What's Your Excuse?

13^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

St Dominic/St Anthony/OLR

I wasn't even Catholic when – at age seventeen – I first heard the call to priesthood. For the next seventeen years of my life I answered God's call with “Maybe” and “Not Yet.” There were a lot of excuses and dodges. I need to finish college. Then, I need to finish my Masters degree. Then, I need to finish my doctorate. And all the while I was playing around with all sorts of spiritually dangerous ideas and practices, and not in the least bit interested in hearing anything God had to say to me. I applied to become an Episcopal priest in my home diocese. Got rejected. Applied again in another Episcopal diocese a few years later. Got rejected again. I joined the Church in 1995 and decided to revisit my priestly vocation. Three years in, I applied to join a religious order. They rejected me. Not too long after that, I got an internal staph infection that went undiagnosed for three months and came within a few days of killing me. That woke me up, and I got serious. I entered the Dominican novitiate in 1999, and I've never looked back. When Jesus hears our excuses, our delaying tactics, even our good reasons for not following him, he says things like, “Let the dead bury the dead. But you, [you] go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”

So, yes, I spent seventeen years dodging God's call to priesthood. My excuses all sounded excellent at the time. I did need to finish my studies. I wasn't yet ready to fully embrace chaste celibacy. My parents weren't keen on me being Catholic. My group of university-educated, politically leftist friends hated the Church. There were a few things the Church teaches that I couldn't yet accept. I was living the typical life of a impoverished twenty-something grad student, which means I managed to stay alive in the fall semester by stealing fried chicken and liquor from the tailgaters in the Grove at Ole Miss home games. And I was still too much of a hard-headed, big-mouthed, cynical redneck to let anyone tell me what to do or believe. So, yeah, it took seventeen years and almost dying from an undiagnosed staph infection to get me to shut up and sit down long enough to actually listen to what Christ was saying to me. I finally heard him, “Let the dead bury the dead. But you, [you] go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” No more excuses. No more dodges. No more “good reasons.” Put your hand to the plow, and don't look back.

So, Jesus is walking the countryside, preaching the Good News. He comes across a guy and says to him, “Follow me.” What does the guy say in return? “Lord, let me go first and bury my father.” A perfectly good reason to delay following Christ. Burying the dead, especially your dead parents, is an ancient obligation, one blessed by countless generations of families. This guy didn't say he wanted to finish his workday and get paid; or that he needed a shower and a clean change of clothes; he didn't say that he wanted to discern for a few years and attend some retreats first, or consult with his spiritual director. He wanted to bury his dead father! Knowing the urgency of the Father's Good News, and knowing how many hearts and minds longed to be turned back to God, Jesus says, “Let the dead bury the dead. But you, [you] go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” What did the man do? Did he drop everything and follow Christ, leaving his father unburied? We don't know. Maybe we aren't supposed to know b/c “that guy” is you and me. Luke doesn't tell us how he responded b/c you and I are still responding. We are still answering (or not answering) Christ's invitation to follow him. You are That Guy. How do you answer Christ?

While you're considering your answer, think about this. Christ was not indiscriminate about who he invited to follow him. While he walked the earth preaching and teaching, he selected his close followers for personal instruction. Think of the Twelve. He chose them all by name to become his ambassadors to the world. He stood in front of thousands in his three years among us, and only occasionally to a very few did he say, “Follow me.” The universal call to discipleship and holiness comes after the Holy Spirit's visit at Pentecost. Only after Christ ascends into heaven does everyone receive the invitation, “Follow me.” While he was still among us, he carefully chose whom to invite. That Guy – the one with the dead and unburied father – wasn't just some random guy randomly chosen. Jesus knew him. Heart and soul, Jesus knew him. And he knows each one of us. The universal call to discipleship and holiness is directed at each one of us in the Church AND to the whole world. Jesus knows each one of us b/c we have died with him and we have been buried with him and we will be raised with him on the last day. We are members of his body, the Church. We have been chosen and invited. And so, he says to us, all of us, “[Anyone] who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is [not] fit for the kingdom of God.”

If we will be fit for the kingdom of God, we will not look to what we have left behind. Leave it behind where it belongs. Whatever “it” is. Leave the excuses, the bad decisions, the terrible mistakes, even the deliberate acts of vengeance and violence; leave the angry self-accusations, the guilt and the shame, all the junk that gathers around you when you wallow in sin. Leave it all. And plow forward. Go and proclaim the kingdom of God. Why not? I'm not smart enough. I'm not articulate. I'm shy. I'm afraid that people will think I'm weird. My family and friends will be embarrassed. I might lose my job. People will stare. What else ya got? You need to go bury your dead father? Let the dead bury the dead. When I entered the novitiate in 1999, I lost more than half of my friends and former grad school colleagues. By 2010, I had lost my two best friends of 24 years. When I say “lost,” I don't mean that they died. I mean that they cut me out of their lives b/c they hate the Church. My family – thank God – didn't turn away. Though they still look at me like I'm a partially-shaved circus monkey.

