Clericalism Sunday

25^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

We're all familiar with Divine Mercy Sunday. We have Laetare Sunday during Lent and Gaudete Sunday during Advent. I propose we call today Clericalism Sunday! While the other especially-named Sundays are celebrations, CS will serve as a warning, as a warning to avoid the hazards of ecclesial ambition. And to be clear from the start: this is a warning for the clergy and the laity alike. We begin with a definition of clericalism: clericalism occurs when the legitimate authority of the clergy is abused; this abuse is usually motivated by ambition, but it can also be motivated by any or all of the Cardinal Sins. Clericalism manifests in dozens of ugly forms: the celebrity cleric who uses his celebrity to enrich himself; the failed actor-priest who uses the liturgy as his stage to perform; the failed politician-priest who uses the pulpit for campaign speeches; the failed CEO-priest who uses the parish as his personal investment bank; or the failed therapist-priest who uses his parishioners as patients. The most egregious form of clericalism is the pervert-priest who abuses his charges sexually. The most common kind of clericalism is described in the Gospel this morning: ecclesial ambition – “Who will be the greatest among us?”

The disciples are arguing quietly among themselves. Jesus asks, “What were y'all arguing about?” But they remained silent. Why did they remain silent? Because “they had been discussing among themselves on the way who was the greatest.” Their silence tells us that they know that along the Way of Christ there is no time for wondering who's the greatest among them. At least they had enough humility to be embarrassed! Good. There's hope for them yet. Jesus could've rebuked them severely. Instead, he tells them a simple truth: “If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all.” Jesus tells us that ambition, especially ecclesial ambition – which infects the laity as well! – is best countered with child-like wonder and trust, receiving the Father's gifts with open hands, open hearts, and open minds, always willing and able to take in whatever the Lord sends our way. How do we fail at this child-like disposition? James tells us: “You ask but do not receive. . .” We ask for God's grace, but we do not receive them. And we cannot use what we do not receive.

Why do we ask for graces but fail to receive them? Part of the problem here is that God gives us gifts we didn't ask for. I asked for a better job and God gave me more responsibility. I asked for an “A” on an exam and God gave me more time to study. I asked God for a faithful spouse and He gave me lots of chances to be faithful. Another problem is that we sometimes don't recognize His graces when they come to us. That rare moment of quiet given to us to recollect ourselves. That gesture of goodwill from a troublesome co-worker. That chance to practice patience. Both of these problems – getting what we didn't ask for and failing to recognize a gift when it comes – both of these derive from the same source: ambition in prayer; that is, wanting, needing, desiring out of a sense of entitlement. The disciples have ambitions for power in Christ's Kingdom. Priests have ambitions for positions and influence in the Church. Laity have ambitions for recognition and reward in the world. All this ambition clashes with the child-like wonder and trust Jesus tells us is essential to flourishing along the Way: “. . .whoever receives me, receives not me but the One who sent me.”

So, how do we receive in a way that moves us along the Way? First, we must let go of any notion of what God's grace will look like. Any person or event could be a moment of grace. Since God can bring good from evil, even ostensibly “evil” people and events can be instruments of grace. Second, we must learn to ask for what we truly need not merely what we want. We ask not b/c our Father is ignorant of our needs but b/c in asking we receive. We acknowledge our dependence on His providence and cultivate the good habit of gratitude. Third, we must accept and live-out the truth that we ourselves can be instruments of God's grace to others – if we choose to be. Do I act, speak, think, feel in a way that signals to others that God uses me as a vehicle for his providence? Clericalist priests and clericalized laity signal entitlement and narcissism not the presence of divine gift. Lastly, how do I pray? Do I rattle off a litany of wants? Do I pester God with pet peeves and petty desires? Or do I ask Him to open me up and help me to receive all He has to give me? Am I willing to sincerely pray: “Father, help me to be the least so that I may do your great work in the world”?

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Music to the ears

24^th Week OT (W)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

If wisdom is freed by her children, then who or what is keeping her prisoner? Jesus says that the wisdom to see and hear his message of liberation is held fast by a stubborn need to see and hear nothing less than what we want to see and hear. The children of the age – that's us – play their lutes for John, but he does not dance. And we sing dirges for Jesus, but he does not weep. We say that John is demon possessed b/c he fasts from food and wine. And yet we say that Jesus is a glutton and drunkard b/c he does not fast. What is this generation like? Like children who want what they want but refuse to receive what they want when it's given to them! Those who accept John's fasting and Jesus' joy as both necessary for salvation liberate wisdom from the fickleness of the age. Now, obviously, Jesus is addressing this to those who were present to hear him and John preach the necessity of repentance from sin for salvation. For some, John's mortifications were too much. Too gloomy. Too Old School Religion. For others, Jesus' enjoyment of his Father's creation and his proclamation of divine mercy were too hippyish. Too bright and shiny. Too New Age Spirituality. Taken together, however, we get the wisdom of the Gospel.

