Confess, Repent, Follow Christ

24^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

OLR, NOLA

If we are not moving toward God – growing in holiness, allowing Him to perfect us in Christ – then we are moving away from Him. There really is no middle ground. Standing still isn't an option. Last week we heard Jesus say to us that we must hate our families, our friends, and renounce our possessions in order to follow him. Christ comes first, or not at all. This kind of thinking – right/wrong, yes/no – can make us a little nervous b/c our culture tells us that we are not truly free if we aren't given nearly limitless options to choose from. We like to mix and match; a little from here, a little from there. You know, customizeable religion, Have It You Way Faith. Unfortunately for those of us who want to a DIY religion, scripture and tradition bear witness to the truth of the Good News – there is only one way to find peace: when we find ourselves moving away from God, we must confess, repent, and follow Christ. As individual men and women of God and as the Body of Christ, the Church, our salvation, our peace is found only when we confess our disobedience, repent, and return to Christ. Thankfully, we're not left to our charms and wits in all this. God makes our return to Him possible.

This truth of our faith cannot be repeated often enough – God Himself makes our return to Him possible. IOW, w/o His help, we cannot return to Him. We can't confess. We can't repent. We can't follow Christ. I hope you find this as comforting as I do! Why comforting? B/c it means that I am not left on my own to find Christ's peace. I shudder to think where I would be right now if my salvation and growth in holiness were left up to me alone. Thank God this work is not mine alone. Nor is it yours alone. Yes, we must cooperate with God's help; we must put in our share of the work, but even then, our share is nothing more than what God has already given us. We aren't giving up or giving away anything that truly belongs to us. Whatever we have to give was first given to us by God. Our families, friends, our stuff, even our very lives were all given to us by God. So, whatever it is that we sacrifice to cooperate in our salvation. . .it was never really ours to begin with. Perhaps the only thing we can say is ours and ours alone is our sin. My sin really does belong to me. And to me alone. Only I can confess it, repent of it, and choose to return to God through Christ. With God's help, everyone can return to Him.

Look at how Jesus treats the sinners at table. Tax collectors, prostitutes, unclean Gentiles. According to the Law of Moses, he is defiling himself eating in such company. We're talking about mere social embarrassment here. We're talking putting himself outside the good graces of God Himself by violating the purity code of Scripture. The Pharisees and Scribes grumble and snark about Jesus' laxity and plot to use it against him. Jesus hears all the whispering and decides to teach them with a parable. The upshot of his story is this: a lost sheep once found is better than ninety-nine sheep that were never lost. That lost sheep is missed. It was once part of the flock and now it's gone, wandering alone and afraid. And here's the key: the shepherd goes looking for it. He doesn't wait quietly at home until the sheep comes home or turns up dead. The shepherd gets up and goes out into the wilderness to find his lost sheep. When he returns home with the sheep, he celebrates b/c what was once lost is now found. Jesus goes to the lost sheep among God's people and brings them home. He doesn't wait for them to come to him. He doesn't wait for us to find him; he comes out to us, looking for us, and brings us back to God.

Of course, we're not sheep. That lost lamb has little choice in returning home. The shepherd throws it over his shoulders and walks home. What our Lord does with the lost sheep among God's people is to show us how to return home. He comes out to us and walks with us back to where we belong. But we must carry ourselves behind him. If we are weighted down with sin. . .well, the trip back is going to be a tough hike. Christ will take our sin and carry it away. . .if we give it all to him. If we give it all to him – everything: our stubborn hearts, our closed minds, our clouded judgment, our disordered passions, everything – he will carry it all away. And our hike back to God will be straight and smooth. But giving it all away – every sin – takes courage. It takes trust. More than anything else, it takes faith in God that our surrender will bring us peace. We have the witness of the saints. We have the witness of Scripture. We have the holiness and unity of the Church. We have the sacraments. We have everything we need to know – to KNOW! – that a life in Christ brings peace. Confess, repent, return to Christ. There's an eternal party waiting us once we're found.

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Do or Die. . .there is no try

NB. I could not preach my way out of a chalk circle tonight for some reason. . .

 
23^rd Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

OLR, NOLA

Among the conveniences of modern life like no-fault divorce, no-receipt returns, money back guarantees, it may be hard for us to grasp fully what Jesus means when he says that we must hate our parents, our family, and renounce all of our possessions in order to follow him. This demand for all-in commitment, for there's-no-going-back dedication can sound unnecessarily harsh, uncompromising even. Why can't we try on being a disciple for a while and see how we like it? Just dip a toe in and see if the water's right for us? All this hating family and friends and giving up our stuff seems a bit over the top! Who else asks this kind of commitment from us? No one! With just about everyone we meet and everything we do, there's an Exit that allows us a clean, guilt-free get-away. We're allowed to divvy up our time as we see fit; parcel out our energy according our needs; juggle various activities and people as we like. Almost no one is going to dare demand of us 100% of our time and energy. We need the option of backing out, the option of saying, “Sorry. Not today. Got better things to do.” Unfortunately for us, our Lord dares to demand 100% of our time and energy b/c he gave himself for us on the Cross. We belong to him – time, energy, attention, heart and mind.