What and who are you willing to lose to follow Christ? You might not lose anyone or anything but your sins and those who encourage sin. You might not leave behind much at all. Or, you might have to leave everything and everyone behind. The decision to follow Christ is the decision to make him Master of your heart and mind. That means putting aside whatever or whoever else rules you. It means stepping off into another world of freedom, peace, forgiveness, and mercy. And it means giving to others anything that you have received from Him.

You're at the plow. Don't look back!

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You. Are. Free.

Pentecost Sunday

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

OLR, NOLA

Jesus promises to send the Holy Spirit after his ascension, and so he does! Hurricane winds and tongues of fire, driving the frightened disciples out into the streets of Jerusalem where they give God praise and thanksgiving in every known language – taking the universal Word of God into the hearts and minds of individual men and women, speaking their various languages so that the mercy of the Father is offered to and understood by everyone who has ears to hear. Bloodlines, ancestry, tribal identity, race, class – none of these matter anymore in matters of salvation. Why? B/c the Holy Spirit has washed over the disciples, set them on fire, and sent them out into the desperate world with the Word to preach and the work of Christ to accomplish. It no longer matters to your salvation that your mama was a Gentile, or your daddy a slave, or that you were born the “wrong kind of Jew.” It no longer matters to your salvation that you are a rich, land-owning foreign invader, or a bought and paid for soldier for the occupiers, or even – the worse possible thing you could be – a tax collector! If you have ears to hear, listen: you are no longer a slave to sin. You. Are. Free. You are free to grow in holiness by loving Christ and those he sends to you to love.

Everything that was once required of us to be in good standing with God has been fulfilled in Christ Jesus. The Mosaic Law. Fulfilled. The Prophets. Fulfilled. The animal sacrifices. Fulfilled. And now the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost is the fulfillment of Christ's promise to his disciples to send us an Advocate, a Defender, a spirit of consolation, strength, and joy. Now that we are free under the fulfilled law and recreated under the new commandment of love, we are ready to receive the Spirit of the Father and the Son who is Himself perfect love. In the same way that water is shaped by its container, so the Spirit is shaped by the one who receives Him. But the Spirit also does some shaping of His own. Some will be shaped to teach. Others shaped to preach. Some to lead, some to heal. Paul says, “To each individual the manifestation of the Spirit is given for some benefit.” Whose benefit? The benefit of the Body of the Christ, the Church. We have been freed from sin not to pursue our self-interested church-hobbies, or to establish personal fiefdoms in the parish. We have been freed to serve the Body to the limits of our spiritual gifts. We have been freed so that we are able to choose the Final Good and grow in holiness by loving sacrificially.

And that is no easy thing. Before the coming of the Holy Spirit, the disciples were locked in a room, terrified, every noise must've sounded like Roman legionnaires coming up the stairs to drag them off to be crucified. In their fear, they must've been thinking about Jesus and his teachings. How do we love our enemies?! How do we forgive 70x7?! How can we follow Christ when everyone out there is trying to kill us?! How am I supposed to be perfect as the Father is perfect?! And then – in the middle of all that anxiety and fear – Jesus appears and says, “Peace be with you.” How do we accomplish all the things Christ asks of us? He says, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” First, be at peace. The victory is won. We cannot lose b/c Christ has always, already won. Second, the Father sent the Son to us with the Holy Spirit. “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Christ sends us out into the world with the Holy Spirit – our Advocate and Defender. Third, b/c salvation no longer depends on race, class, tribal identity, or birthplace, our work for Christ is universal. Anyone with ears can hear the Good News and receive forgiveness for their sins. We can offer freedom in Christ b/c we are free in Christ.

And it is the ministry of the Holy Spirit among us to give us everything we need to remain free – a well-formed conscience, a strong trust in God, a sure belief in the life to come, the ability and willingness to do the Good for others, and – tying all those together – an abiding peace, a peace that means we have settled into our bones a knowledge and love of God that cannot be moved and must be shared. If you have ears to hear, listen: you are no longer a slave to sin. You. Are. Free. You are free to grow in holiness by loving Christ and loving those he sends to you to love.

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Remember and testify

6^th Week of Easter (M)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

St Dominic Priory, NOLA

Brothers, we can't drop specimens of faith into a petri dish to examine its structure. There's no body to dissect or theorem to prove in the life of faith. Jesus tells the disciples that the Advocate will testify as a witness to the truth. Then he says to them and to us, “And you also testify, because you have been with me from the beginning.” Through the tradition of the Church we have been with him from the beginning, and we do testify to the truth of the Gospel in our teaching and preaching. If there's a proof of faith or a faith theorem to solve, it's this: we embody the memories of those who lived the faith before us. That's not very scientific or mathematical. But it is what we do. Every time we climb into a pulpit or get behind an altar or throw on a purple stole for confession, we give flesh and bone in the present hour to a living relationship with the Divine, the God who created us and re-created us in Christ Jesus. They might kill us as sacrifices to God but one body is not The Body. As a church, our first ministry is to the memory of faith. Without that we are students without a text, students without a teacher.

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Keep his word???

