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Tuesday, 21st Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

August 25, 2009

Jesus said,

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, you hypocrites. You pay tithes of mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier things of the law: judgment and mercy and fidelity. (But) these you should have done, without neglecting the others.”

The Mosaic Law commanded that one tenth of the produce of the land, of the new animals and the harvest, to be given (or tithed) to the priests and the temple. The scribal tradition had apparently extended this law to even the smallest herbs.

Jesus is not criticizing tithing, but rather the focusing on little externals for others to see, rather than on the important things. He is criticizing the practice religion with more interest in appearing holy than in actually and thoroughly being holy.

Have you ever been quietly praying, realized that someone might be seeing you, and then toned down your outward signs of piety? Maybe you wished that you could be invisible, so that nobody could see you, so that you could keep praying as before. We try not to look too holy. It’s good to be humble, and to not be a distraction to another’s prayer, and not to be after the empty praise of men, but how much of our experience, of subduing our outward signs of devotion, is actually really due to fear?

The Pharisees were concerned about other people seeing their acts of devotion so that others would think better of them. But I think our problem is different; we don’t want people to see our devotion, so they won’t think worse of us.

In Jesus’ setting, religious dedication was likely to be admired. Seeing the Pharisees carefully measure out their gifts at the temple an observer might say, “Wow, he even tithes his herbs and spices!  What a righteous son of Abraham!” But in our culture, the opposite of admiration, or contempt, often comes from Christian devotion.  “I heard that he and his wife give 10% to their church every year! Talk about brainwashed, religious kooks!”

If Jesus’ time was disposed to the fault of showy religiosity, ours seems inclined to religious timidity, or cowardice. Consider, how often does the name of Jesus, or the mention of God, leave our lips when we’re outside of Church? Do we pray at home before meals? Good! But what about when we go out to eat at restaurants?

I don’t think that most of us here are in danger of the Pharisees’ sin, of flaunting our piety before others, so much as we are in danger of being ashamed of Christ before men. As Jesus says, “Whoever is ashamed of me and of my words, the Son of Man will be ashamed of when he comes in his glory and in the glory of the Father and of the holy angels.”

We should pray when we eat out at restaurants, just like we do at home. And we would all benefit from more frequent, thoughtful conversations about God and Jesus in our lives. And perhaps, instead of wishing that no one else would see you when you pray, maybe next time we should pray as if we didn’t know that there were people around us at all.

These are just little things, little acts of fidelity, but fidelity is one of the weightier things of the Law.

Posted in Chrisitian Virtues, Christian Perfection, Courage, Culture, Homily, Jesus Christ, Last Judgment, Prayer, St. John the Baptist Parish, Weekday Homilies | Leave a Comment »

5th Sunday of Easter—Year B

August 23, 2009

This Sunday our country celebrates our mothers—and rightly so.  For the care and love which our mothers have given us cannot be measured or given a price.  Of course, our earthly parents are not perfect. Sometimes they’re quite far from perfect.  But any love we’ve known from them is a likeness of the love God has for us. A religious icon is made of mere wood and paint, but it can be a window to heavenly realities. In the same way, we can see through our parents’ love a glimpse to God himself.

Most of us have more memories about our mothers than we could possibly count, but today I would like to go with you back to a time and place about which you have no clear memories—to the time in your mother’s womb. Just as the Hebrews were 40 years in the desert; just as Jesus prepared 40 days in the wilderness; and just as Christ rested 40 hours until his resurrection from the tomb; so you remained 40 weeks, more or less, within your mother’s womb, being prepared for a new life.

Through your mother’s vine you grew into the mature fruit of her womb. You were nourished and grew within her. You were never far from her heart or mind. You existed in within her, connected to her at the center of your being.      She fed you with her very self. She provided for all your needs. Apart from her, you could do nothing. You remained in her and found rest in her.

At the early stages of our life in the womb, our minds did not comprehend very much, but what if you could have understood everything that your mom was doing for you at the time? Certainly you would have directed your thoughts to her often.  And certainly, from time to time, you would have turned to her with the eyes of your heart to bask in her love for you.

And imagine further what if you could have talked with your mom from the womb? Would you not have taken the opportunity to speak with her every day? Would you not have thanked her daily out of a deep gratitude? Would you not have let her know each day how much you love her? Whoever would refuse or neglect to do so would continue to live, at least functionally or biologically, but the person would not be fully alive without this relationship .

As you and your mother would continue to talk as the days and months of pregnancy passed, she would eventually present you with a most-frightening prospect: She might say, “My child, soon, in a little while, you are going to begin an new stage of life. You will be departing from the life you know, and then you’ll experience a world of people and things you have never known before.” But you would say, “I’m scared, I don’t want to go, not now, not ever!” But she would say, “I realize this concept is scary for you, but trust me when I say that it is better that you go. In fact, someday soon you’ll look back and think it a silly thought to be again as you are now. This transition is going to hurt a little bit… trust me, I know… but when the appointed time comes, I’ll be right here with you. Do not be afraid.”

This morning we reflect on this time in the womb because our life in our mothers is like our life in Christ. As it was with our mothers, so it is, in this life, with Christ. You are nourished and grow within Him. You are never far from His heart or mind. You exist in within Him, connected to Him at the center of your being. He feeds you with His very self. He provides for all your needs. Apart from Him, you can do nothing. You remain in Him and find rest in Him.