Being a disciple of the Lord is no cake-walk. In his own day, many who followed him ran off when his demands for allegiance got – shall we say – bizarre. That time he told the crowd that they had to eat his flesh and drink his blood to have eternal life. How many ran away that day? When he got arrested in the Garden, even his most devoted disciples denied him and fled. Even Peter the Rock dodged the guards with lies and swift feet. If the men and women who knew him best can't stay faithful when the feces hits the oscillator – what chance do we have? Well, the best chance we have of staying faithful is to be 100% faithful from the beginning, doing everything in our power to stay firmly rooted in the Gospel and given over wholly to the mission of Christ. We do this by having nothing else and no one else standing between us and Christ. Not family. Not friends. And certainly not our stuff. This doesn't mean that we have to actually feel hatred for mom and pop, or burn our things in a bonfire of the vanities. It does mean that we love Christ first and then love everyone and everything else in light of our love for Christ. 

 

Easily said. Not so easily done, I know. But consider: that we are able to love at all is a gift from God, Who is Love Himself. When I say that I love my mom and dad, I am also saying that I love God b/c God is Love. He makes my familial love possible. Knowing this and living it are two very different things. I know that God is Love, and that I am capable of love only b/c God loved me first. But how do I live this truth? If I attach my God-given love to people and things w/o regard to what God wills for my life, w/o thinking about how loving these people and things affects my holiness, then I am attaching myself to temporary people and things. If we become what we love – as Scripture teaches – then I too become temporary, not destined for eternal life in Christ. However, if I attach my love to Christ first, then love my parents, friends, and things as Christ loves me, I can say that I am loving in a divine love – sacrificially, eternally with my heart and mind focused on holiness. When Jesus warns us about the dangers of building a tower w/o a solid foundation and taking on an enemy king w/o proper planning, he's warning us to put First Things first. He comes first. Or not at all. And that's how we manage to stay faithful when the things start to fall apart.

When we lose the people and things we love, we don't fall apart; that is, we don't if we have loved them all through Christ first. He endures when nothing and no one else can. We are still capable of love. And – in Christ – we are still loved. Our work toward holiness can continue, and our life in mission endures.

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Aerial Pic of NDS

 Notre Dame Seminary

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Praiseworthy Self-abasement [Audio Link added]

22^nd Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

OLR, NOLA

Audio Link

I know a lot about humility. I know the definition of the word. I know how to distinguish it from its many synonyms. And I know how to work with it intellectually as a theological concept and virtue. In other words, I can massage just about every aspect of humility into a homily, a paper, a lecture, or a spiritual direction session. Good for me! The hard question though is: am I humble? Do I actually exhibit the virtue of humility as a spiritual good for my growth in holiness? If I say yes, am I boasting? If I say no, am I being falsely modest? Perhaps humility is a virtue best practiced in secret. . .with great courage. St Thomas tells us that humility “conveys the notion of a praiseworthy self-abasement to the lowest place” (ST II-II.161.1.ad.2). St Gregory of Nyssa tells us that “[t]he Word speaks of voluntary humility as 'poverty in spirit'”(De beatitudinibus 1). And Our Lord implies that humility opposes self-exaltation, “For every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” What humility is is a reality check on our self-appraisal, a speed-bump on our high-speed chase to perfection: “Go and take the lowest place.”

Take the lowest place. When St. Thomas tells us that humility “conveys the notion of a praiseworthy self-abasement to the lowest place,” he's being very careful to make some crucial distinctions. Probably the most important one: the distinction btw self-abasement and praiseworthy self-abasement. Humility is not about self-abasement, a groveling, hatred of the self that leaves you debased and cringing. Humility is about abasing oneself in a praiseworthy manner. Simply put, praiseworthy self-abasement is nothing more than the recognition and acceptance of one's Christian reality: I am both a sinner and a redeemed child of God. I am capable of both great holiness and great evil. I am unworthy of heaven but made worthy in Christ Jesus. Recognizing and accepting this reality – the both/and of being a sinner made worthy – is what it is to abase myself in a praiseworthy manner. I cannot deceive myself into thinking that I am already a saint. Nor can I deceive myself into thinking that I am an unholy worm deserving death. The reality is much more complicated and much more difficult than those easy extremes. The truth is: we are being perfected. Not yet there but on our way. And while on our way, we recognize and accept that our failures and flaws prevent us from raising ourselves above our brothers and sisters.