6^th Sunday of Easter

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

OLR, NOLA

I'll be the first to confess that all this “loving Jesus” language makes me a little queasy. It sounds WAY too Protestant. Way too fundamentalist Protestant for my tastes. Growing up as a heathen in woods and hills of MS surrounded by Baptists, Pentecostals, and Church of Christ folks left me with an aversion to talking about Jesus in overly emotional terms. Any religious talk that was too intimate, too personal sounded like a sales-pitch, like an attempt to sell me a place on one of their denominational pews. We didn't talk that way in my family. We had Bibles in the house, and no one in my family denied the existence of God or the thought going to church was a bad idea. . .we just didn't go. We had things to do on the weekend – like clear land, tend gardens, and mow fields. So, when a town-dwelling classmate started talking about Jesus as his “personal Lord and Savior,” and bugging me about going to a revival at his church, I found somewhere else to be. It wasn't until I discovered and came to understand how Christ's love for me is mediated by his Word that my ample stomach calmed down. Jesus says to the disciples and to all of us: “Whoever loves me will keep my word. . .”

There are two elements in this teaching: “loving Jesus” and “keeping his word.” These two elements are connected by an “if/then” construction: “If you love me, then you will keep my word.” It logically follows therefore that: “Whoever does not love me does not keep my word.” Easy enough. Now, what does he mean by “keep my word”? How do we do that? In everyday speech we might say, “I will return the money I borrowed. I give you my word.” You might respond, “Your word is good enough for me.” I've made a promise and you've accepted that promise. That's a good start on what Jesus means by “keeping his word,” but there's a lot more going on here than the exchange of a promise. We know that the word “word” is used in a number of different ways in the history of the faith. The Father breathed the Holy Spirit over the void, speaking a single word – Christ – and everything came to be. The Bible is the written Word of God. Christ himself is the Word made flesh. The Church is the body of Christ who is the word made flesh. We are all members of that Church, and so we live united in the Word and as individuals words dwelling in Him. To put it a bit too poetically: each one of us is a word and we receive our meaning and purpose as words from The Word. 

 

So, “keeping Jesus' word” then means that I hold in the center of my heart and mind that I am an expression of Christ in the world for others. I'm not just someone who calls himself a follower of Christ. Not just someone who visits a church once a month or so, or someone whose nana prays a rosary for me every week. But someone who gets out of bed every morning knowing, feeling, thinking, speaking, and acting as another Christ for those I will meet that day. This isn't a cultural thing – like “I'm from New Orleans so I must be Catholic” sort of thing, or a family thing – “My family is Catholic so I must be Catholic too” – or a “Well, the man/woman I'm marrying is Catholic so I have to be Catholic too” sort of thing. This is a “If You Love Christ, Then You Will Keep His Word” sort of thing. If you desire holiness, the salvation of your soul, and the resurrection of your body come the end of the age, then you will live your life right here and right now as Christ lives his – fully in the presence of the Father with the Holy Spirit, keeping to His commandments; receiving His sacraments; abiding in peace and joy with one another; and doing every in your power to be the Word for others in this tragic world.

 

I noted earlier that I came to some peace with the “loving Jesus” language after I discovered and came to understand that divine love is mediated. What do I mean by “mediated”? None of us has a direct, unfiltered experience of God's love. His love for us is mediated – filtered – through His word: Scripture, Christ, and creation. It's through these three mediators or filters that we come to know and love God. Our knowledge and love of God is never just about our emotions. We know and love with the whole person – body and soul, intellect and will, everything we are. Never assume that b/c you don't feel all fluttery about Jesus that you don't love him. And never assume that your emotional attachment to some devotional practice or prayer is evidence of your love for him. Emotions can be deceiving. Instead, rely on what you do in his name, rely on how you keep his word in your thoughts, words, and deeds to guide your growth in love. And the peace and joy of Christ will be all the evidence anyone will need to see that truly love the Lord.

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On not selling your soul

5^th Sunday of Easter

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

OLR, NOLA

That phrase – “Love one another” – looks good on a bumper-sticker, or a cross-stitched pillow. We've heard it hundreds of times in homilies and lessons at school. We might even take it seriously and try to live it once and a while. But it's not always clear exactly what our Lord is commanding us to do. Is he commanding us to feel a certain way about everyone? Is he commanding us to express a certain sort of passion? He says, “Love one another as I have loved you.” That last bit – “as I have loved you” – is big qualifier. But even that doesn't do much to make things any clearer. Is he commanding us to die on a Cross for everyone? Why would he command that? He's already sacrificed himself for us. . .once for all. If look back over Jesus' public ministry we can something of what he might mean by this last command. He teaches the truth of the Father's mercy. He preaches the necessity of repentance from sin in order to receive that mercy. He heals the sick, the lame, the blind. He feeds the hungry – both the physically hunger and the spiritually hungry. And he proclaims the Kingdom of God by forgiving sinners. This is how he loves us. And this is how we love one another as he loves us. We preach and teach the truth. We repent and receive mercy. We help for those who need help, and we forgive one another so that the Kingdom may be proclaimed.

