Lame in one leg during the middle of the week

Octave of Easter (W)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

A healthy-looking beggar approaches Brian and his mom in the market, asking for a talent. His says in a sing-song voice, “Alms for an ex-leper.” Brian responds, “Did you say an ex-leper?” The beggar then tells him that this guy named Jesus cured him. Just touched his head w/o even a “by your leave” and cured him, ruining his livelihood as a beggar. Brian says that maybe he should find Jesus and ask to be made a leper again. The ex-leper says no to that but wonders if perhaps he should ask Jesus to make him lame in one leg during the middle of the week. Something beggable but not leprosy! I don't know for a fact that this scene from Monty Python's The Life of Brian is based on our story from Acts this morning, but it certainly brings it to mind. It also raises an interesting question: do we really want to be cured? I mean, sure, we probably would want to be cured of leprosy or cancer or some other deadly disease, but do we want to be free from sin? Do we want to be freed from our slavery to disobedience? There's something comfortable and securely familiar in our sins. Something predictable, something routine. And having that comfortable routine disrupted by a cure can be scary.

The disciples left behind in Jerusalem must be feeling some discomfort. Jesus is dead. And – for all they know – his body has been stolen. The Romans and the Jewish authorities may be searching for his followers to give them the Good Friday Treatment. Rather than falling back on their Master's teachings and bringing to mind his promises of being with them always, they begin to scatter in fear. Cleopas and another disciple are on their way to Emmaus. Despondent, verging on despair, they ponder on the traumatic events of the past few days. What if Jesus hadn't found them? What if he wasn't there to call them foolish and slow of heart? What if he didn't break open the Word and share bread with them? What if, instead, they continued on their way to Emmaus, found lodging, and kept on discussing what went wrong in Jerusalem? IOW, what if, in their despair, they forgot everything Jesus taught them, everything he prophesied, everything he did to heal, clean, and enlighten those who approached him? They might have ended up wondering if it would've been better to have never met the Christ. Meeting him and following him has brought them nothing but trouble.

But that's what meeting him and following him does. It brings trouble. It brings discomfort and disrupts predictable, comfortable routines. Especially those comfortable routines that keep us chained up in sin and death. Confessors here can tell you that there's nothing more predictable and boring than sin. And an eternal death is not the sort of excitement we want! So, do you want to be freed from your sins? Do you long for an adventure in growing in holiness? If you feel a chasm of nothingness opening under you, a life w/o purpose or direction, a life wasted in pointless petty acts of boring disobedience, then receive the cure Christ is offering you and be free. You wouldn't mourn the loss of a cancerous tumor, so why grieve over a victory against your rebellious heart and mind? Why go back to being a leper when you can be clean?

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We are the free children of the Most High!

Easter Sunday 2024

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

You know what has happened all across Judea. All across Texas and the United States and the North American continent. You know what has happened all across Europe, Asia, Africa, Central and South America. All across the world's oceans. All across our tiny solar system; our galaxy, and all the galaxies created by the Word from the beginning. The Son of God, who became the Son of Man by the BVM, was crucified in Judea, buried in a borrowed tomb, descended into hell to preach his Good News, and then – as he promised – rose from that tomb, leaving it empty for his anxious disciples to discover so that they might believe. We know what happened in Judea. But do we know what it all means? Do we know and understand the effect of this astonishing historical event? The wound of Adam's disobedience in the Garden has been healed by the death and resurrection of Christ Jesus. We are no longer slaves to sin and death. We are no longer the children of darkness. When he rose from death in the tomb, he took us – all of us – with him. We are now the free children of the Most High, sons and daughters, heirs to His kingdom, and missionary-witnesses of the Good News.

