The Challenge of All Souls’ Day

By the way, just as a reminder/clarification. Those of you who were reading my reflections over the summer may have noticed that my language is a bit different now than then. The main reason for this is that my classmates (actually, only seven of them) are my "congregation" now. This represents an element of how we are trained to preach. Instead of making up homilies for an "imaginary" or "hypothetical" congregation, we simply preach to our brother seminarians. The theory is that this way of practicing will help us learn to interpret life with the scriptures better than trying to apply the scriptures to imagined conditions. So, if you're wondering why my language isn't gender-inclusive anymore, or why my reflections might seem less relevant to the average person in the pew, this is why. In fact, we are now recording our homilies, so in the next week or two it might be possible for me to post the video online. I had also thought some of you might find it interesting to see the way we evaluate one another's homilies in class. If you'd be interested in seeing the forms and the comments my classmates make, let me know and I'll ask if they would mind my posting them online for you all to see.

The Church gives us several options for readings to be used on the Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed (a.k.a. "All Souls' Day"). For my homily in class, I chose to work with Jn 11:32-45.

The picture we get from the accounts of Mother Theresa's life is one of a persistent, energetic, strong-willed advocate for the poor and down-trodden. The stories we hear of the people—the sick, the dying, the abandoned—that she sought out and brought in from the streets of Calcutta reveal a woman who was aggressive and irascible in her compassion. For Mother Theresa, no one was beyond hope. No one was beyond the reach of God's love. And no one, absolutely no one, would be allowed to forget that while in her presence. Her persistence in her work is such that I have this image of her up in Heaven, interceding, and by "interceding" I mean hounding, God on behalf of all those poor on the streets of Calcutta whom she still loves.

Now, why do I mention this? Well, I want to put this image of Mother Theresa in your minds as a stark contrast to the people in today's gospel—these people who are all too willing to be skeptical about Jesus' power to heal and save. The commentators will point out that there is a tendency to soften the harshness of Jesus' emotions as they are described in the original Greek. "Perturbed" doesn't quite capture the strength of Jesus' emotion here. The Greek vividly describes Jesus' anger, not sadness, at Martha, Mary and the Jews present—anger at their lack of faith in him and his power.

John, of course, gives us a relatively sober version of the story, but in my mind's eye I can see Jesus saying "Get that stone out of the way!" "But, Lord… there will be a stench…." "I SAID, MOVE THE STONE‼!" I think it would be wise on our part, brothers, not to imitate these people in the gospel today. Instead, we must ask ourselves whether we truly have the faith to facilitate Jesus' work, or whether we instead get in the way.

Do we always look at the occasions of sin as opportunities for God's omnipotent mercy to be manifested here and now?

Or, does our faith, like that of Martha and Mary in this story, stop at what Jesus could have done had things turned out differently?

When in the midst of the seemingly hopeless situation, when we are with people who seem to have placed themselves beyond the reach of love, what do we do?

Do we anticipate Jesus' miraculous redeeming power? Do we take the initiative to "roll away the stone?"

Or, do we stand there objecting when Jesus tells us to roll away the stones of poor choices and unseal the tombs of despair in which sinners are locked?

Admittedly, these are often even well-intentioned responses of people who understand the universal need for the salvation that Jesus offers.

On days like All Souls' when we take time to focus on those who have gone before us with the tell-tale signs of the bumps and bruises of life in a fallen world, we cannot help but be reminded of those we love who have gone before us not-so-clearly-marked by the sign of faith. The relevant question is do we despair over their salvation and abandon them in the tombs they have hewn? Or rather, do we think about the widow of Nain, who moves Jesus with her tears to raise her son, and go to work on their behalf in our prayer, pestering God to extend his mercy to those we love???

I call your attention to the Offertory prayer the Church prescribes for All Souls' Day…

O Lord Jesus Christ, King of Glory, deliver the souls of all the departed faithful from the sufferings of hell and from the deep pit; deliver them from the mouth of the lion, may they not be swallowed up by hell, may they not fall into darkness; but may Saint Michael, the standard-bearer, present them in holy light as you promised long ago to Abraham and his descendants. We offer our sacrifices and our prayers to you, O Lord; receive them for the souls that we are remembering today; O lord, make them pass from death into life as you promised…

Glory to Jesus Christ! Glory Forever!