Pop quiz: which one of the disciples didn't hear Jesus' last command? Judas. Judas leaves the table, and then Jesus begins, “Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him. . .” Jesus waits until the Betrayer is gone before giving his last lesson in love to his friends. Why? B/c the treasonous disciple cannot bear witness to this truth, meaning, literally, he cannot. Even had he stayed with the others, we could not see it. He does not love the Lord; he does not love his brother disciples. He loves worldly glory and riches. He is blind to the heavenly glory that Christ shows to those who choose to love him. Had he stayed, Judas would not have heard Jesus say, “Love one another.” The ears of a traitor are closed to loyalty and love. And b/c loving one another is a hardship, betrayal come easily to those to who refuse to love. Judas didn't just sell his teacher for a pocketful of silver. He didn't just deny Christ and walk away. From the moment he listened to the offer to betray Christ – he sold his own soul. He sold the Way, the Truth, and the Life. . .and he sold his soul to the Enemy.

Judas refuses Christ's love, allowing the powers of this world to buy his integrity, his strength as a Good Man, as a man of God. He uses his friendship with Jesus to sell our Lord to his enemies. The powers of this world set a hardship for Judas. And he chose the easy work-around, the profitable exit. In other words, he compromises the very thing that made him a man of God, worthy of trust. Judas accommodates himself to the spirit of the age and ends his own life with a noose. We know all too well that the spirit of our own age is busy setting hardships for us. We are tempted to infect the Gospel with false religions. Compromise with secular power for material gain. Accommodate our moral principles for the sake of social standing. Surrender our freedoms in the name of security. And many of us lose our battles with these temptations. Many of us exhaust our strength by resisting. Here's what we need to know now: when we love another as Christ loves us, we have no need for a gospel other than the Gospel of Jesus Christ; when we love one another as Christ loves us, we don't need material gain, social standing, or security from the state. Everything we need is given by God so that we might live wholly in His love. 

 

Judas did not believe this. He thought he needed 30 pieces of silver. So, he died a traitor's death. Christ's love tells the truth; it never compromises or accommodates, nor do those who love one another in Christ. Jesus orders us, “As I [love] you, so you also should love one another.” His Passion and death began when the traitor left the table. Ours begins when we approach this table. . .and dare to share in his last meal.

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Be a stinky sheep!

4^th Sunday of Easter

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

OLR, NOLA

Being a former farmboy, I am not all that happy about being compared to a sheep. Sheep are dirty. Loud. Stupid. And they stink. When I was in seminary, our preaching and Scripture professors told us to think carefully before we called God's people “sheep.” Is that really the image you want to leave with your parishioners? That they are dirty, loud, stupid, and stinky? If you call yourself a shepherd, then you're the keeper of the sheep; the rustler of the sheep; you poke at them to make them go where you want, and when the time comes, you fleece them! So, maybe the whole sheep/shepherd image is a bit outdated. Unless, of course, you remember that back in Jesus' day sheep were a foundation stone of the economy. They provided just about everything needed to survive. They were cared for almost like a family's children and were protected from lions and wolves. That sheep/shepherd image has two sides. The side Jesus uses this evening is the side that places the sheep well within the family, well within the protection of the Father. He places us – his sheep – in familiar territory, in comfortable reach of food, water, and shelter. He places us – his flock – within reach of his Word.

Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” How do we explain that some who heard Jesus teach and preach turned away from him? That some openly opposed him? That others started to follow him but abandoned him along the Way? And still others stuck with him almost to the end? Those who have ears to hear will hear and those with eyes to see will see. Those who are most in need of mercy and desirous of it will hear and see the mercy Christ offers to them. The “poor” – those who live lives of spiritual poverty – see the riches Christ offers them. They recognize those riches as theirs, or they don't. They receive those riches, or they don't. IOW, we will choose to follow Christ, or we won't. There is no halfway. If we choose to follow, we follow. We follow behind, stepping where he steps and heading in the same direction at the same pace. If I am running head, or walking off in another direction, or skipping along toward a cliff – I am not following. I can say that I'm following Christ, but I can also say that I'm the 25yo multi-millionaire quarterback of the NOLA Saints. Don't make it so. Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” If you follow Christ, he knows you. And if he knows you, then you have heard his voice.

To be a follower of the Good Shepherd means that you belong to a flock, a family of individuals who heard the voice of Christ and chose to follow him. We came into an existing family, a long-lived, long-suffering family that's been through every trial and tribulation the Enemy could invent. For over 2,000 years our flock has endured, persevered, rebuilt, struggled, and fought for the faith on just about every continent in every language known to man. And here we are doing it some more! We endure and persevere and rebuild and struggle and fight for the faith b/c we chose to follow the Good Shepherd. We rely on his protection, his strength, his love, his mercy. And we will always have all that we need to carry on. Some will hear and turn away. Others will hear, join us, and leave. Still others will recognize in the voice of Christ – that's me and you – the Father's offer of mercy and stay with us. If you'll forgive the image – they will add their stink to ours and become invaluable sheep. About us and for us, Jesus says, “I give [my sheep] eternal life, and they shall never perish. No one can take them out of my hand.”

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No rationing the Spirit!