Imagine the terrible grief of the disciples. Their teacher and friend is brutally tortured – publicly – and then executed on a Roman cross. Left to die a lingering death, suffocating in his own blood, he cries out in despair. A lance ends his life. A wannabe disciple pulls some strings to get possession of his body and buries him a rocky tomb. Everything he taught them is dead. Everything he wanted to accomplish is dead. The preaching, the teaching, all the healings and exorcisms, all the arguing with the scribes and Pharisees – all dead. The whole of his ministry is ended on that cross. His disciples are in hiding. Scared out of their minds that they will be rounded up, tortured, and executed like he was. Mary of Magdala, risking everything, goes to the tomb and finds it empty. One more cruel wound. The Romans or the Jewish priests or both have violated his tomb, removed his body, and hidden it. Or destroyed it. Leaving his followers with nothing of him but their memories. Do they know what has happened? Not yet. When John and Peter see the burial cloths, they know. He has risen from death just as Scripture said he would. Just as he himself said he would. Imagine their terrible joy at discovering that their teacher and friend still lived.

That terrible joy may be difficult for us – 2,000 years later – for us to feel with any urgency. We're used to the idea that Christ died and rose from his tomb. We've lived with this truth our whole lives. We know that over the centuries many have tried to explain the resurrection in psychological terms, or dismiss it through scientific investigation, or diminish its cultural importance by tying it to ancient pagan fertility myths. Some have tried to absorb our central mystery into political revolutions or religious novelties. Some have even tried to disrupt our terrible joy by co-opting Easter Sunday into their trendy secular campaigns. Just this last Friday – Good Friday – the WH officially declared today – Easter Sunday – “Transgender Visibility Day.” This bit of political theater tells us just how important, how fundamental today is to our faith. The world is desperate to distract its denizens from the glory of our freedom in the Risen Christ! Next year it might be a cry for Christian Nationalism, or another gesture toward the failed Sexual Revolution. What we – as missionary-witnesses – must bring into crystal-clear focus is our freedom to be bearers of the Word and living tabernacles of the living God. Let the world play its political games. We have real work to do.

You know what has happened. You and I are now the free children of the Most High, sons and daughters, heirs to His kingdom, and missionary-witnesses of the Good News. When Christ rose from his tomb – very much alive and well – he gathered us up with him and took us – from all eternity – into the presence of the Father, our true and only home. There we are citizens of heaven. Here – while we still live – we serve as ambassadors, as legates charged with being in word and deed Christs among those who do not yet know Christ. Our first duty as ambassadors is to ensure that everyone we meet sees in us and hears from us the freely offered mercy of the Father to sinners. From us must freely flow the power of forgiveness through charity. Never condemning the sinner but always naming the sin. From us must freely flow the power of hope in faith. Never succumbing to despair, never mistrusting God's promises, and never failing to reach for and grasp our divine end. And from us must freely flow the power of a humble witness, a truly child-like belief in the Father's enduring love of His children, a love anyone at anytime may receive and turn their lives around to enjoy the hard-won freedom of the empty tomb.

We know what has happened today. Our chains have been struck. We owe nothing to this world but the Gospel of Christ Jesus! So, remember who are – the free children of the Most High, sons and daughters, heirs to His kingdom, and missionary-witnesses of the Good News.

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What has he done to/for you?

Mass of the Last Supper

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

Church of the Incarnation, Irving

“Do you realize what I have done for you?” An ominous question for the disciples. Knowing as we do that all but John were horribly murdered for bearing witness to the Gospel, we can be forgiven for thinking the better question would be, “Do you realize what I have done TO you?” What did their teacher and friend do to them? He made them servants. He made them slaves to a way of life that requires them to become divine love incarnate. To the limits of their gifts, they must be living, breathing incarnations of the Father's love, bearing word of His freely offered mercy to the world. So, why would we think that this has been done TO them rather than FOR them? Because their intended audience – the world – hates a slave, loves sin, and despises mercy. Weakness. Cowardice. Helpless. Frail. For the world, sacrifice is failure. Surrender is impotence. Obedience, a disgrace. And service, service is best left to those too faint to rule. The world proudly shouts, “Non serviam!” The apostles with their freshly washed feet answer, “Serviam.” And b/c they served, they died. But they died bearing witness to the divine love that redeems the world. Do you realize what Christ has done for and to you?”

