Sunday Readings

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Want What?

When we look back over history, we can ask honestly if religion has made life better. We base this on two beliefs. On one hand, we ask for and expect God's blessing. On the other hand, we believe religion promises to make life better. And having asked that question, you will not take long to come to the answer "no. Religion has not made life better for most people on earth."

I have to agree with that. The wars of religion, the conflicts in the Middle East and Northern Ireland, and closer to home, the horror September 11th offer sufficient proof that religion has actually made life worse -- in certain cases.

But here's the thing: religion doesn't really promise a better life. Religion is the human organization of people and their faith. And being human, religion is flawed. The examples I gave are pretty self-evident. Almost all of them are the result not of faith, but the misinterpretation of faith.

I know how this sounds. You can question the pope, the Bible, and God Himself. But in today's world, you will be accused of cruelty if you question someone's faith. Somewhere along the line - probably emerging from the mud of Woodstock - we all became popes, wrote our own Bibles, and even discovered that we were God.

Oh yes, we can laugh at that, but when all is said and done, it seems to be what we see all around. And it would be hard to dispute that most people hold as a matter of belief that religion will make life better. Or at least it should.

Where's the proof? Just look the readings today; they are about restoration. The exiles are promised a mass migration bringing them home to the Promised Land. The Gospel is a story of a man healed by the goodness of the very God who created all things good. And aren't we here praying that God makes us secure and even happy in this life? If that's not a description of a "better life", I don't know what is.

So in the middle of today's Gospel, why does Jesus ask Wartimes such strange question? Isn't it obvious; the guy is blind? Actually, it's not obvious. Bartimaeus had an entire life based on being blind. He had been living on the charity of others and knew the world only as a blind man. He would lose everything if he gained his sight. He would have to adjust every moment of his day to the new reality compliments of the miraculous healing power of Jesus Christ. If we get upset when they change the TV line-up or the bus schedule, imagine how difficult it must have been for Bartimaeus. In certain ways, this healing would make his life more difficult than it was before. Maybe he would come to the conclusion that religion was supposed to make life better but didn't.

When Jesus asked him "what do you want", He was asking for more than his preferences. Jesus was asking him if he is truly ready for restoration and all it implies. He asks Bartimaeus if he wants to experience the goodness of God even more than the convenience of a better life. It's a question we can ask ourselves in our own day.

So what is it that we want? Do we prefer the illusion that faith will make the fantasy of a better life a reality? Are we content with the darkness of limited hope or do we dare the light of brilliant glory? Are we seeking a comfortable life or comfort of the soul?

We all take a little from column A and a little from column B. As human beings, our intentions are neither pure nor perfect. We don't ask this question only once. Every saint asked this question every day, many times a day. Our search for the better life (as we call it) is really the search for restoration. Asking ourselves this question sharpens and purifies our search. The transient comforts we all love and wish for point to a deeper and more lasting way of existing in the grace of God. We have to be careful because it is so easy to mistake what is passing for what is permanent. As much as we often do not like to, we all -- in the words of Garth Brooks -- have to admit that "some of God's greatest blessings are unanswered prayers."

There is no question that a true faith believes in a God who is truly good. This is a faith that professes a God who is generous enough to never give us anything harmful to our ultimate destiny with Him. It can be hard for us to see that from the limited view of a sin-weakened humanity. Like Bartimaeus, we can be blind to this goodness, needing a difficult challenge of seeing the possibility of restoration.

But whether we cry out with our lips or our lives, we hear the encouraging words: "Take courage; get up, Jesus is calling you."

... and He has a question He wants to ask you.

Sunday Readings

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Little Glory

Last week thousands of pilgrims from all over the world attended religious events surrounded by some of the greatest examples of human creativity. We sat under Michelangelo's dome and traveled roads used by the emperors. It seemed like a contradiction. Enveloped in splendor, we were celebrating the merits of remarkable humility. The pageantry of the papal court spoke of the great things God had done in the life of a woman whose highest goal was to be as little as possible.

To the pagan, this is hypocrisy. To the faithful, it is Catholicism. Some could even be scandalized while others could be strengthened. I wasn't the only one trying to reconcile these two apparent differences. How many times have we heard the call to liquidate the priceless treasures of ages past to relieve the distress of the moment?

How do we dare put a price on glory? Actually, it's rather easy to do. The two brothers in the Gospel today were essentially doing that very thing. They were seeking to acquire something very good. I mean is there really anything all that terrible about making a gift and seeking a reward? And we are talking about God after all!

And when it comes to earthly glory, the pharaohs of Egypt, the red-carpet celebrities, and the captains if industry
are all obsessed with making a mark on the world. We even call the monument and empire builders of today "successful" as if the creative act was a virtue in and of itself.

Someone who is the servant of all, someone who is hidden and little does not stand out in our world or anyone else's. If we are not near the throne, it means we are far from it. If you are not "top dog" you are automatically "underdog."

... and then Jesus comes and messes the whole system up. He knows the shallow ambitions of the limited human heart. He recognizes the tantrum of the ego that will never be mollified. And He cautions against the dangerous confusion of human excellence and divine favor.

The Kingdom of God is neither a state nor commonwealth. It is not a ‘new world order’ but a truly new world. It exists in the sovereignty of the Son of God himself. Its constitutions, regulations, and requirements are solely rooted in the person of Jesus Christ. And while we attempt to follow the example of Christ, the reality remains that we are, by grace, the Body of Christ. That is why do in this chapel what is done in the solemnity of the Vatican. In the quiet of a French chapel in Brittany or among the lepers’ huts on Molulai, under the glory of Renaiscance bronze work or in a maritime corner of the Bronx, the only thing that matters – and ever wil – is the presence of the One who remains in the Host as the ransom for the many.

