He doesn't ask much

6^th Sunday of Easter

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Our Lord doesn't ask much of us. Love one another. Trust one another. Believe in one another. Correct one another. Remain in his love. Keep his commandments. Receive his peace. Teach and preach all that he has taught us. Baptize in his name. Remember him. Forgive. Show mercy. Serve. Keep his word. Feed the hungry. Visit the sick and imprisoned. Mourn the dead. Bless the poor. Drive out unclean spirits. Heal the blind and crippled. Deny ourselves. Pick up our crosses. Follow him. Oh, and, at last. . .die for the love we have for him. He doesn't ask much. Still, I'm tired.

O Lord! I am tired. My knees are swollen! My back aches! I have calluses on both my typing fingers! My eyes itch. I haven't slept well in four days. And I'm breaking out like a high school freshman. My room looks like a FEMA camp after Hurricane Katrina. And I've not done laundry since the third Sunday of Lent. . .2022. Here at the end of another semester, I've forgotten how to read and I can no longer do basic addition or long division. I'm tired, Lord. I'm tired. What do you have to say, Lord? “Love one another as I have loved you. It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you.” Well, thank you, Lord. One more thing: can you unchose me?

The answer, of course, is no. He can't. Or, he won't. He knows our limits. And the limits beyond those limits. And he knows all that we give and all that we hold back. When we've given everything we have, all that we've held back. . .he gives us a new limit and the strength to reach it. The strength he gives is not some sort of magical grace-dust or a boost of sanctifying merits. He gives us himself. He's the limit. Not as an example, or a model, or a roadmap. He is the Limit. The Omega of all our striving. Think about it. Our end, our goal – Christ himself – comes to us in our soreness and sleepiness and crabbiness and hands himself over to us so that we might be made perfect as he is perfect. The Perfection we seek surrenders himself to us, the Imperfect, and dares us to surrender ourselves to him in return. How do we accomplish this astonishing task of surrender? “This I command you: love one another.” And forgive, show mercy, preach and teach, deny yourself, and follow him.

Looking for answers, or maybe just some small consolation, I've searched the ancient libraries of the world – Oxford, Cambridge, Rome, London, Beijing, Ole Miss. . .and I've read hundreds of books and manuscripts. Talked to masters, professors, mystics, seers, soon-to-be saints, and quite a few sinners. I've asked: how do I surrender? How do I hand over my life, everything that I am to God? I found the answer. My guide: a diminutive mystic of the Thomistic kind, a fellow renowned for his wisdom, patience, and kindness. I asked him my desperate question. He hefted his walking stick. Climbed a chair. And locked his eyes with mine and said, “Do, or do not. There is no try.” Expecting further distinctions or a citation from the Summa, I hesitated for a moment before developing a facial tic and bursting out laughing. Love, or do not love. Forgive, or do not forgive. Believe, or do not believe. There is no try. Surrender, or do not. There is no try. There is no limit to surrender in love. Love one another as Christ loves you. He will not unchose you to complete the work he has given you to do. He doesn't ask much of us. Love one another. Trust one another. Believe in one another. Correct one another. Remain in his love. Keep his commandments. Receive his peace. You know the to-do list. So, with sore knees, cramping fingers, grouchy disposition, blurry eyes, and a facial tic, charge head long and recklessly into the holy work you have to do. You aren't alone. As he promised, he is with us always, working right along side us and keeping us within his perfect peace.

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THE Way, THE Truth, THE Life

Ss. Philip and James

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

Serra Club, Irving

Can it be any clearer: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me”? This truth is what we have given our lives to. There is no salvation through any other name except Christ Jesus. Not sociology, psychology, or philosophy. Not the Republican Party or the NRA or socialism or capitalism or the Democrats or the State or social justice or racial purity or feminism or holding and professing whatever the currently correct ideology happens to be. We hold and profess the Apostolic Faith, a faith that transcends politics and cultures and nations, leading us to our ultimate end – God in heaven and our place at His table. The pressure to worship the idols of this age is tremendous. We see it everyday. And this is nothing new. Our ancestors in faith were pressured to swear allegiance to race, to politics, to ethnicity, to gender, and a myriad of others gods that cannot save. The apostles were sent to proclaim a simple message: Christ Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Anything beyond this, anything other than this is a lie. We preach the truth. Jesus Christ and he alone is our salvation. Do you live this truth day in and day out, all day, everyday? If you were asked, “Can belonging to a political party save me?” I have no doubt every one in this chapel would say, “No. Absolutely not.” Can holding a particular philosophical or theological position save me? No. Can simply being an American or a Mexican or a Canadian save me? No. We get that. We understand – intellectually – that nothing created can save us. But when the rubber hits the road and we're flying along through our day, how often do we fall back on the habit of thinking that something created, something made will bring us to the Wedding Feast? We can – if we're not diligent – cling fast to the things of the world, believing that they will give us strength and purpose. Praying for priestly vocations is an immensely important and praiseworthy ministry. But it won't save you. Teaching seminarians and serving as their SD is important and praiseworthy as well. But it won't save me. We pray for vocations and teach seminarians because we know and believe that Christ Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. We start there – with the truth – and then work our way out to ministry, politics, philosophy, and whatever else we have to deal with day to day. We start with Christ, stay with Christ, end with Christ, and belong to him and with him always and everywhere in all circumstances, never wavering in our trust that he and he alone can and will bring us fully into the Father's presence.

