Memorial of Saint Albert the Great, bishop
(II Maccabees 6:18-31; Luke 19:1-10)
Conventional wisdom sees old age as a time of relaxation. The aged should not have to work and may be excused from the disciplines other adults are expected to keep. St. Albert the Great shunned this kind of thinking for himself at least. When he saw that the legacy of St. Thomas Aquinas under attack, he left the leisure of his cell to defend Thomas’ teachings. It was hardly a matter of pride in Aquinas as his former student. Albert realized as much as anyone that Thomas’ writings would be one of the richest treasures in the Church’s storehouse.
In the first reading we hear of another senior who refuses to allow himself to be seduced by comfort. Eleazar could avoid torture by flaunting the Jewish Law along with the masses. His sense of righteousness, however, does not permit it. He further rejects causing scandal by refusing to feign eating pork in order to escape death.
We owe the elderly respect and in many cases thanks. They have given us life and built a society recognized for justice and development. But their work is not finished. In our age of wavering virtue we need them to exemplify faith in God and commitment to righteous living. Without these the gains of the previous generation will be lost in the next.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Monday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time
(I Maccabees 1:10-15.41-43.54-57.62-63; Luke 18:35-43)
The language of faith is often undercut by popular thinking. When a person says that she “believes” something, most people hear a modicum of doubt in her voice. They understand her to mean that she does not know for sure but only thinks that what she says is true. This kind of qualified assertion is hardly what the Church understands by faith. Faith is a way of knowing with more certainty, not less, that what is said is true. The reason for such conviction is that the tenets of faith have been revealed by the Lord.
In the gospel the unnamed blind man, called Bartimaeus in Mark’s version, demonstrates real faith. Not wavering a bit, he acts on his belief that Jesus is the Messiah by making a scene. Because such faith is always rewarded, the man receives the sight which he requests. The gospel adds that he wastes no time to follow Jesus. True faith in Jesus can do no less.
In a way it is understandable why many people possess faith that is tainted by doubt. Some of the concepts that the Church has held as part of faith in the past have been abandoned. One example is the literal accuracy of the account of Adam and Eve. Another is the belief that the world is at the center of the universe with the sun revolving around it. But these have always been secondary beliefs. What is at the Heart of faith, called the “hierarchy of beliefs,” is non-negotiable. We should accept those truths with all our minds and, more importantly, live from them.
(I Maccabees 1:10-15.41-43.54-57.62-63; Luke 18:35-43)
The language of faith is often undercut by popular thinking. When a person says that she “believes” something, most people hear a modicum of doubt in her voice. They understand her to mean that she does not know for sure but only thinks that what she says is true. This kind of qualified assertion is hardly what the Church understands by faith. Faith is a way of knowing with more certainty, not less, that what is said is true. The reason for such conviction is that the tenets of faith have been revealed by the Lord.
In the gospel the unnamed blind man, called Bartimaeus in Mark’s version, demonstrates real faith. Not wavering a bit, he acts on his belief that Jesus is the Messiah by making a scene. Because such faith is always rewarded, the man receives the sight which he requests. The gospel adds that he wastes no time to follow Jesus. True faith in Jesus can do no less.
In a way it is understandable why many people possess faith that is tainted by doubt. Some of the concepts that the Church has held as part of faith in the past have been abandoned. One example is the literal accuracy of the account of Adam and Eve. Another is the belief that the world is at the center of the universe with the sun revolving around it. But these have always been secondary beliefs. What is at the Heart of faith, called the “hierarchy of beliefs,” is non-negotiable. We should accept those truths with all our minds and, more importantly, live from them.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Memorial of Saint Martin of Tours, bishop
(Wisdom 13:1-9; Luke 17:26-37)
“Don’t ask for whom the bells toll, it tolls for thee,” writes poet-priest John Donne. Of course, the bells he has in mind are the death toll. Although many people prefer to put off thinking about it, the hour of life’s end is always approaching. For those with sixty years behind them, it will surely be sooner rather than later.
Jesus makes the same point in the gospel today. With an image that might chill a polar bear, he warns, “Where the body is, there also the vultures will gather.” He means that death is part of life because we have bodies which will one day be the food of worms if not birds. So, Jesus admonishes, humans should prepare for the inevitable.
Jesus’ injunction to deal with mortality deserves more than passing attention. Although it is certainly legitimate to stave off death through healthy living and medical practice, we need to give ourselves over to death in a sense by self-denial. Jesus himself is our primary example. He took up his cross not just in Jerusalem but throughout his public ministry. St. Martin of Tours serves as another model. He gave up a military career to follow Christ, and when he became a bishop, worked tirelessly to administer his diocese as efficiently and effectively as possible. We follow by living for others not for ourselves, by performing periodic penitential acts, and by praying constantly.
(Wisdom 13:1-9; Luke 17:26-37)
“Don’t ask for whom the bells toll, it tolls for thee,” writes poet-priest John Donne. Of course, the bells he has in mind are the death toll. Although many people prefer to put off thinking about it, the hour of life’s end is always approaching. For those with sixty years behind them, it will surely be sooner rather than later.
