Archive for September, 2021

Longing to go Home — Funeral Homily for Donetta Bowe, 90

September 27, 2021

You may or may not have known it, but Donetta wrote poetry. She wrote these words during her retirement:

“I want to go home
  Not to the house in town
  But back to the farm.”

In the following lines she went on to fondly recall the farm’s many sights and sounds, the cardinals and chickadees, the wild turkeys and pheasants, “the humming birds by the flowers,” the deer crossing through the fields, and the barn cats she left behind.

“But it’s not the same anymore,” she wrote,
“I need to find another way
  To satisfy those feelings now.”

In her later years, Donetta felt the fading of her flesh, and lamented at not being able to do all that she could do before.

“Only in my spirit,” she wrote,
“Only in my spirit
  can I run up a green grassy hill.
Only in my spirit
  can I skip along a shady park path.
Only in my spirit
  can I still run up the stairs.”

Over time, our lives accumulate losses. We painfully lose people and places and bodily powers. If this were only natural, why doesn’t it sit more naturally with us? Why do we desire the infinite? Where is the fulfillment of our insatiable longings to be found?

As Martha mourned the death of her brother Lazarus, Jesus assured her this was not her loved one’s end. She replied to him, “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus told her, “Whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live… Do you believe this?” She answered him, “Yes, Lord,” and Martha saw his words proven true sooner that she had expected.

Therefore,” as St. Paul told the Christians of Corinth, Greece, “we are not discouraged… Although our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day… This momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory… We look not to what is seen but to what is unseen; for what is seen is passing, but what is unseen is eternal.

Despite looking back, Donetta looked ahead, to the ultimate fulfillment of her longings through our Lord, Jesus Christ. Here are the words of a final Donetta poem, as it appears on her funeral card:

“My time has come for me to go
  and say goodbye to the ones I know.
My body is tired my mind is weak
  it’s difficult for me to speak.
And now I’m waiting by the gate
  so as I go don’t be sad
  for I am grateful for all I had.
Embrace the day and smile for me
  for I am going where I want to go.”

Cutting Off the Near Occasions

September 25, 2021

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Jesus says if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. If your foot causes you to sin, cut if off. If your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out. It is better for you to enter into eternal life maimed, or crippled, or half-blinded, than with two hands, two feet, and two eyes to be thrown into Gehenna (into hell) forever. There are two mistakes one can make with this gospel teaching. The first mistake is less grave than the other.

This first mistake would be imagining that one’s hand, foot, or eye were the source of your sins. If that were what Jesus meant, how could he think that plucking out just one eye, would be an effective solution? Pretty much any sin you can do with two eyes can be done just as easily with one. No, the Church does not encourage elective amputations because that’s not what Jesus is saying here. Jesus is using hyperbole, over-the-top rhetoric, to vividly drive home an important point.

As much as you enjoy your hand, your foot, or your eye, you can live without them. So if any of these were leading you to your death, you would be a fool not to part ways with it. How much more so is this true for the lesser things people enjoy which lead to spiritual death?

Human beings, for better or worse, are creatures of habit. The sins we commit and the virtues we practice tend to be habitual. So think: is there a person, setting, or thing that often leads you to sin? Whom do you sin with? Where and when do you sin? What object, substance, or technology do you sin with often? Jesus knows that you know your pattern of weakness and sin, or that you could easily recognize your pattern with a little self-reflection, and he wants you to take this issue seriously. For the love of God who loves you, for the good of your own soul and the souls of others, curtail in your life the near occasions of sin or, even better, cut them out entirely. Make a firm resolution, make a conscious renunciation, make a good confession, and begin better living the life Jesus wills for you.

Now here is the second, graver mistake people make with Jesus’ teaching. Since Jesus uses hyperbolic imagery about chopping off body parts some think that he isn’t being serious about the dangers of hell. Yes, Jesus uses symbolic imagery to describe it, but hell is very real.

Gehenna, for instance, was a valley southwest of Jerusalem, just outside the walls of God’s holy city. It had once been the site of pagan temples where children were offered as holocausts to idols of Baal and Moloch. The Jews went on to use that shameful place as a smoldering garbage dump, with rotten, worm-infested refuse and continuously burning trash. Will there be literal fire in hell? Maybe not. We would not say hell must have “undying worms” for Jesus’ teachings to be true. But fire does speak to great agony and worms to corruption.

