Leave your expectations behind

Octave of Easter (W)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Why do we find belief so difficult at times? Like Cleopas and the other disciple on the way to Emmaus, we want to believe but don't. Why? One small answer from the gospel: God tends to act in ways that disappoint our expectations. How do we trust someone who often acts contrary to our expectations? Someone who frequently surprises us? Or shocks us? Trusting someone else to do things correctly is exhausting work. Besides, bending all of creation to my will, forcing things to work out My Way, takes time and energy! It's not fair when God ruins my carefully laid plans with His own! How am I supposed to trust that He's doing what's right for me? From our 2,000 year old vantage point, we can call Cleopas and friend foolish for not believing b/c we know what happens. But – be careful – we walk our own road to Emmaus everyday and everyday our trust in the Lord is challenged by the temptation to despair in disbelief – disbelief rooted in expectations we have no right to hold. Cleopas and friend have expectations – maybe they expect a Messiah with an army at his back. Or a Savior come with hordes of raging angels to smite their enemies. Regardless, they have expectations and Christ surprises them.

The Big Surprise is the revelation of who he is in the breaking of the bread. The instant they recognize him, he vanishes. He leaves them with the Word of the Prophets and the breaking of the bread. The same surprise we will witness this morning. Cleopas and friend will come to believe b/c of this revelation. Not b/c Christ gives them empirical evidence or a logical argument. He shows them who he is in the Word and in the breaking of the bread. It's all they need. It's all we need. What expectations are keeping you from belief and surrender to God's will? What carefully laid plans are you protecting from God's plan for you? When you entered the chapel this morning, you started along the Road to Emmaus. And you will continue on after you leave. Place your expectations, your plans, your disbelief, your despair on the altar – give them all to God and allow Christ to thwart whatever designs you've drawn for how your life will play out. Listen to all that he has to say to you in the breaking of the bread.

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Why did he wait four days?

5^th Sunday of Lent

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Two weeks before he exits his own grave, Jesus re-animates a four-day old corpse. We call this foreshadowing – a neat literary trick to connect distant parts of a story. Of course, foreshadowing isn't really necessary in the story of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. He's been laying out the plot and characters almost from the beginning. That his disciples are still confused about his end is less amazing than simply frustrating. Raising Lazarus from the grave is one more plot line in his tale and one more tell-tale sign that his time among us is coming to an end. With all the characters, dialogue, and action, the central motive of this longish miracle story is easily overlooked. Why is Lazarus given new life? For that matter, why does Jesus linger for two days before heading out to Bethany? As Martha mournfully notes, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Martha knows what Jesus himself knows – he could've healed her brother and spared him death. But he waited. He waited until Lazarus was dead and dead for two days before he started out. His reason for waiting foreshadows his own exit from the grave. His reason gives purpose to our work in his name.

Why did he wait? When told that Lazarus was ill and near death, Jesus says, “This illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” IOW, the end, the purpose of Lazarus' illness is not to kill him but to give Jesus an opportunity to give glory to God by returning him to life after death. Jesus waits to attend Lazarus so that there can be no doubt that he is good and dead. Four days in the grave. No embalming. No refrigeration. Desert heat. Martha warns of the stench. And yet, when the grave stone is rolled away and Jesus says, “Lazarus! Come out,” he does. We have to imagine Martha's reaction to seeing her four-day-dead brother emerging from his grave. We have to imagine Lazarus' response to being alive again. What does he say? What does he do when his hands and feet are untied? We have to imagine these reactions because they are not recorded in the gospel. They aren't recorded b/c they aren't important to the motive of the story. What's important is this: “Now many of the Jews who had come to Mary and seen what he had done began to believe in him.” Jesus returned Lazarus to life so that many might believe.

Martha believed before this miracle. The disciples followed Jesus even though they struggled at times to believe. Maybe they needed another show to be convinced. But Martha and the disciples aren't the audience for the miracle. There are two audiences here. The Jews and us. Many of the Jews came to believe and many of us have come to believe. The Jews – at the time – didn't know about the resurrection. It was still two weeks in the future. We do know about the resurrection. Have known about it for over 2,000 years. That knowledge and our belief in the Christ compel us to take up his mission and ministry where and when we are. And we do. Sometimes zealously. Sometimes lazily. And often with confused motives. Why do we do the good works that we do? Why did Jesus wait four days to raise Lazarus from his grave? To give glory to God and reveal the glory of the Son of God. Jesus allowed a beloved friend to die. Rot in a grave for four days. And raise him to life again so that God the Father might be glorified. So that the Jews – and we – could bear witness to the glory of the Son, the Christ and believe in him. Why do we do the good works that we do? To bear witness to the glory of the Son, the Christ, so that all may come to believe in him.

Lazarus' resuscitation foreshadows the Lord's resurrection. The Lord's motivation for reviving Lazarus is a foreshadowing of what should be our motivation for the work we do in his name. The only legitimate agenda for our schools, hospitals, universities, social services – the only agenda that matters eternally is to give God glory and to reveal the Christ so that all might come to believe in him. Ask yourself: is everything I do, say, and think everyday focused on giving God the glory and revealing the Christ? Yeah, I know. That's a big job description. I should've been fired years ago. How about you? Think of Lent as one, long job evaluation. You're sitting across from The Boss, going over your work history. Day in, day out over your lifetime. Every word, every deed, every thought. Are you thanking and praising God? Are you bearing witness to His mercy? Are you revealing Christ to others so that they can believe in him too? How are you doing? Me? Not as well as I could. Fortunately, The Boss is merciful. We have another week for evaluation and improvements. He showed us how it's done. He let his friend die, rot in a grave for four days, and raised him to life again – to show us how it's done and why. We do his work now, and now we can do it for the right reason. 

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Why do you return to the darkness?

4^th Sunday of Lent

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Sin blinds, and Christ heals blindness by forgiving sin. The story of the healing of the Man Born Blind bears this out. He is blind physically and spiritually. His physical healing comes from a bit of wet clay and obedience. Jesus orders him to bathe in the Pool of Siloam. And when he obeys, his afflicted eyes are afflicted no longer. His spiritual healing will wait until Jesus seeks him out. In the meantime, the Once Blind Man tells the Pharisees that he believes Jesus to be a prophet. They don't like hearing this and kick him out of the synagogue. Having tested his obedience, Jesus finds him again and tests his faith. Do you believe, he asks. I do believe, comes the response. “I do believe, Lord.” And John tells us that the Once Blind Man worships Jesus as his Lord. Two healings, two miracles. The eyes are both physically and spiritually opened to the truth. To what they can actually see and to all that can't be seen but still believed. Paul admonishes us to “take no part in the fruitless works of darkness.” Why once healed physically and spiritually with the light of Christ would we be tempted to work fruitlessly in the dark? Would the Once Blind Man willingly return to his darkness?

There's a scene in the Monty Python movie, The Life of Brian, where an ex-leper is panhandling near the city gate. Brian asks him how he was cured of his leprosy. He says that Jesus healed him, thus ruining his livelihood. No one wants to help an ex-leper. The rest of the scene is the ex-leper wondering aloud if Jesus would inflict some other, lesser disease or disability on him so he could go back to earning a living as a beggar! Now, I doubt any of us would ask Jesus to re-afflict us with the spiritual diseases he cured us of. But we are more than able and willing to re-afflict ourselves, returning to the darkness all too quickly and all too often. Thus Paul's admonition not to take part in the works of darkness. Freed of our slavery to sin, we nonetheless return to our slave master and put his collar back on. And the results are entirely predictable. Try cleaning your kitchen in total darkness. Or tidying up your garage. Without light, we can't see what you're doing. You can't know what to throw out, what to wipe down, or even when you are done. The resulting mess is more work for you once the lights come on again. If you can't see your end, your goal, then you can't work toward it. You can't know if what you are doing is helping or hurting your progress.