2nd Week of Easter/St. Athanasius

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

NDS, NOLA

In the midst of some horrible situation – final exams, Capstone project due in ten minutes, you've missed your homily tutorial – in the midst these horrible situations, have you found yourself crying out to God, “O Lord! Please help me! I'll pray three rosaries a day for a year; give up coffee for a week; and read all of my assignments next semester if you help me!” This cry from the heart is a cry for grace – divine assistance, and I've no doubt that all of us here have at one time cried out to God in such desperation. We might imagine a distant, mostly indifferent deity wafting around in heaven oblivious to our (mostly) self-inflicted wounds, a deity whose attention we must attract and whose pity we must entice with promises, bargains, and offers of sacrifice. So, we begin. We promise. We bargain. We offer sacrifice. And, inevitably, we slink away in confusion and disappointment when our rich bounty of proffered spiritual loot results in nothing more than a Grand Silence from the heavens. The problem here is this: this is how the pagans pray. John teaches us, “[God the Father] does not ration his gift of the Spirit.” And neither do those who follow His Son.

When we pray, we testify; that is, when we open ourselves to commune with the Divine, we bear witness to the reality of God's presence in our lives, and we manifest the Spirit of God who animates everything we think, say, and do. Because God does not ration His Spirit, His Spirit is freely given in infinite abundance to any and all who will receive Him. There is no promise, no bargain, no sacrifice that is worthy of this gift. There is no created thing that can be offered to Divine Love Himself that equals the generosity of this gift to the believer. The only proper response upon receiving the Spirit is infectious joy, copious praise, and perpetual thanksgiving. To be clear: in receiving the Spirit there is no necessary exchange btw God and His creature. We have nothing to give Him that is not already His. For our sake, we are allowed to speak as though there is an exchange – a way for us to grasp imperfectly the nature of Christ's sacrifice on the Cross. But truly – what we have to give ultimately comes to nothing: our sin, our disobedience, our rebellion. So, when desperate, do not promise or bargain or sacrifice. Instead, receive. Open your heart and mind to the abundance of the Spirit and bear witness in prayer to the Divine Love Who created you, who re-created you in Christ, and who will make you perfect as He Himself is perfect.

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Make room for the Cross

Monday of Holy Week

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

St D.'s, NOLA

This is a week of “self-emptying” for Christ. Yesterday, he entered Jerusalem to shouts of “Hosanna!” and “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” By Saturday, he will have been betrayed by a friend; arrested, denied, tortured, and nailed to a cross. He will be dead and buried. Yesterday, we heard Paul tell us, that “though he was in the form of God, [Christ] did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself (ἐκένωσεν). . .” He emptied himself of what? Not his divinity. Not his humanity. We need both for our salvation! Christ emptied himself of all attachments, all sentiments, all worldly weights and anchors. As Mary pours the expensive funereal oil on his feet and as Judas the Betrayer objects to the terrible waste, Jesus begins to die. He lets go of friends, family, disciples, anyone and anything that might allow “this cup to pass” from him. Jesus doesn't cease loving his family and friends in order to let them go. He begins to love them sacrificially. He pours them out so that the Father's will might more perfectly take their place. This is the challenge of Holy Week: detach, pour out, empty yourself so that there is nothing left in you but your desire to be crucified with Christ on Good Friday.

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Remember: you asked for his crucifixion

Palm Sunday 2019

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

OLR, NOLA

Imagine walking into the French Quarter as thousands of people cheer your name, throw flowers at you, and as you wave, they cry out, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord.” IOW, imagine you are Drew Brees and that the Saints won the Superbowl last year. The city, the state, the whole world is yours! Now, imagine just a week later those same people, those same adoring crowds, are cursing you, screaming for your blood, spitting on you, and cheerfully handing you over to the Feds for execution. This isn't a lesson in the vagaries of celebrity, or how we create our heroes in order to destroy them. This isn't any kind of lesson at all. It's history. It's what happened. Jesus entered Jerusalem – exactly as he had told his disciples many times he would – and the people of Jerusalem hailed him as their savior and king. Perhaps the disciples remember at this point that Jesus also told them that he would be betrayed, handed over to his enemies, and executed. That also happened. It's history too. And now we've begun in earnest our inexorable march toward Holy Week and Easter. Come Good Friday, remember Palm Sunday. When we cheer for his crucifixion, remember that we once cheered his kingship. 

 

This week, I challenge you to consider this: our Lord's resolve to die for us on the Cross didn't change b/c we greeted him with joy on Sunday, nor b/c we cheered for his death on Friday. He knew he mission. He knew his goal. And our wish-washy wants made no difference to him. He went to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover feast. And his earlier prophecies played out exactly like he said they would. Judas betrays him. Peter denies him. Pilate scourges him. And the centurions nail him to the cross. As he prophesied – he dies, willingly, so that we might live and live eternally. Whether we boo or cheer, whether we believe or do not, whether we ask for it or not, Christ Jesus went to Jerusalem and died on a garbage heap for the salvation of the world. Receive this gift with praise and thanksgiving so that when he comes again you will be known and loved as child of the Most High.

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When the mob comes -- bear witness!

