Memorial of Saint Maximilian Kolbe, priest and martyr
(Ezekiel 2:8-3:4; Matthew 18:1-5.10.12-14)
Today the Church recalls a martyrdom whose valor parallels those of ancient times. Arrested by the Gestapo during World War II, Franciscan friar Maximilian Kolbe was sent to Auschwitz. Three months later, a fellow prisoner escaped and, according to the prison’s outrageous rule, ten innocent men were selected to be executed for the crime. Knowing one of the selected to be a young father, Fr. Kolbe offered himself as a replacement. The death sentence was executed with an injection of carbolic acid.
In today’s gospel Jesus speaks of the necessity of becoming like a child if one is to enter the Kingdom of heaven. Certainly liberality regarding personal sacrifice characterizes children. Much more than adults, children at least speak of their willingness to give all they have for the well-being of others. Maximilian Kolbe’s demonstration of this willingness well into middle age assures him of a place among the saints.
Today’s society presents interesting opportunities to demonstrate such heroism as Maximilian Kolbe’s. We may ask ourselves whether we should donate a kidney to a person whose life is in danger for lack of a functioning one. Although there is no obligation to do so, such a sacrifice certainly qualifies as another example of fulfilling Jesus’ call to become like little children.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Monday of the Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time
(Ezekiel 1:2-5.24-28c; Matthew 17:22-27)
Every other summer the Church presents a healthy selection of readings from the prophets of Israel in weekday masses. Some may ask why bother with these ancient authors? For centuries the answer was because the prophets foretell the coming of Christ. But since the Vatican renewal, the prophets and, indeed, the entire Old Testament are read with a much greater scope.
In today’s reading from the Ezekiel the prophet begins the telling of his call. He finds himself in Babylonia as an exile. The heavens roar with a thunderhead, and the lightning gives way to a vision of the glory of God in human form. The scene is reminiscent of a modern description of God as mysterium tremendum et fascinans (“fearful and fascinating mystery”).
God calls us out of ourselves and our petty concerns to serve Him. The experience can be frightening as it means letting go of what provides us a modicum of peace. But following the Lord’s directive, we will find greater happiness than we could have ever dreamed.
(Ezekiel 1:2-5.24-28c; Matthew 17:22-27)
Every other summer the Church presents a healthy selection of readings from the prophets of Israel in weekday masses. Some may ask why bother with these ancient authors? For centuries the answer was because the prophets foretell the coming of Christ. But since the Vatican renewal, the prophets and, indeed, the entire Old Testament are read with a much greater scope.
In today’s reading from the Ezekiel the prophet begins the telling of his call. He finds himself in Babylonia as an exile. The heavens roar with a thunderhead, and the lightning gives way to a vision of the glory of God in human form. The scene is reminiscent of a modern description of God as mysterium tremendum et fascinans (“fearful and fascinating mystery”).
God calls us out of ourselves and our petty concerns to serve Him. The experience can be frightening as it means letting go of what provides us a modicum of peace. But following the Lord’s directive, we will find greater happiness than we could have ever dreamed.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Memorial of Saint Lawrence, deacon and martyr
(II Corinthians 9:6-10; John 12:24-26)
In Italy today’s feast of St. Lawrence may be celebrated by looking up at the night sky. It is the time of year when bountiful shooting stars instill a sense of awe with creation. The legends of St. Lawrence lend themselves to think of him as a kind of meteorite.
St. Lawrence as a deacon in Rome was in charge of the Church’s treasury. One story portrays him leading anti-Christian officials to the city’s poor when asked to produce the riches of the Church. Another story describes him as quipping to his executioners who were roasting him alive that it was time for him to be turned.
Most everyone wants to be recognized as unique in some way. Currently it is fashionable to have one’s body tattooed in a singular way. We should encourage our young people to aspire to be different like St. Lawrence. Rather than standing out for something odd or destructive, they should want to excel in having good judgment and being long-suffering.
(II Corinthians 9:6-10; John 12:24-26)
In Italy today’s feast of St. Lawrence may be celebrated by looking up at the night sky. It is the time of year when bountiful shooting stars instill a sense of awe with creation. The legends of St. Lawrence lend themselves to think of him as a kind of meteorite.
St. Lawrence as a deacon in Rome was in charge of the Church’s treasury. One story portrays him leading anti-Christian officials to the city’s poor when asked to produce the riches of the Church. Another story describes him as quipping to his executioners who were roasting him alive that it was time for him to be turned.