If your end, your goal is Christ, then the only light that helps is the light of Christ. We have all bathed in the Pool of Siloam – baptism. We've been obedient to the need to be washed clean. And we have all declared our faith, “I do believe, Lord!” We know the way, the truth, and the life. We know our mission and ministry – to bear witness to the mercy we have received. We know that sin takes us off track, off the way and into a shepherdless wilderness. And yet. . .we return to our once healed afflictions and take part in the fruitless works of darkness. Why? Maybe for the same reason the ex-leper considered asking Jesus to give a severe limp – he needed a disability or disease for his livelihood. Maybe we think we need to work in the dark to save our jobs. Our reputations. Maybe we're afraid of losing status among family and friends. Maybe we believe that the works of darkness will earn us some prestige and power in the world. The chaos I make of my life when working in the dark looks like my neighbor's chaos, so my chaos can't be all bad. Besides, I have friends and allies in the darkness. People to help me. But they are as blind as you are. And more likely than not, want to keep you in the dark for their reasons. “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light.”

Christ has given you light. He's healed you. And you are perfectly free to never return to the darkness. Your work can be done in the full light of his grace. You can see how his mercy has removed you from your afflictions, from the chaos of your life before you were healed. And you can follow the Once Blind Man and bear witness to your healing. If you are tempted to return to the darkness, ask yourself: what's in there that will bring me closer to my perfection in Christ Jesus? You can't answer that b/c there is no light in the darkness, and you cannot see. In the darkness, you gamble with your soul and the house always wins. So, take no part in the fruitless works of darkness, rather stay firmly stood in the light of Christ. When tempted, look at the temptation in his light and see it for what it is – a return to disease, disability, and spiritual destitution. Why would you return to the wreck you were before you were healed? It's a fool's gamble. One designed to part you from your inheritance as a child of the Father. Take the cure you've been given and run, bearing witness all the way to the Wedding Feast.

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Despising the sinner is the Devil's job

3^rd Week of Lent (S)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

How do I become convinced of my own righteousness? There are several ways, of course, but the way Jesus focuses on in his parable is the Way of the Pharisee. In sum: follow the Law to the letter; show God how serious I am about our relationship by never breaking a rule; never deviating from even the smallest regulation. To be fair to the Pharisee – this is more or less how things worked in the Jewish world for centuries. Men and women demonstrated their fidelity to the Covenant by doing as they were told. They weren't made righteous by their obedience, but they were “accounted righteous,” said to be righteous by their works. You can think of this as being in compliance with the terms of a contract. Your internal disposition toward the other party is largely irrelevant to whether or not you are in compliance. CHASE bank doesn't care whether or not I love it, so long as I pay my bill. Pay my bill according to the terms of the contract, and I'm righteous with the bank. They “account me righteous.” When it comes to our relationship with the Father, Jesus says, “Not good enough.” It's not enough that I follow the rules, especially if following the rules leads me to despise another as a sinner. Despising another is evidence that I am, in fact, not righteous at all.

Yesterday, Jesus brought two laws together and called them The Greatest Commandment: the Lord is the only God of Israel; love Him and love your neighbor. “There is no other commandment greater than these.” Every rule, every regulation; every jot and tittle of the law is grounded in these two commandments. But the Lord's parable makes clear that we must start with the greatest and move into the least. Perfecting our obedience to the lesser rules and regs doesn't guarantee our fidelity to the Greatest Commandment. In fact, we may end up convinced of our own righteousness and hating another for their sin, thus violating both the spirit and the letter of the Commandment. How do we avoid this Pharisaical trap? Begin by acknowledging that we are made righteous as a gift. Righteousness is not earned; it doesn't come as a reward for being good boys and girls. It's given. Freely given to us while we are still sinners. The gift of righteousness then enables us to love God first so that we can love our neighbor. Loving God and neighbor doesn't produce righteousness. The righteousness we are freely given frees us to love God and neighbor. Everything else in our growth in holiness flows from this. We pray, fast, give alms; attend to the sacraments; do good works b/c we love God and neighbor. When we encounter a sinner, we love them – as fellow sinners – so that they may come to see and hear the mercy of God and receive the righteousness He gifted us all through Christ Jesus. Despising the sinner may appear to be a good strategy for moving him/her out of sin, but that's the Devil trying to talk us into a trap. Hate the sin and the sinner, and the sinner will abandon the sin, he says. No. That strategy instantly violates the Greatest Commandment and makes us tools of the Enemy. He has another lie that tempts us: love the sinner and his/her sin. That will convince the sinner that they are welcomed, accepted, and included. No, again. We are to love God first, then our neighbor. We cannot love sin, God, and neighbor all at the same time. Trying to do so may feel righteous, and we may get lots of applause from the world for the attempt, but ultimately, all we are doing is telling the sinner that he/she doesn't need divine love or His mercy. Is that our mission and ministry as followers of Christ? Obviously not. Our job is to be His love and mercy for sinners. He died for sinners. Not sin.

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Return to the Father

2^nd Week of Lent (S)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Did the Prodigal Son entertain any doubts about going back to Dear Ole Dad? If he did, he didn't allow them get in the way of his redemption. Suffering the consequences of his sin in a foreign land, he comes to the only rational conclusion available: it's time to go home and ask for forgiveness. We can imagine him walking home dejected, remorseful, and wanting nothing more than to go back in time and make better choices. What does he expect to find once he arrives? A told-you-so lecture on the dangers of wine, women, and song? Verbal and even physical abuse from his family, esp. his older brother? He most certainly expects to be rejected as a wastrel and given little or nothing as a homecoming gift. He's prepared to be ridiculed and placed among the servants in humiliation. But. . .he isn't returning home to extort his family into accepting his sins as right and true, nor to explain his bad behavior away with a claim of mental or emotional breakdown. No, he's returning contrite and resolved to amend his life. He's returning knowing that his choices placed him in both physical and spiritual danger. Rather than seeing him as he sees himself – humiliated, embarrassed – imagine instead that as he approaches his father's farm, he becomes more beautiful, truer, better. With each step, he grows heavier in holiness, more densely set apart. . .until his life of dissipation is itself dissipated by a humble desire for forgiveness. Imagine that by the time he reaches the front door, all he needs is a word from his father. . .and he is a New Creation, a creature once again made whole and set on the right path. We don't have to imagine it, that's what happened. And it's what happens every time one of us – sinners in need of mercy – returns to the Father contrite and resolved to amend our lives. We may – in our disgust with our sins – be tempted by the Enemy to think that our disobedience is especially evil or somehow uniquely awful. That God is so offended, so repulsed by our rejection of Him that He can't bring himself to forgive us. This is a lie. One of the Enemy's favorites. God is by nature Love. Love is who He is and what He does. Not to forgive us would violate His nature, an impossibility. Knowing this to be true, the Enemy strokes our pride, telling us that we are a special sort of sinner, one who has achieved the greatest feat of all sinners everywhere: to sin so evilly that Love Himself refuses to love us. So, we remain in that foreign land, wallow in our dissipation, and come to hate the Father for His refusal to forgive – the forgiveness we ourselves have refused to ask for or receive. If Lent is about anything at all, it's about acknowledging the reality of our sins and their consequences, and returning to the Father with contrite hearts and minds ready to begin again. As many times as it takes, to begin again. One step at a time toward home, toward our Father. 

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Could you measure up?