Jesus' parable of the banquet gives us a window into this thinking about the proper place of humility in the kingdom. Notice in the parable that we are not always relegated to the lowest position. The host might ask us to move up to a higher position. But we can only be moved up if we have first chosen a lower position for ourselves. When we presume – in our pride – to take the highest place, the only direction for us to move when ordered to do so is down. Rather than humble ourselves by recognizing and accepting our unworthiness for the honor, we instead jump pridefully to the place of honor and find ourselves humbled by the host. At the core of this parable is the authority of the Host. He determines who sits where in the order of honor not the guests. If the wedding banquet in the parable is heaven in reality, then it is God Who decides who sits in the places of honor. . .not His guests at the table. If you exalt yourself now, you will be humbled later. However, if you humble yourself now, you will be exalted in heaven. 

 

So, how do we humble ourselves now? Jesus gives us a clue in the parable: “. . .when you hold a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you.” In other words, doing something good for someone who can repay you is less humbling than doing something good for those who can never repay you. Spending your wealth – time, talent, and treasure – freely on those who cannot repay you is the sort of sacrifice that leads to greater humility. Wanting to be “paid back” indicates that you believe that what you have given is truly yours. And that you want your depleted wealth restored. However, spending wealth on those who cannot repay you indicates that you know that all that you have truly belongs to God and that you are merely the steward of His wealth. The sacrifice is not in the “giving over” but in the recognition and acceptance that you are steward of God's wealth not the true owner of the wealth. That sacrifice helps perfect your humility and draws you closer to God. You pull more deeply on the truth that saves: I am wholly dependent on God for everything I have and for everything I am. I am but His instrument.

We could spend hours going over the many ways that we are encouraged by the powers of this world to exalt ourselves above others: class, race, education, martial status, parenthood, economic status, etc. The ways we have of degrading others for our own exaltation are as numerous as the fallen angels. And just as evil. There is but one way to fight and defeat the temptations of self-exaltation: embrace the humility of Christ on the Cross. Scripture tells us that the Son of God emptied himself out to become one of us so that he could die as one of us on the Cross. Theologians sometimes refer to this emptying out as the Son of God “condescending” to become like us. We could just as easily say that he “humbled himself” in order to make our own humility possible. How do we make use of the humility he made possible? We receive into our own hearts and minds his motivation for humbling himself – he loved us as his own and died for us so that we might live. That's sacrificial love. Love that sacrifices self for another. And there is no greater humility to be found. When the powers of this world tempt us to exalt ourselves at the expense of our rich/poor, black/white, Republican/Democrat, educated/uneducated neighbors, bring to your heart and mind the image of Christ on his Cross. Remember that he – the Son of God, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity – humbled himself to become one of us and to die as one of us so that we might live. That WE – all of us – might live. 

 

It is Devil's work to divide us into rich and poor, white and black, upper and lower classes. It's Christ's work to save us all in his one act of sacrificial love on the Cross. And it's our work to be his instruments in this fallen world. Give when you cannot be repaid. Choose the lowest place.

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Update and Thanks

Thanks to Jenny K. for hitting the Wish List and sending me two jars of much-needed paint! 

The Knee is healing well. No sign of infection. I overdid it a bit yesterday and paid for it today. Oy. Swelling, soreness, and angry joint noises.

Classes are off to a great start at Notre Dame Seminary. Orientation Week was a big success.

We celebrated a Mass of the Holy Spirit with Archbishop Aymond yesterday. . .he dedicated and blessed the renovations of St. Joseph Hall. 

Doc appt on Friday. . .

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Who will be saved?

21st Sunday OT (2012)
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Blackfriars, Oxford Univ.

Some see it as a door. Others see it as a path. Jesus says it's a gate, a narrow gate. Flannery O'Connor's creation, that paragon of 1950's white rural middle-class Protestant respectability, Mrs. Turpin, saw it as a bridge. She stands at the fence of her hog pen, the pigs have gathered themselves around an old sow: “A red glow suffused them. They appeared to pant with a secret life.” She watches them 'til sunset, “her gaze bent to them as if she were absorbing some abysmal life-giving knowledge.” Finally, ready for the revelation, Mrs. Turpin raises her hands and “a visionary light settles in her eyes.” A purple-crimson dusk streaks the sky, connecting the fields with the highway: “She saw the streak as a vast swinging bridge extending upward from the earth through a field of living fire. Upon it a vast horde of souls were rumbling toward heaven.” Mrs. Turpin is surprised to see not only poor white trash on that bridge but black folks too. And among the “battalions of freaks and lunatics,” she sees her own tribe of scrubbed-clean, property-owning, church-going people—singing on key, orderly marching, being responsible as they always have been. We might imagine that it was a distant relative of Mrs Turpin who asked Jesus that day, “Lord, will only a few people be saved?”

