Memorial of the Guardian Angels
(Baruch 1:15-22; Matthew 18:1-5.10)
We should not understand the gospel today to mean that only children have guardian angels. Jesus’ vision is more inclusive than that. Each of us is protected by angels through God’s mercy. This truth is evidenced in the whole passage of which today’s reading forms the beginning and middle.
Jesus warns his disciples that they are to look after weak Christians who stray from the faith. In a recent novel a young pastor gets wind that a new member of his congregation is having an adulterous affair. He goes to investigate one evening and sees a woman leaving the man’s apartment. Not waiting to investigate further, the pastor confronts his parishioner. He tells the adulterer to stay away from Sunday worship until he has chosen definitively for the Lord. The man knows what he must do and ends the affair.
When errant Christians stop praying or when they choose pleasure over doing God’s will, we are to assist their return to righteousness. Sometimes it will be counter-productive to confront sinners, but we must at least pray for them. Jesus makes clear that if his disciples fail to intervene in such a matter, they will face dire consequences since weak Christians also have angels in direct communication with God.
St. Therese of the Child Jesus, virgin and doctor of the Church
(Nehemiah 8:1-4.5-6.7b-12; Luke10:1-12)
We have all heard the mistaken notion that in the Old Testament God reveals Himself as the mighty Lord demanding justice while in the New Testament Christ reveals Him to be a loving Father. Such an error comes from frequent references in the Prophets to God punishing His chosen people for their sins while forgetting that Jesus too speaks of “wailing and gnashing of teeth.” No, God can be recognized in both parts of the Bible as full of hesed, the Hebrew word for merciful love.
Why else would the Jews break out in tears when they hear "the law" read to them in the reading from Nehemiah today? Certainly there is something more at play than words of a legal code provoking such pathos. Law here means Torah, the first five books of what we call the Old Testament, which tell of God carefully forming Abraham and his descendants into a holy people like Himself and then rescuing them from the tyranny of Pharaoh.
But we must not be too hard on those who find God as revealed by Jesus somehow superior to the One the Jews had known. After all, in time God truly did perform the unimaginable. He came to us in the flesh so that we might have a personal experience of His goodness. God did not change, but we became aware of the depth and breath of His love. St. Therese was aware of this as much as just about anyone. She prescribed the appropriate human response to God when she wrote, “Love is repaid by love alone.”
(Nehemiah 8:1-4.5-6.7b-12; Luke10:1-12)
We have all heard the mistaken notion that in the Old Testament God reveals Himself as the mighty Lord demanding justice while in the New Testament Christ reveals Him to be a loving Father. Such an error comes from frequent references in the Prophets to God punishing His chosen people for their sins while forgetting that Jesus too speaks of “wailing and gnashing of teeth.” No, God can be recognized in both parts of the Bible as full of hesed, the Hebrew word for merciful love.
Why else would the Jews break out in tears when they hear "the law" read to them in the reading from Nehemiah today? Certainly there is something more at play than words of a legal code provoking such pathos. Law here means Torah, the first five books of what we call the Old Testament, which tell of God carefully forming Abraham and his descendants into a holy people like Himself and then rescuing them from the tyranny of Pharaoh.
But we must not be too hard on those who find God as revealed by Jesus somehow superior to the One the Jews had known. After all, in time God truly did perform the unimaginable. He came to us in the flesh so that we might have a personal experience of His goodness. God did not change, but we became aware of the depth and breath of His love. St. Therese was aware of this as much as just about anyone. She prescribed the appropriate human response to God when she wrote, “Love is repaid by love alone.”
Homilette for Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Memorial of St. Jerome, priest
(Nehemiah 2:1-8; Luke 9:57-62)
For whatever setbacks that they have incurred on the Catholic faith, it seems that contemporary times have returned the radicalness to the choice of following Christ. Many think that when families were large and incomes were small, Catholic parents would almost designate one or two children as nuns and/or priests. These commentators go on to say that now when the average family has only one, two, or possibly three children, parents want to assure themselves of grandchildren so a young person has to almost turn her or his back on the family to pursue a vocation.
This gospel passage today provokes this kind of speculation as it deals with the difficulty of discipleship. Jesus’ followers are called to sleep under the stars, to be absent from their homes when parents die, and indeed to leave aside totally family concerns. However, a problem emerges. Christian discipleship extends far beyond religious life and the priesthood. Both married and single persons are called to follow Christ with the same kind of radicalness that we find in the gospel.
Married couples who adhere to Church teaching on artificial contraception certainly swim against the tide of convention and ease. Single persons who dedicate their lives to caring for others – be they young students or aged parents – while adhering to Catholic moral norms certainly will find struggle part of the package. The key to Christian discipleship is letting go of personal desires to live as Jesus want us to. This takes radical commitment in any time or place. We can accomplish it with joy only by accepting God’s infinitely more radical love.
(Nehemiah 2:1-8; Luke 9:57-62)
For whatever setbacks that they have incurred on the Catholic faith, it seems that contemporary times have returned the radicalness to the choice of following Christ. Many think that when families were large and incomes were small, Catholic parents would almost designate one or two children as nuns and/or priests. These commentators go on to say that now when the average family has only one, two, or possibly three children, parents want to assure themselves of grandchildren so a young person has to almost turn her or his back on the family to pursue a vocation.