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There's a temptation through that gate

4^th Week of Easter (M)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Yesterday we heard Jesus say that his is the only name under heaven given for the salvation of the human race. This morning we hear him say, “I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be saved...” Given that we are well-catechized and faithful Catholics, our reaction to these truths is something like: “Yeah. And?” But back in his day such claims were beyond heresy, beyond blasphemy. No mere man could be I Am Who Am, Creator of the universe and Savior of the People. Flesh and bone could not contain the voice that spoke to Abraham, Moses, and the Prophets. It was sacrilege to say otherwise. Nowadays, it seems heretical, blasphemous, and sacrilegious to proclaim that the Christ is the only name given for our salvation. That he is the sheep gate through which we enter the fold. Religious thought and practice is so diverse, so varied that we can't possibly say there is only one way to get to heaven. To be considered tolerant and thus cosmopolitan, we are told that we must instead think of God, heaven, and salvation as a mountain upon which there are many paths leading to the top. All paths are equally good, true, and beautiful. Choose a path and walk it with integrity.

But Jesus says, “...whoever does not enter a sheepfold through the gate but climbs over elsewhere is a thief and a robber.” Saying that sort of thing out loud won't get you invited to the best cocktail parties. But say it we must. The truth is always pastoral. Lying is never an option for a faithful witness. We should though consider why some might want us to deny Christ's claim to exclusive ownership of the keys of heaven. There's the practical: what about the billions of people who are not Christian? What happens to them? There's the religious: the pre-Christian religions prefigured Christ, so can't we say that Christ is prefiguring something beyond himself? There's the philosophical: since we are always learning, always unveiling truth, is it possible that there are new truths waiting to be revealed? And there's a dozen other categories that object to the exclusivity of Christ's claim. But I think there's one objection that we need to take more seriously than any of the others. Isn't such a claim – that Christ if the only means of salvation – a temptation for Christians to become arrogant, prideful, and maybe even bullying about their status as Christ's sheep? Yes, yes it is.

And we've seen this temptation victorious over the Church many times through the centuries. Combining worldly power, wealth, and arrogance has led us too many times to conclude that as Christ's sheep we are just better than Those People and therefore justified in dominating them, exploiting them. This is not the Gospel. Christ freely offers salvation to those who will repent, believe, follow his commands, and bear witness. He makes all this possible by gracing us with all that we need to see and hear his Good News. Our job as his followers is to show the world the concrete effects of being his followers. Freedom from sin. Freedom from eternal death. Freedom from anxiety and worry. We are to be the signs and wonders of his joy, his love, his mercy. There is no room in us for arrogance or pride. What little room our joy leaves us is filled with praise and thanksgiving for being given our freedom. Given our freedom. Not earned. Not bargained for. Given. We've done nothing to deserve our salvation. So what could we possibly be arrogant or prideful about? Christ is the only name given for our salvation. He is the only way into the fold. Ask yourself: am I holding the gate open, or locking it behind me? 

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How to be a better sheep

4^th Sunday of Easter

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

We know who and what we are but not who and what we will become. This is either comforting or unnerving, depending on whether or not you trust the Father to keep His promises. If you trust God, then you are His child and you will be become something greater. If you don't, then you are not His child and you will become something much, much less. Since we are here this morning, we can assume that we do trust God's promises and that we are indeed His beloved child. What will you and I become? We don't know. John says so, “Beloved, we are God's children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed.” Fair enough. I'm content knowing that whatever I become will be the result of God's providence, and that I will be of some use to His plan. Of course, all this being and becoming is conditioned on my cooperation, my willingness to receive and put into practice the graces God gives me. Being aggressively lazy at times and always shockingly thickheaded, I rely on the Good Shepherd to whack me with his shepherd's staff and occasionally rescue me from the briar patch I've wandered into. The Good Shepherd is always good. But his sheep, especially this sheep, could use some work. What can you/we do to be better sheep?

We have to start with the basics. As sheep, as Children of God, to whom do we belong? Well, the answer is in the question: God the Father. We belong to God the Father. Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd, and I know mine and mine know me.” Everything else about our lives in Christ and our growth in holiness flows from this point. We do not belong to the State, the world, the bank, to our culture, or our race/class/political party. We are wholly owned and operated by the Holy Trinity. Just to make this point absolutely clear, Jesus says about himself as our Shepherd, “There is no salvation through anyone else, nor is there any other name under heaven given to the human race by which we are to be saved.” No other name but Christ Jesus. How can we be better sheep for the Good Shepherd? In word and deed, in the way we speak, think, and behave publicly and privately, proclaim our total dependence on Christ for everything we have and everything we are. There is nothing we have and nothing we are that doesn't belong to Christ. Get this right and everything else follows easily.