Some say it is a door or a path. Some think of it as a key or a tabernacle. Jesus says that it is a Narrow Gate, a gate so narrow that most won't have the strength to push themselves through. There will be some on this side of the gate and some on the other side. Most of us imagine that we will be on the right side of the gate when the master of the house comes to lock the door. We will be on the inside listening to those on the outside plea for mercy, shout out their faithfulness, and cry for just one more chance. We will be on the inside when the master shouts at those on the outside, “I do not know where you are from. Depart from me, all you evildoers!” When we hear this brutal rebuke, do we flinch? Do we beg mercy for those left outside? Do we try to rejoin them in a show of solidarity?

These questions matter only if we have gathered the strength necessary to squeeze ourselves through the gate. If we are weak, exhausted, apathetic, or if we really are evildoers, then staying on this side of the gate, away from the table of the kingdom, probably seems more attractive, easier to accomplish, not so much sweat and tears. Do we really want to be part of a banquet that excludes so many? Do we want to lend our support to a homeowner who crafts a narrow gate for his front door, knowing that most will not be able to enter? We may be lazy or stupid or just plain evil, but we would rather suffer righteously with sinners than party self-righteously with the saints!

Mrs. Turpin's distant cousin is insistent, however: “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” Jesus never answers the question. Rather than giving a straightforward yes, no, or about one-third, he moves the question away from the number of those to be saved toward the method by which they will be saved. Those who are saved are saved b/c they have used their strength to push through the Narrow Gate just before the Master locks the door. How many are saved? Don't know. Who are these people? Don't know that either. What happens to those who didn't make it through? Wailing, grinding teeth, and being cast out. Despite all their pleas, they are cast out.

Is there anything for us to do now in order to build up our strength for that final push through the Narrow Gate? Anything for us to do to fortify ourselves for that last surge, that last run at the battlement's gate? We read in the letter to the Hebrews: “. . .strengthen your drooping hands and your weak knees. Make straight paths for your feet, that what is lame may not be disjointed but healed.” This is a call to righteousness, not just the sort of uprightness that comes from following the rules, but the righteousness that comes from calling on God to correct our infirmities—our drooping hands and weak knees—so that what is lame is healed and not made worse by time and trial, not left to become disjointed. Our rush through the Narrow Gate is not a test of physical strength, nor is it a marathon of virtue. The narrowness of the gate is a test of our determination, a trial against a tepid heart and irresolute mind. The narrowness of the gate challenges the sharpness of our focus on being among the blessed who will be called upon to sacrifice everything for Christ's sake, everything for the love of just one friend. It is not enough that we have been to dinner with the Lord; that we have shouted his name from a crowd; that we have witnessed his miracles, praised his preaching, memorized his teaching, or invited ourselves to recline at his table. It is not enough that we are respectable, well-educated, middle-class, religious, worthy citizens of a civilized nation. We might manage to squeeze our respectability, our diplomas, our tax forms and churches and passports through that Narrow Gate, but none of these will assist in the squeezing. Yes, we will likely end up on Mrs Turpin's bridge, heading into the clouds with all the other freaks and lunatics, but we will end up there b/c we have placed ourselves at the mercy of God to forgive us the sins that impede us, that slow us down, and all but guarantee that we do not make the gate in time.

Mrs Turpin sees her own people on that bridge. Somewhat bewildered by the strange company of white trash and black folks, her tribe of middle-class church-goers nonetheless sing on key: “Yet she could see by their shocked and altered faces that even their virtues were being burned away.” Perhaps what will get us through that Narrow Gate is the willingness to have everything that seems so vital, so necessary, so absolutely true. . .to have all of it burned away.

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Brief Book Review: A Deeper Vision

When I teach Adult Lay Formation classes, I always get questions along these lines: "Father, how did X happen?" Or "Why did the Church start doing Y?"

I am challenged in answering these question by the fact that the answers are usually highly complicated and would require a couple of hours of explanation.

Why a couple of hours?

Because our faith (liturgy, canon law, theology, philosophy, etc.) are all intertwined. . .every question about X is rooted in several additional questions about A, B, C. . .W.

For example, "Why did the Church move the priest behind the altar to face the congregation after VC2?" I can't even begin to answer this question thoroughly until it's clear why the priest faced liturgical East in the first place. . .why we consider the Mass a sacrifice. . .the role of the priest in sacrifice. . .the move toward liturgical egalitarianism post VC2. . .etc.

One way for the laity to better prepare themselves as teachers and preachers is to read Robert Royal's latest book, A Deeper Vision: The Catholic Intellectual Tradition in the Twentieth Century.

What you get in this excellent book is an overview of how the Church thought about her faith from the late 19th century to the pontificate of Pope Benedict XVI.

Some of the chapters will be tough going for regular Catholics (i.e., 99.99% of Catholics who don't spend their lives as academic theologians and philosophers). For example, he covers Rahner, von Balthasar, Ratzinger, and several other modern European theologians.

The chapters on the various and competing forms of 20th c. Thomism are fascinating but dense.

The chapter on the intellectual challenges and reforms of VC2 is spot on. He explores the major documents in some detail and covers the more controversial aspects of others. He's balanced here, but it is abundantly clear that he does not believe that the Council has been fully or properly implemented.