~J

Love: The Measure of Christian Greatness

Readings for the 30^th Week in Ordinary Time were from Ex 22:20-26; Ps 18:2-3, 3-4, 47, 51; 1 Thes 1:5c-10; and Mt 22:34-40.

Recently in our Special Moral class with Dr. Barrett, we've been reading a lot of Josef Pieper's work on the virtues. It struck me as I was going through the readings that he highlights acedia as being opposed to several of the virtues. He describes it as a fear of embracing the greatness for which God has destined us. This fear then leads us away from wanting to acquire virtue because we fear the responsibility, the greatness, that it brings.

But what does this greatness look like exactly? Christian greatness—our Lord makes it very clear in today's gospel—is loving "the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind… and loving your neighbor as yourself." The two commands are inextricably linked with each other; the deepening in one perfects the practice of the other. But "Why is this true?"

Frank Sinatra had a song that went like this, "Falling in love with love is falling for make believe. Falling in love with love is playing a fool…." God bless Frank, but he had it all wrong! This is the very heart of the command that Jesus says sums up all the law and the prophets. Let me put it this way, only when we are indeed in love with love itself can we truly love as Jesus shows us, selflessly, loving others as ourselves and not for ourselves. But what does this look like?

Last week, I was talking with a priest from my diocese, and he shared with me his view of Jesus' embrace of the passion. He said, "I see a Jesus who leaps onto the cross and is happy to do it again and again and again." What a striking and yet perplexing image this is. How is it that Jesus can sacrifice himself, take on such terrible suffering, submit to such abject humiliation—and do it, not resentfully, not sorrowfully, not even hesitantly, but with sweet abandon?! The answer, at least in part, is that he can see how much his self-sacrifice helps us; he knows that it saves us, and he is happy to save us, no matter what the personal cost, because he loves us that much. His love for us is so perfect, so great, that our salvation brings him immense joy. His love for the Father above all else is what makes sharing a love of such intensity even possible. He can still delight in giving his love to all humanity, even to those people who will reject it, because he can delight in the act of loving itself. This is the fruit of placing the love of God, a love for love itself, ahead of all other love. It goes without saying that our call to act in the person of Christ as head and shepherd is a call to embrace this kind of love for God and for his people. It is a call to make the words of the psalmist our own where he says, "You have placed within my heart a marvelous love for the faithful ones who dwell in the land." It also goes without saying that this is a tall order.

But, we get to train for it; our time here at seminary, it seems to me, is filled with opportunities to prepare ourselves for this kind of self-gift. Think of all the ways in which we can practice generosity here at the seminary. We can share our livelihood. Something as simple as setting aside our spare change for the Baby bottle campaign. We can share our time, the most precious resource of the seminarian. Run a study group. Be a conversation partner for a guy learning a second language. But most importantly, take the time to notice whether a brother needs a hand, and if he does, offer it. And above all, we can share our very presence. Are we available to our brother seminarians? If they reach out to us, will we be there for them? Or, do we start checking our watches 10 minutes into Cam night? Complain for an entire week leading up to and following a retreat about the work we won't accomplish? Are we away from the campus every weekend working in a parish, so that when it comes time for endorsement, no one really knows who we are, and we don't really know anyone else? Are we preparing to act as Christ the shepherd present among the flock he has been given, or are we setting ourselves up for the "Where's Father?" award?

In short, the challenges of community life here and now are opportunities to reach out in selfless love. They are opportunities to become great Christians. If we run away from these challenges, we are running away from Christian greatness. It does not make a difference where we run to. At the end of the day, the double command of Jesus is the measuring stick which judges all the thoughts and actions of any Christian.

Now, if Christians are to be known by their love for one another, we who would be priests must always ask ourselves, "How will these good Christian people recognize me as their priest?" Frankly, if we do not first become great Christians by this standard, if we do not gain a love for love itself that makes us capable of always loving joyfully the fellow Christians surrounding us here and now, they never will.

Glory to Jesus Christ! Glory Forever!

~J

P.S. I usually like to include a picture with each post, but trying to find something appropriate for Christian love… well… let's just say the ad nauseam plethora of cutesy-poo images out there betrays the lack of seriousness with which people understand love. So, at least this picture at the top is impressive in its own right. God Bless!