Jesus interrupts his last supper with the apostles to wash their feet. Everyone at that table understands what's happening. Their Master and Teacher is lowering himself, taking on the role of a house slave, to serve them in a way most actual slaves would resent doing. It's a dirty, humiliating job. Peter – being Peter! – objects. Though we can only speculate on his reasons for objecting, we can definitely say that he's forgotten Jesus' earlier rebuke – “Get behind me, Satan!” He hasn't yet learned that Jesus doesn't need Peter to protect his dignity. He doesn't want Peter to protect him from his prophetic mission. He says to Peter, “Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me.” If you will not allow me to serve you, you cannot be my brother, a son to the Father. If you refuse my service, you cannot be an heir to the Kingdom. Peter relents and allows his Teacher to wash his feet. Peter receives the grace of service and becomes in the receiving a servant himself. He will die as Christ did – on a cross. A martyr-sacrifice, an incarnation of divine love.

If you have been washed in baptism and sealed with the Holy Spirit, do you realize what Christ has done for and to you?” Imperfect now, still growing in holiness and traveling the Way, he has made you a Christ for the salvation of the world. He has made you a slave to the Gospel, a servant of divine love and a witness in the prosecution of the world's hatred of mercy. You chose this life. Don't blame Mom and Dad or your peers. There are no armed guards here tonight forcing your presence at the sacrifice of the altar. You chose this. You chose the life of a servant. You chose the life of a witness. You chose to walk the way of holiness and peace. You even chose to wash the feet of Christ's littlest ones. If you live out your vocation of service, you will find yourself in trouble with the world. In large ways and small, you will bump into the dark spirit of non serviam and feel the power and allure of having it your way; of giving license to your passions to run wild; of using others to your advantage; you will feel the thrill of disobedience, the rush of violating boundaries, and the exhilaration of being applauded for your bravery in conforming to the world's low standards. If you fall to this power, you will “fit right in.” But you will not be a servant, a slave, a witness. And you will not be an heir. Jesus says, “You will have no inheritance with me.” The door to heaven is a service entrance.

If being a servant, a slave, a witness sounds weak; if it all sounds pathetic and dull, then consider: Christ died a servant to his students and rose to defeat death. He won. He didn't fight the Devil. He didn't wage a cosmic war against evil and come out barely alive but victorious. He did the one thing necessary to kill death. He died a servant of eternal life. He died a slave to divine love, as the incarnation of Divine Love. And he manifested that love in flesh and bone on the cross, sacrificing himself to make us holy – set apart, in the world but not of it. When we chose – and we did choose! – to be washed and sealed, we chose to become Christs for the salvation of the world. As mom and dad at home and at work, you are Christs. As students and professors, you are Christs. As priests and religious, you are Christs. As doctors, lawyers, accountants, cops, nurses, cashiers, you are Christs. Whoever you are and wherever you are, you are Christs. You are witnesses to his mercy. You are voluntary slaves of forgiveness and hope. Do you realize what Christ has done for and to you? He has made you foot washers in the world. You have chosen. Your serviam is your salvation.

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Speak kindly of Judas

Wednesday of Holy Week
Fr. Philip N. Powell, OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

I will speak kindly of Judas. It has been fashionable among the fashionable to look at Judas and see a man unjustly maligned for his careful act of deceit and betrayal. Aren’t we being just a little too hard on the poor man? He was under a lot of stress! The agony of being the one of the Twelve who would betray his Master and friend must have been horrible to bear. The sweaty nights tossing in his bed, worrying about money problems. The constant gnawing bite of ulcers, watching Jesus intentionally provoke the authorities. The pounding headaches from anxiety as his Master and friend claims, near-suicidally, in the middle of thronging crowds, that he is the Son of God! The insults, the arguments with the priests and scribes, even that day when the crowd starting throwing stones and they had to run for their lives! Too much, too much. You can see why he did what he did. All was lost anyway. Jesus’ end was inevitable. Who could blame Judas for siding with the arc of History against a man determined to die? You and I were in the crowd shouting “blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” All too soon, you and I will be in the crowd shouting “crucify him!” On the last day, will we ask him, “Surely, it is not I, Lord?”