2^nd Week of Lent (M)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Lent focuses the heart and mind on sin. How to avoid it. How to overcome it if not avoided. How to forgive when we are sinned against. And what happens when we refuse to forgive. Forgiving someone who's sinned against you isn't a simple thing. In fact, there are a lot of reasons not to forgive. Will forgiving the sinner invite more sin? Will he/she see me as a target? What about how I feel about being sinned against? If I forgive, am I saying that I'm not angry or offended at the sinner? Could the sinner think I am giving my approval to the sin? Like I said, lots of reasons. None of them good. First, lose the notion that you have to feel good about forgiving someone who's sinned against you. Feelings are irrelevant to the act of forgiveness. You either forgive or you don't. How you choose to feel about it is your problem, not the sinner's. The point of forgiveness is to free the sinner from their debt to you, thus freeing yourself from their sin. Feel good, bad, angry, relieved, whatever. Doesn't matter. Just do it. Being freed from the burden of sin is worth whatever emotion you choose to attach to it. Second, while pondering whether or not you will forgive the sinner, carefully consider what standard you are using to judge the sinner. We tend to judge the sins of others more severely than our own. Bad idea. Guess which standard God is going to use to measure you? Jesus says, “For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you.” Therefore, pick your measure very, very carefully. If you think you deserve quick forgiveness when you sin, then you had better be doling quick forgiveness when you are sinned against. Third, don't confuse judging the sin with judging the sinner. We have to be able to call a sin a sin. Otherwise, confession would be impossible. What we have to avoid is calling a sinner a sinner. Whether or not your friend is a sinner is for God and your friend to determine not you. I cannot know the mind of my friend. I cannot perfectly measure his motivation or intent. I cannot begin to understand his circumstances or how he deliberated on his actions. I can judge his behavior to be sinful but not his person. And I don't want to. Why? Because he can't know my mind, my intention, my circumstances, and I don't want him to judge me. Let God and the sinner handle the interior struggle, and just forgive the sin done against you. Unless, of course, you relish finding yourself before the judgment seat and hearing the Just Judge repeat back to you your exacting standards of holiness, purity, and righteousness. I have to ask: could you measure up?

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Surpassing righteousness

1^st Week of Lent (S)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Does your righteousness surpass that of the Pharisees and scribes? Yesterday, Jesus said that it must. Note that he's not saying that the Pharisees and scribes are unrighteous. They aren't. They are as exactly as righteous as the Law requires. And no more. They know where the lines are, and they do not cross them. These lines – the rules, the regulations – are both a comfort and a temptation. When in doubt, what's the rule? Follow it. But there's also always the sneaking suspicion that the line is merely arbitrary or maybe even a cruel joke. This tension in the rules tends to create a doubled mind. On the one hand, I obey the rule and remain righteous. On the other, I don't really think the rule is just or important or I don't understand its purpose; so while obeying it, I mock it. Over time, my double mind turns to hypocrisy and my righteousness is tainted. Here's where Jesus comes in and says that our righteousness must surpass that of the obsessive rule-followers. How do we do that? We place all of the rules inside the Greatest Commandment and figure out how the lesser rules express the greatest. Love God, self, and neighbors is the whole of the Law. The whole of the Law is not another Law. The whole of the Law is a divine command rooted in the nature of God Himself. Since we live, move, and have our being in God, divine love itself, then all of our thoughts, words, and deeds must accurately reflect who and what we are as creatures who participate in divine love. All created things – me, you, our friends, our enemies, everything and everyone – live in divine love. Jesus says, “[God] makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust.” Therefore, our righteousness, our rightness with the Father, is a matter of being divine love with one another regardless of our relative social, economic, political, or religious positions. In fact, our righteousness is called surpassing if we are loving to those who are counted “less than” by the world. All of this loving as the Father loves and being perfect as the Father is perfect is made possible by His gift of the Son on the cross. When we receive His gift, we are no longer pagans but pilgrims on the Way. And walking the Way is how we become Christ right where we are. The world is polluted with Pharisees and scribes. What we need is more Christs made perfect in Christ. 

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Calling all sinners!

Saturday after Ash Wednesday

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

The Church is a like a field hospital. Great image! If this is true, and I think it is, then her members are like field medics. You and I are like EMT's working to save lives – bodies and souls – in a world filled with both physical and spiritual hazards. Imagine you're working one day in this field hospital and a guy drags himself in – broken, bleeding, barely conscious – and you move to work on him when suddenly your fellow medics start yelling at you to kick him out! He's getting blood everywhere! Look at him – he's dirty and his clothes are all torn up and he screaming and just making a mess. He's got to go! The poor guy drags himself out. He may die or maybe he'll find another more welcoming hospital nearby. You confront your fellow medics about their refusal to help the guy and discover that they think of their hospital as a pristine almost museum-like facility for perfectly healthy people. People who do not need a physician, people who are already whole in themselves. You say to them, “Healthy people don't need a hospital; the sick and dying do. I'm not here to save the healthy but to help save those you need saving.”

Now, imagine the same scene. Badly wounded guy drags himself into your hospital, and you start to work, prepping him for surgery. But you notice that your fellow medics are following you, undoing all your work. Removing the IV, throwing out his meds, unwrapping his bandages, reopening his wounds. You confront them. And they respond angrily that we must accept everyone who comes into the hospital just as they are. They are furious at you for trying to change the guy's condition. “Who are you to decide that he's injured? You are being judgmental for saying he has to be helped or fixed or cured! All are welcome here – just as they are!” They refuse the guy treatment; applaud him for his injuries, call him brave, and watch him die. Totally dumbfounded, you ask your fellow medics why we have a field hospital if we aren't going to help save lives. They respond, “We're here to celebrate everyone's life regardless of their injuries or diseases. It's not our job to help people get well. It's our job to make them feel loved.” You say, “I'm not working here to applaud disease and death. I'm here to cure the sick, repair the injured, and care for those in need.” If the Church is a field hospital, and I think it is, then it cannot be a museum for the healthy only, nor can it be a place where the sick and injured are encouraged to stay sick and injured. Jesus says, “Those who are healthy do not need a physician, but the sick do. I have not come to call the righteous to repentance but sinners.” 

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Dust is never proud

Ash Wednesday

Fr. Philip N. Powell OP

St Albert the Great, Irving, TX

Even now, says the Lord, return to me with your whole heart, with fasting, and weeping, and mourning. Rend your hearts! Not your garments. Where do we begin this pilgrimage of forty days? How do we get this time away started? Jump start your Lenten pilgrimage by acknowledging your dependence on God for absolutely everything. We are wholly unnecessary beings. Creatures of God's goodness. Our lives are fundamentally gratuitous – freely given – and graced at the root. Begin with humility and give God thanks for your life. If your Lenten pilgrimage is going to produce good spiritual fruit you cannot spend these forty days obsessed with sorrow, self-pity, and doubt. We deny ourselves always if we would grow in holiness, but this isn’t the kind of denial that looks like the public posturing of the Pharisees. Our Lenten denial is the self-emptying of Christ, that is, the work of doing daily what Jesus did on the cross just once. Lenten denial is about making our gratuitous lives sacrificial. And we sacrifice when we give something up and give it back to God.

Therefore, turn your heart over to God. Give your life back to Him. Repent of your disobedience, rejoice in His forgiveness, and then get busy doing His holy work among His people.

If your Lenten sacrifice is going to be just a pious public display, don’t bother with Lent this year. Jesus teaches his disciples that performing righteous deeds for show – fasting, giving alms – will win you nothing from our heavenly Father. He calls those who strut around showing off their piety hypocrites. It’s a show, pure theater. Nothing but a skit for public consumption. He says, “[…] when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may not appear to be fasting[…].” Jesus warns us here about our tendency to think that we’re doing something substantial by superficial means. Does that rosary around Madonna’s neck really mean she venerates the Blessed Mother? Does the cross of ashes most of us will wear today mean that we’re truly humble before the Lord? That we’re wholly given over to repentance, to a conversion of heart, and a life of holy service? If that cross of ashes is going to be a mark of pride for you today or a temptation to hypocrisy, wash it off immediately. If that cross of ash is going to be the sum total of your witness for Christ today, wash it off immediately.