So, if everything we have and everything we are belongs to Christ, then it follows that everything we say, do, think, and feel also belongs to Christ. This means all day, every day we live and move in the world as the property of the Christ. As sheep of the Good Shepherd. Those we meet, work with, play with – meet, work with, and play with the Good Shepherd himself. What do these people see and hear when they meet the Good Shepherd in you? Does what they hear and see reveal Christ as their Savior? Does what they see and hear reveal the offer of God's mercy to sinners? Do they see and hear the possibility of turning away from sin and receiving forgiveness? Or do they see disapproving rigidity or self-righteousness? Do they hear condemnation or moral scolding? To be the kind of sheep the Good Shepherd shepherds is to be at once deeply rooted in the truth of the Gospel and at the same time recklessly open to welcoming sinners. We welcome sinners (as we were once welcomed) so that they might join the flock and become themselves good sheep. There is no other name under heaven given to the human race by which we are saved. This truth does not belong to us. We belong to this Truth.

If we belong to the Truth that Christ Jesus is the only name given for the salvation of the human race, then we – each one of us – becomes individually and corporately living, breathing bearers of the Word in the world for the salvation of the world. My faith cannot be just about MY salvation, MY holiness, MY moral perfection. Our faith includes our individual salvation, holiness, and perfection but it can never be only about that. We are intimately connected by the Holy Spirit, connected at the level of the spirit in a way that binds us eternally together in a family governed by sacrificial love. If a member is sick. We are all sick. If a member is hurting. We are all hurting. When one rejoices, we all rejoice. We win together and lose together. And we all hear the voice of the Good Shepherd and obey. The Good Shepherd has said, is saying, and will always say, “I lay down my life for the sheep.” That is sacrificial love. And that is how we bear witness to the GS. In the face of lies, ugliness, evil, and sin, we lay down our lives for the GS's sheep. If we can't or won't die for the truth, goodness, and beauty of the name Christ Jesus, then we cannot be good sheep. We are children of the Father. He is waiting for us to reveal who we will become.  

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Don't make Jesus say, "Woe to you!"

St. Augustine

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

It's never a bad idea to compare ourselves to the Pharisees. Spiritually speaking, how do we measure up? Jesus consistently points out their hypocrisies and ties their spiritual failures to a near-pathological need for control. IOW, they love to control others, but seem unable to control themselves. That they can't/won't control themselves partially explains why they want to control others. If I can't/won't control myself, the least I can do is try and control you. Do we, do you have the same problem? Have you ever been upset with someone for committing the same sin you regularly commit? Do you moralize about sin to others while rationalizing your own sin to yourself? Maybe you've granted yourself a dispensation from a moral precept but refused the same to another? Perhaps you regularly receive mercy but rarely give it? The basic idea here is that I can come to expect others to be tightly bound to the rules while I am allowed a great deal of flexibility in following the same. Any sin I commit is ultimately explicable, justifiable, and forgivable, while you – you dirty sinner! – have no excuse! Obviously, this is no way for a follower of Christ to live.

How ought we to live then given our weaknesses and the law of love? One way comes in the form of a practice: anytime I am tempted to condemn a fellow sinner, I will stop myself and perform a quick examination of conscience. What is motivating me to speak out here? Am I trying to control another b/c I can't/won't control myself? Am I trying to show all the others how holy I am? Am I hoping to distance myself from that sinner's sin b/c that sin is also my sin? Am I being moved by charity or fear? Hope or anger? Do I hate the sin but not the sinner? Or, do I hate the sin B/C I hate the sinner? Or, do I just hate the sinner regardless of the sin? Hopefully, by the time I've completed this examen, it's too late to say or do anything dumb, and I've avoided yet another temptation to hypocrisy. I've avoided another temptation to appoint myself Judge of the Law. When you commit a sin, you go to Christ for forgiveness. You know in your heart and mind that you are contrite and repentant. If you want to escape hypocrisy, presume grace in the other and firmly believe that they to are looking for mercy. Otherwise, as Jesus says, “Woe to you!”

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Father (doesn't) always know best

20^th Week OT (S)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

While serving as a priest-formator at NDS in NOLA, I had many opportunities to talk to seminarians about the dangers of clericalism. It was The Topic after the Cardinal McCarrick scandal broke in 2019. Power, authority, influence, money, and people were grievously abused for the jollies of one man. That this man was aided and abetted by dozens of other clerics (from cardinals to deacons) over several decades reveals the ugly, infectious nature of sin. The sin reigning at the rotten center of this scandal was Pride, “I am a god.” Surely, greed, lust, envy all played their part. But Pride gave them their marching orders. Talking to the seminarians, the formators spent a lot of time defining clericalism for them. It boils down to this: clergy are better than the laity. How clericalism manifests differs from age to age, but the basics never change: “I am a priest/bishop (etc) and b/c I am the priest/bishop I am always right.” Therefore, the cleric's will is the single, stable measure of what counts as true, good, and beautiful in any situation. To make matters worse, clericalism is almost always nurtured by some portion of the laity who say, “Father knows best.” Jesus says, “The greatest among you must be your servant.”