The chapter on Catholic biblical scholarship is a must-read for the laity.

The second half of the book is probably the most important for the laity in that it places the intellectual life (not just the academic life) of the Church squarely in the public sphere, challenging the laity to take up their charge to evangelize our secular culture.

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Surgery Update

All is well!  I managed to waddle downstairs this morning for some Much Needed Coffee. . .

The Knee is fixed. Doc said that there was more damage than the MRI showed, so the operation took a little longer than normal. He had to go in from three different portals.

The anesthesiologist said that I took to the anesthesia like a pro. No problems there.

I'm sitting here with a Polar Care Kodiak machine wrapped around the knee to counter the swelling.

Because I am extremely susceptible to staph infections, they gave me an IV bag of my old friend, Vancomycin. 

With the Aleve and the Norco, I'm set for inflammation and pain management.

Classes at NDS start on Monday, so I'll be on crutches or a walker for a couple of days. 

Thanks for all the prayers! 

P.S. Bubba Sue, I talked to Mom this morning. . .she said you were worried, thus the update.  :-)

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Help Him Set the World on Fire!

NB. My surgeon has ordered me to stop taking all anti-inflammatory drugs (ibuprofen, Aleve, etc.) a week before the surgery. I'm finding it difficult to stand for too long. . .so, a short homily this week.

NB 2.0. My surgeon's father, Pete Finney, Sr. died over the weekend. Please keep him in prayer.  

Audio File

20^th Sunday OT
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
OLR, NOLA

Are you ready, willing, and able to help Christ set fire to the world?If you have entered his birth, death, and resurrection through baptism, then you are indeed able to help him. You have been made ready in the waters of baptism to stand before the world and bear witness to the power of the Father's mercy. But being ready and able is not the same as being willing. You have to want to set the world on fire with Christ. You have to want to stand out there and bear up under the questions, the ridicule, the temptations, the applause, whatever else the Enemy might send your way to break your will. If it's You out there, just You and your determination, just You and your will out there trying to bear up under what comes with living the Good News, then you bought failure before you left the house. You can stack the rules and rituals all around you. You can build up a tidy fort of logical arguments and historical data. You can dig a deep and wide moat of separation between yourself and the world. BUT if you want to help Christ set fire to the world with your witness, then you must first live as Christ lived. AND die to self as he did. . .for others.

Being ready, willing, and able to help Christ with his mission and ministry is just the beginning of our lives with him. Being followers of Christ does not make us immune to the same traps and errors that await men and women of other faiths or no faith at all. The author of Hebrews writes to admonish us, “. . .let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us while keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus. . .” As we step out into the world to bring the world the Good News, we can be lured into a dangerous self-righteousness that slowly twists our hearts and minds back in on themselves and leads us to believe that we are the source of our goodness and strength. That I am the rock upon whom my faith is built. That I am the one who's setting the world ablaze with my zeal. Self-righteousness hides the burden of sin. And it prevents us from doing the work we have vowed to do. If I cannot surrender myself to Christ – sins and all – then I cannot be a faithful witness to the mercy he purchased for me. I cannot testify to having been made free. Without our freedom in Christ, without being a slave to Christ, we can only work for ourselves and our homemade righteousness. 

 

If you are willing to help Christ set fire to the world, then surrender yourself – body, soul, heart, and mind – to the mercy he freely gives you. Once freed from your burden of sin, you are free to tell the truth. And nothing burns the darkness of this world like the truth. Keep your eyes fixed on Christ so that you never move from the Way he has shown you. Nothing that Enemy can throw at you can move you. . .unless you want to be moved. So, make your witness, your testimony so much a part of your daily living that to be moved away from Christ means being moved away from everything and everyone you love. And when you are tempted or confronted or ridiculed “consider how [Christ] endured such opposition from sinners, so that you may not grow weary and lose heart.” Jesus asks his disciples, “Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth?” His answer shocks us, “No, I tell you, but rather division.” He comes to divide us from our sin, from our self-righteousness, from our attachments to this world. He comes to divide us one from other in the world so that our unity might be rooted in him. Help him to set fire to whatever stands btw you and his peace.

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Update and Thanks

Mendicant Thanks to E.M. for hitting the Wish List and sending me Bearing False Witness. . .so far, it's excellent! Prayers continue for your discernment, E.M.

Also, some Kind Soul purchased Words Overflown By Stars: Creative Writing Instruction And Insight From The Vermont College MFA Program from the Wish List on July 12th. . .it never arrived.

I am scheduled for knee surgery on August 18th. Just a quick scoping of the knee to remove some debris floating around in there. Nothing too serious. Prayers appreciated!

Classes at Notre Dame Seminary start back up on August 22nd. We will have 138 seminarians, 42 of whom will be new to the program. Keep us all in prayer, please.

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Are you ready?

NB. This homily is an example of what happens when I drink four cups of Italian roast coffee. . .