Our Lord wants a contrite heart not an empty gesture. Our Lord wants our repentant lives not public piety. When you pray, go to your room and close the door. When you fast, wash your face. When you give alms, do so in secret. Rend your hearts not your garments.

The Lenten pilgrimage we begin today is an excursion into mortality, a chance for us to face without fear our origin and our end as dust. It is our chance to practice the sacrificial life of Christ, giving ourselves to God by giving ourselves in humble service to one another. Lent is our forty day chance to pray, to give alms, to fast and to do it all with great joy, smiling all the while, never looking to see who’s noticing our sacrifice.

Remember, brothers and sisters: dust is never proud.

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Pagans do that too

7^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Jesus is tempting me to despair. I'm only partially serious here. But his admonition to be perfect as my heavenly Father is perfect makes me wilt a little inside. When I do a quick examination of conscience, I come away feeling and knowing that my heavenly perfection is about as far away as me fitting into my 32in Levi's ever again. 1982. That's the year I was last able to squeeze into a pair of 501's. And it might be the last year I felt remotely holy. I was a college freshman and didn't know any better. Now I do. And the distance between where I am and where I ought to be is frightening. If you feel this way, well, welcome. . .we've got work to do! Thanks be to God He doesn't abandon us to work this holiness-thing out for ourselves. We've got all kinds of help. Sacraments. Prayer. Fasting. Good works. Spiritual friends. Best of all, we've got God Himself cheering us on and throwing His considerable weight behind our progress. If we will to be perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect, we can be. But we can't do it if we use our pagan neighbors as our measure of progress. Jesus couldn't be any clearer: doing merely what the pagans do cannot get us closer to the Father's perfection.

So, who are these pagan neighbors? Jesus' pagan neighbors were Romans, Greeks, and a variety of Semitic peoples – all of whom worshiped a pantheon of gods closely associated with Nature. Lots of idols – stone, gold, ivory, wood –; lots of bloody animal sacrifices on temple altars; lots of seasonal festivals and ancient religious customs. Their gods embodied a specific human passion – love, war, wealth, revenge. Or were sovereigns over some part of Nature – mountains, the sea, rivers, forests. These gods were typically fickle about helping their followers. And often prone to getting upset. They rarely issued moral commands or set out ethical guidelines for good behavior. In essence, the gods were just Big Humans who lived forever and used their power to play with the humans who worshiped them. Pagans indulged their appetites and passions – lust, greed, pride, anger; they sought revenge for offenses – real and imagined; they also loved their children and helped their neighbors; tried to be virtuous – as they understood virtue; and worked to be faithful to their gods. What the pagans didn't do was strive to live in the world w/o being of the world. They worshiped the world. They worshiped creatures not the Creator. And for Jesus – and for us – that's the difference that makes the difference.

We need to be quick to note here that Jesus doesn't condemn the pagans for loving their neighbors, their children, or for greeting one another as friends on the street. We have long accepted that there are “virtuous pagans,” those who to the best of their ability and circumstances embody prudence, temperance, justice, and fortitude. God bless them! Jesus' admonition is aimed directly at us not the pagans. Even the pagans do the things we call good. Our perfection in the Father requires we go beyond the merely Good Enough and strive for the Best. Why? Because we are striving to be and to do something otherworldly while remaining firmly grounded right where we are in the world. The only way to accomplish this holy task is to set our hearts and minds irrevocably on God and do and say and think only those things that bring us closer and closer to our end. Look to the pagans and their natural virtue. What are they doing right and how do we do it better as followers of Christ?

Pagans welcome strangers to their temples. We welcome strangers to our Masses. But that's not enough. Do we testify to the mercy we've received? Do we show them sacrificial love? Do we tell them about the power of repentance and the confession of sin? It's not enough to be welcoming. Even the pagans do that. Pagans can and do heal the sick, feed the hungry, and visit the imprisoned. So do we. But that's not enough. Do we give God the glory for providing the food? For giving us the medicine? For infusing us with hope to share with the hopeless? It's not enough to do good works. Even the pagans do that. Pagans love, forgive, show mercy, and tell the truth. So do we. But do we do these things for social advantage or b/c we live and move in love and forgiveness and truth? Because we are Love, Forgiveness, and Truth in Christ Jesus? It's not enough to be virtuous. Even the pagans do that. Yes, we have a lot of work to do. But there's no good reason to despair. We have the Church – one another; we have the sacraments; the Word of God, and we have the gift of God Himself to see us through. We can be perfect as the heavenly Father is perfect. . .if we receive all He has to give us. 

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Is the Spirit asking us to do a New Thing?

6^th Week OT (F)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

Serra Club, Irving

Some say that the Spirit is moving through the Church. That the Spirit is inspiring us to do “a new thing.” To re-establish the Church as a “radically inclusive” community that “listens and welcomes” unconditionally. To achieve this level of inclusivity, the New and Improved Church will no longer preach the Gospel of confession and repentance. Confession will not be necessary b/c nothing will be sinful. If nothing is sinful, then repentance is unnecessary as well. Rather than exhorting the faithful to deny themselves in charity, the NIC will encourage the newly included to celebrate their diversity and explore alternatives expressions of Self. Rather than supporting the faithful in carrying their crosses, the NIC will rename those burdens “structures of oppression” and find someone else to blame. Rather than showing the faithful how to follow Christ, the NIC will invoke the Spirit of Age and point to the world as our model of holiness. What is now a straight and narrow path to heaven will become a twisted, wide-open ditch leading us back into the world and eventually straight into hell.

Some say that the Spirit is inspiring us to do “a new thing.” That the Spirit is moving through the Church. Wrong. The Spirit is not moving through the Church. The Church moves within the Spirit. Even better: the Spirit and the Church move together in the person of Christ Jesus. And his words to us couldn't be clearer: “Whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this faithless and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of when he comes in his Father's glory...” Like every other generation, this one battles the temptation to edit the Gospel to its tastes, to revise the words of Jesus into something more pleasing and less likely to get us in trouble with the world. The promise we hear is this: if we would just change one or two of the Lord's harsher teachings, the world would reward us with applause and acceptance. We wouldn't have to be embarrassed by our outdated morality or silly rituals. The world will love us! And we could be proud of identifying as Catholics. Of course, this is a lie, a lie bought wholesale by the Episcopalians, some or most of the Methodists, the Presbyterians; the UCC, the Anglicans, most of the Protestant world, and, of course, the Catholic bishops in Germany. “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” Follow Christ. Not the world and its fashionable but deadly nonsense.