Humility is no easy virtue. It requires the death of Pride, the submission of one's will to the Father. At minimum, it means confessing one's total dependence on God alone and then living a life of gratitude for His abundant gifts. It means refusing the serpent's temptation to Eve: “You can be a god w/o God.” Practically, for the cleric, it means never confusing legitimate authority with naked power. Righteousness with popularity. Truth with personal preference. For all of us, humility is about knowing and deeply understanding that we are – at our very root – unnecessary creatures. Made beings brought to perfection in the loving sacrifice of Christ on the Cross. Our creation is a gift. Our re-creation is also a gift. Everything we have and are is a gift. When we serve one another, we are gifts serving other gifts for the glory of God. When we serve for self-satisfaction, to puff up our ego, we serve another Master entirely. His name is Pride. So, Jesus warns us, “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” 

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You must die for love

9^th Week OT (Th)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Thinking about your daily life as a follower of Christ, what is one thing you have the most difficulty doing consistently? Personal prayer? Forgiving your neighbor? Suffering well? If you are like me, you will say “loving God, self, and neighbor.” It takes a lot of rile me up, and I don't hold grudges. Over the years, I've developed a Stoical philosophical approach to disaster, disease, and the general chaos of the world. Living with other friars has also helped me better handle the temptations of self-righteous anger and cynicism. As the brothers here can tell you, I'm still working on it! Practice makes perfect. But the one area where I struggle mightily is caritas, love. And the reason for this is pretty simple: I am not yet a saint. Thanks be to God, Jesus provides everything necessary for the Saint Becoming Process. He orders each one of us, “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. . .You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Then, dying on the Cross, he shows us how it's done.

“You SHALL love the Lord, your God. . .You SHALL love your neighbor as yourself.” Singular, second-person imperative. An order. Not a suggestion, or a plea – a command. And a strange command at that. Usually, we think of commands in connection with actions. March! Sit! Wear a mask! Pay taxes! So, when our Lord commands us to love, what is he commanding us to do? How are we supposed to act? I mean, isn't love a feeling, an emotion? Isn't it a passion that either just is or isn't there? I love my family and friends, but I know them well. How do I love a stranger? An enemy? How do I love God Who is not a being but Being Itself? How do I love Being Itself??? Jesus commands us, You shall love. You shall always and everywhere prefer and will the highest possible Good for God, neighbor, and self. . .in that order. You obey the Lord's command by converting, by turning your intellect to the Truth and your will to the Good, always and everywhere doing the greatest possible Good Thing for God, neighbor, and self. This is the foundation for the Law of Moses and the whole of the Law of Love. This is how you and I become saints: sacrificial love, a love expressed perfectly from the Cross.

What keeps us from that Cross? That is, what or who in this world tempts you away from loving perfectly? More often than not it is the Self who lures us away. My needs. My feelings. My hurt. My wants. My reputation. My fears. My prejudices. My work. Me as an idol whom I worship b/c I am – obviously – the source and summit of My universe, right? Not quite. You and I belong to Christ. We are his Body in this world. His hands and feet and eyes and ears and voice. We are his flesh and bone sent to do his work and accomplish his mission. Anything that stands in the way, anyone who stands in the way, stands in the way of our Lord's command to love perfectly, sacrificially. If you yourself stand in your own way, then there is nothing to do but turn around and come back to Christ. Turn around and run back to the only one who can give you what you need to be perfected in love. Health, wealth, reputation, career, stuff – all of these crumble to dust when you do. Sic transit gloria mundi! Thus passes the glory of the world! You and I must die in this world before we can live forever in the next.

And this is why “you shall love” is so difficult to obey. I have to die to love you perfectly. To will the greatest possible love for God, for you, and myself, I must die in sacrifice. I must sacre facere – make holy – everything I am and have. All of my thoughts; all of my words; all of my deeds; my heart, my mind, my soul, my body. All of it must be oriented toward understanding the Truth and willing the Good so that I become a living sacrifice, another Christ on the Cross for the salvation of the world. If this sounds narcissistic – I must become another Christ! – remember you and I were baptized into the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, living, dying, and rising with him. You and I were strengthened by the Holy Spirit. At every Mass we celebrate, you and I make of ourselves an offering to the Father through Christ. You and I eat his flesh and drink his blood, becoming him whom we eat and drink. The only way any of us can ever come close to loving perfectly in this life is to lose ourselves in the life and death of Christ, allowing him to love perfectly through us, hoping, that on that Last Day, standing before the Just Judge, it is his face he sees in ours. Wear the face of Christ now. so that you might wear it forever.