And the children of the Gospel liberate wisdom from her fickle captors. The Gospel is both fasting and feasting. It is both a Word about sin and the Father's mercy. It is both a diagnosis and a cure. The Gospel convicts and frees. Totals up a debt and forgives it. Christ's message of salvation from sin and death is both hard to hear and music to the ears. It can be difficult to dance to and perfectly choreographed. Anyone who's sincerely and persistently lived a Gospel life can tell you that there will be days of joy and weeks of despair. Accepting both and loving nonetheless is the soul of wisdom. As Paul writes, “If [you] speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, [you are] a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal.” Only the truly foolish believe that following Christ brings instant relief from living in the world while being set apart from it. Christ never promises us bliss on Earth. Nor does he order us into misery to bear witness to his Word. He does, however, promise us his love and orders us to love in return. Fasting, feasting, dancing, standing against wall, whatever. . .we are ordered to love, and we are ordered to be loving.  

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Unblocking Spiritual Constipation

24th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

We can forgive Peter his panicked outburst. We know what it is to love someone and hear that someone say that they are going to die. Our impulse is to deny; to find a way around the problem; to defend. We're shocked by our loved one's apparent acceptance of death. We're surprised that they seem so much at ease with the inevitable. And we're wholly unprepared for the cold wave of grief that washes over us. Peter's outburst at hearing his friend's fate is almost instinct – “God forbid, Lord!” Jesus' response is unexpected, maybe even a little cruel: “Get behind me, Satan!” Peter goes from being The Rock to The Tempter in a matter of days. He goes from being The Keys to the Kingdom to being An Obstacle for the Lord so quickly that we have to ask what happened? Yes, Peter is upset that his beloved teacher has prophesied his own suffering, death, and resurrection. He's also upset that his teacher's enemies score a major victory over the gospel. But Jesus says that Peter is thinking like a man, like a creature, not like the Creator. He's seeing and hearing Jesus' end through the imperfect eyes and ears of someone who himself fears pain and death. And b/c of his limitations, Peter denies not only Jesus' mission of salvation, he denies his own part in that mission.

We can forgive Peter his panicked outburst. But maybe we shouldn't. He's spent three years with Jesus. Eating, traveling, teaching, healing, cast out unclean spirits. He's correctly named Jesus as the promised Christ. He's even been given the keys to the Kingdom, rising up to take charge of the other disciples and the Church. Yet, yet, he still hasn't denied himself, taken up his cross, and followed Christ. IOW, he's got the easy part of the Gospel mission down pat. But he's yet to wrestle with the costs of being a beloved disciple. Jesus' rebuke – “Get behind me, Satan!” – tells us that Peter's failure to understand what it means to be a follower of Christ is a temptation for Christ himself and for us. How so? So long as our faith remains a set of rules, or a list of beliefs, or an action plan for good moral behavior, we are an obstacle for ourselves. So long as we are pulling the minimum, doing to the least required, or playing at being holy, we are an obstacle. We are blocking ourselves from truly following Christ. And even worse – we are standing in the way of others truly following Christ. How do you move from being an obstruction to faith to being a catalyst for faith? Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Christ.

We might wish that Christ had given us a little more here. Like The Ten Easy Steps to Denying Self. Something that we can plug into our spiritual Fitbits and check off as we go. He didn't. What he gives us instead is a living witness. He doesn't tell us what denying self looks like. He shows us. Denying self looks like that [points to the crucifix]. It looks like dying for love. Not some slobbery romance novel love but agape love. The sort of love that arises from the deepest need to be of service. The sort of love that needs another to be rescued from sin and death. That sort of love can only be shown from the Cross – the tool of redemption. When Jesus tells us to take up our cross he means for us to accept, to welcome the means by which we will die for agape love. He doesn't mean to stop complaining about aches and pains, or to just learn to tolerate a rogue son or daughter. He means to search for, find, and embrace the instrument that will assist you in loving sacrificially. That instrument might be chronic pain, or a rogue child, or an intolerable injustice in the world. But it only becomes a saving Cross for you when you see it for what it is: your chance to love radically. Choose to embrace it.

Or. . .you can do what Peter does. Stare at your Cross, discern its demands, flinch, and become an obstacle for yourself and others. Find a mirror. Stare into your own eyes for thirty seconds. Say, “Get behind me, Satan!” Then. . .pick up your cross and follow Christ. Follow him all the way to Golgotha and on to the Wedding Feast!

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Your sin can't forgive my sin

St. John Chrysostom

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Jesus is heaping hot coals on the hypocrites again! This time his target is the disciples. And by extension, us. So, it might be a good idea to figure out what hypocrisy is. Aquinas, quoting St. Isidore of Seville, tells us that the hypocrite is one “who come[s] on to the stage with a disguised face...so as to deceive the people in their acting” (ST II-II.111.2). He goes on to say that the hypocrite is “a sinner [who] simulates the person of a just man.” Hypocrisy then is essentially a form of lying, a dissimulation (Aquinas says) opposed to the virtue of truth. But what does this look like in daily life? Jesus gives us one example in his parable of the Splinter and the Wooden Beam. When I judge you for your sins while ignoring my own much greater sins, I am guilty of hypocrisy. Another example might be simulating holiness or piety while judging others for their apparent lack of such. Yet another example might be holding myself out as a fine example of right-thinking and right-doing while pointing out your apparent failure to be right and righteous. But at the center of hypocrisy is one of the worst sins a Christian can commit: self-righteousness – the lie that I determine whether or not I am right with the Lord.

