Each week I try to fill a space in my parish’s bulletin with thoughts of some worth. Now and then I offer clippings from the Holy Father, or other significant writers. Here is a collection of these short articles.
Sixth Sunday of Easter
Domination is not Love
“This is my commandment: love one another as I love you.”
A number of years ago, Pope John Paul II wrote a series of reflections on marriage, taking up in particular the passage from Ephesians 5 which is most remembered for saying, “Wives, be subordinate to your husbands.” His reflection is important because of the way that this passage has been misread and misunderstood. I have actually had men in my office claiming this passage as justification for abusing their wives. That is despicable. Spousal abuse is never justifiable, period. (They never seem to read far enough, missing the part that says, “Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ loved the church . . .”)
Pope John Paul began his reflection by pointing out strongly that this whole section of Ephesians begins with these words, in 5:21: “Be subordinate to one another out of reverence for Christ.” There is intended to be a mutuality in all that follows, so one could also read, “Wives, love your husbands as Christ loved the church”, and “Husbands, be subordinate to your wives”. A love as precious as that of marriage simply has no place for any kind of domination, including physical, sexual or emotional abuse. Rather it is intended to be a safe place, where reverence for Christ is expressed in mutual love, respect, support and understanding.
While it is true that all our relationships should be rooted in our love for Christ, I feel this kind of abuse demands special attention, precisely because it is often justified, tolerated and hidden. In addition, sometimes it rises to the level of murder or murder/suicide. The tragic fact is that abusers do not stop, and it always escalates. And as horrible as that is, it takes on a special character when it is justified in the name of false religion. That simply cannot be tolerated.
Which bring us back to the quote from this Sunday’s Gospel with which we began. When asked for the greatest commandment, Jesus quoted two from the tradition: Love God, and love your neighbor. But here we have a new commandment, which could not have been given until Jesus was incarnate among us and walked the earth. It is a commandment that flows directly out of his example. In other words, now that God had actually walked among us in human form, Jesus could say, Do what I have shown you, in my very own actions. Love as I have loved. Again we see that mutuality that we spoke of above. He loves us first, and we are called to return that love, as best we can. Moreover, the command to love one’s neighbor does not go away. But now we have actually been shown how to do that. We don’t have to figure it out. We have an example to follow in Jesus himself.
Will we do it perfectly? Of course not. But by his grace, we continue to try. That is how we remain in his love.
Fifth Sunday of Easter
Remaining in Easter Time
“This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad.” When I think of Easter, this is one of the first phrases that come to mind. It is actually the refrain for the responsorial psalm on Easter Sunday. The phrase remains for me a reminder of what Easter is about, not only on Easter Sunday, but throughout the Easter Season.
I mention that because each year, I find it sometimes difficult to hold on to the focus of Easter. It’s a long season, stretching for almost two months. And it always seems that once we’ve survived Lent, and celebrated Easter, it just feels like it is time to move on. Yet, Pentecost is coming, but we’ll deal with that when we get there. How do we continue to celebrate Easter for all those weeks?
What is strange is that Advent and Lent don’t seem to present the same challenge. While both are shorter than the Easter season, it seems that it’s just easier to keep the energy going. That said, the feasts concluding both those seasons (Christmas and Easter) are a bit more significant in most of our lives.
So if this is the day the Lord has made, what if I don’t feel like rejoicing? How do you keep rejoicing week after week after week? Well, if we’re talking about the exultant joy of the first believers as they discovered that the tomb was empty, I don’t think anyone could maintain that. But perhaps there is a quieter kind of rejoicing, not quite so overflowing with emotion.
Consider the first part of our opening phrase. This is the day that the Lord has made. This is true of Easter Sunday, but it is also true of each and every day of our lives. There would be no day (or night!) had not our God loved us enough to pour forth the fruits of creation. What this means is that no matter what happens today, or tomorrow, or the day after, it is a day that the Lord has made. He has had a hand in each day from the very beginning. Implicit in that recognition is a certain dependence on the providence of God that calls forth from us a genuine humility. No matter what I make of this day, no matter what choices I make, no matter what I accomplish, it is still a day that the Lord has made.
What if something happens that doesn’t make me feel like rejoicing? Then I recall what Jesus went through to get to that Easter day that the Lord has made. In this way I connect whatever is happening to what God accomplished through the death and the rising of Jesus. The day that the Lord has made is a day of victory of God’s love over sin and death. No matter what, that is cause to rejoice.
Fourth Sunday of Easter
The Great Exchange
“I am the Bread of Life.”
At daily Mass this week we have been reading from the Bread of Life discourse in John’s gospel (John 6). Jesus has just fed the multitudes with a few loaves and fishes. Amazed and delighted at having their bellies filled, the crowd is listening, but are they hearing? And what do they hear when Jesus says that he is the bread of life?
For that matter, what do we hear when Jesus makes such statements? In the same passages, he is talking about eating his flesh and drinking his blood. This is pretty outrageous stuff, especially if taken literally. Then we recall that in this chapter, John is reflecting upon not only that miraculous event where the crowds were fed with so little. He is also reflecting on the Last Supper, and the great thanksgiving sacrifice that we call Eucharist.