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Show me the Father

4^th Week of Easter (S)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

We already know that knowing is not believing. Knowing is a piece of what it is to believe, but the two are not synonymous. We know that there are various sorts of knowing – knowing what, knowing that, knowing how, etc. Belief doesn't really get distinguished in this way. We just believe. Sure, we say things like “I believe that is true” or “I believe that is how it is done,” but what it is to believe remains the same. True to our Enlightenment traditions as modern Americans, we tend to prefer knowledge to belief. Even among Catholics, I think this is true. Would you rather go to an atheist doctor who possesses knowledge of how to heal, or a Christian doctor who possesses beliefs about healing but no knowledge? Why do so many faithful Catholics flock to reported apparitions or spend so much time discussing alleged Eucharistic miracles? Isn't belief enough? Like Philip, do you need to be shown the Father before you can believe? And if you are shown the Father and assent to His existence as a result of seeing Him, can you say that you believe in Him? Maybe Jesus is bridging the gap between knowing the Father and believing in Him. “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, 'Show us the Father'?”

So, why does Philip ask to see the Father? There's a tradition of God's prophets asking to see Him. Philip is echoing Moses in the Book of Exodus where Moses asks to see God's glory. Maybe Philip thinks he's supposed to ask to see God. Maybe he's just curious. Or maybe he's disbelieving and wants to believe. Whatever his real intentions, he says, “Show us and that will be enough.” Enough for what? To obey? To believe? To die as witnesses? Remember: Jesus has just announced to the disciples that he is leaving them. Show us and that will be enough for us to endure our grief and carry on with all that you've asked of us. Jesus answers, “Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me... whatever you ask in my name, I will do.” Believe, ask, and you will know that I am with. Always with you. Belief is knowing without being shown. Belief is trusting Christ before trusting yourself. It's trusting yourself because you trust Christ first. Philip needs reassurance because his beloved Teacher is leaving him. What he gets instead is a promise from Christ that he will never be left alone. Christ is with us always.

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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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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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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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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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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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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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Just say the Word

1^st Week of Advent (M)

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

The Centurion's faith amazes Jesus. No one in Israel has such faith. No one? Not the priests, the scribes, the Pharisees, the Lord's own disciples? This Roman occupier of the Holy City, this worshiper of false gods has faith in an itinerant preacher who claims to be the Son of God? Apparently so. But just what is this faith? What does this Gentile trust in exactly? In refusing Jesus' offer to go to his house and heal his servant, the Centurion says, “...only say the word and my servant will be healed.” He trusts in the power and authority of Christ's word. Just say the word. He doesn't genuflect or light a candle or sacrifice a goat or rattle off a long, convoluted prayer. Just say the word, Lord. Say the word, and he will be healed. He analogizes the power and authority of his own word as a Roman officer to Jesus' power and authority as the Son of God. His orders are carried out. His word is obeyed. And so it is with Christ. The Centurion is acknowledging that Jesus is the author of creation and so has authority over creation's order. Where there is something broken, he can fix it. Where there is disease, he can cure. Where there is sin, he can forgive. Christ has the authority to make right every relationship gone wrong. Father to daughter. Mother to son. Husband to wife. Master to servant. God to Man. In his divine person – out of who he is – Christ can redeem all of creation to its original godly order. The Centurion's trust in his word amazes Jesus. He says, “...in no one in Israel have I found such faith.” If Jesus were to visit Irving, this priory, this 8.00am Mass, could he say the same of you and me? If not, we have 27 days to prepare ourselves to answer the question. We have 27 days to exercise our trust muscles, to prepare for the heavy lifting of his coming again. Will he come again at the end of Advent? We don't know. But we do know that we have this time to work out – to trust, to hope, to love, and to call on his holy name for the right ordering of our lives. If the pagan invader of the Holy City can trust God to heal his servant with a word, then surely you and I can surrender to His will and pray, “Just say the word, Lord. Just say the Word.”  

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Advent: Your Clock is Ticking

1^st Sunday of Advent

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

I am an Advent Nazi. The friars did not know this when they elected me prior. But there it is. No Christmas carols before Dec 24^th. No Christmas trees. No red, green, and white decorations. No little Santa Clauses pushing Advent back towards Thanksgiving. Advent is its own season, one deserving of our respect and attention! So, we wait. We prepare. And we anticipate. Christ is coming, but he's not here yet. What do we need to do while we wait? Isaiah says we are to walk in the light of the Lord. Paul says we must wake from sleep and throw off the works of darkness. And Jesus says we are to stay awake and prepare for his coming again. IOW, Advent is set to test us, to prove our readiness for the Final Judgment. Yes, we are looking forward to Christmas and the birth of the Christ Child. But we are also looking forward to The End, the last day, and our final test before the Just Judge. Are you ready to stand before him, account for your life, and hear his judgment? If not, you have four weeks, just 28 days, to get ready. Make the most of the time you have. Everyone's clock is ticking.