In Jesus’ parable of the royal wedding guests, the king finds a man unfit for his feast. The king says to his servants, “Bind his hands and feet, and cast him into the darkness outside, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.” Wailing accompanies despair and the grinding of teeth, violent anger. As light is to vision and wisdom, the outer darkness is to blindness and error – error which is not innocent ignorance but falsehood blamefully embraced.

In that parable, the condemned one is utterly bound, hand and foot, and thrown out. Yet in Jesus’ parable of the sheep and the goats, the condemned go off on their own. Christ tells us that when he returns as king he will sit upon his glorious throne and turn to the unrighteous goats on his left and say, “Depart from me, you accursed…” And these, he tells us, “will go off to eternal punishment.” Hell is their sentence, but hell is also what they have freely chosen.

Grave sin, freely and knowingly chosen, is a rejection of the Kingdom of God. Mortal sin rejects Christ’s Way; it rejects the life of heaven. This decision to stray is ours, but the decision to respond to God’s grace and return is ours as well.

People today assume almost everybody is going to heaven, but the early Church Fathers were far less optimistic. Whether the number who will be saved in the end is a majority or a minority of the human race, I want all of you to make it. So please take Christ’s words to you seriously. Repent of your sins and change your ways. This is Jesus’ loving will for you.

Geraldine, Genghis, & John — Funeral Homily for Geraldine Halfman, 82

September 24, 2021

I would like to reflect with you today upon three people who have passed away. You have heard of all three, but you have only met one of them. Their names are Geraldine, Genghis, and John.

John lived a century ago. He made his fortune in American oil. Adjusting for inflation, he is considered the richest person in modern history and the wealthiest American of all time. He died at age 97, taking none of his money with him to the grave, leaving all his wealth behind.

Genghis lived eight centuries ago. He led conquering armies on horseback throughout Central Asia and reigned over one of the largest empires in history. He fathered so many children in his lifetime that an estimated 8% of all people living in that region of the world today are direct descendants of his. After many years of killing others, Genghis died himself, lost his throne, and left behind his empire to others.

Geraldine (or Gerry) was born in 1939. She conquered no lands. She never accumulated vast riches. She raised no biological children of her own. Her life’s most significant work may have been caring for her eldest sister. Gerry’s sister, Mary, became sick as a teenager from M.S. (multiple sclerosis) and needed ongoing care until her death at the age 70. Gerry spent decades living with and helping Mary; bathing her, dressing her, feeding her, and giving her worthwhile activities to engage with and enjoy. The world would encourage Geraldine to go off and live her own life but Gerry loved her sister as herself, as Jesus Christ and her Catholic Faith taught her to do. Geraldine died on her eighty-second birthday.

Geraldine, Genghis, and John are three very different people, who lived very different lives, but they share these things in common: all three lived, all three died, the souls of all three will have been judged, and all three of them will rise again. “For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of God,” and “each of us shall give an accounting of himself to God,” and all the dead shall rise again on the Last Day.

What will be important at our Last Judgment? What will matter on the Last Day? Jesus tells us:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the land.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the clean of heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.”

Remember that Jesus Christ is the measure of what matters. And in the end, every knee shall bend before him, either in resentful submission, as with the condemned, or in faithful love, as his holy ones.

Pray for Geraldine’s soul. Like gold in a furnace, she might still require the healing fire of God to purify her sin-wounded person into perfect flawlessness, so that God may take her to the fully-unveiled presence of his all-holy self. But do not fear for her, for in the words of the Book of Wisdom: “Those who trust in him shall understand truth, [including the truth about what is most important,] and the faithful shall abide with him in love. Grace and mercy are with his holy ones, and his care is with his elect.”

Does Jesus Have an Arc?

September 19, 2021

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) in The Hunger Games (2014)

When I was growing up, my dad read a lot of science fiction novels and he once made an observation that I’ve remembered ever since. He noted how science fiction stories always feature some futuristic thing (like cloning, time-machines, or space travel) but if a sci-fi story only talked about the technology, it would be boring. “Every good story,” he said, “is a story about people.” It’s true. All great stories, be they found in literature, television, or film, are stories about people – interesting characters living through events.