Sometimes this sacrament is called “the great exchange”. At the Preparation of the Gifts at Mass, we take up bread and wine, and we offer these to God. But even as we do so, we recall that we have these gifts to offer only because God has given them to us in the first place! So we find ourselves offering back to God something of the great bounty which he has bestowed upon us. Having then offered them to God, we find that he is once more bestowing these gifts upon us again, but with a tremendous, even outrageous difference.
When we accept and receive this gift of God, we are receiving so much more than bread and wine. In our prayer (that we call Eucharistic), we have called down the power of the Holy Spirit upon these gifts and recalled the words of Jesus from that Last Supper. He says that this bread and wine are his Body and Blood. And we believe that! He says to “Take and eat” and he says to “Take and drink”, and we do that, so that the thanksgiving sacrifice is shown to be both meal and memorial as well.
This is the great exchange. It is truly great because God is giving to us not simply some part of his creation. He is giving us Himself. “This is my Body. This is my Blood.” “This is me – have me, receive me, take me, be fed by me, receive new life is me.” He is saying all this and so much more. As precious as gifts of bread and wine may be as food for the body, they cannot compare to the gift we actually are given in this sacrament we call Eucharist.
After we have received this great gift, we are reduced to silence. We sit quietly after Communion, and we give thanks. What else could we do? He is the Bread of Life. And he has given himself to us.
Third Sunday of Easter
About your Roof
Ok, I will admit that I never really thought of myself as actually having a roof. And I hope the roof isn’t supposed to be one’s hair, because then I’m in trouble. But our new translation has gotten me thinking about what it means for a person to have a roof.
Of course I’m referring to our response in the Communion Rite, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof. But only say the word and my soul shall be healed.” The words have gotten a lot more familiar, and therefore more comfortable, and I don’t find myself wanting to slide back into the old response nearly as often. But it’s left me wondering, what does it mean for a person to have a roof?
Now, many things have a roof: barns, offices, stadiums, doghouses, cars and even one’s mouth. But since the phrase comes from the Scriptures, we can focus on the man who said he wasn’t worthy to have Jesus under the roof of his house. Unlike all the other things that have roofs, a house is a dwelling place. It’s a place to eat and sleep, to be together with family, to take refuge in the storm. It is place where one abides, where one stays. Though we might spend the majority of our day out and about, if someone asks us where we live, we tell them about our house – which of course has a roof.
Here is where it gets kind of interesting. If I have a roof, then I am a dwelling place. As a matter of fact, I was made to be a dwelling place, and more specifically a dwelling place where God can abide. I think this is what St. Paul was talking about when he said, “It is not I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” Paul realized that he had a roof, and worthy or not, his life was Christ dwelling within him. Especially during this Easter season, when we rejoice in the resurrected and ascended Christ, we want Christ to dwell within us, under our roof.
That desire for Christ to enter under our roof brings us back to the question of our unworthiness. We admit it. And we can’t fix it. Try as I might, I can’t make myself worthy for such an honor. So I pray that the Lamb of God might say the Word, and that through that Word, my soul might be healed. So my unworthiness is essentially my brokenness, my being wounded (by sin), for which God is the only remedy. Christ is the healer of our souls, and he brings that healing about by coming into our hearts, and dwelling within us. Without Christ, there is no healing of our souls. With him, there is life in abundance, precisely because Christ lives in me. So maybe being a person who has a roof isn’t so strange after all.
Second Sunday of Easter
From “Urbi et Orbi”
On Easter Sunday, April 8th, Pope Benedict XVI gave the traditional “Urbi et Orbi” blessing (to the city and to the world). I thought I would share a couple of his paragraphs with a few comments.
“Every Christian relives the experience of Mary Magdalene. It involves an encounter which changes our lives: the encounter with a unique Man who lets us experience all God’s goodness and truth, who frees us from evil not in a superficial and fleeting way, but sets us free radically, heals us completely and restores our dignity. This is why Mary Magdalene calls Jesus “my hope”: he was the one who allowed her to be reborn, who gave her a new future, a life of goodness and freedom from evil. “Christ my hope” means that all my yearnings for goodness find in him a real possibility of fulfillment: with him I can hope for a life that is good, full and eternal, for God himself has drawn near to us, even sharing our humanity.”
While I don’t think I can even imagine what Mary Magdalene experienced that first Easter morning outside the empty tomb, I can see that her life was transformed by her encounter with the risen Christ. Pope Benedict mention three things we might hope for from that encounter: “[he] sets us free radically, heals us completely, and restores our dignity”. I can at least imagine being free from all that hinders us in following Christ. I can hope for the healing that transforms all our woundedness and brokenness. I can long for the dignity that God gives each of us being revealed and respected by all. Only Christ can do this.
“Dear brothers and sisters! If Jesus is risen, then – and only then – has something truly new happened, something that changes the state of humanity and the world. Then he, Jesus, is someone in whom we can put absolute trust; we can put our trust not only in his message but in Jesus himself, for the Risen One does not belong to the past, but is present today, alive. Christ is hope and comfort in a particular way for those Christian communities suffering most for their faith on account of discrimination and persecution. And he is present as a force of hope through his Church, which is close to all human situations of suffering and injustice.”
