a homily anyway. . .just to stay in shape. 

6^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic Priory, NOLA

The promise of heaven for good behavior and the threat of hell for bad behavior is really all about social control. It's about using the promise/threat of an afterlife to keep us in line while we're still alive. Pie-in-the-sky, fire and brimstone – all that nonsense. I believed this lie when I was younger; that is, I believed the lie that heaven and hell were just fables told to keep us peasants under control. Back then, in my twenties, I thought everything was about power and control. Who has it? Who suffers b/c they don't? Who benefits from the system of religious myths and rituals? Now, have ecclesial and political authorities used religion as a means of social control? Sure. Anything humans touch can and will be twisted to an evil end. That a hammer can be used to murder doesn't mean that hammers are morally bad. That the Beatitudes can be used to pacify the angry masses into believing that things will be better in some fictitious heaven – well, that doesn't mean we are not blessed when we follow Christ and work toward being perfected in him. “Rejoice and leap for joy on that day! Behold, your reward will be great in heaven.” Better yet: rejoice and leap for joy for your reward is – right now – already great!

We make a big mistake when we assume that we must wait for heaven to receive our reward for being faithful followers of Christ. Sure, the fullness of our reward will be great then – no doubt! – but we start sharing in the Kingdom we've inherited even now. What is the Mass but a foretaste of the heavenly banquet? What is confession but a glimpse into the Father's mercy? What is baptism and confirmation but our first steps as heirs and members of the holy family? Marriage makes the married couple a sacrament of Christ's love for his Bride, the Church. And the sacrament of anointing brings us directly into the healing power of God. Jesus preaches the Beatitudes not to pacify us deprived peasants into a compliant citizenry but to show us that our suffering now shapes us into perfected vessels for his gifts. But. . .we must suffer well. We can suffer now with an eye on some distant reward. Or, we can suffer now, suffer well, and benefit immediately from how we choose to suffer. The sacraments help. Prayer certainly helps. Good works always increase merit. But nothing beats loving sacrifice in bringing us close and closer to our perfection in Christ.

There are two components of loving sacrifice: surrender and gratitude. Together these two result in obedience. Not mere compliance. But obedience – truly loving God, listening to His Word, and following His will. Surrender is about coming to know a simple truth: I am not in control. Never have been. Never will be. I was thrown into this world by my parents. I wasn't consulted. No one asked for my permission to be born. I didn't get a choice in my race or sex or anything else for that matter. Yet – here I am. At some point, I started making choices. And at that point, I started thinking (falsely) that I was in control. The sum total of my choices up until I surrendered proved to be...less than spectacular. MUCH less than spectacular, in fact. At death's door from an internal staph infection at 34yo, I chose surrender. I let go of the wheel. Did I occasionally snatch it back? Yes. Did I successfully drive my life toward Christ when I did? No. Ended up in a ditch every time. Age helps surrender b/c age helps you see the Real as it is...not as you want it to be. Think of surrender as your first sacrifice. Your intellect and will upon His altar, your contrite heart and mind raised up and given over to be made holy. A sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving.

Giving thanks is harder than we sometimes imagine. Saying “thank you” is an admission of dependence. It's a confession of needing help. Once you've surrendered, once you've offered your heart and mind in sacrifice, the help you need is abundant and freely given. Turning your prayer life toward gratitude deepens your humility, and you begin to understand what Jesus means when he preaches about being blessed. Blessed now, blessed then. Always blessed in thanksgiving. The deeper you grow in humility, the easier obedience becomes. You learn a new habit, or rather, you relearn an old habit in a new way: faith. It's not just trust anymore, or hope, but a still, grounded, rock-solid certainty that God's promises will not be fulfilled. BUT...they have already, always been fulfilled and you participate fully in them. That's blessedness this side of paradise. And with that blessedness comes the driving need to bear witness to the gift you have been given, the gift you have freely received. When you do, when you bear witness, you offer loving sacrifice. And you grow closer to Christ. Blessed are those who die to self in surrender and gratitude and become Christ for another. 