Here's where the blind leading the blind becomes a real problem. If I am righteous by my own standards and in my own judgment, then I am as blind as I can be. Righteousness is a relationship with God, one that we – as sinful creatures – do not get to define. That's exclusively God's job. He requires our cooperation, of course. But whether or not you and I are righteous at any given point in a day is entirely His call. Not ours. When we take this job from God and give it to ourselves, we not only presume on His mercy, we also proclaim our divinity, a false divinity. Thus we succumb to the same temptation that Adam and Eve fell for in the Garden. We make ourselves gods. And we make the Devil happy. Unfortunately for us, this usurpation of God's prerogative to judge human righteous is fairly easy to achieve. We do it every time we mentally judge that guy at Mass who we know got drunk last night. Or that girl who's not dressed modestly for class. Or that neighbor who has the wrong candidate's sign in their yard. Or that friar who comes back to the priory after midnight. We do it in IOW every time we presume to declare a sinner guilty, knowing that we don't and can't have all the necessary information. Every time we think we are righteous b/c that guy over there is a sinner. As if his sin somehow makes my sin not a sin.

Jesus gives us a way out of this hypocrisy mess. Clean up your own act before you start worrying about your neighbor's act. When our spiritual lives are pristine, utterly pure, then we can point fingers and pass judgment. When will our spiritual lives be utterly pure? The hour we come to see God face-to-face. Not one second before.

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Surrender to Providence

23^rd Week OT (W)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Four Blessed are you's and four Woe to you's. Old English profs like myself call this parallelism. We love this literary device b/c it allows us to do that other thing we love: compare and contrast. Taking these eight Blessed's and Woe's together, we can figure out what Jesus means by “holiness.” Holiness is not about piety; that is, you can behave piously and remain comfortably among the accursed. Who was it that described the Pharisees, in all their pious finery, as “white-washed tombs”? Nor is being holy about morality; that is, you can successfully avoid every immoral thought, word, and deed that tempts you and still remain entrenched among the accursed. Does Jesus ever bless a good moral act in his sermon on blessedness? Nor is being holy about assenting to the truth of dogma; that is, you can memorize the Catechism and the Bible, recite them both w/o error in front of the Blessed Mother; swear you believe every word, and still find yourself playing among the accursed. Even the Devil can quote scripture. Having said all that, being pious, morally good, and orthodox are all necessary to growing in holiness but none of them (nor all of them together) is what it means to be holy. Holiness (blessedness) is principally about how we choose to suffer – that is, how we choose to understand and act on the pain and deprivation we experience while separated from our Father. Who does Jesus say is blessed? The poor, the hungry, those who mourn, and those who choose to experience their mortal deprivations for the sake of his Name.

And why are these folks blessed? What's so holy about being poor, hungry, mournful, and persecuted? There's nothing especially holy about any of these conditions as such. What's special about being poor, hungry, etc. is that each of these conditions offers the ones who endure them the chance to see beyond their earthly limitations and rely completely on the loving-care of God. They are given a clearer vision of what it means to be humble before the Lord than those who might rely on their wealth and good name for comfort. We are all called to holiness regardless of our state in life or the condition of our lives. Any one of us might choose to suffer poorly and attach ourselves to the bottle, the casino, the needle, or some other false god. Or we might choose to avoid pain and deprivation by causing others pain and depriving them of their due. True holiness entails genuine piety, righteous words and deeds, and right belief about the faith. But the next step beyond these necessities is choosing to throw ourselves completely and w/o hesitation on the loving-care of God. We call this abandonment to divine providence humility. The truly humble are already among the blessed.

If you have tried it, you know that surrendering to providence is no easy maneuver. Being attached to this world makes surrender simply difficult. But if you are attached to this world by wealth, comfort, mortal loves, and the applause of the world's ruling powers, then surrender is almost impossible. Why would any sane person surrender financial security, family/friends, and civil influence for the chance to suffer well for Christ? Well, all those attachments die when you do. An attachment to Christ lives forever. So the choice is stark: attach yourself to the temporary and become temporary. Surrender to the eternal and enjoy eternity. As Paul says, “...the world in its present form is passing away.”

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Are you ready to be a witness?

23^rd Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Jesus heals the man's deafness and his speech impediment and then orders him to be silent. In fact, he orders everyone who witnesses the healing to be silent about what they saw. Mark notes, however, “...the more he ordered them not to, the more they proclaimed it.” Two questions: why did Jesus order them to be quiet about the miracle? And why did they disobey? Our interpretative tradition answers the first question this way: Jesus did not want to be seen as a magician, a local crank who went around performing for crowds. Healing miracles drew a lot of attention, and he didn't want to draw the wrong sort of attention, i.e. the Jewish religious authorities or the Romans. The second question is answered like this: the crowds disobeyed b/c they had nothing to lose by bearing witness to the miracle. They didn't understand the purpose of the order, or they maybe they thought Jesus was being falsely humble as part of his act. There's nothing quite so juicy as a bit of forbidden gossip! These answers are fine as far as they go. But something else is going on here. Namely, the healed man and the crowds were not prepared to be proper witnesses to the fullness of the Gospel. IOW, the Gospel is more, much more than having one's ailments cured. They weren't ready, and their disobedience proves it.