5^th Week of Lent (F)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

St Dominic, NOLA

A mob – complete with stones – demands that Jesus defend his claim to be the Son of God. His defense: if you can't take my word for it, then look at my works – look at the good that I am doing. If my words and works are not enough. . .well, there's little hope that you will ever come to believe that I am who I say I am. For us, in 2019, coming to know and love Jesus as the Christ can be a sudden revelation – think: St Paul on the road to Damascus – or it can be a long, slow process of growing in familiarity and trust. Being 2,000 years removed from Christ's words and deeds means that we will struggle to know even a little something about Jesus. The point – the point of all of this – is not to know more about Jesus but to come to know him, personally, up close, and in a way we can never forget. The point is to love him so that we might love one another. So that we might be living witnesses to the power of God's mercy. 

 

Jesus gives the mob demanding an answer two options: believe my word or believe my works. Taken together – his words and his works – Jesus clearly and convincingly reveals that he is the Son of God come to offer sinners his Father's boundless mercy. If we have come to believe that he is who he says he is, and if we have accepted baptism for the cleansing of our sins, then we too – by our words and works – reveal the Christ to others. One this last Friday of Lent 2019, how's your witness? We are rapidly moving toward Holy Week and Easter and we need to take account of how and how well we have taken the stand to testify to the Father's great work in our lives. If you leave this evening and find yourself confronted by a stone-wielding mob outside your home, demanding to know who this Christ-fellow is, will you bear witness? Will you – in word and deed – tell them how his sacrificial death on the cross made your salvation possible? Will you tell them that you are a new man, a new woman, remade in the perfect image and likeness of the Crucified Christ? That you have been granted an eternal inheritance, and that you confidently hope in the resurrection of the body at the end of the age? If you are not willing to bear such a witness, you might need to re-do your Lenten pilgrimage! If you are willing, then know this: “the Lord is with [you], like a mighty champion: [your] persecutors will stumble, they will not triumph. In their failure they will be put to utter shame. . .” Your words and works – spoken and done to bear witness to Christ – are spoken and done with Christ. He is with you – with us – always!

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Latest Paintings. . .

I haven't posted pics of my paintings in a while. . .

Below of some of the latest:

 Calls into being what does not exist (18x24, acrylic, canvas board)

 Things of the past shall not be remembered (18x24, acrylic, canvas board)

 Do not be afraid, Mary (18x24, acrylic, canvas board) SOLD

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Lost??? Get found!

4^th Sunday of Lent (C)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

OLR, NOLA

If you were the older son in this parable, I'm betting you'd be angry too. I'm also betting that if you were the younger son – the Prodigal Son – you'd be overwhelmed with joy to be received back into your family. This parable remains a powerful spiritual lesson after 2,000 years b/c on any given day, each one of us can identify with either the Older Son or the Prodigal Son. We might even identify with both at different times in the same day. Who here hasn't been relieved of the burdens of sin and felt truly grateful? And who here hasn't resented That Sinner Over There being forgiven w/o so much as a slap on the wrist? When TSOT is me, I'm delighted. But when it's someone else – esp. someone who's hurt me – I'm resentful. During Lent, we face our temptations head-on and deny them through our victory with Christ on the cross. The temptation we are confronted with this evening is envy. So, our question is: are you envious of the Father's mercy toward others? Do you resent His generosity in forgiving the sins of others?

The older son is angry b/c his father welcomes back his wastrel of a younger brother. There's a feast of fattened calf. Gifts. Wine. Back-slapping. Tears of joy. Lots of hugging. And no one seems to be paying much attention to the fact that the young man abandoned his family; left the older brother to do his share of the work, and all the while blowing his inheritance on wine and prostitutes. Why is our father celebrating my brother's sins? Why isn't he heaping scorn and abuse on him? Why aren't we all shunning him and making sure that we knows how much we disapprove of his behavior? It doesn't take much for us to put ourselves in the older son's shoes. Other peoples' public sins need to be point out, named as such, and the sinner admonished. Even better: shame the sinner into repenting publicly and then show him/her doing penance. Call this a deterrent to future sin. If we don't see all this Penitent Drama for ourselves, then we really can't say for sure that the sinner has been properly punished, now can we? From the Christian perspective, what's missing here? What is the Older Son missing in his petulant anger? His father answers, “My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’” 

 

The father in the parable tells his angry son to celebrate the return of his repentant brother. Our Father in heaven tells us to celebrate the return of our repentant brothers and sisters. Rather than worry about the sin, rejoice that a sinner has come home. Rather than agonize over whether or not forgiveness signals that a sin isn't really a sin, rejoice that a sinner has turned back to the Lord. Rather than be angry that a sinner – even a lately repentant sinner – has finally repented, rejoice that the Father's mercy is freely given to all who ask for it. In other words, if you are going to choose to be a character in this parable, always choose to be either the Prodigal Son or the Forgiving Father. . .never the angry, envious Older Son. Choose to come home, repentant and receive the Father's welcome. Choose to be the one who welcomes the sinner home and throws him/her a party for finding the way once again. Never choose to be the one who out of jealousy and petulance separates himself from his Father by being envious of God's infinite and unfailing generosity. That infinite and unfailing generosity includes you. . .always. As we quickly close on Holy Week and Easter, now is the time to repent of any jealousies, envious thoughts or words, esp. if those thoughts and words begrudge others of the Father's mercy for their sins. Remember what Jesus said to us last week: “Repent, or you will all perish.”