What do Katniss Everdeen, Sir Thomas More, and Paddington Bear have in common? They are all film characters with the same kind of character arc. A character arc refers to the inner journey of a character throughout the course of a story. A character may go here or there, and do this or that, but their character arc is their transformation as a person. There are three main types of character arc: Positive, Negative, and Flat.

Positive arc characters change for the better. They originally believe lies about themselves and the world, things like “I’ll never find true love,” or “I can’t be a warrior.” But by the end, they’ve found the truth, embraced it, and triumphed. Most of the stories you’ve seen or heard are stories like this. Negative arc characters, on the other hand, change for the worse. They come to accept lies and wickedness. Villains’ origin stories are like this. Michael Corleone from The Godfather or Walter White in Breaking Bad are famous examples of characters with negative arcs. Katniss Everdeen, Thomas More, and Paddington, however, are characters of a third type; characters who do not change.

Flat arc characters possess the truth and live it out from the start of their stories to the end. These characters also experience struggles like the others, but rather than being transformed themselves they transform the people and world around them. In The Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen, from beginning to end, knows that the tyrannical government is evil and is willing to sacrifice herself for others (as for her little sister, Prim). In A Man for All Seasons, 1966’s Best Picture winning film about a real-life Catholic saint, Sir Thomas More is a man of virtue who endures persecution for refusing to swear a false oath against his conscience and God’s law. And throughout the Paddington movies, young Paddington remains consistently earnest, honest, polite, and friendly while enhancing the lives of the people he meets.

When we consider the Gospels and the Book of Acts as stories (indeed, true stories and the greatest ever told) what kind of arcs do we find? What kind of arc does Jesus Christ have, and what sort of characters are his apostles? Though Jesus is born as a baby and grows into adulthood, though he ministers and is put to death as a suffering servant and returns as triumphant Lord, Christ’s inner self remains the same. The Person of Jesus Christ is divine, the eternal Son of God, a flat arc character who remains the same “yesterday, today, and forever.” He knows the wickedness of the world and sacrifices himself for others. He only speaks the truth and makes no compromise with evil, despite its persecutions. And his love converts the hearts of others, healing and saving the world around him. Jesus is the model, the pattern, the archetype, of every true hero.

What is the character arc of his apostles? The Gospels do not hide their flaws. We catch them arguing among themselves about who is the greatest. They still believe the world’s lies about who and what’s important, which produces the disorders St. James describes: jealousy, envy, and selfish ambition, greed, fighting, and slavery to passions, with every foul practice. But by the Book of Acts, the apostles’ positive arc has led each of them (except Judas Iscariot) to see that the greatest of all is not the ruler over peoples but the one who cares for even little ones. Jesus’ apostles have become new men, loving servants of all in the likeness of their Lord.

We human beings love stories. That’s part of why Jesus so often taught in parables. But why do we love stories so much? And why do we root for the underdogs, such as Rocky Balboa, Forrest Gump, or Joan of Arc? We love them because we are in a story ourselves, God’s great underdog story, in which you and I are characters. Our lives are important subplots to Christ’s overarching saga. We are co-authoring with Jesus our own character arcs within it.

Will you rise higher and higher in a positive arc, finding the truth in Christ’s Church, embracing the truth and living it out? Will you eventually become like Jesus and his greatest saints, who hold to the truth in a flat arc, blessing and transforming all around them? Or, following lies into darkness, will a negative arc lead you to final tragedy and disaster? If you are on this downward path, realize that a vast audience in heaven looks on, longing for a plot-twist which you can accomplish with Christ. But do not delay, for you do not know how many more pages of the book or minutes in the movie remain before your life’s eternal epilogue. This Sunday’s gospel antiphon acclaims: “God has called us through the Gospel to possess the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Let us whole-heartedly play our part in Jesus Christ’s heroic saga, that we may also share in his story’s glorious happy ending.