The next question is pretty obvious: are you, are we ready to be witnesses to the fullness of the Gospel? The fullness of the Gospel. Likely, some of us are ready to bear witness to the reality of sin. Others are more than ready to give testimony to the power of prayer. Most of us will stand up and lay claim to being Catholic, but will we do so when doing so means losing family, friends, our livelihoods, and maybe our lives? We can be quick to witness to the political realities of being Catholic: pro-life, pro-traditional marriage, pro-social safety net. And we can be just as quick to witness to the moral implications of the Gospel: go to confession; no sex outside the marriage bed; no transgender stuff; modesty in dress. All of these are indeed Catholic and worthy of being witnessed to. But taken together, they do not make up the fullness of the Gospel. They are bits and pieces, fragments loosely sewn to the whole cloth of the Gospel. But the Good News of Christ Jesus is deeper and wider than our human morality and our local politics. The Good News is about bearing witness to Christ by becoming Christ.

We are made and remade to become Christ. But we cannot become Christ on our own. The imperfect cannot bring itself to perfection. Only perfection can draw the imperfect to its completion. If we are going to become Christ, we must do so with Christ. This is the lesson Adam and Eve missed when they disobeyed God in the garden and gave in to the serpent’s temptation to become gods without God. They believed the lie that it is possible for that which is incomplete to bring itself to completion. They ended up naked, exiled, in pain, and eventually dead. And yet we are daily tempted to throw our spiritual well-being into the boxing ring of ridiculous theories and practices in order to achieve our perfection without resorting to Perfection Himself. How many Catholics believe voting for the right guy/gal is going to save them? How many believe they are morally right simply because they take the right positions on moral issues? That being registered in a parish is good enough to thread the Narrow Way? Or giving up caffeine during Lent is a sufficient path to holiness? All of these can derive from the Gospel, but – even taken together – they are not the Gospel's fullness.

We are visited daily by the serpent. Our ears are tickled by the sibilant promises of obtaining divinity w/o obedience, w/o sacrifice, w/o suffering, w/o our dark nights. We know, however, that to become Christ, we must take up his cross and follow him. The credibility of your witness rests squarely on the degree to which you are willing to surrender your imperfection to His perfecting love, and to the degree to which you are willing to share the Good News of his perfecting love by behaving in the world like one who is being polished to reflect the Father’s glory. There is a road to walk, a Way to travel, and there is a difference btw talking about walking that road and getting on your feet and walking it. If Jesus were to heal you, would he ask you to spread that good news? Would he look into your heart and mind and see a son or daughter who's willing to be obedient, self-sacrificing; one willing to suffer well for the truth and beauty of the Gospel? Or would he tell you to keep quiet b/c you are not yet – not yet! – prepared to bear witness to the fullness of all he has to offer? If you're not ready, hear again what Jesus says to the deaf and dumb man: “Be opened!”

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Ready for your motives to be made manifest?

22^nd Week OT (F)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Paul isn't worried about being judged by those he serves. He's happy to let the Lord weigh the evidence against him and announce a verdict. While he's confident of his innocence, he's not putting any serious money on the outcome of his heavenly trial. He'll rely – like we all do – on God's mercy. Paul ends this preface with an admonition: “...do not make any judgment before the appointed time.” A familiar reminder – almost routine – about the futility of pretending to be a judge of the law. As familiar and routine as this reminder is, it's telling that Paul thinks a reminder is necessary. And it is. We'll hear tomorrow about the divisions in the Church of Corinth. Divisions drawn along economic lines. Ideological lines. Moral lines. All sorts of lines that mean nothing in the life of Christ. What these lines represent is the intrusion of Pride into the life of the Church. One faction judging another. Pride leading this group to condemn that one. Paul holds himself and Apollos up as examples of how not to worry about judgment from anyone but Christ. He writes, “[Christ] will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will manifest the motives of our hearts...” Before you judge, ask yourself: am I ready to have the motives of heart made manifest?

Here's the problem with judgment: it is always motivated. That is, any judgment we make – no matter how serious or benign – is moved by our intellect and will, by our assessment of the True and the Good. If your intellect and will are perfectly, purely aligned and you possess all all Truth and Goodness, then your judgment will also be perfect and pure. But we know that no human person can possess perfect Truth and Goodness while remaining a human person. It follows then that any and every judgment we make is going to be flawed. If you judge your roommate or your classmate or your professor or your priest based on an imperfect Truth and a tainted Goodness, then what comes forth most powerfully is your motivation – that which is most deeply moving you to make such a wrecked judgment. That – whatever it is – is what's going to be made manifest. Imagine your unfiltered, unflavored motivations being splashed all over Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Youtube, talk radio, and the network news. Complete with a pic, a bio, an address, and a map. If you are confident that your motivations can withstand that kind of raw scrutiny, then maybe you should go right ahead and pass judgment on That Sinner Over There. However, if there's the slightest doubt in your mind that you are not yet perfected in Christ, then you might want to hold off and let the One Who is Truth and Goodness do the judging. Surely, it's enough for now that you and I confess our own sins and let the Lord search our hearts. Our mercy can be mean and sour. His mercy endures forever.        