What Christ is asking us to do is repent, believe the Gospel, love God and one another, and bear witness to the mercy we have received. He is not asking us to rewrite the Bible or edit the Apostolic faith once for all delivered. He is not asking us to love both the sin and the sinner and to pretend that sin isn't sin. He is not asking us to dismantle structures of exclusivity in the Church by adding diversity, equity, and inclusivity to the Ten Commandments. There is a Spirit demanding that we do all these things. But it is not the Holy Spirit. It is the Zeitgeist. That infernal spirit that applies pressure to applause-seeking clergy and theologians to tweak the faith just enough to confuse the message of the Good News. The Good News is that the Church is already as radically inclusive as she can be. No one is excluded from receiving the grace needed to repent and take up the Cross. No one is excluded who desires a life of holiness. No one is excluded from the straight and narrow path who wills to walk it. “Whoever [WHOEVER!] wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”

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You don't need a sign

6^th Week OT (M)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Why are the Pharisees seeking a sign from Jesus? They've heard him preach. They've seen a couple of his healing miracles. They know Scripture, so they understand who and what he is claiming to be. Why do they need (or want) another sign? Maybe they are on the fence, leaning Jesus' way and just need a little push to bring them over all the Way. Could be they are just curious and want to see if he'll perform for them. Since they consider Jesus a dangerous influence on the faithful, they probably want him to refuse so they can say, “See! He can't show us a sign. He's a fraud!” Jesus refuses them, “I say to you, no sign will be given to this generation.” He doesn't explain why they won't get a sign. He just hops into a boat and rows away. Strange as it might sound, this is an ingenuous evangelical tool. Preach a bit. Teach a bit. Give a sign or two of heavenly approval. Refuse all requests to perform another sign, then leave. Jesus' approach here says, “I know who and what I am. I know my mission, my purpose. I have nothing to prove to you.” The Pharisees can't be argued into having faith. They have too much to lose if Jesus is telling the truth. They can't be bullied, or bribed, or tricked into following the Way. Again, too much to lose. The only path open to them – to anyone, really – is to believe, confess belief, repent, and follow Christ. The bottom line is: you believe or you don't. If you believe already, signs only confirm your belief. If you don't believe, you'll find a way to debunk the sign. Signs quickly becomes irrelevant once the initial surprise of their appearance wears off. Besides, the Enemy can perform signs too. Without a grounding in faith, a sign can be read, misunderstood, and followed to one's destruction. Jesus knows this, so he refuses the Pharisees. If you find yourself asking God for a sign, think twice. Are you testing Him? Are you admitting a lack of faith? Maybe you're just curious? Regardless, signs are one thing, knowing what they mean is another. Faith can show you what the sign means. But if you have faith already, the sign is pointless. Faith is the good habit of trusting God. Asking for a sign is not a sign of trust. The Pharisees have a lot to lose if Jesus is telling the truth. What do you and I have to lose? Slavery to sin, anxiety and worry; the threat of eternal death. Well worth a life of faith and foregoing an unnecessary sign. 

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WHY we do good works matters

5^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Upon hearing of my interest in Catholicism, my 11^th grade English teacher asked me, “Don't you think it's enough just to be a good person?” I asked him what a good person is. He replied, sounding like the prophet, Isaiah, “Share your bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them...” I was all of 16, so my response faith was weak: “I think there's more to it than that.” Indeed, there is. A group of folks in Delaware recently to collected blankets, socks, hats, gloves, and canned food for the homeless. They collected donations to help with the medical bills. Another group in Austin set up a permanent organization to fight for religious freedom, human rights, and justice for those marginalized by economic hardship. The organizer of this campaign was quoted in the paper, saying, “I applaud all [those] who engage with their community to help end undue suffering...” Sounds like these folks are doing Good Work. Like typical Catholic parishes. Except they aren't Catholic parishes. Both groups are congregations of The Satanic Temple. And their project is called Satanic Good Works. Is this the kind of good works Isaiah is urging us to do?

Yes...and no. Yes, the good works are good insofar as they help alleviate human suffering. No, b/c these works are done to glorify the Enemy not God. Now, you might ask, “What difference does it make to the homeless if their food comes from Christians or Satanists?” None. Hungry is hungry. Food is food. Atheists, Satanists, humanists can feed the hungry and clothe the naked as well as Christians can. The question here is for the Christians: why are we doing good works? Why did we invent, build, and still maintain universities, hospitals, orphanages, hospices, nursing homes, and schools all over the planet? The why here matters b/c even the enemies of God can do the what. Isaiah lays out our – for lack of a better phrase – social obligations. We call them the corporeal works of mercy. The Gospel tells us that our failure to do these works will see us herded with the goats and thrown into the fire pit on the last day. So, very serious obligations. But is doing these good works enough to see us herded with the sheep and welcomed into heaven? If so, then we can expect to share the Father's table with atheists and Satanists. If not, then what else is necessary? What makes our good works different?

I said before – the why of our work matters. If we do good works for the sake of the work itself, or even for the sake of those we work for, then our work is indistinguishable from the works of the Satanists – as good as it may be. Our work must be done for no other reason than to give glory to God. Any other reason tempts us to pride or self-righteousness. Any other reason gives us reason to think that our work is ours alone. We may be tempted to believe that our work will save us. Or that it's possible to buy a place at the Father's table. Or – perhaps the worst – that our work makes us better than the poor, holier than those we serve. Jesus says that we are the salt of the earth and a light to the world. Our saltiness is not our doing. Neither is our light. Both belong to him alone. We merely participate. And to the degree that we freely participate, giving him the glory for his generosity, we grow in holiness. Our saltiness and light are given to us. And we are charged with passing them on to others in need. This “passing on” is our good work. But the source of our goodness is God alone. By following Isaiah's admonitions, we point to God and reveal His goodness and providence. The whole point is to lead others into a healing relationship with their Creator. When we lose sight of The Why of our good works, we lose sight of who and what we are as freed children of the Father. Jesus says, “...your light must shine before others...” Why? Why must our light shine? “[So] that they may see your good deeds...” Why do others need to see our good deeds? “[So they may] glorify your heavenly Father.”

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The truth is always pastoral

4^th Week OT (S)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Let no one say that Our Lord was not a great Dominican! Mark bears witness to this: “...his heart was moved with [compassion] for [the vast crowd], for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.” In the Order, we call this compassionate impulse to teach the truth, misericordia veritatis – the mercy of truth. What we know and want to make more widely known is that revealing the truth and receiving the truth are acts of mercy, manifestations of compassion. IOW, speaking the truth and hearing the truth will set you free. Free from what? Whatever is binding you to sin and death. Our Lord is moved to teach the truth b/c – looking out over the vast crowd – he can see everything holding his Father's people down. Material and spiritual poverty. Disordered passions and appetites. Intellectual pride and the desire for worldly recognition. Crippling disease. Loneliness. All flowing together to create a suffocating cloud of despair. Our Lord has two choices: 1). teach the truth and risk the anger of the world, or 2). comfort with a lie and soak up the world's appreciation. We can see the choice he made. [point to crucifix]

He chose to be the Good Shepherd of his sheep. Not the choice everyone makes. Recently, a newly minted American cardinal published an essay calling on the Church to abandon her ancient teachings on sexual morality in the name of “compassion” and “inclusion.” B/c some feel excluded from the Church, he argues, it's imperative that the Church soothe their feelings by lying to them. There's nothing new here. Pushing the Church to forsake the Gospel in favor of the Lie is as old as the Church. And there is nothing merciful, compassionate, or pastoral about lying. The truth is always pastoral. Veritas in caritate is always pastoral. Jesus doesn't say to the crowd, “If your poverty makes you sad, just pretend you are rich!” He doesn't say to those suffering physically, “You're not in pain if you believe you aren't!” Nor to those w/o hope, “Your despair is who you are. Embrace it!” Instead, he show them compassion and teaches them the truth, a way to be free of their slavery to sin and death. If and when we are willing, he heals us, lifts us up, and offers us a place at his Father's table. Mercy is offered but it must be received in repentance. That's misericordia veritatis.