Most everyone wants to be recognized as unique in some way. Currently it is fashionable to have one’s body tattooed in a singular way. We should encourage our young people to aspire to be different like St. Lawrence. Rather than standing out for something odd or destructive, they should want to excel in having good judgment and being long-suffering.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Thursday of the Eighteenth Week in Ordinary Time
(Jeremiah 3:31-34; Matthew 16:13-23)
It has been sixty-seven years today since the city of Nagasaki was devastated by the atomic bomb. The ruin was calamitous – estimates indicate that a quarter of the population perished and a good portion of the city destroyed. It completed demoralized the Japanese resistance which almost immediately surrendered to the Allied forces. One might think of Nagasaki in picturing Jerusalem at the time of Jeremiah’s prophecy in the first reading.
Hope in the holy city is scant as the Babylonians have completely desecrated the Temple, killed thousands of people, and taken into captivity many other thousands as booty. “What good could possibly come of all this?” the prophet, a survivor, surely asks himself. But he does not remain in disillusion very long. He feels the Holy Spirit speaking inside him. Like a musical round that refuses to leave one’s consciousness repeating itself with words of consolation, the Spirit speaks. “I will write my law upon their hearts,” it says. The people will never stray forget God’s law again because it is indelibly engraved in them. Rather it will bring righteousness in individual lives and justice in society.
The law of which the prophet foretells and Jesus proclaims is none other than God’s Holy Spirit. Inscribed upon our hearts with Baptism, the Spirit prompts us to always do good, to avoid evil, and to love sincerely. It has a written counterpart in the Sermon on the Mount, but it is first and foremost spiritual, intractable, and comforting even more than it is demanding.
(Jeremiah 3:31-34; Matthew 16:13-23)
It has been sixty-seven years today since the city of Nagasaki was devastated by the atomic bomb. The ruin was calamitous – estimates indicate that a quarter of the population perished and a good portion of the city destroyed. It completed demoralized the Japanese resistance which almost immediately surrendered to the Allied forces. One might think of Nagasaki in picturing Jerusalem at the time of Jeremiah’s prophecy in the first reading.
Hope in the holy city is scant as the Babylonians have completely desecrated the Temple, killed thousands of people, and taken into captivity many other thousands as booty. “What good could possibly come of all this?” the prophet, a survivor, surely asks himself. But he does not remain in disillusion very long. He feels the Holy Spirit speaking inside him. Like a musical round that refuses to leave one’s consciousness repeating itself with words of consolation, the Spirit speaks. “I will write my law upon their hearts,” it says. The people will never stray forget God’s law again because it is indelibly engraved in them. Rather it will bring righteousness in individual lives and justice in society.
The law of which the prophet foretells and Jesus proclaims is none other than God’s Holy Spirit. Inscribed upon our hearts with Baptism, the Spirit prompts us to always do good, to avoid evil, and to love sincerely. It has a written counterpart in the Sermon on the Mount, but it is first and foremost spiritual, intractable, and comforting even more than it is demanding.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Memorial of Saint Dominic, priest
(Jeremiah 31:1-7; Matthew 15:21-28)
Dominicans call their founder, “Holy Father Dominic.” He certainly distinguished himself in prayer by often spending the night before the Blessed Sacrament. But Dominic was by no means sanctimonious. His successor and biographer, Jordan of Saxony, wrote of him, “During the day, none was more affable, none more pleasant to his brethren or associates. At night none was more constant in prayer or watching.” Dominic transmitted joy to the Order of Preachers and indeed to the whole world much like Jeremiah in the first reading today.
The people of Judah are war booty in Babylonia. Their homeland has been laid waste, and their lives are tottering in exile. Now God sends Jeremiah with a message of comfort. He tells that their trials will end and once again they will live freely in their own land.
We live in a time with no shortage of worries. The economy slumbers. The war in Afghanistan slogs on. Many suffer overweight, and the word “cancer” still rings of death. Nevertheless, there is cause for joy. God has both shared with us His will in Jesus Christ and empowered us with the Holy Spirit. We can face our troubles without fear as we fulfill the Lord’s commands.
(Jeremiah 31:1-7; Matthew 15:21-28)
Dominicans call their founder, “Holy Father Dominic.” He certainly distinguished himself in prayer by often spending the night before the Blessed Sacrament. But Dominic was by no means sanctimonious. His successor and biographer, Jordan of Saxony, wrote of him, “During the day, none was more affable, none more pleasant to his brethren or associates. At night none was more constant in prayer or watching.” Dominic transmitted joy to the Order of Preachers and indeed to the whole world much like Jeremiah in the first reading today.
The people of Judah are war booty in Babylonia. Their homeland has been laid waste, and their lives are tottering in exile. Now God sends Jeremiah with a message of comfort. He tells that their trials will end and once again they will live freely in their own land.
We live in a time with no shortage of worries. The economy slumbers. The war in Afghanistan slogs on. Many suffer overweight, and the word “cancer” still rings of death. Nevertheless, there is cause for joy. God has both shared with us His will in Jesus Christ and empowered us with the Holy Spirit. We can face our troubles without fear as we fulfill the Lord’s commands.
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