The resurrection is not just about an individual, personal encounter with the Lord, though that is essential. It is also about transforming our societies, our relationships, our families. It is in precisely all those places that we can discover and experience true freedom, true healing and abiding dignity. The peace that Christ alone can give can only be received in a world striving for justice for all. In every place where the state of humanity is in need of transformation, Christ desires to be present and alive for all people.
Easter Sunday of the Lord’s Resurrection
Bunnies aren’t enough
It’s about new life, of course. It’s about bunnies and eggs and lilies as well. For some, it’s about a new dress, and it’s certainly about spring. It’s about water and candles and light and darkness. It’s about bread and wine and body and blood. It’s also about nails and wood and whips. It’s about death. And it’s about new life.
It’s also about expectations not met. No, nothing about what God did on that first Easter Sunday falls short of what it should be. Here the expectations not met are exceeded, beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Yes, Jesus had said that on the third day something would happen, but who knew what that meant? The events of that first Easter morning turned the world on its head, flipped the universe around, and upended the cosmos. The one who was dead, most definitely, finally dead, was truly and actually alive.
In that sense, it is about history. We gather on Easter Sunday and remember events that witnesses tell us happened over two thousand years ago. This history is important because our celebration is not based on some pious fantasy but rather is founded on real events, centering around a real person. Jesus did die. Jesus did rise from the dead. This is truth, the truth of the resurrection.
But it’s not only about history. It is also about today. The God and Father who raised Jesus from the dead is still alive and well. And what began on Easter continues. It is about the power of God’s love in the face of darkness and sin, today. It is about Christ’s victory over sin and death, being realized in our lives, today. It’s about believing that this Christ who had left the tomb of his burial is still alive in our midst, today.
It is truly about today. When we celebrate Eucharist, we recall what Jesus did on the night before he died. As on Holy Thursday evening, we recall his gift of his own Body and Blood to us, a gift that is given to us over and over again, today. It is about a sacrifice that took place on that Good Friday, which in the Eucharist is made present again, today. It’s about each and every Sunday being a celebration of Easter, recalling Christ rising from the dead, today.
During all those days of Lent now completed, this is the “today” that we’ve been preparing for. “Christ is risen, alleluia. He is risen indeed, alleluia.” And all the bunnies and eggs and lilies in the world cannot begin to capture the joy of the Church as she celebrates this great Feast. Happy Easter!
Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion
The Paschal Mystery
In the 12th chapter of John’s Gospel, vs. 24, we read: “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.”
These are the first words that come to mind for me when I think about the liturgical celebration that lies before us this week. This weekend, and on Good Friday, we actually read the Passion of the Lord. On Holy Thursday, we recall that bittersweet last evening meal that Jesus had with his disciples. And at the Easter Vigil, the experience the darkness of death and sin shattered by Christ our Light.
We call this the Paschal Mystery. It is paschal because it expresses a truth revolving around the glorious death and rising of our Lord Jesus Christ. And we call it mystery because it points to a truth beyond what we can ever comprehend, a truth surrounded and supported by the boundless love of a saving and redeeming God.
The Paschal Mystery is that mystery of the death and rising of Christ. It touches on the question of why Christ had to die for our sins, a question which is part and parcel of the mystery. The Paschal Mystery is that series of events culminating the life and ministry of Christ that we can only experience and never totally understand. It is in essence, the power of God’s love reaching out and touching the destruction of death itself, death on a cross, and transforming that death into life, life for Christ, and life for the world.
There is mystery in what that Paschal Mystery has to do with us. How does this event 2000 years past effect our lives, our existence in the here and now as well as in the life to come? How does that first Easter Sunday morning make a difference in my life as I get up on yet another day and set out to live life as it has been given to me? How does that mystery give hope and direction and meaning to what you and I do, each and every day?
That is the Paschal Mystery. And it touches our lives because the same love of the Father that raised Christ from the dead is offered to us. The Paschal Mystery teaches us that when our lives are touched, shattered, or consumed by failure or loss or death itself, that same love of the Father can also transform us. The Paschal Mystery is about God’s love bringing forth good out of evil, hope out of despair, and life out of death. That is what we celebrate this week! The Paschal Mystery: “Unless the grain of wheat . . . “
Fifth Sunday of Lent
In Memory of Romero
This is an article of remembrance. On March 24th, 1980, Archbishop Oscar Romero, of San Salvador, was celebrating Mass in a hospital chapel. He never completed that Mass because an assassin’s bullet ended his life, pouring out his blood over the altar. His offense? He dared to speak out on behalf of the poor.
El Salvador was in the midst of a bloody civil war that the UN Truth Commission would call genocidal, as thousands of people were slaughtered by government forces. Cadavers clogged the streams and tortured bodies were thrown in garbage dumps. The oppression would leave over 75,000 Salvadorans dead, one million would flee the country, and another million would be left homeless in a country of only 5.5 million. Two months before his death, Romero wrote to then President Jimmy Carter “You say that you are Christian. If you are really Christian, please stop sending military aid to the military here, because they use it only to kill my people.”. Romero’s pleas were ignored. The U.S. sent $1.5 million in aid every day for years. For those 12 years, the 1% continued to use violence and oppression to trample upon the 99%.