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Jesus goes hard

5^th Week OT (T)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic Priory, NOLA

Instead of reading the Pharisees' questions to Jesus as a Gotcha Moment, we can choose to read them “against the grain,” as legitimate. That is, we can assume that they are genuinely curious about why Jesus and his disciples aren't performing basic purification rites. This makes Jesus' response sound a bit harsh. But he's in a teaching moment and sometimes harsh lessons stick better than subtle ones. The not so subtle lesson here is simple: God wants a contrite heart. Not religiousy pantomime. Religious theater is all well and good. . .if the heart and mind performing the script is sincerely contrite and ready for genuine sacrifice. Maybe the Pharisees see in Jesus and his followers something missing from their own spiritual practice. Maybe they see the spots in their lives where the missing pieces go and want to know how Jesus and his disciples fill them. A subtle lesson on integrating word and deed, heart and mind might not overcome centuries of religious vice. So, Jesus goes hard, calling them hypocrites and accusing them of replacing God's law with mere human tradition. To the publicly popular Pharisees this must've been a wet smack in the face. But a necessary one. At the root of tradition is a long forgotten response to God. Only a sincerely contrite and sacrificial heart can retrieve from history what God was asking of us back then. Such a heart would know that He is always asking of us the same thing: come to me and be at peace. Tradition is always our answer. But it is never the source of our peace.   

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The Secret to a Big Haul

5^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLW/OLR, NOLA

While Simon Peter grouses about his empty nets, Jesus just points to the water and says, “Try again.” When the nets come up bursting at the seams with fish, Peter and his helpers are astonished. Peter is so astonished that he falls to his knees and confesses his sinfulness! He doesn't praise Jesus or thank him or pepper him with questions about how he worked this miracle. He confesses. And what exactly is he confessing? Laziness? Pride? Anger? Matthew doesn't name Peter's sin, but we can work it out that Peter is confessing to the sin of anxiety, the sin of faithlessness. He complies with Jesus' command to throw his nets once more, but he doesn't truly obey; that is, he doesn't throw his nets b/c he deeply loves his teacher. He does it more like “sure, whatever you say.” Peter's disobedience isn't apparent to his helpers, but it's sounding like a fog horn in his own heart and mind. So, he drops to his knees and confesses. Christ reveals to Peter and to us that when we, as Christians, work w/o Christ, we fail. Even if the work gets done, we fail. With Christ, however, our work is always complete and fruitful. Even if at first it appears we have failed.

We know this gospel scene is about Christ making his apostles “fishers of men,” those sent out to catch and haul in the souls of men and women who have seen and heard the Word. But underneath this scene, animating it from behind-the-scenes is a larger, deeper theological revelation, one the story itself both reveals and occludes. The story tells us that when we obey Christ – truly obey, not merely comply with – our work is abundantly blessed. The evidence is right there on the shore of the sea – nets bursting with fish when earlier there were no fish to be found. The story also tells us that our failures – in ministry, in marriage, in family life, at work – are almost always rooted in some sin, some species of disobedience. In Peter's case, his sin is a failure to fully trust the Lord's word. He complies, but he does so with a kind of despair. Peter believes that his next attempt to catch some fish will be exactly like all of his previous attempts – empty. He discounts Christ's presence and his commanding word. Lastly, the story tells us that we belong to Christ. When we remember him, when we work along side him, in his name and for his glory, our work is abundantly fruitful. Why? B/c it is Christ who does the real work.

And this is the truth the story hides. Not hides per se but blurs. Jesus doesn't cast out or haul in the nets. He doesn't row the boat or mend the nets. Or, if he does, Matthew leaves that part out! Christ's work isn't hands-on. In this scene, Jesus is a presence, a teaching presence. He's there to reveal and instruct. He is a physical reminder to the fishermen, a prompt that nudges these men to ask: the Lord is always with me – there he is right now! – but am I always with the Lord? NB. Peter and his fellow fishermen catch nothing before the Lord arrives. After he arrives and commands another attempt, they catch more fish than they can handle. Peter is repentant b/c he doubted the Lord's word. But he is also aware that he had forgotten the Lord's promise that he would always be his brothers and sisters. Even in his absence, he is present. Where two or more are gathered in my name, I am with you always. True. But am I always with the Lord? As followers of Christ, heirs to the Kingdom, brothers and sisters in the Spirit, every word we speak, every thought we think, every deed we do, is abundantly blessed when we speak, think, and do, knowing he is with us and we with him.