Following the Shepherd

September 12, 2021

24th Sunday in Ordinary Time

[Homily Part 1 at both parishes]

Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter replied, “You are the Christ.” That was a correct and inspired answer. Jesus then began to openly teach his disciples that he, as the Christ, must greatly suffer, be rejected by the Jewish religious leaders, be murdered, and rise after three days. Peter then took Jesus aside and began to correct him. St. Matthew reports that Peter said, “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you!” At this, Jesus turned and, looking at his disciples, rebuked Peter in return, saying, “Get behind me, Satan. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” Jesus calls St. Peter, his apostle, his Church’s first pope—“Satan.” What are we to make of this?

Satan” is the title given to the highest angel who rebelled against God at the beginning of Creation. The Book of Revelation recalls how “the serpent of old who is called the devil and Satan, who deceives the whole world … was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.” Jesus talks about this Evil One: “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. … He was a murderer from the beginning and does not stand in truth, because there is no truth in him. …He is a liar and the father of lies.” Both Jesus Christ and his Church today definitely believe in the Devil and that he prowls about the world opposing God and our good. But Jesus does not accuse Peter of being that fallen angel.

The Hebrew word “satan” means “adversary.” Jesus calls Peter his adversary at that moment because he is opposing God’s plan and being an obstacle in Jesus’ path. Like the Devil during the Temptations in the Desert, Peter is suggesting that Jesus be a Messiah who never suffers, a rich, powerful, comfortable Christ who imposes his will over peoples in the same mold as earthly kings. This is what Peter and Judas and the Jews in those days expected. But Jesus knew that the Christ must greatly suffer if the Kingdom of God would save human souls.

During the forty days in the desert, Jesus rebuked the Devil, “Get away, Satan!” And at the Last Judgment, Christ the King upon his throne will tell the unrighteous goats on his left, “Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.” But notice Jesus does not say to Peter “get away” or “depart from me.” Jesus tells him, “get behind me.” Peter is not yet thinking as God does but the Lord Jesus does not desire to cast Peter off forever, if that fate can be avoided. If Peter would humbly follow Jesus, the Lord would show him the Way. Jesus saying “get behind me” was not a personal rejection of Peter, but asking him to follow his Good Shepherd from a new perspective to the Promised Land of heaven.

[Homily Part 2 at St. Paul’s]

Peter thought he had a great plan for Jesus and himself, but Jesus had a different plan, a more challenging plan, but a better plan for them both.

There is godly prudence in our forming of plans and working hard to achieve them. Like in Aesop’s fable about the ant and the grasshopper, the Book of Proverbs urges the lazy to work and prepare for tomorrow: “Go to the ant, O sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise. Without having any chief, officer, or ruler, she prepares her bread in summer and gathers her food in harvest.” St. Paul believed in Divine Providence, but also taught the Thessalonians: “When we were with you, we instructed you that if anyone was unwilling to work, neither should that one eat.” And Jesus said, “Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Won’t you first sit down and estimate the cost to see if you have enough money to complete it?” Jesus then encourages his hearers to be just as prudently intentional and totally invested in being his disciple. It is good for us to make plans and work hard toward worthy goals. But we should also keep in mind that all of our earthly plans are uncertain.

We simply do not know what our remaining time on this earth will be like. St. James writes in his New Testament Letter: “Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we shall go into such and such a town, spend a year there doing business, and make a profit’ — you have no idea what your life will be like tomorrow. You are a puff of smoke that appears briefly and then disappears. Instead you should say, ‘If the Lord wills it, we shall live to do this or that.’” As another verse from the Book of Proverbs says: “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.

In this land of the living, we do not know our earthly futures and we cannot control everything to make our futures entirely as we’d like. But then again, who’s to say that knowing our future perfectly would be good for us? Who’s to say that having the power to craft a future exactly to our liking, would be best for us? We very well may not know what is best for us and what is best for us may not be something we would readily choose. We do not always think as God does, but as human beings do.

Young Simon Peter could not imagine that the Christ would be killed, but this was how Jesus would save the world. Young Peter used to dress himself and go where he wanted; but when he grew old, he stretched out his hands and someone else dressed him and led him where he did not want to go. Jesus had foretold this to Peter, signifying by what kind of death he would glorify God in the divine plan: crucified in the likeness of his friend and Lord and God, and sharing (more than most) in his glory. Our personalized path to sainthood may not be the one we’d expect or choose for ourselves.