When appointed archbishop, no one expected this man to become the voice of the poor. He received little support from others in power. Yet he knew well the risks he took by daring to speak truth to power. In one of his homilies, he said, “I do not believe in death without resurrection. If they kill me, I will be resurrected in the Salvadoran people.” Today, over 30 years later, the people of El Salvador continue to mark the anniversary of his death.
He preached: “Peace is not the product of terror or fear. Peace is not the silence of cemeteries. Peace is not the silent result of violent repression. Peace is the generous, tranquil contribution of all to the good of all. Peace is dynamism. Peace is generosity. It is right and it is duty.”
He preached: “We must not seek the child Jesus only in the pretty figures of our Christmas cribs. We must seek him among the undernourished children who have gone to bed at night with nothing to eat, among the poor newsboys who will sleep covered with newspapers in doorways.”
He preached: “Brothers, you are from the same people; you kill your fellow peasant . . . No soldier is obliged to obey an order that is contrary to the will of God . . . ”
So they killed him.
Fourth Sunday of Lent
Slaves to What?
As I sit down to write, I find myself thinking about two seemingly different things. The first is the life and service of St. Patrick, our patron saint, whose feast we mark this March 17th. The second is a phrase from one of the Prefaces of Lent that came up last week in an email group I participate in. Let’s take them in order.
The bulletin insert we provided last week on St. Patrick (I hope you had time to read it!) pointed out an often overlooked chapter in St. Patrick’s life. Kidnapped as a teen, this British youth spent six years as a slave in Ireland, until he was able to escape. Having returned to his homeland with great difficulty, his journey to Ireland years later was a return trip. This time, he arrived in Ireland not as a shepherd slave, but as a Bishop of the Church.
It is impossible to know the many ways in which his time as a slave would impact his ministry as a preacher of the Gospel in pagan lands. We do know that it left him as a staunch opponent of slavery of any kind, centuries before slavery would be officially condemned by the Church. We can assume that his time as a slave gave him a knowledge of the land, the language and the people of Ireland that he would not have had otherwise. From that perspective, Patrick was uniquely suited to evangelize Ireland, much more so than any other churchman who had never set foot on her shores.
We are told that it was after his enslavement and escape to freedom that Patrick truly embraced the Catholic faith. Here again, we can only guess at the ways in which his experience of bondage led him to become a whole-hearted servant of Christ. Having been set free, he clearly judged that the best way to use that freedom was in the service of the Gospel.
This brings us to our second point, a phrase from the second Preface of Lent: “freed from disordered affections”. This is something we are praying for, as a gift and a result of our Lenten observances. The point I would make that there are different kinds of bondage. Certainly slavery as St. Patrick and countless others experienced it is a grave and inexcusable evil. But oftentimes the things that limit our freedom come not from without, but from within. When we have “affection”, desire, or want for things of this world, over and above all other things (especially God!) this “affection” is truly “disordered”. And as long as our choices in our daily lives are driven by these affections, these attachments, we are not free. We are not free to choose, we are not free to love, we are not free to serve. We are enslaved.
What are your “disordered affections”?
Third Sunday of Lent
Why Self-Denial?
Acts of charity are obviously a good thing to do. The value of prayer is plain to anyone who has actually built a life of prayer. These two traditional practices of Lent need little justification. The third practice however, sometimes baffles people. Why practice self-denial? I’d like to touch on three benefits that come from penance and fasting.
The first is that it reminds us that we are not alone in this journey of faith we call Catholicism. This benefit flows specifically from the fact that we observe the season of Lent together, as a community. During these forty days, I am not the only one giving something up. I am not the only one who is choosing different, perhaps simpler meals. Even when our acts of self-denial are not obvious to others, they remain something that we Catholics are doing together, precisely because it is Lent. So much of our faith life is lived as individuals, e.g., private prayer, development of character, and making the countless choices for good or for ill as we live out each day. The knowledge that I am not alone in this often difficult and always challenging following of Christ is a great blessing – even when it’s expressed in passing up that burger on Friday.
The second benefit of self-denial is simply the development of self-discipline, aided of course always and everywhere by God’s grace. Usually we choose to give up something during Lent that is attractive to us. Denying ourselves something we don’t want is really no penance. We look around and find something that appears to us to be good in some way, and therefore desirable. This experience of refusing something that appears good actually helps us say no to sin, because sinful actions usually appear good to us, even when they are not. We grow stronger, by opening our hearts to God’s grace.
The third benefit of self-denial is probably most obvious in fasting, to which we are called on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. (Other Friday’s ask only that we abstain from meat.) For me, fasting means that I end up feeling hungry in the course of the day. That experience of hunger, of need, of wanting something outside myself becomes a reminder, if you will, of our need for God. The hunger of fasting can lead us to pray for that hunger for God, and a deep abiding desire: for God, his grace, his love, his salvation in Christ. Hunger reminds me that I am never self-sufficient, and my life depends on the nourishment that God alone can give.