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Does this shock you?

21^st Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Jesus says a lot of crazy stuff in three short years. He's not afraid of offending delicate sensibilities. Nor is he all that concerned about disagreement. When faced with offended objections or outright dissent, he replies – more or less – “It is what it is.” He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, so getting all wee-wee'd up about folks grumbling and walking away isn't worth his time. In fact, saying crazy stuff – crazy-true stuff – serves a useful purpose: it sets a standard for believing, for trusting his Word – if you think my mere words are crazy, what will you think when you see those words come to life? If I can't handle true-words, how can he expect me to handle true-deeds? Maybe it's better for me to walk away now. It's better that I don't commit myself to the Way until I'm mature enough to see and hear what must be seen and heard. Last Sunday, we heard a series of true-words about what it takes to be saved. Jesus told his disciples that they must eat his flesh and drink his blood – true bread and true wine – to attain eternal life. This Sunday morning, some of the disciples describe this teaching as a “hard saying.” He asks them and us: “Does this shock you?”

Of all the crazy-true things Jesus has said over his three years among us, this is definitely the craziest. Not the most shocking. That prize goes the time he said, “I AM,” quoting God from Exodus and laying claim to being God Himself. But telling folks that they must become cannibals is right at the top of the most shocking list. We're not shocked by this teaching. We hear it read at least once a year, sometimes twice. We get that he doesn't mean literal cannibalism. We know he's talking about the Eucharist. We have a whole philosophical and theology edifice built around what it means for Christ to be present among when we worship. So, no, we're not shocked. But his original listeners were. So shocked in fact that many of them walked away. Were they disgusted? Confused? Fed up with Jesus' crazy? All of the above? Regardless, they abandoned him. NB. what Jesus doesn't do. He doesn't rush after them with excuses. He doesn't quickly explain himself or change the teaching to keep them happy. He doesn't accommodate the truth to their already established beliefs. He doesn't conform his Way or his Life to the crowd's expectations. He speaks his true-words. Lets them fall on those ears ready to listen. Watches some leave and some stay. And then he asks those who hesitate: “Do you also want to leave?”

During my novitiate back in 1999-2000, my novice brothers and I got into a really bad habit. Anytime the novice master announced an upcoming activity or event, we'd ask, “Is this mandatory or optional?” This happened a dozen times before the novice master – fed up and very irritated – yelled, “Brothers, it's all optional! Everything we do here is optional! You don't have to be here. The doors aren't locked from the outside. If you want to be here, then be here! If you don't – God bless and good bye.” We got the message loud and clear. This is who Dominicans are and this is what we do. If you can't or won't be or do this, then don't waste your time. Go. Be and do something else. This is the choice those walking away from Jesus make. And he lets them go. That's the freedom God's infinite love for us provides. We trust, or we don't. We love, or we don't. We listen and obey, or we don't. We believe. Or we don't. The how/why/when/who of it all comes with patience, time, and contemplation. But there is no start to understanding w/o trust. Does this shock you? Do you also want to leave?

No? Well, if you will stay, then hear again what Jesus says, “The words I have spoken to you are Spirit and life. . .I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted him by my Father.” And who has been granted this gift? Anyone who receives the Father's gift of mercy, repents, and comes to love sacrificially as Christ did on the Cross. NB. that nothing here compels compliance. Nothing here forces one's will to bend or break. Nothing here punishes or threatens. The doors are not locked from the outside. There's no one waiting on the other side to cuff you and haul you off to Church prison. You've heard Christ's true-words. And you have witnessed his true-deeds. Now, if you are free, you can confidently say with the Church, “I believe.” And you can do this w/o any mental gymnastics. No silent corrections or euphemisms. You can come forward and eat his flesh and drink his blood. Without hesitation. Without anxiety. Like Simon Peter, you can proclaim: “[Master,] you have the words of eternal life. [I] have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.” And if you are free and truly believe, then you can go out there, being and doing and speaking his Word. 

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Choosing what a fool desires

20^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

No one chooses to be a fool. No one gets up in the morning, looks in the mirror, and says, “I'm going to be a fool today.” However, it is possible to look into that mirror and say, “I want what I want. Consequences be damned.” What happens next is folly. Aquinas tells us that folly opposes wisdom. Folly occurs when an otherwise rational person “plung[es] his sense into earthly things, where his sense is rendered incapable of perceiving Divine things” (ST II-II.46.2). NB. if your sense is occupied with earthly things, it cannot be occupied with divine things. Another way of saying this is: if you are living day in and day out as if there were no divine things to contemplate, no divine truths to ponder, then you are a fool. Thus, Paul warns the Ephesians: “Watch carefully how you live, not as foolish persons but as wise...” Good advice. But how do we live as wise persons? He answers, “...do not continue in ignorance, but try to understand what is the will of the Lord.” To “continue in ignorance” implies that we are ignorant but that we can not be. “Try to understand” implies that we do not yet understand but that we can. Knowing and understanding then are key to being wise. Knowing and understanding free us from folly.