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Choose the largest measure

Ss. Timothy & Titus

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

The world teaches us to be victims and hold grudges. There is no more powerful claim in our culture at the moment than “I am the victim here!” There's real, worldly power in being aggrieved. For every grievance there's a just and equitable remedy to be found. More often than not, that remedy is some sort of public punishment meant to deter future offenses. What that remedy is really about, of course, is control. The power to subjugate, exile, or execute one's opponents. It's about vengeance and domination. This is not the Way of Christ. The world wants us to think in terms of oppressor and oppressed, slave and master. Christ teaches us to think in terms of brother and sister, family and servant. We serve because we are gifted with divine love and that love – by its very nature – is diffusive. If we are loved, then that love must be shared. The most immediate way of sharing divine love is to imitate divine love in the act of forgiveness. To forgive is to relieve another of his/her debt to you. You eagerly and sincerely surrender your status as a creditor in favor of willing the Good of another. If you cannot bring yourself right now to forgive in name of divine love, then start by forgiving for your own sake. The measure you use to measure will be used to measure you. If your measure is stingy and mean, then your capacity to receive forgiveness will be stingy and mean. Think of the act of forgiveness as a stretching exercise. The more and more easily you forgive – the further you stretch your mercy muscles – the more and more easily you are able to receive forgiveness. Generally, our reasons for not forgiving others are really just excuses to cling to our sense of having been offended. My dignity. My pride. My position. My status as a victim. None of which matter in the least in the Kingdom of Heaven. In the divine economy, both the creditor and the debtor become richer when a debt is forgiven. Both the creditor and the debtor are freer, better equipped to grow in holiness, and more able to move on toward Christ. God has forgiven us. From all eternity, we are free from sin and death. That's a debt that cannot be repaid. All He asks of us is to be instruments of diffusion, little nodes of dispersion for His divine love. Our measure must be as large as God Himself. That's the measure we want and need when comes our turn to be measured.           

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There is only Christ

3^rd Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Do you belong to Paul or Cephas or Apollo? To Trump, Biden, Obama, or Cruz? Do you belong to JPII, Benedict, or Francis? Or are you a pre-VC2 Catholic or a Spirit of V2 Catholic? Maybe a Traditionalist or a progressive? A New Mass or Old Mass Catholic? A recent survey of some 4,000 American priests concluded that younger priests are more conservative than their older, more liberal brother priests. You will search in vain for a definition of liberal and conservative in the survey. The author of the survey dodged every request to define the terms in a recent interview. As a priest-formator, seminary professor and spiritual director for 11 years, I'd say that the survey is absolutely correct. But I too would struggle to define my terms. What is a “conservative Catholic,” a “progressive Catholic”? For that matter, what does it mean for a follower of Christ to say, “I belong to Paul” or “I belong to Apollo”? Being a follower of Christ means that one has heard Jesus say, “Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand,” and followed him. It means one has received an invitation from God to become a “fisher of men.” Why follow the sheep when you can follow the Shepherd?

I don't need to go into detail about the division and polarization in the contemporary Church. It almost perfectly reflects the division and polarization of the world. If this isn't a scandal, I don't know what is. And I confess my own contributions to the problem. I am as likely as anyone else to use secular political terms to describe Catholic partisans. And I encourage seminarians and young priests to lean heavily toward the more traditional side of churchy disputes. My training as a Thomist and a Stoic prevent me from embracing Traditionalism in all its polyphonic and lacy grandeur, but I'll also grab a silk chasuble (even fake silk) over a burlap chasuble every time. I confess all this to make sure you understand that I know that I am part of the problem. The preacher preaches to himself first! The Father's prophetic Word on our current mess is clear: those who follow Christ confess that they follow Christ. Not the Democrats or the Republicans or the progressives or the Traddies. But Christ. And Christ alone. I belong to Christ. And that means I can belong to no one else. Follow the Shepherd not the sheep.

So, does following Christ mean that we cannot also be a progressive or a Traddy or some other adjectival add-on? No, it doesn't. But notice how English works. Adjectives modify nouns. So, if I say I am a “BXVI Catholic,” then I have used BVXI to modify Catholic. If this means that I have read, understood, and accepted BXVI's understanding of what it means to follow Christ, then fine. I am following Christ (first) in the manner of BXVI (second). However, if it means that I have given my allegiance to a partisan camp for the sake of being identified as a partisan of that camp, then not so fine. Why? Because being a partisan is what matters to me here, not following Christ. If being a progressive is more important than being a Catholic, or being a Traddy is more important than being a Catholic, then you are saying, “I belong to Progressivism” or “I belong to Traditionalism.” Is Christ divided? Was Obama or Trump crucified for you? Did LGBTQ ideology or the Constitution suffer for you? Were you baptized in the name of JPII or Francis? No, of course not. Nor is it the flesh of politicians or popes or theologians that you eat this morning. We eat Christ this morning, so it is to Christ that we belong.

Matthew reports that Jesus moves into the area of Galilee and “from that time on, [he begins] to preach and say, 'Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.'” Not the kingdom of Progs or Traddies or Democrats or Republicans. The kingdom of heaven is at hand. And it's time to repent. To turn away from the sins of divisions and parties in the Church, away from laying claim to this or that ideology as a modifier for our faith. It's time – beyond time! – for us to return to Christ and him alone and do the job we've agreed to do: fish for the souls of men and women who desperately want to be free from sin and death. Only Christ can free them, free us. The politicians can create programs. Popes and bishops can create processes and policies. Ideologues can create the illusion of secular utopias or perfectly ordered Christian societies. But only Christ can rescue us from sin and death and make us partakers in his divine life. If you will receive the gift of eternal life, you will order your life first to Christ. Everything else – family, friends, neighbors, politics, religion – everything else will flow naturally from your fundamental relationship to Christ. For salvation, there is no Trump or Biden or JPII or Francis or Progressivism or Traditionalism. There is only Christ. Why follow the sheep when you can follow the Shepherd?

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Is Jesus crazy?

St. Agnes

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Is Jesus crazy? Well, here are some of the promises made by Christ to those who follow him. He promises us persecution at the hands of our family and friends. He promises trial and imprisonment by governors and princes. He promises ridicule, opposition, and outright violence for his name's sake. He tells us that his Way is straight but exceedingly narrow, difficult to navigate at times. Along the Way, he promises us battle after bloody battle in a war he has already won. We have before us a long, hard struggle against an Enemy who cheats, steals, lies and has no moral qualms about using whatever he needs to ensnare us. Finally, he tells us that to follow him with our whole hearts and minds and bodies, we must follow him all the way to the Cross and the Tomb. That's a promise too. Yet, here we are, following him around, looking forward to seeing all these promises fulfilled. Jesus' family and friends think he's out of his mind. Maybe they should be more concerned about those who follow him! Maybe they should take a look at those of us who know what it means to follow him. . .and do it anyway. Obviously, we're the ones out of our minds.

It could be that we're perfectly sane and simply believe that we will somehow escape the consequences of following Christ. And we might escape the more gruesome consequences. But we can't escape the most basic consequence of following him: we will not be comfortable in the world; we cannot be content while we live in the world. The reason for this is simple: the world opposes everything Jesus tells us is good, true, and beautiful. While we practice mercy, forgiveness, and love, the world demands revenge, reparation, and selfishness. While we trust, hope, and work toward our end, the world is suspicious, cynical, and without purpose. When the world watches us thrive in divine love, it becomes enraged at our peace and rails against our care and defense of the least among us. Our eagerness to submit to the Father's will makes the world crazy b/c the world will submit to nothing and no one. Or so it claims. Is Jesus “out of mind”? By the world's standards, yes. And thanks be to God! Otherwise, we'd be tied to a prophet who serves a temporary god. Are we crazy for following the Word Made Flesh? No. What can be more sane that following him who created and recreated all there is?