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Sin, repentance, & Roto-Rooter

3^rd Sunday of Lent (C)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

OLR, NOLA

We – all of us! – are sinners. And all of us need to repent. That's the Word of God spoken to us this evening. Now, you might respond to this bit of news with a heartfelt, “Duh, Father. Like I don't know that.” Or maybe a less enthusiastic but still sincere, “I'm trying, Father, I really am. Lord, help me!” Or you might choose to push back a little by saying, “Come on, Father. . .the Church got ride of all that Sin and Repentance Stuff years ago. Fire and brimstone is so outdated and offensive.” What you might think but not say is this: “Yeah. I'm a sinner. But I know some people who are a WHOLE LOT worse sinners than me! Compared to THOSE people, I'm a regular Mother Teresa!” Objectively speaking, you're probably right. I doubt anyone here this evening is a serial rapist, a child molester, or a cannibal. I doubt anyone here is secretly worshiping Satan, or planning a terrorist bomb attack on St. Louis Cathedral during the Easter Morning Mass. Nonetheless, the Word of God spoken to us tonight tells us that we are all sinners, and that we all need to repent. My neighbor's greater sins do not diminish my small sins. And my repentance can show him a better way.

You don't have to be a church historian or theologian to know that preaching about sin has become something of a fashion faux-pas in the past few decades. In an effort to bring the Church “up to date,” we've largely abandoned the notion of sin and prefer instead to talk about mistakes, struggles, addictions, or lapses in judgment. All of these things happen, of course, but not all mistakes, struggles, addictions, and lapses in judgment are sinful. Sin is something else entirely. At its root, sin is a deliberately chosen thought, word, or deed that prevents us from receiving God's grace, a conscious decision we make to refuse God's offer to share in His divine life. Large or small, sin blocks the free-flowing graces we could be receiving from the Father. If you need an image, try this one, familiar one: sin is the hairy, gelatinous gunk clogging your spiritual pipes. At baptism you were given the gift of freedom, the grace of redemption, so you – and only you – can freely receive the divine help you need to blow your pipes clean. The first step is recognizing the sin in your life. The next step is repentance, conversion. Jesus warn us, “. . .if you do not repent, you will all perish.”

You might think that our Lord is using scare tactics here, trying to frighten us with tales of eternal fire and torment. He's not. He's simply stating fact. Sin prevents us from receiving God's grace. Sin prevents us from participating in the divine life. If I die outside the divine life, then I live eternally in the same way I live temporally. . .outside the divine life. That's hell. Telling me that I am sinning and need to repent is an act of love not hate or judgment. Imagine a friend is driving at night on I-10 toward Baton Rouge. She calls you to chat. Suddenly, your friend turns off the headlights, crosses the median, and drives a 100mph the wrong way. All the while she's telling you what she's doing. You can hear horns blowing, tires squealing, sirens in the background. What do you say to her? Do you say, “Well, I understand your choice to drive the wrong way on I-10 at 100mph, and I want to affirm you in your decision. If you believe – in good conscience – that these actions will make you happy, then go for it!” NO! Of course, you don't. You beg her to recognize the foolishness of her choices. You tell her that if she continues on her chosen path, she will likely crash and burn. So, you beg her to stop, turn around, and head the right way. Telling her the likely consequences of driving recklessly isn't judgmental. It's an act of love. And Christ has given us the benefits of his supreme act of love – his sacrifice on the cross. 

 

One of the benefits of Christ's sacrifice for us is our ability to recognize sin and repent. The Devil obscures this benefit by tempting us to minimize our sin by comparing it with the sins of others. (You would think your friend insane if she said that her driving the wrong way on I-10 at 100mph at night was OK b/c some guy last week crashed and burned doing the same thing at 120mph). The temptation here is not just to minimize my sin but to call it something other than what it is – a mistake, a lapse in judgment, something I'm struggling with. Call it anything but what it is: a sin. You see, the Devil knows that you don't need to repent when you make a mistake. Mistakes aren't deliberate. Mistakes are just. . .mistakes. So, he tempts you to compare, measure your “mistakes” against the sins of others and conclude that you don't really need to repent. Jesus says that we do. We do need to repent. Or perish. Permanently. 

 

Lent is our time to look deeply and carefully at our lives in Christ. Not through some sort of ghoulish fascination with human failure. Or a legalistic microscope, nit-picking every choice. We can and should exam our lives in Christ with the joy and freedom we have received as heirs to the Kingdom. We all need the free-flowing graces we can only receive from the Father. Unclogging our spiritual pipes can and should be happy work. Think of Lent as your chance to become a Holy Roto-Rooter!

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Who or what is your cornerstone?

2^nd Week of Lent (F)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

NDS, NOLA

Here we are at the end of the second week of Lent, and we're reading about tenants and landowners, vineyards and stones. We are also reading about murder and fear – the murder of Christ and the fear of those who are threatened by the truth of his ministry and mission. They hear him say to the crowd, “. . .the Kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that will produce its fruit.” They know he's talking about them. And their fear is compounded by his popularity with the crowd. How is this parable suitable for a Friday in Lent? Put yourself among the chief priests and Pharisees and ask yourself: is he also talking about me? Am I among those who will lose the Kingdom of God b/c Christ is not the cornerstone of everything I am, of everything I strive to be? If there's anytime in the liturgical year to ask this question, it's Lent. So ask: who or what grounds and supports my daily life? Who or what gives strength and purpose to everything I am building here at Notre Dame? When everything I am and everything I have is taken away, who or what remains? 