But there is a catch. Knowing and understanding have to be pursued; that is, knowing and understanding must be sought out and lived out. It's not enough to know a truth and understand that truth. For truth to be fully grasped in all its glory, it must be integrated into every decision, every act, every thought. It must be made manifest in the real world in real time. Otherwise, it's just an interesting proposition. A bunch of words. Consider this bunch of words: “...unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.” Next Sunday, we'll read that upon hearing this bunch of words, several of Jesus' disciples walked away from him. He'll watch them leave and ask those left behind: “Do you also want to leave?” Wisely, they did not and stayed the course. But what were they thinking between his question and their answer? Were they contemplating divine things, or had they fallen to folly? Were they spinning Jesus' words into a metaphor or a parable or a test of faith? If he was speaking truth, then how were they going to make that truth manifest in the real world in real time? They all heard the truth. They all saw wisdom in the flesh. The ignorant and confused stayed. Those plunged into worldly things walked away.

We have the same choice to make. Stay or walk away. Be wise or be a fool. Listen one more time: “...unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.” What are you thinking? Maybe: he means the Eucharist, obviously. Or maybe: he's speaking symbolically; it's a sign. Or maybe: he's talking about how we come together in one Body to reinforce our communal bonds. Or! Or. . .I have no idea what this means fully, but I'm ready to live my life contemplating its truth and acting on that truth. What if all of these thoughts brush the truth but fail to grasp the Mystery fully? What then? Some walk away in shock, choosing folly. Others hang around edges, lobbing questions/objections but refusing to listen to the answers. And some stay, wasting their lives trying to change both the question and the answer. The wise, they stay, content to see their ignorance worn away through contemplation. They know that they do not know. They understand that they do not understand. But they also know and understand that wisdom comes from pondering divine things. No one chooses to be a fool. But many choose the things a fool desires. The wise, they admit ignorance when confronted with divine things. But they will also choose contemplation of those things rather than running away. If you will live, think and pray on this: “...my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink.” 

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Cannot unmake what God has made

19^th Week OT (F)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

The Pharisees ask a technical, legal question. And they want a technical, legal answer. By asking the question the way they did, they reveal themselves to be religious bureaucrats at heart. They may have been trying to lure Jesus into a sectarian dispute btw rival schools of Jewish bureaucrats. Or they could've been asking the question in a naked attempt to trap him. Or maybe both. Regardless of their motivation, they represent a way of looking at God's Law that enslaves the human person rather than frees it. Jesus jumps over the bureaucratese of the question and goes to the theological center of marriage, reaching all the way back to the moment of creation by quoting Genesis: “...the Creator made them male and female and said, 'For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” And because the man and the woman are made one flesh, he adds, “...what God has joined together, man must not separate.” Marriage does not result from a policy-decision or a court ruling or any enacted law. It is a creature of the Creator never to be unmade.

Now, being good 21^st c. Americans and Catholics, we are all likely running through our heads right now some of the reasons divorce might a good idea. Adultery. Financial/physical abuse. Abandonment. We can be experts at finding exceptions that give us what we think we want. To this Jesus says, “Moses allowed you to divorce...because of the hardness of your hearts.” IOW, Moses made divorce possible only b/c he knew that the human heart is always prepared to defy God's will. He set in place a procedure for unmaking what God had made. Now, the Pharisees have to argue about the terms of that bureaucratic procedure. And lose themselves in footnotes, definitions, distinctions, and precedents. All this policy minutiae keeps them busy, allowing them to set aside the deeper question: can we as creatures unmake what God has made? We can kill, certainly. Ignore. Redefine and reframe. But we cannot unmake. We cannot take something made and make it as if it were never made. Jesus' answer to the Pharisees on the question of divorce answers a whole host of unasked questions. He's taking us back to the moment of creation and showing us that everything that IS is for a reason, a purpose and nothing we can do can undo that. He's placing front and center the necessity of recognizing and acknowledging that for us there is no denying the Real.

That sounds all groovy and such. The Real. Who in their right mind denies The Real? No one. But we do it everyday, thus revealing that we are not always working with right minds. Think about how often you hear The Real defined away. Killing innocent life in the womb is called “reproductive health care.” Surgically and chemically altering a male body to appear female is called “gender affirming care.” Riots are called “mostly peaceful protests” and foreign wars are called “police actions.” And marriage gets a shiny new definition via judicial fiat. If marriage is just a sentence written in ink on paper, then divorce can be nothing less. Just as easily and arbitrarily re-created. But the question Jesus puts to us remains: can we as creatures unmake what God has made? No. We can make ourselves think we've unmade The Real. We can pretend and behavior accordingly. But the simple truth is The Real doesn't change just b/c we wish it away. Like God Himself and his merciful will, it remains. It remains for us to discover, explore, and obey. That's the way to peace. The only way to salvation.