So, how do we always stay with the Lord? How do we remain always in his presence? First, we make it a foundational act of faith that he is always with us. Not just here in church. Not just when we call his name. Not just when we might need him. Always. Second, remember Scripture: we live, move, and have our being in Him. We are b/c He is. Practice noticing your being; that is, make a habit of noting that you are alive. Driving, working, exercising, eating – give Him thanks and praise for your existence. Third, give Him thanks and praise for the existence of others in your life. Start a circle: immediate family, then friends, then co-workers, and so on. Name them and give God thanks for them. Fourth, no work you and I can do is done outside Christ. We belong to Christ, so everything we do belongs to Christ. Dedicate your work to his glory. File papers in his name. Grade exams in his name. Deliver packages in his name. Stock shelves, teach kids, count money, bag groceries, collect garbage, nurse the sick, change sheets, wash the dishes in his name and for his glory. Christ never forgets us. He is with us always. The secret to hauling in nets bursting with fish is to discipline ourselves in the art of keeping ourselves always with him.   

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Fear is Control losing its power

4^th Week OT (T)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Dominic Priory, NOLA

Fear can be constructive. It makes us cautious when there's a 2possibility of injury or death, nudging prudence when prudence needs nudging. Fear can also be destructive. Sometimes it can nudge prudence too aggressively and drive us into a panicked state of paranoia about our health and safety. An existential threat to our livelihood or social position can do this. So can being diagnosed with a fatal disease. Jesus offers a clear and simple choice here: fear or faith. “Do not be afraid; just have faith.” To 21^st c. over-educated, middle-class, professional religious ears this is neither clear nor simple. It's Black/White and simplistic. When my health and safety are on the line, I want more than bumper sticker slogans! But what is fear, and what is faith? Fear is Control losing its power. Panic and paranoia are its death-throes. Faith is Control being surrendered to God – an easy move since our Control is a illusion anyway. Fear is a tumor, a deadly lesion that can at once warn us that something is wrong, and kill us. But faith is always the proper cure. Trusting God to do the right thing for us is always the safest bet.    

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I'm no prophet!

4^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

I've heard the following in one form or another a thousand times over the years: “But, Father, I'm just a housewife, a secretary, a teacher, a coach, a retired cop, etc. . .I'm not a priest or a prophet! I can't preach or teach the Good News!” This exclamation disavowing responsibility for being a priest and prophet usually comes after I've exhorted a congregation to go out into the world and be the priests and prophets they've promised to be. It boils down to saying that I can't be and do what I promised to be and do b/c I'm not who and what Christ says I am. What a strange thing for a Christian to say. I am not who and what Christ says I am. When someone says to me that he or she is “just a student or just a nurse or just a custodian,” I add, “You are not just anything. You are a priest, prophet, and king; dead, buried, and risen in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ Jesus; baptized into his mission and ministry, and charged with bearing witness to the coming of his Father's Kingdom! Now, go act like it.” Why the reluctance to be and do what we've promised to be and do in Christ? Jesus answers, “No prophet is accepted in his own native place.”

For example, last Sunday, we heard Jesus announce to the synagogue that he is the Messiah. Everyone is amazed by his graciousness. That amazement lasts about ten seconds. Then the questions, suspicions, and accusations start to fly: “Hey, wait a minute, isn't he just a local boy? That's Joseph the carpenter's son. Someone from this podunk town can't possibly be the Messiah. Who's he think he's foolin'?” If they can say that about Jesus the Christ, what are they going to say about me when I try to preach or teach the Good News? I remember her from Cabrini/Mt. Carmel/Dominican. I remember him from Brother Martin/Jesuit/Rummel. And then the memories start to flow and whatever credibility you had is washed away in your dodgy past. I get it. I do. I'm right there with you. My own past is a huge stumbling block for friends and family who knew me before I became a Dominican friar and priest 23yrs ago. But here's the hard truth of who you are now: in Christ Jesus you are a new creation, a renewed creature of grace and mercy. And you have been given all that you need to be preacher and teacher of the Good News right where you are, whatever you are doing.

No, it's not an easy path to walk. No, it's not a simple thing to bear witness to Christ. And no, it's not just a matter of being kind to others and smiling a lot. Jesus stood up in a synagogue and claimed to be the Son of God, the Messiah. They literally ran him out of town and tried to kill him! If you follow Christ, then you can expect nothing less when you bear witness to him. You can expect ridicule, opposition, indifference, and maybe even some violence. You might be canceled, fired, silenced, or even jailed. Or. . .you might be ignored altogether. Doesn't matter. Our mission is not to drag dirty sinners into the confessional and browbeat them until they convert. Our mission is to show in word and deed how the mercy of God has transformed our lives and how that transformation is freely offered to anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear. Our mission isn't about being right, or holier-than-them, or more socially respectable. It's about being as much like Christ as we possibly can so that his offer of mercy to sinners is heard and seen in us. And we cannot forget that we were once and probably still are sinners in need of his mercy. That's our motivation to preach and teach – we've been into the dark, and we've seen the light. This makes us humble and grateful. . .not self-righteous and prideful.