19^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

OLR, NOLA

To be vigilant is to be in a constant state of watchfulness, always prepared, always ready. The faith we claim and practice entails vigilance. Along with trust and belief, faith in God requires us to be perpetually geared up and ready to move out. At a moment's notice, we can be called upon to bear witness, to offer sacrifice, to give thanks and praise, to heal or forgive; to teach, preach, and bless. Whatever it is that the Lord might ask us to do, we must be prepared to obey. This level of persistent preparation means – at the very least – living always within His grace. The Lord says to his disciples and to us: “Blessed are those servants whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival. . .You must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.” Though the Lord is with us always – in the sacraments, the Church, the baptized, the ordained, even in creation itself – though he is always with us, he will return to us and sit in judgment of how we have lived our lives as bearers of the Good News. Are you prepared for his return?

One way to be in a constant state of vigilance for the Lord's return is to live your life in Christ as if he had already returned. That is, imagine that he has come again among us to judge the living and the dead and that you're just waiting for your name to be called. How would you live your life in Christ if you knew that your name could be called any moment now? Another way of being vigilant is to live your life as an acknowledgment that Christ is always present to us. Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, Christ is there with you. Every person you meet, there is Christ. Yes, he's present in the Eucharist and the tabernacle. But he is also present in his Father's creation – in the natural world and among his human brothers and sisters. If you want some serious practice acknowledging the reality of Christ's presence in the world, find him among those who hate you. Those who would sooner kill you than look at you. He's among them too, working their hearts and minds toward the Father's mercy. Seeing Christ there and acknowledging his presence could be the lightening strike that breaks Satan's hold on those who would see you crushed. Living as if Christ had already returned and living in his presence now will give you a head start on being properly prepared.

 

But neither one of these methods is possible without the good habit of faith. The author of Hebrews tells us that: “Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen.” So, the good habit of trusting in God is itself the manifestation of all that we have come to expect from Him. In other words, when we trust in God, when we believe in Him, our trust and belief in Him is itself what we had hoped for, all that we ever expected from Him. Whatever else might result from our faith is a sign of God's own faithfulness with us. Abraham is our example: “By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; he went out, not knowing where he was to go.” Not knowing where he was going, Abraham went out anyway, trusting that his obedience to God's command would result in a blessing – an inheritance. “By faith Abraham obeyed. . .By faith he sojourned. . .By faith he received power to generate [to have children].” And why did he obey God's command? Because “he thought that the one who had made the promise was trustworthy.” He hoped to have children with his barren wife and his faith in God was made manifest: “So it was that there came forth from one man, himself as good as dead, descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sands on the seashore.” 

 

Vigilance in our faith is necessary not because “believing creates reality,” but because trusting that God will fulfill His promises keeps us always awake in His presence. Christ urges us to stay watchful because he know how easy it is for us to go asleep in faith. What does it take? One bad accident? The loss of a job? The death of a spouse, a child, a friend? What does it take for us to close our eyes on faith and let despair have its way with us? At the very moment when we most need to be awake in the presence of God, we can nod off and lose hope. Or – even worse – we can apply ourselves to activities and people who encourage us to fall dead asleep to faith. Acts of disobedience that separate us from God. Family and friends who lure us away – in a moment of weakness – from all that God has promised. Being vigilant in faith also means being vigilant against those temptations that seduce us away from faith. Abraham received all that he hoped for because he believed in God – found him trustworthy – and obeyed His command to go out in faith. God's command to us is no different. We are commanded to out into the world and bear witness to the Father's freely offered mercy to sinners. We are not only living witnesses to His mercy, we are also instruments of His mercy. We hoped to be saved from our sins, and that hope is made manifest in our faith. Stay ready, always prepared to receive the blessings of God and to give testimony to the saving power of His infinite mercy.

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Thanks

Mendicant thanks to S.B., M.R., and E.M. (continuing to pray for your discernment!) for hitting the Wish List and sending me books and painting supplies.  You are all on my prayer list. . .

God bless!

_______________________


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Nihilism picks away at faith

Audio File Link

18^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

OLR, NOLA

God says to the man who would store up his treasures in this world, “You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you; and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?” Forget – for a moment – about the things that you store up. And forget about to whom they will belong after you die. This night your life will be demanded of you – to whom do you belong? Your things come and go. Your things aren't immortal. But you are. So: who owns you? Who rules you? Our Lord is asking a question that demands much more than just a promise of allegiance, or a statement of mere belief. He's asking you and me to decide where we stand in this world while we prepare for the next. Christ is asking you and me to make a choice: me or the world? Your life will be demanded of you. It's your choice. We can look to our assets, our earning potential, and we can do a quick calculation. We could be better off submitting to the world – if this world is where we hope to find our end. But this world is passing; it's temporary. And finding your hope here – among all these fading away things – is foolishness. And yet it appears that we are living in an age of foolishness. To survive, listen to Paul: “Put to death, then, the parts of you that are earthly. . .”