Some suggest that Judas was predestined to hand Jesus over. Others will claim that Jesus asked Judas to betray him in order to fulfill the OT prophecies that prefigure his sacrifice on the cross. Still others will claim that Judas is a modern, existential figure, a man persecuted by history for making a hard choice and playing out the consequences of that choice with focused integrity. Maybe. What we know for sure is that Judas went to the chief priest. Offered Jesus' freedom and his life to those who would see him dead. He negotiated a price to betray his friend – thirty pieces of silver, the fine for murdering a slave. And then he continued living, working, ministering with Jesus, waiting for an opportunity to hand him over to his enemies.

But I said I would speak kindly of Judas. We all should. Why? Judas is so repugnant to us, so vile a man, and deserving of our contempt that, if we believe, truly believe what Jesus died to teach us, we must find it in our hearts not only to forgive him his violence against Christ, but we must see clearly, staring back at us from the twisted face of the Messiah’s betrayer, our own face – disobedient and scarred by our battles against temptation, by our struggles to find, grasp, and cling to God.

If the Christ is the best face we could wear, turned to the Father in beatitude, then Judas is the face we could wear in those moments of loneliness and distress, moments of despair at ever finding the light again. His is the face we put on when that small devilish whisper causally speaks our ruin: “This cannot be forgiven. Not even God loves you that much.” What aren’t we capable of then? What act of betrayal, deceit, selfishness, or violence is beyond us when we believe we are unlovable?

Speak kindly of Judas. Not to excuse his sin, of course not. Not to make right what is always wrong. But perhaps as an act of caution against what we hope is impossible for us. He is our anti-exemplar, the model of what happens in the ruin of despair, the wreck we make of ourselves when we kill hope with yesterday’s hatred or today’s temporary anxiety. Sometime today, ask in prayer, “Surely, it is not I, Lord?” Wait for an answer and then, with whatever answer you receive, remember mercy, and speak kindly of Judas.

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You are free

5^th Week of Lent (W)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

The Jews think that they have never been slaves to sin b/c they are the children of Abraham. Children of the covenant who have never succumbed to idolatry. Fair enough. Except that Jesus isn't just talking about the kind of slavery that comes with the generational worship of idols. He's talking about the kind of slavery to sin that comes with just being human. A condition every child of Adam and Eve is born into. Because the Jews misunderstand the true nature of spiritual slavery, they misunderstand the true nature of spiritual freedom. Thus, in their minds, they are justified in trying to kill Jesus. He's telling them that their covenant with God through Abraham isn't enough to save them. Their freedom is deficient. He says, “Amen, amen, I say to you, everyone who commits sin is a slave of sin.” Covenant or no covenant, if you sin, you are a slave to sin. The first step to spiritual freedom in Christ is to confess to being a slave to sin. You cannot defeat an enemy you refuse to see. Jesus says, “If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

There are four stages here: remain in the Word; be a disciple of Christ; know the truth; and be free. Notice that the last three stages are rooted in the first: remain in the Word. Remain in the Word of God, the Christ. Remain in the Word of creation, what is really Real. Remain in the Word of Christ's Body, the Church. Remain in the Word of Revelation, scripture and tradition. Remain in him and with him and you will be a faithful student of the Way, the Truth, and the Life. A disciple of Christ, imperfectly Christ for now, but learning to become perfectly Christ along the Way. And along the Way, your freedom is completed as is your joy. Claiming to be a child of God while remaining in sin is nothing else but claiming to be free while wearing chains. Even worse: it's claiming to be free while wear chains you have put on yourself. The truth will set you free. And the truth is: there is no freedom from sin except in Christ Jesus. Consider Lent your cram session for the final exam of Easter. There's just one question on this final: will you be a disciple of the Word made flesh? If the answer is yes, then you are already free.