Combined with prayer and acts of charity, self-denial remains a powerful tool for the conversion of heart and mind to which we are called during Lent.
Second Sunday of Lent
The Great Feast
This last week, we had our annual Clergy Study Days here in Lafayette. The days covered two different topics, the second of which was the ceremonies of Holy Week – Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion, The Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper (Holy Thursday), the Commemoration of the Lord’s Passion (Good Friday), the Easter Vigil in the Holy Night (Holy Saturday night), and Easter Sunday of the Resurrection of the Lord. Celebrating these ceremonies is always something of a challenge, because they are different, and are done only once a year. In addition, the new translation of the Roman Missal brought with it changes in the ways in which some things are done, beyond the new words and chants for these feasts.
Some might find it strange that we would spend almost an entire day on a handful of liturgical celebrations. It was hours of digging into the details of the “rubrics”, the instructions on how to celebrate contained in the Roman Missal, as well as in other documents. Yet when one considers the importance of these feasts, it should not be surprising. Holy Week is the holiest week of the year, and the celebrations of the Triduum (three days) on Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and at the Easter Vigil are the most important of Holy Week.
It left me wondering. How many Catholics have never experienced these celebrations? How many have never gathered to remember the institution of the Holy Eucharist and the priesthood, as well as the Lord’s example of charity in the washing of the feet? How many have never experienced the adoration of the wood of the cross, on which was hung the Savior of the world? How many have never experienced the service of light, when we bless new fire and sing the Lord’s praises in the Exultet, sung only once a year?
Yet these are the feasts for which the entire season of Lent exists. The whole forty days of self-denial and prayer and acts of charity are to prepare us to celebrate these three days – the Triduum. Keeping the entire season of Lent and skipping the Triduum is kind of like buying tickets for the Super Bowl and then skipping the game.
Can you fulfill your obligation by just getting your palms on Palm Sunday, and then showing up on Easter Sunday morning? Yes, you can, if obligation is all one is concerned about. There is no obligation to attend these services. There is only missed opportunity if one does not. The great mystery of our salvation is celebrated most powerfully on those three days. The Triduum is the Feast for which we prepare during these forty days of Lent.
First Sunday of Lent
Choosing Life – In the Little Things
This last Thursday, the second day of Lent, we read from the 30th chapter of the book of Deuteronomy, which includes these words: “I call heaven and earth today to witness against you: I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life, then, that you and your descendants may live, by loving the LORD, your God, heeding his voice, and holding fast to him.” There is something stark and final about those words: Here is your choice – decide. And given the choice between the blessing and the curse, who would not choose life? But do we?
The following paragraph is from a Lenten reflection by Sr. Melannie Svoboda, printed in the February issue of “Give Us This Day”:
“Choose life. At first this seems like a no-brainer. Given the option between life and death, wouldn’t we naturally opt for life? Not necessarily, for keeping God’s commandments and following Jesus are not easy. In fact, they often involve a kind of death—death to sin and selfishness. Choosing life can take a variety of forms in our lives. It can mean choosing integrity over duplicity, forgiveness over retaliation, gratitude over whining, nonviolence over brute force, words that nurture over words that belittle, care for our planet over personal convenience, and what’s best for the common good over what’s best for only me or my country.”
At Mass that morning, I pointed out that this choice between life and death, the blessing and the curse, is not usually presented so forcefully. As Sr. Svoboda points out, it is a choice made not once and for all, but rather in countless smaller decisions, made by us day in and day out. It is choosing to forgive rather than to seek revenge when someone has harmed us. It is choosing to remain silent, rather than to broadcast that juicy bit of gossip. It is choosing to speak the truth, rather than embrace the tiny deceit of the little white lie, “which didn’t hurt anybody”. It is to go the extra mile, to turn the other cheek, to give and not seek anything in return.
Given those choices, who wouldn’t choose life? In fact, we fail to choose life over and over and over. That is why we call it sin. That is why we return to the Sacrament of Reconciliation, over and over again, hoping that this time will be different. That is we observe once more the season of Lent, a special season of grace devoted to conversion and repentance.
Therein lies our hope. No matter how many times we have chosen the curse rather than the blessing, our God is a God who offers us the opportunity to choose once more, that we might choose Life.
Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
HHS Mandate revisited
Two weeks ago, we provided information on the recent HHS health care mandate in our bulletin. Since then, there have been adjustments by the administration. This week we received a letter from the Louisiana Conference of Catholic Bishops. The full text of the letter is available on our parish website: http://stpat.org. We reproduce part of the letter here:
The U.S. Department of Health and Human Services recently ruled that Catholic institutions must provide health insurance that offers sterilizations, abortion inducing drugs, and contraceptives. This is a direct attack on the religious liberty of Catholic institutions which serve ALL people, not just Catholics.