When we live to accumulate the things of this world rather than to serve the Lord for His greater glory, we swear ourselves to the service of Nothing. Nothing is our god. We love Nothing. We have absolute faith in Nothing. Nothing matters. And Nothing is our purpose in life. As we watch this world slowly grind itself to its bloody end, we can depend on Nothing to spare us; Nothing will provide what we need. Why is Nothing so accommodating, so solicitous of our desires? Because Nothing has nothing to lose by promising us everything we imagine that are we entitled to. Nothing has nothing to give, so promising us everything costs nothing. When we live by the values and philosophies of this world rather than the the Word of God and His Church, we sell our souls to the spirit of the age, giving ourselves away cheaply to both new and ancient falsehoods. The greatest lie of this generation – one we can see celebrated in every element of our daily lives – this lie tells us that we are nothing but random bits of matter accidentally arranged by impersonal cosmic forces, thrown haphazardly into sentience, and destined for nothing more than complete annihilation after death. This lie – both its new and ancient versions – is the creed of nihilism, the worship of Nothingness and the negation of life.

It might seem that our preacher, Qoheleth, is a nihilist. He laments life's futility, “Vanity of vanities, vanity of vanities! All things are vanity!” But the vanity of the life that Qoheleth laments is simply how we mere mortals see the workings of the world. He's not celebrating life as futile, or holding out vanity as the only truth. At most, he's regretting what he sees as the overall unfairness of it all, while wanting life to be truly just and purposeful. To achieve that end, Paul offers the soundest advice, “Put to death. . .the parts of you that are earthly; immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and the greed that is idolatry.” While Qoheleth wails against the futility of striving in a world that cannot reward striving, Paul suggests killing in ourselves anything that binds us too closely to the world. When the world passes, or when we pass from the world, our ties should easily unknot and see us safely free. To believe that there is Something More, that there is Someone More waiting for us when we are set free is the antithesis of nihilism. To live now in the belief that Someone More wants us with Him forever is what keeps us striving toward holiness and away from the Nothing's altars.

You might wonder how a good Catholic can be tempted to nihilism? Perhaps some of us here tonight have been seduced in some small way toward offering Nothing a pinch of incense. Paul names a few of the temptations: immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and idolatry. Maybe, for example, some of us believe that sexual behavior outside marriage isn't all that bad. Or that two men or two women can be truly married. Or maybe, someone here privately believes that abortion is bad but that the State shouldn't have a say in the matter. Or maybe, that we should only allow certain races of people across our borders, or that we as a people have no responsibility to take care of God's creation, or that there are no differences btw men and women, therefore we can pick our own sex; or that science has the answers to our all problems. Each one of these tempts us to embrace an earthly lie and leads us toward renouncing our pursuit of holiness. How? By showing us how to pick away at our foundation, our faith in God. Whether we are tempted to embrace the idolatry of gender politics, or demean human life in the act of abortion, or degrade a person b/c of race, or reject the life-giving gift of sex – whatever the temptation, underneath is a rejection of God and His providential rule. Underneath is Nothing.

So, Christ asks again, “This night your life will be demanded of you. . .to whom will [your things] belong?” Forget the things you own. And answer instead: to whom will you belong? To whom do you belong now? If you belong to the things, the ideas, the values of this world, then you will follow your owners in passing into nothingness when they pass. If you belong to Christ now, then you will pass into life eternal. If you belong to Christ now, then the temptations of Nothingness seem foolish and Qoheleth is right, “All is vanity!” But if you find yourself in the company of nihilists – and you will – the pressure to submit to the Spirit of the Age will be intense, maybe even irresistible. Turn you heart and mind back to God and remember your true purpose here on Earth: to serve Him by serving His people, to always seek His will for your life, and to bear witness to His mercy for all sinners. Nothing can promise and cajole and tempt, but Nothing cannot bring you to freedom, or place you at the banquet table. Only Christ Jesus brings us peace forever.

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Who are you in prayer?

17th Sunday OT
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Our Lady of the Rosary, NOLA

John the Baptist teaches his disciples how to pray. The Pharisees and the Sadducees know how to pray. The Zealots and the scribes can pray. Even the Roman occupiers—with their home altars and idols—know how to pray. Why don't the disciples of Christ know how to ask God for what they need? How could they spend so much time with Christ and not understand the basic rules and methods of prayer? Well, part of the reason could be that every time he needs to pray, Jesus runs off to the hills or the desert, or gets in a boat and flees the crowds. He needs some space, some time alone to properly pray. It could be that pretty much all he does with the disciples is teach, preach, and heal. Or it could be that he is teaching them to pray all along and they don't recognize the lessons for what they are. Regardless, they wanted to learn to pray, so they ask a Master for instruction. What does Jesus teach them? He teaches them that prayer is first about knowing who and what you are in relationship with God. And that knowing and understanding this relationship to God brings exactly what you need.