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The law serves us

St. Anthony, Abbot

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Who here got out of bed this morning and thought: “I'm going to commit a crime today”? I'm betting no one. We are law-abiding citizens. We do not seek out opportunities to cause trouble nor do we do out of our way to look for unjust laws. So long as we are left alone to study, pray, enjoy our basic freedoms, and flourish as children of God, we are happy to go along with whatever Congress or the city council legislates. But as government grows bolder and bolder in its attempts to infringe on basic human rights through legislation that violates the natural law, our peace with the legal status quo grows more and more uneasy. It may not be inevitable that we find ourselves in jail for civil disobedience but it seems that the chances grow with every time a council or court convenes. Forcing doctors to perform transgender surgeries. Teaching elementary school children about deviant sexual practices. Banning prayer outside of abortion clinics. Denying the dignity of the human person through euthanasia and the death penalty. How do we respond?

We remembered Martin Luther King yesterday. In 1963, from his jail cell in Birmingham, Alabama, he reminded the Church of her successful historical witness and current failure: “There was a time when the church was very powerful—in the time when the early Christians rejoiced at being deemed worthy to suffer for what they believed. In those days the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society. . .Small in number, they were big in commitment. . .By their effort and example they brought an end to such ancient evils as infanticide and gladiatorial contests. Things are different now. . .Far from being disturbed by the presence of the church, the power structure of the average community is consoled by the church's silent—and often even vocal—sanction of things as they are.” Jesus says to the Pharisees, “The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath.” 

Being just is easy in the absence of challenge. Doing justice in the face of government sanctioned oppression – especially the oppression of our natural right to religious freedom – is difficult at best, impossible if we surrender. Our fight will not be against local politicians but with an Ancient Lie: man serves the law. When the time comes, remember Jesus standing in the field, teaching the Pharisees: “The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath. That is why the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath.” There is something larger, more important, and infinitely more fundamental to being fully human than obeying man's law, especially a law that defies God's law: the eternal worth of every human creature in the love of God our Creator. No merely man-made law can outlaw divine love and our need to say Yes to being loved.

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Knowing about is not knowing

2^nd Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

John the Baptist makes an unnerving confession about Jesus the Christ, “I did not know him.” Twice he confesses, “I did not know him.” Why are these confessions unnerving? He's John the Baptist! He leaped in his mother's womb at the presence of Christ in Mary's womb. He's lived in the desert, eating bugs and honey and talking to God for three decades. He's roamed up and down the Jordan River dozens of times, baptizing sinners for the repentance of sin and proclaiming the advent of the Christ – the Christ he now claims not to know! How is this possible? We could say that John knew about Jesus the man but didn't know that the man Jesus is the Christ. Or we could say that John had a natural knowledge of Jesus, a merely human knowledge of Jesus but not a supernatural knowledge. A distinction helps here: I can know about a person w/o knowing that person. I wrote my doctoral dissertation on Whitman. I know a lot about him. But I cannot claim to know him personally. He died in 1892, 72 years before I was born. John's confession sets up a question for us: do I know about Christ? Or do I know him? The difference here determines our place in eternity.

I grew up in MS hearing: “Have you accepted Jesus into your heart as your personal Lord and Savior?” This question usually makes Catholics squirm a little b/c it requires us to think about our salvation in a way that makes little sense to us. It's formulated to make us think “outside the Church,” outside the Body of Christ and to consider ME in a relationship with HIM. Catholics think in terms of US in relationship with HIM. This question also invokes images of religious passion, conviction, and maybe even some wild hand-raising and shouting. It's all very Baptist – subjective, emotional, and messy. Catholics prefer the orderly, scripted, and routine encounter with Christ we find in the liturgy. Or a quiet, contemplative rest in front of the tabernacle. We know what to expect, and we're perfectly happy when nothing more than the expected happens. Whether we claim Christ as a personal Savior or as the Savior of the Church, we can know a lot about him w/o knowing him as a person. We can know (e.g.) that he was born in Bethlehem to Mary and Joseph. That he was a carpenter. That he died at the hands of Pilate by crucifixion. He was around 33yo when he died. That he claimed to be the Son of God, and so on. We know about him. But do we know him?

John answers the question: No, I did not know him. John knew a lot about the promised Messiah from scripture. But it took the HS's intervention to reveal Jesus as the Christ: “...the one who sent me to baptize with water told me, 'On whomever you see the Spirit come down and remain, he is the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit.'” The Spirit descends on Jesus and John then confesses: “Now I have seen and testified that he is the Son of God.” Now, John knows the Christ. How do we move from knowing about Jesus to knowing the Christ? And why is this move necessary for our salvation and our growth in holiness? Starting with the second question first. Knowing about someone requires nothing more than the ability to acquire and store facts about them as an historical figure. Date of birth and death. Significant events. Major achievements. Quirky facts and figures. We have all this info about Jesus. None of this info saves us from sin and death. None of this info brings us into his death and resurrection. None of it alone helps us partake in his divine life. None of it will get us to heaven. If we will to be saved and grow in holiness, we must know him and know him as a person.

So, how do we move from knowing about Jesus to knowing the Christ as a person? There is only one way: we meet him in another person; we meet him in one another. The liturgy, our prayer life, our good works, fasting, alms giving – all these prepare us to meet Christ in another. Everything we do as faithful Catholics fine tunes our ability and willingness to meet the Christ in one another. Sure, we are all imperfect Christs, no one on Earth is perfectly Christ as they are, but each one of us reveals something of Christ to everyone else. Why do we come together as The Body once a week if not to bring all of our imperfections into one place so that our witness may be more complete? Why do we insist on scripted prayer if not to train our voices to speak to God as one?We find Christ in one another. Imperfect. Incomplete. But knowing that my imperfections may be perfected in you. And you can show me the Way. That's what the HS reveals everyday. You are Christ. I am Christ. And we are Christs b/c The Christ rose to the Father and sent the HS among us to show us the way to perfection. Go and testify: He is the Son of God come to save us from sin and death. Find him in me. 

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Are you looking for him?

1^st Week OT (W)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Everyone is looking for Jesus? Literally, everyone? Every creature capable of forming intent and seeing that intent carried out? Not just those who've recently heard him preach and witnessed him heal but all rational creatures everywhere? Like most things Catholic, the answer is yes and no. Obviously, Simon is saying something like: “You were among us earlier, then you just disappeared. We've been trying to find you ever since!” But Simon's simple declarative sentence is also a revelation, an unveiling of a fundamental truth about all men and women throughout history: we are always and everywhere looking for our salvation. We are always and everywhere looking for our perfection in the divine person of Christ Jesus. The CCC puts it this way: “God [...] freely created man to make him share in his own blessed life”(1). We were made so that we might come to share in the divine life of the Blessed Trinity. That's our created purpose, our end. We experience this purpose as a longing, a desire for completion and fulfillment. In our fallen state, we often attempt to satisfy this desire for perfection by choosing to give ourselves to lesser goods. Food, sex, power, wealth, all the usual suspects that compete for our love. In vain, we try to fill the God-shaped hole in our lives with things that are less-than-God. When we do this, we settle for an idol, a false god, and our search for completion comes to an unhappy end. The unclean spirits move in and feed on our despair. Never abandoning us to our own stupidity, Christ comes and shows us the Real Deal, the divine life we were created to enjoy. Then we can see that our idols are deaf, dumb, blind, and totally useless in seeing us to our perfection. Then – free from our slavery to merely created things – we can turn again to the Father, coming back again to our desire to live with Him forever. When you hear Simon say to Jesus, “Everyone is looking for you,” do you include yourself in that everyone? You and I are always among those who desire him. Even in our sin, we long for God. But do you freely look for Him, seek Him out? Do you freely choose Him as your Lord, or do you give that honor to a lesser good? Every breath we draw is a choice to live free in Christ, or to die enslaved to made things. Christ died for you. No made thing can. 

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Theotokos!