So, if you struggle to be a prophet at work or at school, why? What's stopping you? Are you afraid that your family and friends are going to remind you of your sins? If those sins are forgiven, who cares? That's the point! Your sins are forgiven. You are a new creation. Maybe you're reluctant to preach and teach the faith b/c it means living up to the standards you're preaching and teaching. Good! You should be reluctant. Following Christ is not an easy path to walk. But telling others about your life in Christ is a great way for you to hold yourself accountable. Maybe you're afraid that bearing witness will expose your faith to ridicule and opposition, and you're not sure you can fend off objections and answer hard questions. Fair enough. All you need to do is tell your story. If you can't answer objections and questions, fine. Don't. Just say, “I don't know. But here's what I do know. . .” And tell your story. Your story is Christ's story. Mercy, forgiveness; always doing the right thing; seeking the face of God in prayer; and being willing to sacrifice in love for another. That's what prophets do. That's what you've promised to do.

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The Word is alive!

3^rd Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

I have been assured by more than one Baptist friend that Catholics do not “believe in the Bible.” We do not read the Bible nor do we teach the gospel as it's found in the Bible. Apparently, we believe in “the traditions of men” and just make stuff up as we go along. We believe all sorts of nonsense that's found nowhere in Scripture, like purgatory and worshiping Mary and that we can work our way into Heaven. Even former Catholics will tell me that they left the Church for a “Bible-believing” community, one where Scripture comes first and all the trappings of religiosity are set aside. At the root of this disastrous misunderstanding of the Church's relationship with Scripture is a modernist error, namely, nominalism. I'll spare you the philosophical lecture. Suffice it to say, that our Protestant brethren do not possess a sacramental imagination. They cannot think of their faith as anything other than the intellectual assent to a written text. We, on the other hand, understand that the Word of God – while expressed in Scripture – is not limited to Scripture. The Word of God is the living, breathing Holy Spirit of Love that exists between the Father and His Son. And that Holy Spirit of Love is the soul of the Church.

Now, when I say that the Holy Spirit is the soul of the Church, I mean it literally. Each one of us here is a body and a rational soul, making us each a human person. Through baptism we have been individually incorporated – embodied – into the Body of Christ, the Church. So, from the moment of Christ's baptism in the Jordan until this very second, the Body of Christ includes every human person who has ever been baptized with water in name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the HS. And we are all united in the Spirit of Love that the Father and Son share in the Trinity. All this means that while we read, revere, and obey Scripture, we also know that the Word of God is not merely history written with ink on paper. Just words to be agreed with. The Word of God is alive in us, working out our salvation with our cooperation; animating our mission and ministry; and giving us the life we need to be perfected in Christ Jesus. Scripture is a record of how our ancestors in faith encountered the Living God and struggled to be obedient to His Word. They succeed. They failed. They rejoiced. And sometimes they despaired. But they always knew: the Word is alive. And He is always with us. His Word is fulfilled in our hearing.

Jesus amazes the men of the synagogue that Sabbath morning. Here, he – to them a mere mortal – stands up, reads a passage from Isaiah – a passage prophesying the coming of the Messiah – and proclaims, “Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” He is saying to them, “I am the Messiah prophesied by Isaiah.” He is laying claim to the ancient title of Savior, claiming for himself the Sonship of the Father and the mantle of the Prince of Peace. Scripture tells us that they are amazed. I imagine that they are also shocked, dumbfounded, astonished, and maybe even scandalized. It's not an everyday thing to be a witness to the Word of God taking on human flesh! But this exactly what happens every time we hear the Word proclaimed. At Mass, the Word is given a human voice. We don't simply sit quietly in the pew and read the words on a page. We attend to the Word proclaimed. We incline our hearts and minds to the spoken Word. The Word comes alive through the air, and we receive it like the void received the first, creating Word. The Spirit of the Word speaks to the Spirit of the Church, the same Spirit speaking Himself to Himself.