So, who are we in relationship with God? “Man is a beggar before God.” So says St. Augustine. And he's right. But being a beggar before God and knowing that we're beggars before God are two very different things. What separates the truth from our ignorance is the sin of pride, more specifically, the lack of humility before God and His gifts. We are beggars but we don't know how to beg well b/c we do not yet fully understand what we truly need to thrive as children of God. To learn what we truly need, we must embrace a life of discipleship, the life of a student and learn to beg at the feet of a Master. The disciples—Jesus' students—realize this, so they ask, “Lord, teach us to pray.” And he gives them The Lord's Prayer. He gives them not only the words to pray but shows them the proper attitude of prayer: humility, not demeaning groveling or sniveling toadyism but the truly, deeply held understanding of their creaturely nature. Like all created things, we are wholly dependent on God for our being, for our very existence. Absent this basic understanding of our nature, we cannot properly ask God for anything useful, for anything at all helpful to our flourishing. Humility, then, is the foundation of prayer.

Recognizing our total dependence on God for absolutely everything, we can begin our lessons in how to beg. First, asking God for what we need is not the be-all and end-all of prayer. St. Thérèse of Lisieux writes in her autobiography, “For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy.” This surge of the heart might be humility rolling out in force; or it might be delight in love, or anguish during trial. What does she recognize while praying? Does she see her end, her purpose? Does she see-again Christ's love for her on his cross? Maybe she is reminded that she is a creature, a made-being who has been remade in her freedom from sin? Begging before God is fundamentally about knowing who and what we are before a thought or a word can form; before we can even name our need, we must know that Love draws us to beg; Love seduces us into prayer and teaches us to ask. That we must ask is itself a gift precisely b/c the need to ask pulls us into a tighter union with God. This is why Jesus teaches his students to begin their prayer, “Our Father. . .” Our source. Our beginning. Our origin. Think about it: You cannot ask for directions if you do not know where you are going. And you cannot ask for directions unless you know how to speak to the One Who knows the way.

Abraham learns to speak to God, and finds his way. In what may look like a flea market negotiation, Abraham and God haggle over the fate of Sodom-Gomorrah. Back and forth they propose and counter-propose the acceptable number of righteous citizens allowable to save the city from destruction. God finally settles on the not destroying the city if Abraham can find ten righteous souls. The lesson seems to be: God is reasonable with our demands if we are properly respectable but persistent, even if we're trying to save a cesspool like Sodom. Wrong. This story has little to do with sinful Sodom and more to do with Abraham learning the true nature of the God he serves. With each step in the negotiation with God, Abraham learns that the Lord hears, listens, and concedes not b/c Abraham is persistent or respectable or desperately needful but b/c God is merciful. How is his mercy made real in the world? At the request of His faithful servants! God wills that we ask for what we need so that His mercy and generosity can be made manifest, so that His mighty works can be seen and bear witness to His saving love. But in order for that to happen, we must ask for, receive, and then make known the blessings He pours out for us.

So, the first lesson about prayer is that we must know and understand who and what we are in relationship with God: dependent creatures. The second lesson is that prayer—undertaken with all humility in recognition of our creatureliness—releases the already given blessings of God for us to receive. The third lesson is that receiving God's blessings always and immediately merits copious thanksgiving. Gratitude is the essential ingredient in humility. Try making a roux without fat. Gumbo without filé. Try celebrating Madri Gras without beads. Won't work. Humility without genuine gratitude is simply a less obnoxious form of pride. When we receive a blessing from God, our gratitude, our expressed gratitude, deepens and strengthens our bond to God and purifies our humility. If humility is the foundation of prayer, then giving thanks for the blessings we receive reinforces the ground upon which we stand to pray. We come to know ourselves more fully. We come to see and hear God more clearly. And the bonds of divine love that we share among ourselves grow stronger even as our selfishness and pride wither away. 

Jesus makes a significant promise to his disciples regarding prayer. He says, “And I tell you, ask and you will receive; seek and you will find. . .For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds. . .” The keys to understanding this promise are selflessness, service, humility. He's not promising us that God will be our celestial Santa Claus, or our divine Sugar Daddy. Ask in humility and you will receive in love. Seek in service to others and you will find merit in sacrifice. Before you give voice to prayer, remember who and what you are in relationship with God. Remember that what you are given reveals God's nature to you and to the world. And never forget that God Himself has no need of our thanks or praise. Giving thanks to Him for His gifts is for our benefit not His. He calls us to prayer so that we might grow in holiness, grow closer to His love, and become beacons of that love for a darkening world. Without His prompting, without the good work of His Holy Spirit, we cannot pray. So know that every urge to pray, the very need to pray is the Holy Spirit working His loving work within you. We can nothing good without Him. With Him, every door falls open.

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Memoriae [a better pic]

Memoriae

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