Brothers, sisters: I do not wait well. It is one of my many failings. At Kroger yesterday with Br. Bede, I got frustrated b/c they had one register open. There were four people with stuffed carts in front of us. I moved us over to the self-checkout and got even more frustrated b/c the wretched machine kept booping nonsense at us, requiring a cashier to correct it. After the third time the poor woman had to exorcise the demon-possessed computer, I said, “Y'all can't be making much money with these things.” She smiled nervously, giggled a little, and said nothing. I think she's probably used to impatient customers. So, I do not wait well. And if my ego were bigger or more deranged, I might come to believe that God invented Advent just to provoke me. But my ego isn't that big or deranged, so I'll have to make do with the Church's idea that Advent is a time to contemplate The Last Four Things and prepare for the coming again of Christ. To wit: if you didn't know already, you are going to die. So am I. We are in the world but not of it, just passing through, and we need to be ready to exit. As followers of Christ, our exit is nothing to fear. . .if we are ready. How do we get ready? By observing the 28 days of Advent and then treating the other 337 days of the year as off-season Advents.

We do this by walking in the light of the Lord. By waking from sleep and throwing off the works of darkness. By staying awake and preparing for his coming again. We wait in the light. Keeping ourselves fully exposed in the direct light of our Lord's glory. We shake ourselves away from the lies, the manipulations, the scheming of the Enemy and refuse to do his dirty work. We give no room in our hearts and minds to envy, pride, wrath, or greed. We do not allow ourselves to be seduced by compromise or vanity or selfishness. We treat everything we have and everything we are as God's eternal possessions and only ours for short time. We treat ourselves and one another as embodied instances of divine love, men and women who reveal the truth, goodness, and beauty of the Father just by living and breathing. We remain stubbornly, aggressively faithful to the Gospel handed down to us, and we wear ourselves out bearing witness to His mercy. And when we fail in our preparations, we turn again to Christ and receive his absolution. Yes, we are getting ready for the birth of Christ. Of course, we are! But we are also getting ready for our death. Jesus says, “...had [the master of the house] known the hour of night when the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake.” But he didn't. And his house was broken.

Stay awake! Vigilance is exhausting. Always being on guard against the Enemy is exhausting. We need rest and refreshment. That's prayer. Prayer is the time God floods us with everything we need to remain alert. Prayer is the time we open ourselves to receive everything God has to give us. Prayer is our chance to praise Him and give Him thanks for His gifts. Shopping, cooking, decorating, entertaining – all exhausting. By the time Christmas arrives, we just want it over. So, don't start Christmas until Christmas. Take this season of preparation and prepare. Fortify, stock up, repair, and rest. You have 12 days after the 25^th to celebrate Christ's birth. And you have 28 days – more than twice as long – to get right with God and prepare for your birth into eternal life. What I'm say here is this: become an Advent Nazi! Wait joyfully, wait peacefully for the coming of Christ. Then – when the time comes – go rejoicing to the House of the Lord! 

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The only answer that matters

St. Clement of Rome

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Who do we say that the Son of Man is? Looking around the Church these days, it would appear that we say he's a bureaucrat working for a religiousy social work organization; or a fiery Traddie sporting a bow tie and fedora; or an addict living under a bridge; or a soccer mom running for the school board; or a careerist bishop looking for applause from the media. We say he is a lot of things. Most of which is false. The Enemy tempts us daily, hourly to make Jesus into our own image and deny who he really is. This is a smart strategy. If the Enemy can prod us into re-making Christ into a reflection of our sinful selves, then we can be OK with who we are in our sin. We can say, “Look! We are following Christ. He looks just like us.” Of course, the truth is we've just put Christ on a leash and made him follow us. To help you and me remember that we are his creatures and not his creator, Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” The only correct answer is: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” This confession of faith is the only way to salvation. There is no other name, no other job title, no other process or procedure through which we can be saved from sin and death. We can eagerly attach ourselves to political platforms or reform movements or synodal processes or intellectual projects or social justice activities and sincerely believe that we are saving ourselves and the Church with the good works of good intentions. But if we re-create Christ and make him into an idol of our efforts, then he becomes just another mascot, a pet to distract us when our important work gets boring. How do you name and dismiss the Enemy's temptation to re-create Christ? Remind yourself daily that your good works are not your god. That your good intentions are not your god. That your opinions, your politics, your niche ecclesial obsessions, your devotional eccentricities – none of it is your god. Who do you say, who do you think, who do you feel, who do you know the Son of Man to be? “Christ, the Son of the living God” is the only answer that can save you. 