The Solemnity of the Mary, Mother of God, celebrates the decision taken at the Council of Ephesus (431) against the teaching of the Patriarch, Nestorius, who held that a human person could not be said to have given birth to God. The Patriarch of Alexander, Cyril, argued that Mary, as the chosen instrument of the Incarnation, conceived and gave birth to the Word, Jesus, fully human and fully divine, one person with two natures. Mary, then, is properly understood to be “Theotokos,” God-bearer.

Cyril wrote (in part) to Nestorius:

"And since the holy Virgin brought forth corporally God made one with flesh according to nature, for this reason we also call her Mother of God, not as if the nature of the Word had the beginning of its existence from the flesh.

For In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was God, and the Word was with God, and he is the Maker of the ages, coeternal with the Father, and Creator of all; but, as we have already said, since he united to himself hypostatically human nature from her womb, also he subjected himself to birth as man, not as needing necessarily in his own nature birth in time and in these last times of the world, but in order that he might bless the beginning of our existence, and that that which sent the earthly bodies of our whole race to death, might lose its power for the future by his being born of a woman in the flesh. And this: In sorrow you shall bring forth children, being removed through him, he showed the truth of that spoken by the prophet, Strong death swallowed them up, and again God has wiped away every tear from off all faces. For this cause also we say that he attended, having been called, and also blessed, the marriage in Cana of Galilee, with his holy Apostles in accordance with the economy. We have been taught to hold these things by the holy Apostles and Evangelists, and all the God-inspired Scriptures, and in the true confessions of the blessed Fathers."

Cryril published twelve anathemas against Nestorius. Cyril's letters and his anathemas became the primary texts from which the council fathers drew up their canons for the council.

The first anathema reads: “If anyone will not confess that the Emmanuel is very God, and that therefore the Holy Virgin is the Mother of God (Θεοτόκος), inasmuch as in the flesh she bore the Word of God made flesh [as it is written, The Word was made flesh] let him be anathema.”

The fifth anathema reads: “If anyone shall dare to say that the Christ is a Theophorus [that is, God-bearing] man and not rather that he is very God, as an only Son through nature, because the Word was made flesh, and has a share in flesh and blood as we do: let him be anathema.”

As is the case with all Marian dogma and doctrine, we are immediately directed back to Christ as our Lord and Savior. No Marian dogma or doctrine is declared or defined in isolation from Christ. She is always understood to be an exemplar of the Church and a sign through which we come to a more perfect union with Christ. Though our Blessed Mother is rightly revered and venerated, she is never worshiped as if she were divine. She is rightly understood as the Mediatrix of All Graces in so far as she mediated, through her own body, the conception and birth of Christ, who is Grace Himself. In no sense are we to understand our Blessed Mother as the source of grace. Rather, she was and is a conduit through which we benefit from the only mediation between God and man, Christ. In her immaculate conception and assumption into heaven, our Blessed Mother is herself a beneficiary of Christ's grace. As such, she cannot be the source of our blessedness, our giftedness in Christ.

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Becoming Sons of God

Nativity of the Lord (Day)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

A virgin gives birth to a son. That son, her son, is also the Son of God. He is the Son of God and the Son of Man, the Savior, the Messiah. His name is Christ Jesus, the one sent to save us from sin and death. On the Cross, he becomes sin and death, and now sin and death are dead, no longer masters of the Father's human children. We belong to Him and Him alone. We can say that Christ became man and died to save us. To rescue us. To heal us. We can say He ransomed us from the Enemy. We can even say that He adopted us as sons and daughters, as heirs. All true. All good and beautiful. But one of the more ancient ways of talking about what Christ did for us at his birth comes from St. Athanasius ca. 318AD, “For the Son of God became man so that we might become God” (CCC 460). TA says this means that, “[t]he only-begotten Son of God, wanting to make us sharers in his divinity, assumed our nature, so that he, made man, might make men gods” (CCC 460). Every year, on the Nativity of the Lord, we celebrate the birth of the God-Man, Jesus. We also celebrate the moment, the historical instant, that God graced us with the gift of the possibility of becoming Christs. Each one of us becoming Christ. Our salvation is our entry into the divine life of the Blessed Trinity.

Yes, on this festive occasion – with the decorated trees and presents and table-bending platters of food and Jingle Bells playing in the background and Santa Claus – we have to talk about God becoming Man so that Man might become god. You came to a Dominican priory for a Christmas Mass! So, you asked for this. All the traditional Christmas stuff is decoration for why we are here. Twinkly camouflage that decorates an ancient and venerable take on what it means to be saved in Christ. The birth of the Christ Child in Bethlehem is our birth into the divine life, into the possibility of being wholly united with God after our time here is done. As far back as St. Peter writing to the churches in Asia Minor before the end of the first century, we hear that our salvation is a matter of participating in the life of God: “...he has bestowed on us the precious and very great promises, so that through them you may come to share in the divine nature...” Our sharing in this life right now is what life in Christ is all about. Sharing in His life for eternity is what it is to be deified. To be made gods by God Himself.

Now, we could spend weeks unpacking what deification means for us, and the novices will be doing just that when I get back from visiting my dad in January. But the Cliff Notes version is this: God became Man so that Man might become God. That's what we are celebrating this morning. Our entry into the divine life through the birth of the Christ Child to the BVM in Bethlehem. As I noted earlier, there are simpler ways of thinking about your salvation – as a rescue, as a healing, as a ransom. All of these have their place in the story of the Church. But each one also leads us to think and speak about our daily lives in Christ in a particular way. If your salvation is a rescue, e.g., then you need to ask yourself: why am I constantly needing to be rescued? Why do I keep getting lost or putting myself in danger? If your salvation is a healing, then you need to ask: am I healed just once for all time? If so, why do I keep getting sick with sin and need to be healed again? What happens to your daily life in Christ when you think and speak about your salvation as “sharing in the divine life” of God Himself? What happens when you begin to take seriously the truth of the Son's Incarnation and understand that you yourself can become Christ?

Here's what could happen: you stop thinking and speaking about your life in Christ as if it were nothing more than a legalistic scheme of moral purity. You stop thinking and speaking about your life in Christ as if it were little more than conforming yourself to middle-class American values and expectations. You stop thinking and speaking about your life in Christ as it were limited to robotically repeating the words of a favorite devotion, or being satisfied with doing the absolute bare minimum under Church law. IOW, what happens when you begin to take seriously the truth of the Son's Incarnation and understand that you yourself can become Christ, you stop thinking and speaking about your life in Christ as if you are the source and summit of your salvation and solely responsible for getting yourself into heaven! As partakers in the divine life of God Himself, you and I are imperfect Christs being made perfect by grace. As such, our daily job is to receive with praise and thanksgiving the graces God pours out on us and put those graces to work for His greater glory. Sin is our willful failure to participate fully in the divine life. We have been given a great Christmas gift – Christ Jesus. And our year-round task is to become more and more like him just like he became like us – fully human in all ways except sin.

And so, on “The Twenty-fifth Day of December...in the 149th Olympiad; in the year 752 since the foundation of the City of Rome; in the 42nd year of the reign of Caesar Octavian Augustus, the whole world being at peace, Jesus Christ, eternal God and Son of the eternal Father...was conceived by the Holy Spirit...born of the Virgin Mary in Bethlehem of Judah, and was made man...” On that same day in the same year, in virtue of Christ's birth, life, death, and resurrection, you and I were given – freely given – the gift of our salvation: to become Christs in the flesh, to be made sons of God, heirs to the Kingdom; priests, prophets, and kings to bear witness to His glory in the world. Yes, we are rescued, healed, ransomed, adopted, and saved. But by far the greater gift, the greatest grace is our freedom to become Him whom we love. The Son born of Mary in Bethlehem. That son, her son, the Son of God. The Son of God and the Son of Man, the Savior, the Messiah. His name is Christ Jesus, the one sent to save us from sin and death.

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