Jesus makes the same point in the gospel today. With an image that might chill a polar bear, he warns, “Where the body is, there also the vultures will gather.” He means that death is part of life because we have bodies which will one day be the food of worms if not birds. So, Jesus admonishes, humans should prepare for the inevitable.
Jesus’ injunction to deal with mortality deserves more than passing attention. Although it is certainly legitimate to stave off death through healthy living and medical practice, we need to give ourselves over to death in a sense by self-denial. Jesus himself is our primary example. He took up his cross not just in Jerusalem but throughout his public ministry. St. Martin of Tours serves as another model. He gave up a military career to follow Christ, and when he became a bishop, worked tirelessly to administer his diocese as efficiently and effectively as possible. We follow by living for others not for ourselves, by performing periodic penitential acts, and by praying constantly.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Memorial of Saint Leo the Great, pope
(Wisdom 7:22b-8:1; Luke 17:20-25)
People often think of the present age as the greatest. But are its representative products -- I-phones, plasma TVs, global positioning devices – really so wonderful? Or do they, like the fashions of every age, just provide the rich with outlets for their wealth and the poor with objects to crave? Can we not ask with T.S. Eliot a few generations ago, “Where is the Life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?”
Today’s first reading reminds us that wisdom has an eternal character that is available to every age. It is also universal so that both rich and poor may partake of it. In contriving twenty-one attributes the author shows how wisdom, and not the products of technology and commerce, makes life worthwhile. The number, incidentally, symbolizes absolute perfection being the product of seven, representative of simple perfection, and three, indicative of the divine.
Wisdom admonishes us to discern the value of everything. It recognizes the satisfaction that comfort and convenience bring us but realizes that these do not comprise happiness. Most importantly, it understands that fulfillment is found in our striving to live righteously giving each his or due, beginning with God, not overlooking anyone nor ignoring our own potential.
(Wisdom 7:22b-8:1; Luke 17:20-25)
People often think of the present age as the greatest. But are its representative products -- I-phones, plasma TVs, global positioning devices – really so wonderful? Or do they, like the fashions of every age, just provide the rich with outlets for their wealth and the poor with objects to crave? Can we not ask with T.S. Eliot a few generations ago, “Where is the Life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?”
Today’s first reading reminds us that wisdom has an eternal character that is available to every age. It is also universal so that both rich and poor may partake of it. In contriving twenty-one attributes the author shows how wisdom, and not the products of technology and commerce, makes life worthwhile. The number, incidentally, symbolizes absolute perfection being the product of seven, representative of simple perfection, and three, indicative of the divine.
Wisdom admonishes us to discern the value of everything. It recognizes the satisfaction that comfort and convenience bring us but realizes that these do not comprise happiness. Most importantly, it understands that fulfillment is found in our striving to live righteously giving each his or due, beginning with God, not overlooking anyone nor ignoring our own potential.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome
(Ezekiel 47:1-2.8-9.12; I Corinthians 3:9c-11.16-17; John 2:13-22)
In a world torn by war and other forms of violence the Community of Sant’Egidio is reaching out for reconciliation. Sant’Egidio is a Catholic lay organization whose members pray together and do works of charity. Because the community recognizes war as the cruelest agent of poverty, it has taken an active part in peace negotiations among warring peoples. Its modest successes demonstrate how the image of church as healer proposed in the reading from Ezekiel today can be realized.
Ezekiel shows the Temple, the archetype of church, as the source of healing and welfare. From its bowels water flows with regenerative power that produces life-giving plants and even freshens the sea. It can do so, of course, because it is the pole of the earth where God meets humanity.
Christianity has crowned the concept of church with a new meaning. It is no longer strictly the place where we pray but our very community. Most radically, it is Christ whose body becomes both altar of the perfect sacrifice and embryo of a new people. In him our wounds are healed and our enmities reconciled.
(Ezekiel 47:1-2.8-9.12; I Corinthians 3:9c-11.16-17; John 2:13-22)
In a world torn by war and other forms of violence the Community of Sant’Egidio is reaching out for reconciliation. Sant’Egidio is a Catholic lay organization whose members pray together and do works of charity. Because the community recognizes war as the cruelest agent of poverty, it has taken an active part in peace negotiations among warring peoples. Its modest successes demonstrate how the image of church as healer proposed in the reading from Ezekiel today can be realized.
Ezekiel shows the Temple, the archetype of church, as the source of healing and welfare. From its bowels water flows with regenerative power that produces life-giving plants and even freshens the sea. It can do so, of course, because it is the pole of the earth where God meets humanity.
Christianity has crowned the concept of church with a new meaning. It is no longer strictly the place where we pray but our very community. Most radically, it is Christ whose body becomes both altar of the perfect sacrifice and embryo of a new people. In him our wounds are healed and our enmities reconciled.
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