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Raining on the righteous and the unrighteous

3rd Week of Lent (S)
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
St. Albert the Great, Irving

A Pharisee and a tax collector go to the temple to pray. The Pharisee marches right into the temple courtyard, but the tax collector stands off at a distance. The Pharisee prays aloud. The tax collector prays silently. The Pharisee recounts his righteous deeds and gives God thanks that he is “not like the rest of humanity—greedy, dishonest, adulterous.” While the tax collector humbly beats his breast in contrition and prays, “O God, be merciful to me a sinner.” Watching from the sidelines, anyone with eyes to see could tell the difference btw these two men. Their demeanor, dress, speech; the stance each takes before God. All different. But can we see how they are alike? Is there any reason to believe that either of two men is lying? Not that I can see. Both are telling the truth. That's how they are alike. The Pharisee is righteous. And the tax collector is a sinner. What justifies each man, for Jesus, is what they do with these truths. To what purpose do they put their spiritual condition? Both the righteous and the unrighteous will be exalted if they humble themselves before God.

The key to understanding this deceptively simply parable is understanding the parable's audience. Luke writes, “Jesus addressed this parable to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else.” This parable at fired at those of us who are certain that we are righteous AND – b/c we are certain of our righteousness – despise everyone else. For a Pharisee to be sure of his righteousness is hardly scandalous. Follow the Law and your rightness with God is certain. There's no anxious hand-wringing about being in a state of grace. Now that we are certain of our rightness with God, what do we do? Well, one thing we do not do is despise everyone else b/c we are righteous. Nor do we give God thanks for helping us stay clean w/o also asking Him to pour out His graces on others in need of His help. Rather than despising your fellow sinners, your security in righteousness should compel you to further acts of sacrificial love in order to bring as many as possible into right relationship with God. The Pharisee's problem is his lack of genuine humility before God and his lack of genuine gratitude to God for his hard-won holiness. Humility and gratitude will persist in the truly righteous soul.

The Lord says to Hosea, regarding His chosen people, “Your piety [Judah] is like a morning cloud, like the dew that early passes away.” In place of “piety,” other English translations use love, goodness, loyalty. The Latin Vulgate uses misericordia, which conveys the notion of a compassionate mercy, a sympathetic humanity towards others. Through the mouth of His prophet, Hosea, the Lord condemns Judah for its fleeting compassion, its fugitive goodness and stingy mercy. He says, “. . . it is love that I desire, not sacrifice, and knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.” Give Me your love, come to know Me in love. Keep your sacrifices, your burnt offerings. Dare to be genuinely righteous before Me; lay all your wounds before Me – your worry, your pride, your fear, all of your secret sins. Set these ablaze before My altar, come to know Me in love. And I will bind all your wounds. I will come to you like the rain, like spring rain watering the earth. Then, when you stand to pray, you can pray with genuine humility and give wholehearted thanks. True righteousness can abide only when humility and gratitude stand under you as your unbreakable foundation.

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Paid in full

3^rd Week of Lent (W)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

When you order a book from Amazon, it arrives in a package marked “Amazon Fulfillment Center.” When you pay a bill, you may receive a receipt marked “paid in full.” The obligations of a commercial contract are “fulfilled.” That word – “fulfill” – and all its variations means to complete, to be done with, to satisfy. It can also mean to perfect, to make whole again. So, when Jesus says he has come to fulfill the Law, he's saying that he's here to perfect the Law, to bring the Law to completion. Naturally, we need to ask: what is the telos, the end of the Law? The telos of the Law was and is to make of us a holy nation, a baptismal priesthood, a people assembled together to carry out His will. For centuries before Christ, the Law and Prophets worked toward this end. Sometimes with great success. But most of the time without. At the appointed time, the Son took on human flesh, becoming Man like one of us, and did what we could not – he gave himself to death in an act of sacrificial love so that our part in the Covenant could be fulfilled. The Law is not destroyed. It is made perfect. All of the Law and the Prophets is incorporated into the body and blood of Christ and our duty under the Law is complete.