Knowing and believing this, shouldn’t we direct our thoughts to Him often? Shouldn’t we, from time to time, turn to Him with the eyes of our hearts to bask in His love for us.

We have the ability to talk with Jesus Christ. Who would not take the opportunity to speak with Him every day? Who would not thank Him daily out of deepest gratitude? And who would not let Him know each day how much we love Him? Whoever would refuse or neglect to talk with Him, that is to pray, would continue to live, at least functionally or biologically, but the person would not be fully alive without this relationship with Jesus Christ. We need to pray every day if we want to remain in Him and to bear much fruit.

None of us want to die and that’s perfectly natural. But Jesus says to us, “Soon, in a little while, you are going to begin a new stage of life. You will be departing from the life you know, and then you’ll experience a world of people and things you have never known before. I realize this concept is scary for you, but trust me when I say that it is better that you go. In fact, someday soon you’ll look back and think it a silly thought to be as you are now again. This transition is going to hurt a little bit… trust me, I know… but when the appointed time comes, I’ll be right there with you. Be not afraid.”

Today, let us thank God for the gift of our mothers and the gift of Jesus Christ.  God bless our mothers, and praised be Jesus Christ.

Posted in Chrisitian Virtues, Courage, Exodus, Faith, Heaven, Homily, Jesus Christ, Last Things, Love, Motherhood, Prayer, Resurrection, Sunday Homilies, Trust | 1 Comment »

Funeral for Robert J. Wallig, 89

August 18, 2009

In late 1942, at the young age of twenty-two, Robert Wallig went off to war. He bravely answered his call and helped in winning the Second World War. He served as an army medic, in the European theater, earning a Bronze Star. Bob was going to go on to become a medic after the war, but the coming of the first of his five beloved children and changed his and Donna’s plans. I am told that Robert never liked to talk very much about his wartime abroad—which is a strong indication that he witnessed and experienced some very difficult things back then.

There are not many World War II veterans still around, but I tell you, there is still a world war being fought today, and you and I are in its combat theater. I am not speaking so much about the War on Terror or any other particular war between peoples or nations.  Such wars among flesh and blood are just the manifestations of a broader, less visible war.  The World War I’m speaking of is a spiritual war being waged between Christ and the principalities and powers who oppose Him.  We cannot see this spiritual conflict directly, but we can see in our world the consequences of its victories and losses.  We can feel and recognize its skirmishes being fought inside of us.  The battle is for our souls. This is why the Church here on earth is called the Church militant, and why St. Paul so often uses military language—because we are in a war.

 Our demonic adversaries in this campaign are more evil than the Nazis and manipulated by a leader far more dark than Hitler. Yet we should not be afraid.

For “What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? No, in all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Fear is the only real weapon our enemy has. Their strategy is to make us mistrust our Lord and to choose another, renegade path of our own, to divide us, apart from God and apart from one another. But we fight together as a band of brothers on the side of Christ, who has already won the greater part of the battle. Jesus says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” The only way a Christian can be lost in this war is through surrendering to the enemy.

Occasionally, we may be wounded by sin during this cosmic battle, but these wounds can be healed, through the sacraments which Christ, our field medic, has provided for our care. Yet even after the gapping wounds of our sins are closed through the sacraments, scars can often still remain; scars of fear, guilt, sadness, bitterness, resentment, regret, and the like. After we have fought the good fight by the grace, and are honorably discharged from this life, such scars can still remain an can delay our entry into the Church triumphant in heaven; where the saints now fully enjoy their victory won. Instead, our scars may keep us just outside heaven, in what is called the Church suffering, or rather, the Church healing, for the path to our healing can be painful. This is a place of hope called purgatory, where souls are being healed, completed and made perfect for heaven.

Like the general of Israel, Judas Maccabeus, whom  we heard about of in the first reading, let us offer sacrifice and prayers for our fallen brother.  Our prayers, united to the one and perfect sacrifice of Jesus Christ, which we really encounter here at the Mass, can help to heal Robert of any and all of the scars he might have.

I’m sure that all of you know Robert far better than I, you know what sort of man he is, and from what I have been told that is very good, so you have the well-founded hope that he is well on his way in Christ. But I ask of you, a favor for him, the same favor that I would ask for myself if it were possible for me to preach at my own funeral:  to please pray for him. It can only do him good, and perhaps very great deal of good.

In the decades after the war, Robert did many, many things. Among these, Robert worked as a custodian for one of God’s own homes, a church in Kenosha.  He also worked as a manager for others’ residences, including apartments here in Marshfield. He repaired the boilers, emptied the trash, painted the walls, cleaned what was dirty, and did whatever else was necessary for the place to be ready and just right. Jesus tells us, in our Father’s house there are many dwelling places. Christ has been at work, busy preparing a perfect place for Robert. So let us help Robert to get moved in, and to become completely settled, in this new home.

Posted in Courage, Funeral Homilies, Heaven, Homily, Last Things, Purgatory, Spiritual Warfare, St. John the Baptist Parish | Leave a Comment »

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