So, no, there is no contradiction between the humility of St. Jeanne Jugan and the inspiring beauty of where it was canonized. Perhaps the wealth and artistry of the past was a poor attempt to celebrate those virtues that can never be bought or copied. Those high examples of achievement and beauty can even inspire us to seek them.

The Christian journey is to build the kingdom Jesus began. Our efforts and mistakes become the history of that Kingdom. Our efforts are blessed and our mistakes are redeemed only in the person of Jesus Christ. A cynic can look at St. Peter's and see a toxic mixture of man's ego and God’s glory. The example and teaching we hear in today's Gospel speaks of something else. It says that God's glory is found in the flawed human effort to be of service to one another. St. Jeanne Jugan is one of those witnesses who encourages us to strive for that high vocation.

As we continue to celebrate this graced moment in the history of our faith, we ask her intercession and wisdom to be what she was and even to do as she did. We live in the real world that so easily gives allegiance to those who have the skills to convince us that these are lasting things. We accept the lie that the lesser glories of service are worthless and foolish. In her littleness and fortitude, our patroness says it is otherwise.

So amid the God-given splendors of this world and the most noble aspirations of the human quest for excellence, the greatest will always be those given away. The struggle of holiness is always the choice between gaining the blessings and blessing the Giver of all good.

St. Mary of the Cross chose to bless God above all.

For this singular grace, we ask St. Jeanne Jugan, pray for us.

Sunday Readings

The Jeanne Jugan Canonization and our Celebration in the Bronx
Next Sunday, 11 October, I will be in Rome for the Canonization of Jeanne Jugan.
I am told I may find some "ok" food there.
Pray that I will!

An Original

"Father, are you going to talk about St. Francis?" Earlier this week, somebody asked me this question because today is the 27th Sunday in ordinary Time and the feast of St. Francis of Assisi. Not being a Franciscan myself or celebrating this Mass in the church dedicated to St. Francis, you would think that was a strange question. Given the readings of today, it would almost seem preferable. So, yes, I am going to speak of St. Francis because of the readings -- not to avoid them.

Throughout the world, Catholic and non-Catholic, Christian and non-Christian, St. Francis is celebrated as an image of true holiness. It can be said that he continues to evangelize centuries later.

One group that has found St. Francis particularly attractive is the environmental movement. It often refers to St. Francis’ ’"Canticle of the Sun" as an example of his love for creation. In it, he calls the sun his brother and the moon his sister. He sings of the beauty found in the natural world and how intimately he is connected with it. Popular images of St. Francis show him to be an old-world hippie complete with long hair intermixed with various organic compounds. Now take that image, and mix in Snow White and her delightful conversations with birds and squirrels and sundry woodland creatures. What is left over maybe very earthy but not very holy.

If you have been to Assisi and experience the natural beauty of that valley, it is almost impossible not to be caught up in rapture of God's majesty. The natural world is an icon of the beauty of God and there is no question St. Francis discovered this. It is as if he had the wisdom to see what God intended when He made the world and pronounced it "very good." His canticle sings of these wonders as do those who seek that same vision.

But I do not think that the modern day libertine neo-hippy would ever sing some of the last lines of that canticle. After extolling the beauty of the earth and the wonders God has entrusted to us, he ends with the words, "but woe to him who dies in mortal sin."

Hold on a second; what happened to St. Francis who talks to wolves and birds and bunny rabbits? The secular view of St. Francis does not allow a mixture of God's beauty and the ugliness of sin. It's too negative, too uncomfortable.

But for the Catholic Christian, it makes perfect sense. We see the beauty of creation and can read the intention of God. We know that everything was created for a purpose, for a reason, and for a goal. We are also intensely aware that human beings are very capable of doing the opposite. We know the power of sin and what it cost to neutralize it. We are committed to holding up the original ideals of why we are on this earth even when we are not very good at living them.

That is why we proclaim the Gospel teaching on marriage today. Yes, this is a hard teaching for many. Yes, life is not simple and things do not always work out the way we plan. A perfect God does not expect perfection from imperfect people.

But the truth of the Gospel does not depend upon our experience. What we hear in the Gospel today is not a matter of condemnation or judgment. This is Jesus pointing again to the original intention of creation. Like the innocence of a child, the Kingdom of God is a truth to be assumed. Yes, we question and we try and understand. We hold up an ideal even if we have personally let it slip. We pray, as St. Francis did, for the wisdom and illumination to live this out.

One of the other things our secular image of St. Francis conveniently forgets is the Cross. It was never far from his prayer or thinking. He knew in his own body the marks of this difficult ultimate love. It has always been the Christian faith that the difficulties of life and the struggle to live the Gospel are exactly how we follow in the Master's footsteps. It should be no surprise then that St. Francis popularized both the Nativity set and the Way of the Cross.

So on this feast of St. Francis, we ask for the wisdom and the grace to always see what God originally intended for the world – and, yes, that includes married life. We celebrate the highest ideals not to make us suffer but so our suffering will find redemption. We are humbled by our sins even as we rejoice in the mercy of God. We appreciate the beauty of the created world because we see a reflection of the wonder of God Himself.

So on this St. Francis Day, even as life may not be perfect, raise your eyes to the God who is. Ask for the gift of seeing what God already sees and of appreciating what God wanted us to be.

And so we pray in his own words before the Cross at San Damiano:

All highest, glorious, God, cast Your light into the darkness of my heart. Give me right faith, firm hope, perfect charity, and profound humility,
with wisdom and perception, O Lord, so that I may do what is truly Your holy will. Amen.