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The recipe for martyrdom

St. Ignatius of Antioch

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

Ignatius of Antioch, writing to the first century church in Rome, asks his brothers and sisters in Christ not to rescue him from martyrdom: “I plead with you: show me no untimely kindness. Let me be food for the wild beasts, for they are my way to God. I am God’s wheat and shall be ground by their teeth so that I may become Christ’s pure bread…Do not stand in the way of my birth to real life; do not wish me stillborn...Let me attain pure light. Only on my arrival there can I be fully a human being.” Now, hearing this, we can embrace his plea as a confession of heroic faith, or we can dismiss it as self-destructive fanaticism. 21^st c. Americans are trained to hear deeply held and fervently voiced expressions of faith as delusions, or, at best, romantic drivel. Cynicism and ironic distance can make it all too easy to hear a bit of comedy in Ignatius' plea. I mean, surely, he's joking, right? He wants to be chewed up by lions so he can become Christ's true bread? Seriously? The answer is: yes, yes, he does. Does the fact that someone could believe so deeply, so fervently make us uncomfortable? Well, it should. Because we are called to that same depth and fervor.

Whatever we may think of his literary talents, Ignatius' plea makes perfect sense when read along side the Gospel. As the kids say these days, “He understood the assignment.” Fall to the ground. Lose your life. Serve and follow Christ. Die. Produce good fruit. The recipe for martyrdom. A recipe for bearing witness to the mercy and love we ourselves have received. We know that we cannot give what we do not have. But do we understand that we must give all that we have? Why? Because everything we have and are is given to us. Our lives, our faith, our hope, everything is first given to us by God. And our mission and ministry is to give it all away. To imitate Christ in passing along to others all the gifts God has given us. Most especially the gift of sacrificial love, the gift of Christ himself. The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church. It is unlikely that any of us will be eaten by lions in the Coliseum. But we are nonetheless called upon to flourish where we are planted. Ignatius' blood has fallen on Irving, TX; on UD; and St. Albert's Priory. On you and me. We are well-watered. And it is time to bear witness and give back all God has given us. 

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Hang on to Gratitude

28^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP

St. Albert the Great, Irving

I grew up in rural Mississippi with more or less tradition-minded Baptist parents. My younger brother and I learned from Day One to say “yessir/no sir,” “please,” “thank you,” “excuse me.” Failure to express proper respect or gratitude earned a swift and terrible rebuke. I still use “Mr.” and “Ms” when addressing adults, and I cringe a little when people call me by my first name w/o asking, or shorten it to “Phil.” It's all very old-fashioned, I know, but there's something about the habits of good manners that makes life easier. In the case of the healed leper, his deeply felt sense of gratitude actually saves him! He discovers – probably to his great surprise – that giving God thanks for his healing is not only the polite thing to do but a way to salvation as well. For us, the baptized, giving God thanks for His blessings is way to persevere, a way to remain in Christ and thus end our earthly pilgrimage reigning with him in the Kingdom. Is it possible that the good manners many of us were taught as children is what remains of this spiritual insight? Saying “thank you,” especially to God, is a path to healing and salvation.

We hear Paul say to Timothy: “If we have died with him we shall also live with him; if we persevere we shall also reign with him.” That persevering part is what most of us find difficult. Dying with him in the waters of baptism was easy. Living with him has its challenges, but we manage it with the sacraments. Persevering with him however is on another level entirely. Persevering here means staying close to Christ. Hanging on to him through the best and the worst. Living with him whether we “feel” his presence or not. Perseverance is the good habit of being tenacious in faith when every fiber of your being is screaming at you: “Compromise! Just fit in! Surrender! This is too hard!” Have you seen that video of a bull dog swinging himself around a tree, teeth clamped on the end of a rope? The rope will break, or the tree will fall before that dog lets go. That's tenacity. That's perseverance. Now, I wouldn't trust my teeth to hang on like a bull dog's. But I do trust that gratitude is the key to staying close to Christ. The leper proves this. Christ teaches this. And I can bear personal witness that giving God thanks for His blessings is essential in our long trek to holiness.

As a priest in an academic ministry, I've never had my own parish to run, so I've spent a lot of time going out to parishes to hear confessions, give missions or talks, and basically just visiting with people. Every time I go out, I hear a lot of anxiety about the Church. I get confused questions about the faith. Angry comments about the news coming out of Rome. Questions and doubts about the future. Just generally an overwhelming sense that things aren't well with the Body of Christ. Something is wrong, something is upsetting the peace we've come to expect from following Christ. In response, I have to sharply suppress my professorial instincts and avoid giving a lecture on the history of the Church. No one wants to hear how good we have it compared to, say, the Church during the French Revolution. Then I have to swallow the need to remind folks that the “peace of Christ” comes with a promise of persecution. What I usually end up saying is that difficult times require a bull dog's tenacity. It might be too much to say that we're being tested. But – we're being tested. Not tested in the sense that God is deliberately trying to scare us or trip us up. But tested in the sense that steel is tested under pressure to measure its purity and strength. Our test is measuring the purity and strength of our gratitude. If you will to endure with Christ, you will be grateful to God for His blessings.