As we have read, on Friday, February 10th President Obama offered some changes to the original HHS ruling. Instead of Catholic institutions having to provide the objectionable coverage the insurance companies would do it. There are three major problems with that supposed compromise. First, Catholic institutions would still have to pay for this objectionable coverage. Second, in many cases Catholic dioceses are self insured. Third, individuals would be forced to pay premiums for this coverage. …
Please send a message to respectfully request your U.S. Senators and Congressman to co-sponsor the Respect for Rights of Conscience Act (H.R. 1179, S. 1467) that has been introduced by Representative Fortenberry and Senator Blunt. This measure ensures that the rights of conscience of Catholic institutions will be respected. You can do this by following the link to Voter Voice on the homepage of our website at www.laccb.org.
This remains a very complex issue. I remain convinced that the issue is not whether one agrees with the church stance on contraception, but rather whether our nation will uphold the principle of religious freedom. It is about the right of all churches to act in accord with their faith not only within the walls of the church, but also in service to a broader society. The narrowness of the HHS definition of church activity is at the core of the problem. One thing that disqualifies Catholic hospitals from the exemption in the law is that they provide health care to non-Catholics. The fact that we serve people of any faith is one of the distinguishing marks of Catholic health care. We as Catholics should be able to decide what a Catholic hospital looks like and how it acts in our society. The current mandate fails to respect that right. We pray that an acceptable compromise will be reached.
Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
A Longer-lasting Lent
Two things have happened in the last week. More and more signs have gone up at restaurants, advertising crawfish for sale. Secondly, the barricades are out on Johnston Street. Only one conclusion can be reached: Lent is almost upon us.
From the date of this bulletin, Lent will begin in about 10 days. That means it’s not too early to start thinking about it. Some obvious questions come to mind. Where and at what time will I go to Mass on Ash Wednesday? Will I participate in Operation Rice Bowl or go to one of the many missions in town? Will I go to daily Mass, once or twice a week perhaps, or even every day? And of course, what will I give up?
All these questions revolve around the question of how I will observe the season itself. And that’s important. Lent is truly a season of grace, with its own character and emphasis. It is a season of grace that is filled with hope. Underlying the calls to repentance and forgiveness is the conviction that repentance and forgiveness are possible. By God’s grace, things in our lives can change. We can change. And unless we happen to have a life that is ideal in all aspects, that is good news. It is reason for hope.
“Turn away from your sins and believe in the Gospel.” I’ve long preferred those words for the distribution of ashes, rather than “Remember that you dust, and to dust you shall return”. The second is more dramatic, and perhaps more existential, reminding us of our fundamental nature as limited and created. But the first is I think more dynamic and life-giving. Quite simply, it tells us what we can do, even if we are dust and return to dust. It says that turning away from the things in our lives that harm us and others is actually possible. It shows us the path, belief in the Gospel, which leads to that kind of change. Not so explicit, of course, is the fact that this kind of change can only happen by God’s grace.
So I want to suggest a slightly different avenue of searching as we approach this Lenten season. The question, “What shall I give up for Lent?” usually assumes something I go back to after Lent is completed. What if we asked, “What do I want to take out of this Lenten season?” How can my attitudes, actions, and values be different on Easter Sunday? What is God asking me to change in my life, not just for these forty days, but in an ongoing, life-giving way? Then we can ask, “What do I need to do during Lent so that this change can actually happen?” The practices of Lent become a way of letting God transform our lives so that grace continues to be active, long after the crawfish are eaten and the barricades put away.
Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Health Insurance Mandate
I want to call your attention to the double insert in our bulletin this week regarding the January 21st ruling from the US Department of Health and Human Services. HHS has said that unintended pregnancy is “a condition for which safe and effective prevention and treatment” need to be more widely available. This ruling has a religious exemption that is so narrow as to be almost non-existent. It is important to note that this issue is not about contraception, or sterilization or even about abortifacients per se (though those are services that are being mandated), but rather about religious liberty, about conscience, and about the freedom to practice our faith in our nation.
In mandating that employers provide health coverage for certain “preventive services” for women, HHS has crafted a rule that exempts only those religious institutions which only provide services to people of their own faith, and who employ only people of that same faith. As a result, Catholic hospitals are not exempt, because they hire and offer medical care to non-Catholics. Catholic service agencies do not qualify because they feed hungry non-Catholics as well as Catholics. Educational institutions would not be exempt if they hire and educate people of other faiths.
In essence, the HHS has re-defined the religious organization, and attempted to decide for us what qualifies as religious activity. Healing the sick, feeding the hungry and educating the young are classed as non-religious activities. Interestingly, Jesus himself healed foreigners who were not Jewish, and did not ask about religious affiliation before the multiplication of the loaves and fishes. The ministry of Jesus himself would not qualify under the narrow religious exemption being forced upon us by HHS. We should note as well that with Catholic hospitals being classified as non-religious health care providers, this lays the foundation for requiring Catholic hospitals such as Our Lady of Lourdes to provide abortions.
Since last fall, our religious leaders have been petitioning the HHS to broaden the religious exemption. That plea has fallen on deaf ears. Legislation has been introduced in congress to attempt to remedy this ruling which tramples upon religious liberty, one of the bedrock principles of our nations. Should you wish to make your voice heard, please see the information on the insert. More information is also available on our website, http://stpat.org.