If all of this isn't just going to end up sounding like a lot of esoteric theologizing, we need to answer the question, “So what?” Our Catholic understanding of the Word of God is meant to foreclose the error of using Scripture like a spiritual first aid manual – flip to the index, find the problem, look up the solution, and all is well. Scripture is not a collection of spiritual recipes, or a legal document for living correctly. Scripture records the faith-lives of those who came before us. They were called into an intimate relationship with their Creator. Being imperfect (as we are) they floundered; they ran away; they exhibited tremendous courage and cowardice; they listened and obeyed, and they ignored God and did their own thing. What their stories tell us is that no matter how far we run or how deep we dig, God always remains faithful. He never abandons us. Our failures do not and cannot turn Him away. Our victories are His first, and we share in the spoils of obedience. Scripture is essential, indispensable. And the Word of God is the breath of the Church. We live and move and have our very being in His Word. We compose new books every time we surrender and give Him thanks.  

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What has been made known?

Epiphany of the Lord

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

What has been made known? That's what an epiphany is – the event, the moment when the unknown is made known. When the obscured is clarified. The Magi find the Christ Child in Bethlehem; pay him homage as their King; and gift him with treasures proper to his station. What do their visit and their gifts make known to us? Paul shares the Magi's revelation with the Ephesians: “...the Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body, and copartners in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.” He adds, “[This mystery] was not made known to people in other generations as it has now been revealed...” For centuries, the Jews waited for the arrival of the Messiah. He was their Savior, their long-promised salvation from sin and death. Even after Christ's birth and the start of his public ministry, even after his sacrifice on the cross and resurrection from the dead, some still held to the cherished belief that the Messiah came to save the Jews and them alone. The Magi – priests and astrologers from the East, Gentiles to their bones – reveal a different mission for the Christ Child: he comes to save us all. Gentiles and Jews alike.

The Magi – knowing who and what the Christ Child is – prostrate themselves and open their treasures to him. Having submitted themselves to his kingly rule, they depart, leaving Herod to wonder where his potential rival for royal authority rests. Now, with Baby Jesus napping in Bethlehem and Herod fuming in Jerusalem, all of humanity is thrown into the daily existential drama of choosing a King. To whom do we submit? A prince of this world? Or the Prince of Peace? A temporary king in a temporary kingdom? Or the eternal King of the whole universe? Herod will go on to reveal the corruption at the heart of his kingdom. He will order the slaughter of all male children two years old and younger. He will sacrifice the lives of babies for his power but move not one inch to sacrifice himself for the sake of another. Christ too will go on to reveal the majesty and power of his Father's Kingdom. He will sacrifice himself for our sake, giving his life – human and divine – on the Cross for the salvation of his people. The epiphany shows us that Gentile and Jew alike can be saved by the Christ. It also shows us how to live in a world ruled by Herods. What must we do?

Remember who you are! You are members of the Body of Christ. You are coheirs to the Father's Kingdom. You are partners in the mission and ministry of Christ Jesus. Two thousand years ago, the Word became flesh and lived and moved among us. At your baptism, you too became the Word made flesh. You live and move and have your being in the Word. Who you are is the Word. Incorporated into the Body, you inherit a kingdom and become a partner in that kingdom's rule. You have chosen Christ as your King. Yet! Herod rules the world. And we know that we cannot serve two Masters. So, we live in the rule of a Herod but under the rule of Christ. To accomplish this exhausting task, we are given – weekly, even daily – the Body and Blood of our King to sustain us. We are given him who saves us, strengthens us, blesses us, and brings us to our perfection in him. Remember who you are. And remember what you have vowed to do. The Magi revealed the Christ to us. Now it's our turn to reveal the Christ to the world. With every thought, word, and deed, wherever you happen to be, whatever you happen to be doing – reveal Christ as your King. Show his mercy. Show his love. Repeat his offer of salvation from sin and death. Make him known. You are given the strength and courage to accomplish this. Do it!

This Mass will end like every other Mass you've ever attended – with a final blessing and a dismissal. These two small bits of liturgical action signal to most that it's almost time to head home for lunch/dinner and catch a football game on TV. But if you pay attention, you'll hear and experience something more profound than an ending. You'll hear and experience a beginning. The final blessing grants you God's favor and lifts you up in your pursuit of holiness. It sets you apart from the world, consecrating you to a specific purpose: to be Christ in the world. So consecrated, you are dismissed, sent out. You are given a charge, an order for your work as a Christ. The last words you hear exhort you take what you have received in this Mass and share it with the world. We find comfort in the regularity of the liturgy – the predictability of the responses; the order of the rites. We find strength and courage in the readings and in knowing that Christ is truly present on the altar. We may even enjoy the fellowship we find here. But we were not saved from sin and death to live comfortable lives in a church building. We were saved to be sent out. We were saved to be bearers of the Good News. 

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