This gospel passage today provokes this kind of speculation as it deals with the difficulty of discipleship. Jesus’ followers are called to sleep under the stars, to be absent from their homes when parents die, and indeed to leave aside totally family concerns. However, a problem emerges. Christian discipleship extends far beyond religious life and the priesthood. Both married and single persons are called to follow Christ with the same kind of radicalness that we find in the gospel.
Married couples who adhere to Church teaching on artificial contraception certainly swim against the tide of convention and ease. Single persons who dedicate their lives to caring for others – be they young students or aged parents – while adhering to Catholic moral norms certainly will find struggle part of the package. The key to Christian discipleship is letting go of personal desires to live as Jesus want us to. This takes radical commitment in any time or place. We can accomplish it with joy only by accepting God’s infinitely more radical love.
Homilette for Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Feast of Saints Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, archangels
(Revelation 12:7-12ab; John 1:47-51)
In Shakespeare’s famous play, Hamlet is alone when his father’s ghost reveals how he was murdered. Then Hamlet’s friends arrive asking what just happened. Before he tells them, Hamlet demands an oath of secrecy. At this point the voice of the ghost chimes in to underscore the need of secrecy. Hearing the voice but seeing nothing, Hamlet’s companion exclaims, “...this is wondrous strange,” to which Hamlet counters, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Like Horatio says of the ghost’s voice, many people find the doctrine of angels “wondrous strange.” Believing that only what they can see and hear actually exists, they doubt the reality of angels. To paraphrase Hamlet, angels are not parts of their philosophy. But we Catholics, who accept a spiritual order of reality, forthrightly admit the doctrine of angels. As Scripture attests in numerous places, angels exist as God’s attendants carrying out His commands.
The stories of the three archangels further reveal how angels extend God’s mercy. Michael wages war against Satan to free humans from tyranny; Gabriel announces the coming of mercy incarnate, Jesus Christ; and Raphael leads Tobias from peril to peace. We should happily admit that God sends angels as means for reaching our eternal destiny.
(Revelation 12:7-12ab; John 1:47-51)
In Shakespeare’s famous play, Hamlet is alone when his father’s ghost reveals how he was murdered. Then Hamlet’s friends arrive asking what just happened. Before he tells them, Hamlet demands an oath of secrecy. At this point the voice of the ghost chimes in to underscore the need of secrecy. Hearing the voice but seeing nothing, Hamlet’s companion exclaims, “...this is wondrous strange,” to which Hamlet counters, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Like Horatio says of the ghost’s voice, many people find the doctrine of angels “wondrous strange.” Believing that only what they can see and hear actually exists, they doubt the reality of angels. To paraphrase Hamlet, angels are not parts of their philosophy. But we Catholics, who accept a spiritual order of reality, forthrightly admit the doctrine of angels. As Scripture attests in numerous places, angels exist as God’s attendants carrying out His commands.
The stories of the three archangels further reveal how angels extend God’s mercy. Michael wages war against Satan to free humans from tyranny; Gabriel announces the coming of mercy incarnate, Jesus Christ; and Raphael leads Tobias from peril to peace. We should happily admit that God sends angels as means for reaching our eternal destiny.
Homilette for Monday, September 28, 2009
Monday of the Twenty-sixth Week in Ordinary Time
(Zechariah 8:1-8; Luke 9:46-50)
What is it about children that makes Jesus say to accept them is to accept him? It is hard to tell because childhood keeps on changing. No doubt, being a child in Jesus’ time was very different than it is today. Nevertheless, there is at least one constant characteristic that was existent in the first century, became prominent between 1850 and 1950 when -- according to social commentator Neil Postman -- childhood reached its epitome, and still is perceptible today. It is that children follow the directives of their parents confident that obedience will lead to their welfare. In the gospels Jesus trusts his Father so implicitly, but many adults balk at doing what God’s commands.
It is true that we adults have the considerable task of discerning what God wants. But more problematic is our ego’s visualization of God’s will according to our own designs. One sage has called “the dark night of the soul” precisely letting go of “our ego’s hold on the psyche” to allow for a change in our lives which will bring about a new understanding of our relationship with God. It is the painful process of fidelity through questioning and near desperation that ends in our awareness of being God’s children doing what He tells us, ever rejoicing in His love.
(Zechariah 8:1-8; Luke 9:46-50)
What is it about children that makes Jesus say to accept them is to accept him? It is hard to tell because childhood keeps on changing. No doubt, being a child in Jesus’ time was very different than it is today. Nevertheless, there is at least one constant characteristic that was existent in the first century, became prominent between 1850 and 1950 when -- according to social commentator Neil Postman -- childhood reached its epitome, and still is perceptible today. It is that children follow the directives of their parents confident that obedience will lead to their welfare. In the gospels Jesus trusts his Father so implicitly, but many adults balk at doing what God’s commands.
It is true that we adults have the considerable task of discerning what God wants. But more problematic is our ego’s visualization of God’s will according to our own designs. One sage has called “the dark night of the soul” precisely letting go of “our ego’s hold on the psyche” to allow for a change in our lives which will bring about a new understanding of our relationship with God. It is the painful process of fidelity through questioning and near desperation that ends in our awareness of being God’s children doing what He tells us, ever rejoicing in His love.
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