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Getting started on humility

19^th Week OT (T)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

We spend the first 18 to 21 years of our lives rushing to grow up. All that “adult freedom” looks great on the childhood/adolescent side of aging. It takes about five years or so after reaching adulthood to realize that the grass is not only not greener but a lot more expensive and stress-inducing. After a mortgage, a full-time job, kids, monthly bills, a failing body, and all the social expectations around “adult behavior,” who wouldn't opt to return to childhood and just stay there? Well, we can't un-age ourselves, but we can return to the glories that make childhood spiritually rewarding. We can surrender to God's providence; give thanks for His gifts; and set ourselves on a path of obedience and humility. Jesus pulls a child into the middle of his disciples and says, “...unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the Kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the Kingdom of heaven.” I hope the disciples blushed at hearing this. They were worried about who would be the greatest in the Kingdom. Anyone worried about being great in the Kingdom has a ways to go in humility. So, how do they get started?

First, understand that being in the Kingdom and serving the King is never about you. That is, service is not about your preferences, your agenda, or your ego; nor is service your mission or your ministry. Our gifts are on loan to the Church from our rightful owner, Christ. Second, there is no place in service for ambition. If your heart and mind are locked on climbing the next step up the ladder, or landing a more powerful role, then your heart and mind belong to the world and its ruler. Third, you and I are owed nothing for our service. I don't mean we shouldn't be paid for our work. I mean, if “getting paid” is our primary reason for providing a service to the Kingdom, then we've missed the whole child-like obedience/humility point of being a child of God. Fourth, given all of that, we have to turn. We have to turn away from worldly notions of success and achievement. Ideas like “more and bigger is better.” More staff. Bigger buildings. More programs. Bigger salaries. More parishioners. Bigger budgets. The Kingdom is not WalMart. And our holiness is not measurable on the NASDAC.

Finally, we have to turn away from worldly attitudes. The death of innocence is not decadence but cynicism. No child or truly humble adult lives day to day in a fog of jaded negativity, mistrusting the motives of others and assuming the worst is inevitable. Why would a deeply cynical soul even want to serve another? Along with cynicism comes entitlement, wrath, victimhood, suspicion, and ultimately, pride. Pride, of course, is the demonic twin of humility, the delusional conviction that I can save myself from myself. Praise and thanks to God that our return to innocence is freely offered by Christ. Freely accept that offer and set yourself to making that save-living turn toward humility. We've been given everything necessary to head in the right direction. Jesus says, “It is not the will of my Father that even one of these children be lost.” Hit the brakes and make the turn.

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Deus providebit!

19^th Week OT (M)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Deus providebit! God will provide. That God will provide is as sure as the sun rising and setting. As sure as 2 + 2 always equaling 4. There can be no doubt. Why? Because it is the nature of God to order all created things toward their created end. That is, God created All and gave every created thing – in its creation – a final end, a telos. To create a thing and deny it an end is sadistic. Worse still is to create a thing, give it an end, and then deny it the means of achieving that end. Imagine God creating a human person, giving that person the telos of achieving perfection only by following the divine law, and then refusing to provide access to that law! He would be intentionally creating a rational animal who's unable to satisfy his/her deepest desire. Now imagine millions, billions of these permanently hopeless persons living together for 70+ years each over hundreds of generations. You'd have a planet populated by nothing but psychotics and sociopaths. But what would happen if all these persons were provided with the means to achieve their created ends and these means were imposed on them rather than merely offered? IOW, they had no choice in accepting and using the means provided. The result? They would be nothing more than animals. Squirrels, elephants, and cats have no choice in the fulfillment of their purpose. They are perfect as they are. No reason, no moral faculties. No moral faculties, no chance of refusing to pursue their purpose. No freedom to refuse their purpose, no chance of them failing to be perfect. Since we are created in the imago Dei – divine love – and re-created in the imago Christi, we are free. Free to pursue our telos and use the means God has provided. But we must do freed-part. Jesus could've simply produced that coin and handed it to Simon Peter. Instead, he sends Simon Peter fishing. Simon Peter could've balked and taken a nap. Or pitched a hysterical fit at having to work for the coin. Or laughed and called Jesus crazy. If he had done any of these things, he would not have the coin. Jesus provides the coin. But Simon Peter has to freely choose to go get the coin. So, Deus providebit. God will provide. He provides the end. The means to achieve that end. The freedom to accept and use the provided means. But He will not compel us to cooperate. Why? Because He loves us. And because He loves us, we are free.

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To the point of excess

18^th Week OT (M)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

Pre-novitiate Retreat, GP, TX

You can't start a project by counting what you don't have. I can't sit down and start composing a homily by listing out all things I don't have on hand. The list would be too long to contemplate! I start with what I actually need and inventory my supplies. Something to write with; something to write on – preferable something portable; lectionary texts; some quiet time to pray, then all the rational and physical faculties necessary to write in the language I know well. What I don't have could fill several stadiums. Worrying about that list will paralyze me, and the homily never gets written. Think about those hungry people waiting on Jesus and the disciples. They hear the disciples tell Jesus, “ALL we have is five loaves and two fish.” ALL we have. IOW, we don't have 5,000 loaves and 5,000 fish. Stomachs start to rumble. Jesus, knowing what happens when a little is blessed, says, “Bring me what ya got.” What happens? A little becomes a lot. Everyone is fed. And there are 12 baskets of leftovers. When we start with what we have, add praise and thanksgiving to the gift, God multiplies in abundance. Even to the point of excess.