If contraception and abortion are treatment, does that mean that pregnancy is a disease?
Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Being Streaky
One of the things of which I’ve become more conscious during our transition to the third edition of our Roman Missal is the fact that our language always falls short. The mysteries of which we speak during our Liturgy are so much richer that anything mere language can capture. While our liturgical language is true, it cannot express the whole truth, because God remains so much bigger than we can ever say or describe. Therefore along the way we make choices.
Earlier this week at a weekday Mass, I mentioned how this is true of the words of institution in the Eucharistic Prayer. We used to say that the Blood of Christ is poured out “for all”. Now we say, “for many”. Both are true. The salvation offered through Christ is offered for all. And “the many” are those who choose to accept that salvation.
We encounter a similar thing in one of the prayers at the Preparation of the Gifts. Now, at the priest’s invitation, the people pray that God will accept our sacrifice for the good of all his holy church. The word “holy” has been added to that line in our new translation, affirming the holiness of the Body of Christ. Yet we all know that the church is full of sinners. Which is true? Are we holy, or are we sinners?
Again, both statements are true. At n. 827 in the Catechism, we read the following:
“Christ, ‘holy, innocent, and undefiled,’ knew nothing of sin, but came only to expiate the sins of the people. The Church, however, clasping sinners to her bosom, at once holy and always in need of purification, follows constantly the path of penance and renewal.” All members of the Church, including her ministers, must acknowledge that they are sinners. . . .
The Church is therefore holy, though having sinners in her midst, because she herself has no other life but the life of grace. If they live her life, her members are sanctified; if they move away from her life, they fall into sins and disorders that prevent the radiation of her sanctity.
As a Church, we are both saved, and in need of salvation. As members of that Church, we are both sanctified, and in need of sanctification. We are a pilgrim people, on a journey and already having arrived. A little girl, considering the question of whether she was good or bad, said after a moment of reflection that she was “streaky”. That image I think accurately captures the truth about the holiness/sinfulness of the Church. The Church is streaky.
Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
The Dignity of Life
On this anniversary of Roe v. Wade, we offer the following quote from Pope John Paul II’s 1995 encyclical, “The Gospel of Life”:
“Decisions that go against life sometimes arise from difficult or even tragic situations of profound suffering, loneliness, a total lack of economic prospects, depression and anxiety about the future. Such circumstances can mitigate even to a notable degree subjective responsibility and the consequent culpability of those who make these choices which in themselves are evil. But today the problem goes far beyond the necessary recognition of these personal situations. It is a problem which exists at the cultural, social and political level, where it reveals its more sinister and disturbing aspect in the tendency, ever more widely shared, to interpret the above crimes against life as legitimate expressions of individual freedom, to be acknowledged and protected as actual rights.
“In this way, and with tragic consequences, a long historical process is reaching a turning-point. The process which once led to discovering the idea of “human rights”-rights inherent in every person and prior to any Constitution and State legislation-is today marked by a surprising contradiction. Precisely in an age when the inviolable rights of the person are solemnly proclaimed and the value of life is publicly affirmed, the very right to life is being denied or trampled upon, especially at the more significant moments of existence: the moment of birth and the moment of death.
“On the one hand, the various declarations of human rights and the many initiatives inspired by these declarations show that at the global level there is a growing moral sensitivity, more alert to acknowledging the value and dignity of every individual as a human being, without any distinction of race, nationality, religion, political opinion or social class.
“On the other hand, these noble proclamations are unfortunately contradicted by a tragic repudiation of them in practice. … These attacks go directly against respect for life and they represent a direct threat to the entire culture of human rights. It is a threat capable, in the end, of jeopardizing the very meaning of democratic coexistence: rather than societies of “people living together”, our cities risk becoming societies of people who are rejected, marginalized, uprooted and oppressed.”
Second Sunday in Ordinary Time
Behold the Dignity
You may have noticed that the crosses are going up around town. A number of our church parishes (that have lawns) are erecting a display of white crosses near the road. These crosses dramatize the number of children who have been victims of so-called “pro-choice” legislation in our nation. They remind us that there is no such thing as a safe abortion, if you happen to be the baby who is being killed in your mother’s womb.
It is of course the anniversary of the Supreme Court decision, Roe v. Wade, which occasions these displays. In recent years, we have seen legislation in a number of states which attempts to restrict abortion on demand. But as long as the human beings we call “fetus” are denied the legal status of “person”, these defenseless infants will remain at risk of having their lives snuffed out before they are even born. As Mother Theresa said, “It is a true poverty that a child must die in order that you might live as you wish.”
This time of the year affords us an opportunity to reflect upon the basis for our Catholic opposition to direct abortion. That basis is of course the dignity of the human person. The dignity of that unborn child, denied and trampled upon by our courts, legislatures, medical professionals and even their own mothers, teaches us something important for all of us.