We ought to plan and work hard towards worthy goals, even though this broken world and the sins of men and demons make all of our plans uncertain. Our human sight and wisdom are limited. We do not always see, or have the courage to pursue, what is best for us. But we do know, as St. Paul taught the Romans, “that God works all things for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Jesus tells us, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it.” With this firm confidence, let us get behind Jesus Christ and follow him who leads our lives to salvation even through the Cross.

[Homily Part 2 at St. John the Baptist’s]

This is where your homily this morning diverges from what I’m preaching at St. Paul’s this weekend because I have been meaning to talk to you about ad Orientem Masses. Since the Second Vatican Council, the most common way priests have celebrated Mass is versus populum, or “towards the people.” Yet the much longer-practiced custom has been for the priest and the people to face literally or symbolically towards the East together, or “ad Orientem.” Like Muslims today who pray towards Mecca, the custom of the Jews was to pray towards the Temple in their holy city of Jerusalem. The writings of the Church Fathers show that the early Christians prayed towards the east.

In the second century, St. Clement of Alexandria wrote “prayers are made looking towards the sunrise in the east.” And in the third century, Origen noted: “…Of all the quarters of the heavens, the east is the only direction we turn to when we pour out prayer…” Tertullian records that Christians facing east to pray caused some non-Christians to mistakenly believe we worshiped the sun. But the Christians praying towards the sunrise saw a symbol of Christ rising from the dead and of his promised return to earth in radiant glory one day. Throughout the centuries, even in churches which were not built to face east, the priest and the people faced the same direction (or “liturgical east”) together. However, since the 1970’s the prevailing custom has been for the priest to face towards the congregation.

Now I am not saying that one way of celebrating English Masses is good and the other way is terrible. The Catholic Church approves both versus populum and ad Orientem as valid, legitimate options. But these two ways of celebrating the Mass emphasize different things. Celebrating versus populum, toward the people, emphasizes the horizontal aspect, the communal meal. And the Holy Mass is indeed a meal, a memorial of the Last Supper; where Jesus Christ and his disciples gather at his table. Celebrating ad Orientem, toward the East, emphasizes the vertical aspect, the sacrificial offering. And the Holy Mass is indeed a sacrifice, a memorial of the Cross; where Jesus Christ is offered up for us from his altar.

I experienced my first ad Orientem Mass back when I was still in seminary. The celebrant was a priest of our diocese, a graduate from our seminary returning to visit us, Fr. Derek Sakowski. I remember fearing that I would hate the Mass being said that way because I often dislike change. (For instance, our seminary once changed the toaster in the dining hall and, even though I almost never used that old toaster, I was annoyed when they had replaced it with another because the old one was pleasantly familiar.) Fr. Sakowski said the same English prayers as at other Masses, but seeing him celebrating that Mass ad Orientem, facing us when speaking to us and facing God when praying to God, I found it surprisingly beautiful and it made a lot of sense. Here at St. John the Baptist Church, I’ve celebrated our Monday, Thursday, and First Friday Masses ad Orientem since 2019, and attendees have reported positive experiences similar to mine. I’d like to give you the opportunity to experience this, too.

Around fifty years ago, when versus populum (Mass facing the people) became the prevailing custom in the Church, pastors often introduced the liturgical change abruptly and without adequate explanation. It was jarring, many lay people were bewildered and hurt, and public Masses celebrated ad Orientem were very rarely offered. I do not wish to repeat those mistakes going in the opposite direction.

Having consulted with our Parish Pastoral Council (who encouraged me to proceed with this plan) I’d like to alternate celebrating Masses ad Orientem and versus populum over four upcoming weekends. This means that if you consistently attend the same Mass time over those four weeks, you’ll experience the English Mass offered ad Orientem twice. Come with an open mind. After that, I’ll survey your feedback. Which approach do you find more fruitful? Which weekend Mass would you like to see celebrated ad Orientem on a regular basis: Saturday night, Sunday morning, neither, or both? I’ll want to hear what would help you worship best, and then we’ll go from there. For now, let us turn to Jesus Christ who invites us this morning, like St. Peter before us, to share in his holy meal and his perfect sacrifice.

Ephphatha! Be Opened!