Now that the obligations of the Law and the Prophets are complete, are we licensed to do as we please? No. The Law and the Prophets are completed under the first Law of Love: love God and neighbor as you love yourself. Do that and you perfectly obey the Law. You love perfectly. What we are doing right now – during Lent – is frankly inventorying our fidelity to the Law of Love. And while we take account of how well we love or do not love, we remember that we are only able to love in the first place b/c Love Himself loves us first. It is only through His originating love that we exist at all. Only through Him that we can love spouses, children, friends, and enemies. Only through Him do we come at last to the source of creating and re-creating love. If we follow Christ – and we say we do – and if Christ fulfilled the Law and the Prophets – and he did – and if we hope to find a place at the Wedding Feast – and we do – then we too will live and breathe and have our being in the world as fulfillers of the Law of Love. We are the Priests and Prophets of Divine Love sent to show the world its salvation in Christ Jesus.

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Fakin' it ain't makin' it

2^nd Week of Lent (W)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

One day during lunch at Notre Dame Seminary I was passing around an Ignatius Press catalog. One of the seminarians glanced at the address label and asked how I go the title “Very Reverend.” I said, “Because I'm prior at St. Dominic Priory. They probably got it from the Catholic Directory.” Seminarians being seminarians, they started calling me “Very Rev Philip Neri.” I countered with, “That would be 'the Very Rev. Fr. Dr. Prior' to you peons!” We got a good laugh out of it. But my underlying – and formational point, I hope – was that fancy ecclesial titles tell us nothing about the holiness of the title's bearer. They tell us nothing about the bearer's actual relationship with God. Father, Sister, Brother, Your Eminence, Your Holiness – none of these is descriptive of the person beyond his or her place in the hierarchy. In fact, I'm almost convinced the Lord allows these titles to test his vowed and ordained servants for humility and obedience. But Catholic Officialdom is not the only place where religious theater can quickly overtake one's earnest striving for holiness. By virtue of baptism, we are all priests, prophets, and kings. Everyone of us is vowed by baptism to be Christ in the world for the world. Here's your Lenten challenge: are you Christ in the world for the world? Or, are you an actor in religious theater?

It's a question for me as well. After all, the preacher preaches to himself first! So I'm not just being rude. The temptation is real. Very real. The rewards of appearing to be holy can be seductive. I get to be thought well of. I get all the public benefits of being holy w/o the bother of actually being holy. Who knows? Acting religious in public might actually rub off on me a little! The best part though is thinking of myself as holy, appearing holy, and getting to judge those who are not as holy as I am. The problem of course is that I could start to believe my part in religious theater is real and mistake faking it for making it. The only audience member clapping at that point is the Devil. When the sons of Zebedee ask to be elevated above their fellow disciples, Jesus asks a pointed question: “Can you drink the chalice that I am going to drink?” They answer: “We can.” A suicidal Hamlet says offstage: “Ay, there's the rub.” The sons of Zebedee have no idea what that chalice is or what it means. Besides, Jesus says, places of honor are not his to give. If he can't give them to us, we certainly can't give them to ourselves.

What the sons of Zebedee don't know and we do it is that the chalice Jesus drinks is the chalice of sacrificial love. It's not a cup of power or a cup of wealth and influence. It's the chalice of service and surrender; a slave's cup, leading to the Cross, the tomb, and – in hope – the resurrection. We are in a time of examination. Look hard at your religiosity. Look hard at your public holiness. Make absolutely sure that the inside matches the outside. Make sure that the depth of your love goes deeper than a finely tailored costume and a few scripted lines. Christ has handed you his chalice. Before you take and drink, ask yourself: am I Christ in the world for the world? Or, am I faking it so as to be seen making it?   

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