 

Lent is a season for destroying idols, a time for us to count the false gods we worship and un-name them in the name of Christ. We have this time – out and away – so that we can inspect the foundation of our faith, looking for cracks and loose stones. Upon inspection, what do you find? Are you motivated and inspired for ministry by a need for power, prestige, applause? Are you hiding away from a scary world – is the apparent safety and security of the priesthood your cornerstone? Maybe your cornerstone is the chance to set the Church aright, to get out there and fix what you think is broken; to whip us all back into shape with a regular regime of a spiritual diet and religious exercise. Or maybe your cornerstone is a packed schedule, a full calendar – the busyness of being busy. Lent is the time – out and away – to ask: Is Christ your cornerstone? Your ground and support, your strength and your purpose? If not, Lent is the time to receive the grace you've been given and set Him firmly, permanently in place. And b/c we are not yet perfect, we'll need to receive that grace and set that cornerstone daily, hourly for all of the time we have left. By the Lord this will be done. Isn't it wonderful in your eyes?

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Seeing clearly in the dark

2^nd Sunday of Lent

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

OLR, NOLA

We see God most clearly in darkness. That's a weird thing to say. We hear over and over again in Scripture that we are children of the light. That we bring light to the world when we bear witness to God's mercy and work for His greater glory. We hear again and again that we leave darkness behind and enter the light so that we might better see our true end – eternal life with God. But notice: “As the sun was about to set, a trance fell upon Abram, and a deep, terrifying darkness enveloped him.” In the darkness, God made his covenant with Abram. In the darkness, Abram became the father of generations and those generations called God their Lord. As heirs to the Kingdom, as brothers and sisters of the Son, we call that same God Lord. And we come into a new covenant through a darkness. . .a darkness of sin, death, ignorance, and despair. Lent is our time to recall all that separates us from God the Father, all that extinguishes the light of Christ. Lent is our time to practice those feats of sacrifice that remind us that Christ's victory is our victory. And that the Devil has no more power over us than we give him. Lent is our time to embrace the dark night of the soul. What awaits us at dawn is Christ transfigured – “his clothing [becomes] dazzling white.” 

 

When Abram emerges from the “terrifying darkness [that] envelope[s] him,” God seals the first covenant with fire and grants to him descendants as countless as the stars. When Peter, James, and John emerge from their dark cloud on the mountain, a voice from heaven declares, “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” Having emerged from the other side of their darkness, these faithful men find waiting for them revelations of divine love beyond their imagining. Abram becomes the father of God's chosen people. The disciples become preachers of God's Good News to sinners. Beyond the dark clouds of their human ignorance, these men find their calling, their mission. They find in obedience to God their purpose, their holiness. They are gifted with all that they need to accomplish all that God has asked of them. And so are we. Holiness is not impossible. Living truly righteous lives as followers of Christ is not a ridiculous goal, nor some sort of improbable dream. Abram and the disciples emerge from their darkness by God's will, freely receive their gifts, and then work furiously to finish the job God has given them to do. Their holiness would be impossible if they labored alone in pride, alone in ignorance and disobedience. But they don't. 

 

And neither do we. The Church has given us prayer, penance, fasting, and alms-giving as faithful means of remembering that Christ's eternal victory on the Cross is our daily victory as his followers. Prayer unites us in the Spirit through Christ toward the Father, ensuring our progress in holiness by freeing us from the damning consequences of pride and deceit. Prayer is how we receive God into our lives and transform His presence into the words and deeds of witness. Penance moves us out of the center of our own lives and helps us to occupy the sufferings of Christ so that we are better able to love sacrificially. Penance is how we become smaller in the world so that Christ might become larger for the world. Fasting detaches us from all those things and people that tempt us to idolatry, tempt us to replace the Creator with His creatures. Fasting is how we remember Who made us and for what purpose. Alms-giving encourages us to imitate God's redeeming generosity, His creative and re-creative goodness and beauty. Alms-giving is how we recognize that everything we are and have is first a gift from the Father. These four Lenten sacrifices, practiced faithfully, take us out of the darkness and transfigure us into partakers of the Divine Life.

“Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, in this way stand firm in the Lord. . .” If Lent is a time of testing, a long dark night of the soul, then make this time a test of your resolve to grow in holiness by imitating Christ. Make it a test of your faith that God is in the darkness, waiting for you. Like Abram, wait upon the Lord, sure in the knowledge that He keeps His word. That His covenant with us in Christ is accomplished and true. Take up these 40 days and treat each one as chance to step closer and closer to the consummation of your salvation on the Cross. When the clouds gather and, in your weakness, you fail – we all do, listen for the voice of God, speaking to you, “You are my chosen.” And confidently lay claim to Christ's victory over sin and death. . .and start again. We see God most clearly in the darkness. . .b/c that is where we most need His saving light.

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