September 5, 2021

23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

What message does the Holy Spirit want you to hear through this homily? In what way does Jesus want you to be opened?

In today’s gospel, people bring to Jesus a deaf man with a speech impediment. They had heard Jesus’ teachings and reports of his miracles. Maybe they had seen and experienced his healing power themselves, so they bring this man to Jesus and beg the Lord to lay his hand and heal him. See how they lead someone they care about to meet Jesus and intercede before the Lord on his behalf. You and I are called to bring people to Jesus, too, and pray to God for their salvation. This gospel story shows that miracles can happen when we do.

Jesus takes this deaf man off by himself, away from the crowd. Like St. Zachariah, the father of St. John the Baptist, whose neighbors and relatives had resorted to making gestures to ask him the name of his newborn son, the deaf man’s speech problem is related (at least in part) to his inability to hear. Jesus wills to restore both the man’s hearing and speech, and see how our Lord does it: he puts his finger into the man’s ears and, spitting, touches the man’s tongue. Notice that Jesus does not heal this man through a word alone but through a physical encounter with himself. Likewise, Jesus encounters us today not only through his Scriptures and his Spirit, but through his Body and his Sacraments. The visible Church of Christ on earth and this material world have key parts to play in our salvation. And notice that this deaf man is delivered not merely through action alone, but also through prayer.

Jesus looks up to his Father God in heaven and groans, and says to the man, “Be opened!” (which is, “Ephphatha” in the Aramaic tongue). Behold the intensity of Jesus’ desire for this man’s good, the yearning in our Lord’s prayer. St. Paul writes in his Letter to the Romans that the Holy Spirit intercedes within us to help us intensely will what God wills, aiding our prayer with what Paul calls “inexpressible groanings.” St. Augustine preaches that the task of prayer “is generally accomplished more through sighs than words, more through weeping than speech.” So remember that you do not need many eloquent words in order to powerfully pray. A heartfelt groan can obtain a miracle.

Jesus says to the man, “Be opened!” and immediately the man’s ears are opened, the man’s mouth opens too, and he begins speaking plainly. The Holy Spirit inspired this story’s inclusion within St. Mark’s Gospel, and Christ’s Church recalls this episode in her Masses all around the world today. This is because Jesus’ healing of that deaf man has relevance for us all. This is reflected at sacrament of baptism. There is a custom of the priest or deacon touching the baby’s ears and lips with his thumb and praying: “May the Lord Jesus, who made the deaf to hear and the mute to speak, grant that you may soon receive his word with your ears and profess the faith with your lips, to the glory of God the Father. Amen.” This tradition is called the Ephphatha Rite. The story of Jesus curing that deaf man is meant to make us consider: how is the Lord wishing me, commanding me, to be opened?

Today’s first reading from the Prophet Isaiah proclaims that our God comes to save us, to clear the ears of the deaf and cause the tongues of the mute to sing. But this reading begins by saying “to those whose hearts are frightened: Be strong, fear not!” Do not be afraid of what our Lord wishes for you. Be strong and fulfill his command. Ephphatha! Be opened! But in what way does Jesus want you to be opened? Would he open your ears to somehow listen, or open your mouth to somehow speak, or open your heart to feel somehow, or open your mind to somehow think anew? The Holy Spirit can tell you.

Perhaps, like St. James talks about in today’s second reading, you are called to be more open to respecting and caring for the poor. Or perhaps there’s a person in your life whom you’ve been overlooking, neglecting someone you are called to be more open to. Maybe Jesus would take you off by yourself, away from the crowd, to be open to more daily prayer, or calling to follow him more closely in your vocation.

After curing the deaf man, Jesus ordered that the miracle be kept secret (for the time was not ripe for it to be shared). Yet the more he commanded this, the more they proclaimed it. Now we are commanded to share the Good News with others, and yet we are often silent. Perhaps Jesus wants you to be open to speaking with other people about your Faith. Maybe invite a non-Catholic person you’re close to to attend RCIA, which begins at St. Paul’s on September 16th.

I do not know in what particular way God desires you to be opened. But I believe that Jesus Christ, who “has done all things well,” who succeeded in making even the ears of a deaf man hear him, can surely tell you his will through the Spirit.