You might ask here: why does God need our gratitude? The answer is: He doesn't. Giving God thanks does nothing for God b/c He needs nothing from us. Our desire to give Him thanks is itself a gift that benefits us alone. In other words, we are doing ourselves a favor by returning thanks for all that God gives us. Failing to give thanks breeds narcissism and entitlement – I am owed. And entitlement is the rich soil of pride. If we nurture pride by failing in gratitude, we end up denying Christ – the ultimate gift from God. We end up being among the nine lepers who were healed but not saved. Ungrateful wretches living lives of resentment and anger b/c we believe that God owes us a debt. As followers of Christ, our best means of staying close to Christ is to be a tenacious Christian bull dog, refusing to let go of gratitude.

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Break your chains!

NB. This is my last Mass at OLR. I am moving back to Irving, TX on Monday, June 27th. 

13^th Sunday OT

Fr. Philip Neri Powell OP

OLR, NOLA

Christ set us free! From what? From the Law and from sin and death. How did he set us free? By taking on our broken human nature, dying on the Cross, and rising again from the tomb. Where and when did he set us free? Jerusalem in the first century. And here and now. New Orleans in the 21^st century. Most importantly, why did Christ set us free? Paul says it as plainly as it can be said: “For freedom Christ set us free.” For no other reason are we set free from the slavery of sin and death. And so, Paul urges us not to fall back into sin, not to put ourselves back into chains. He says, “...do not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh.” Do not abuse your freedom as a chance to wallow in the world – the world of violence, hatred, lust, anger, and revenge. That world refuses the gift of freedom and is kept in slavery to serve chaotic passions absent reason. So, do not abuse your freedom, Paul, says; “...rather, serve one another through love.” That's true freedom. Not a license to do whatever we feel like doing. Not permission to pick and choose from among nearly infinite options. But the recognition that we have an end, a goal and that goal is best reached by loving service to our neighbors.

Loving and serving our neighbors is nothing new for those who follow Christ. The only element of our loving service that changes is the circumstances in which we serve lovingly. It might be a war, a plague, a natural disaster; or something less dramatic like a death in the family or a financial crisis. What never changes is the urgency of our service, the urgency of our YES to Christ. This urgency is daunting; it's intimidating because we have our things to get done. I've been packing and cleaning these last three weeks. Not only my own stuff but the accumulated stuff of 98yrs in St. Dominic Priory. I wanted to be focused and diligent. But Christ kept calling me to service. I had to serve on the Provincial Chapter for two weeks. I had to arrange and preach the funeral of a brother who died earlier this month. I had to take over the financial management of the priory. I had to preside at the profession of the Priestly Fraternity of St. Dominic. Among a thousand other acts of service. I was annoyed, impatient, sometimes rude, and always reluctant to give my time. Then, I read the Gospel for this evening: “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God.” Chastened, I closed my big whiny mouth and got back to work.

Three people approach Jesus to express their desire to follow after him. Each one has an excuse for not doing so immediately. They didn't feel the necessary urgency in taking up their crosses. The first thinks that following Jesus means literally traveling around in his entourage. Jesus teaches him (and us) that following him is not a matter of physical proximity to him but rather a matter of loving service wherever we find ourselves. The second wants to bury his father first, an ancient religious custom worthy of respect. Jesus teaches him (and us) that those who do not follow him are already dead. Let them bury those who have died. We have work to do right now. The last, wants to say goodbye to his family before he follows Christ. Again, a failure to feel the urgency of loving service. Jesus teaches him (and us) that once we've chosen to follow him, there's no looking back. Serve or do not. There is no try, there is no turning around to contemplate what we've left behind. Our work as followers of Christ is before us, waiting for us up ahead.

So, when Paul says that Christ freed us for freedom, he means that Christ saved us from sin and death so that we may serve lovingly without the distractions of sin and death. The works of the flesh keep us bound to sin, chained in slavery. Each of the three who wanted to follow Christ were slaves to a demand, a custom, an idea of living that prevented them from enjoying the urgency of Christ's work. What is the chain binding you? Probably one of the usual suspects: money, time, false humility; pride, hoarding your gifts for yourself, impatience with other sinners. Or, is that just me? Maybe you've acquired an odd notion of love – it's all about feeling warm and fuzzy! It's all about unconditional approval and acceptance. Or some weird idea about service – it's the gov't's job or Church agency's job or those-other-people-over- there's job. No where to lay your head. Let the dead bury the dead. Don't look back. “I say, then: live by the Spirit and you will certainly not gratify the desire of the flesh.” Christ set us free for freedom. Christ set us free so that we might live in the state of being free. Free from sin. Free from eternal death. Free from the poisonous narcissism that is consuming our nation. Free from the irrational passions that are herding our neighbors into hell. Free from all of those things-of-the-flesh that turn us into fools and deceive us into believing that we can be God w/o God. Christ set you free for freedom. Beware that you do not sell yourself back into slavery. 

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