Human dignity is not earned or achieved. Nowhere is this more abundantly clear than in the case of the unborn child. Not yet able to choose and act, they are simply incapable of earning or achieving anything. Their proper task in life is simply to live and to grow, if they are allowed to do so, in the security of the mother’s womb. All of that child’s achievements and failures lie in the future. Still, that child possesses a dignity and worth that endures. That dignity is rooted in the simple fact of having been created in the image and likeness of God. This means as well that the dignity that is our by virtue of simply being human belongs to everyone, without exception. This includes those who appear to be different from us, those who disagree with us, and even those we have chosen to call enemy, as well as those who are not yet born.
Another fundamental aspect of this human dignity is that it endures, regardless of events, actions and choices. No matter what we do or don’t do as we progress through life, we cannot erase or surrender this human dignity, even when we fail to act in accord with that dignity. This is important because in the abortion debate, much is often made of the fact that the unborn child is innocent. While this is most assuredly true, it is irrelevant to the issue of the child’s dignity and value. Guilt or innocence does not repeal the fact of being a person created in the image and likeness of God. Dignity endures.
The Epiphany of the Lord
Manifold Manifestations
This year, Christmas fell on a Sunday. As a result, everyone got something of a break, since there wasn’t that day during the week when we had to go to church AGAIN! (And AGAIN on New Year’s Day!) The two Sundays of Dec. 25th and Jan. 1st carried the weight. As a result, we were blessed with a full season of Advent, all four weeks. When for example, Christmas falls on a Monday or Tuesday, the fourth week of Advent is barely celebrated.
Because of the calendar, our Christmas season pretty much wraps up with our celebration this Sunday of the Feast of the Epiphany. The Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, which usually marks the end of the Christmas season, is pushed over to Monday. The green of Ordinary Time will return, until we reach the season of Lent. Because of this curious arrangement of these feasts, based on the day of the week of Dec. 25th, it feels somewhat like all these celebrations have come very close together. Yet that in itself can benefit us.
At the heart of this season of Christmas is the Incarnation, the Word made Flesh come to dwell among us. In a sense, it begins with the Annunciation, a basically private encounter between the Virgin Mary and God’s messenger, the angel Gabriel. It is only on that holy, silent night in Bethlehem that the story begins to go public.
Joseph and Mary are in the stable, welcoming the child. The shepherds are in the fields, tending their flocks where angels announce to them the good news for all the world. Meanwhile, wise kings are journeying, following the light of a star. The kings bring gifts fit for a king, who rules and sanctifies and heals. When the child is brought to the temple in accord with the mandate of the law, Simeon recognizes him as a light to the nations, and the glory of Israel. And immediately we also celebrate this king as the Lamb of God, as he is baptized by John at the Jordan.
All these events are manifestations of the same mystery. The birth itself, the adoration of the shepherds, the worship of the wise men, the testimony of Simeon in the temple, and the manifestation of the true Lamb at the Jordan are all epiphanies. All are aimed at making known this glorious revelation of God’s love.
Consider one more epiphany: As we prepare to receive Communion at Mass, we announce, “Behold the Lamb of God”. Under forms of bread and wine is revealed once more the Light, the Word, the Child, the King, the Savior: Wonder-Counselor, Mighty God, Prince of Peace. That is Epiphany indeed.
The Solemnity of Mary, Holy Mother of God
Images of Incarnation
As we continue during these days our celebration of the Incarnation, I would like to return to a quote I printed last week from a Christmas sermon by St. Augustine (d. 430). This doctor of the Church preached:
“The maker of humanity was made human: so that the one ruling the stars might nurse upon the breast; that bread might become hungry, that the fountain might become thirsty, that light might sleep, the Way might be fatigued by the journey; that truth might be accused by false witnesses, the judge of the living and of the dead might be judged by mortal judges, justice condemned by unjust judges, discipline might be scourged by whips, the grape be crowned with thorns, the foundation suspended upon a limb; that power might be infirmed, health be wounded, that life might die (s. 191.1).”
What leaps off the page is an overwhelming feeling of contradiction. That “bread might become hungry, that the fountain might become thirsty, that light might sleep”, all describe situations both inconceivable and unimaginable. Perhaps most striking is the last one: “that life might die”. Spoken of here is not “a life”, but life itself, the life that is the source of all lives, and that is beyond death itself. Why would St. Augustine make use of such strange images as he tried help others to understand?
The mystery of which he speaks is precisely that: mystery. While there is much about the Christ and the Incarnation that we can say, there is much that remains beyond description and beyond comprehension. Therein lies the value of such contradictory images: They remind us that we celebrate a truth that is of God and from God and about God. How can the Word be made Flesh? How can this Jesus of Nazareth be the second Person of the Most Holy Trinity? How can the one who dies upon the cross be the one who lives forever? What sense does it make to affirm that the Creator has become creature, that God has become man? Augustine’s images teach us while reminding us of what we do not know.
There is another contradiction at the heart of this mystery we celebrate. This weekend we celebrate Mary, the Mother of God. Now God exists beyond all time, while Mary was born at a specific time. How then can this creature be the Mother of the one who created her? Here again we encounter mystery, in the very proclamation of the truth. The Incarnation begins with the Virgin being with child. Contradiction, indeed!