Traditionally, we've read this miracle as a foreshadowing of the Eucharist. And it is that. But the Eucharist itself is “a pledge of future glory,” a foreshadowing of our eternity in the presence of the Beatific Vision. You and I are just what we have. No more, no less. If we start our life in Christ by listing off what we don't have, we spend that life in scarcity. Religious life is just one way God gives us to add together all we have and all we are to build abundance. With that abundance, we give Him thanks and praise for our gifts and watch them multiply. What I don't have is given by another. What I have is given to someone who lacks. And that exchange of gifts is basis for the Eucharist. But none of this is possible w/o the abiding presence of God and our eagerness to receive Him into our lives through surrender and thanksgiving. The hungry crowd takes and eats the blessed fish and loaves. Their hunger, their willingness to receive and bear witness to the miracle feeds Christ's mission. The Word spreads. More follow. And there are so many gifts given that there're leftovers. Contemplate on what you have. What you have been given. Give it all away to make room for God's abundance.     

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Lying is never pastoral

St. Alphonsus Liguori

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Wheat and weeds. Sheep and goats. Good fish, bad fish. Parables like this one can make moderns – esp. Western moderns – squirm a bit. They just sound so primitive, so absolute and potentially dangerous. They require us to think about what makes weeds, goats, and bad fish bad. Who sets the standards for good and bad? Who makes the judgment between the two? Can we really say that the goats deserve to be thrown into the fiery pit and the weeds burned at the edge of the field? The bad fish are thrown away. Do they have no value at all? What about love and forgiveness? Surely, Jesus expects us to love and forgive those who are headed toward the flames! He does. He absolutely does. He also expects us to recognize and respect the principal property of love: freedom. He does. The Father does. The Spirit does. Love – true, liberating love – cannot be coerced. It cannot be imposed. It must be chosen. Freely given and freely received. So, when Jesus says that the weeds and goats are tossed into the fire and the bad fish are thrown away, he's saying that he loves them in their freedom to be what they've chosen to be.

Now, of course, real goats and weeds and bad fish don't choose to be what they are. But human beings – rational animals – do choose to turn themselves into those sorts of beings who resolutely reject divine love. IOW, they choose the fiery pit. And putting them there honors their choice. As wildly irrational as that choice seems to us, it is their choice. Our discomfort (?) with that choice in no way allows us to tell them that their choices have no consequences. Doing so may make us feel better about their choice and their destination, but we have to remember that lying is never pastoral. Telling the goats and weeds among us that no one ever goes into the fire, or that the fire is a primitive myth; or that b/c God loves everyone, He would never allow them to be burned – telling them any of this is lying. It's lying to soothe our discomfort with a truth Christ himself clearly teaches. Whatever squeamishness we may have about the reality of eternal damnation should be settled by the knowledge that such a fate is freely chosen. And freely honored. Our mission is live lives wholly given to Christ the Good Shepherd, bearing witness to his mercy and showing – in word and deed – that choosing divine love is the only sane choice. 

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Like produces like

St. Peter Chrysologus

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Squirrels never give birth to dolphins. Dolphins never give birth to possums. And humans never give birth to oak trees. Like produces and re-produces like. Old School Aristotelian and Thomistic philosophy – the basic intellectual structure of Catholicism – teaches us that this is b/c squirrels, dolphins, possums, and oak trees have a nature. That which makes a thing the kind of thing it is. Knowing a thing's nature tells you what it is and its telos, its end, or why it is. The nature of the human person is rational animal. To be a thinking, deliberative, and therefore, moral animal. When our nature is perfected, we only make moral choices that advance us toward our end – God Himself. The fruit we bear is the fruit of righteousness made possible by the grace of God and our free cooperation. Without God's grace, our fruit is rotten. Without Him, we can do nothing good. Jesus says, “. . .every tree is known by its own fruit.” Fig trees produce figs. Oak trees produce acorns. By nature, rational animals produce other rational animals. But it is only by cooperating with God's grace that we as rational animals make the good choices that lead us back to God.

But why should we cooperate with God's grace? Paul writes to the Ephesians, telling them that God – “who created all things” – has a “plan of mystery,” one hidden from the past, a plan Jesus was sent to reveal in the light for all to see. Those who receive this revelation of God's mysterious plan are collected together and called “the Church.” And it is the telos of the Church to preach and teach God's plan to the world, so that the “the inscrutable riches of Christ” might be made known. The first of these riches is a “confidence of access [to the Father] through faith in [His Son].” We should cooperate with God's grace not only to have access to the Father but also b/c doing so repairs our fallen nature and makes it possible for us to make those choices that bring us closer to our end – eternal life in the Blessed Trinity. Like produces and re-produces like. Good works done in grace produces and re-produces good works done in grace. Good works done in grace give glory to God. Thus bearing witness to His help and further revealing His plan for mankind. This is how and why we preach and teach. This is according to the eternal purpose accomplished in Christ Jesus. 

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