Yesterday was the feast day of St. Padre Pio. His life was remarkable for many reasons. He was a Capuchin Franciscan monk. He received the stigmata, losing a cup of blood per day; he heard thousands of confessions, and countless miracles have been recorded through his intercessions, both during his life and after his death. In 1947, he heard the confession of a young priest. In 2002, Padre Pio was canonized as a Saint by that same man, now called Pope John Paul II. He died in 1968 at the age of 81.
Today, I want to share just a few of the sayings of Padre Pio, but I’m going to reserve a bit of my time until after the Eucharist, because I want to share a prayer he wrote that is to be prayed at that time.
We are only capable of doing a little good. But God, in His goodness, has pity on us, is content with very little, and accepts the preparation of our hearts …. God is infinitely greater than our heart and this overcomes the whole world.
The demon has only one door by which to enter into our soul: the will; there are no secret doors. No sin is a sin if not committed with the will. When there is no action of the will, there is no sin, but only human weakness.
Remember that man has a mind, that he has a brain which serves him for reasoning, that he has a heart for feeling, he has a soul. The heart can be commanded by the head, but not the soul, so there must be a Supreme Being who commands the soul … it is impossible to exclude a Supreme Being.
The desire to be in eternal peace is good and holy, but you must moderate this with complete resignation to the divine will. It is better to do the divine will on earth, than to enjoy Paradise.
In a word: obedience is everything to me.
Before you sanctify others, think about sanctifying yourself.
And what man consider his most famous quote is one worth remembering—Pray, hope, and don´t worry. Worry is useless. God is merciful and will hear your prayer.
After Communion…
Stay with me, Lord, for it is necessary to have You present so that I do not forget You. You know how easily I abandon You.
Stay with me, Lord, because I am weak and I need Your strength, that I may not fall so often.
Stay with me, Lord, for You are my life, and without You, I am without fervor.
Stay with me, Lord, for You are my light, and without You, I am in darkness. Stay with me, Lord, to show me Your will.
Stay with me, Lord, so that I hear Your voice and follow You.
Stay with me, Lord, for I desire to love You very much, and always be in Your company.
Stay with me, Lord, if You wish me to be faithful to You.
Stay with me, Lord, for as poor as my soul is, I want it to be a place of consolation for You, a nest of love.
Stay with me, Jesus, for it is getting late and the day is coming to a close, and life passes; death, judgment, eternity approaches. It is necessary to renew my strength, so that I will not stop along the way and for that, I need You.
It is getting late and death approaches, I fear the darkness, the temptations, the dryness, the cross, the sorrows.
O how I need You, my Jesus, in this night of exile!
Stay with me tonight, Jesus, in life with all its dangers. I need You.
Let me recognize You as Your disciples did at the breaking of the bread, so that the Eucharistic Communion be the Light which disperses the darkness, the force which sustains me, the unique joy of my heart.
Stay with me, Lord, because at the hour of my death, I want to remain united to You, if not by communion, at least by grace and love.
Stay with me, Jesus, I do not ask for divine consolation, because I do not merit it, but the gift of Your Presence, oh yes, I ask this of You!
Stay with me, Lord, for it is You alone I look for, Your Love, Your Grace, Your Will, Your Heart, Your Spirit, because I love You and ask no other reward but to love You more and more.
With a firm love, I will love You with all my heart while on earth and continue to love You perfectly during all eternity. Amen.
“I don’t hate you, I’m just not necessarily excited about your existence.”
“I’m not saying I hate you, what I’m saying is that you are literally the Monday of my life.”
“To me, you are like a cloud. When you disappear, it’s a beautiful day.”
“I don’t hate you, but I’d buy you a toaster oven for your bathtub.”
“I’m not saying I hate you, but I would unplug your life support to charge my phone.”
The state of the world these days has stirred up the same level of hatred (and I would say, dysfunction) in many people, so please do not shout anyone’s name—let’s keep things civil here—but I want you to think about the one person you dislike the most. Imagine them like the Grinch as he was looking at the names in the phone book of the citizens of Whooville, saying, “Hate, hate, hate, double hate, LOATHE entirely.” They pretty much just make you angry when you think about them. You would definitely like to give them a piece of your mind. Got it? Now, turn that feeling inward, where you become the target of that intense hatred.
That may seem very unhealthy for many, but for some, it’s how they feel about themselves. If you hate them, try stepping inside their heads for a few minutes, and you’ll realize they hate themselves even more than you ever imagined.
Experts tell us that there are several reasons why someone might not like or even hate themselves. One reason is the illusory truth effect, also known as the illusion of truth effect. A current example of this is what has come to be known as “fake news.”
Believe it or not, fake news exists. Oy! The trick with fake news is to repeat something enough times, whether it’s true or not, and people will start to believe it. The same idea applies to individuals. If you tell a child enough times that they are stupid, even if they have an IQ off the charts, the child is likely to come to believe they are, in fact, stupid. Tell them or treat them as if they are unloved, and they’ll begin to think that way too. We start to believe what others say about us, whether it’s true or not. What does this have to do with today and our Patron Saint, Matthew? I always imagined Matthew sitting alone at a table while people came up to pay their taxes when they were due. But I was wrong.
As we know, during Jesus’ time, the Romans occupied the Holy Land; therefore, they claimed the right to tax the people. To collect the taxes, the Roman senate appointed wealthy citizens to oversee specific areas of collection. These Roman citizens would then hire managers for those areas, who in turn would hire local individuals fluent in the local language to collect the taxes. These local tax collectors were called publicani.
The rules these tax collectors worked under appears to have been, “Tax everything.” And they were inventive. There were taxes “on axles, wheels, pack animals, pedestrians, roads, highways; on admission to markets; on carriers, bridges, ships, and quays; on crossing rivers, on dams, on licenses—in short, on such a variety of objects that even the research of modern scholars has not been able to identify them all.” Additionally, everyone from the Roman government to the publicani wanted a little piece of the action, so the publicani cheated their own people and charged extra.
Matthew, known in one translation as “The Lord of the Passage,” was in Capernaum, a prime location for collecting taxes. He would have been able to tax people traveling on the roads around the Sea of Galilee, including farmers, fishermen, and those arriving by boat. As a result, he would have been loathed entirely by both Jews and Gentiles. One source states that he would not have even been allowed to enter the Temple, and highly religious Jews would be considered unclean if they so much as touched him.
The building he worked in—think toll booth—was a busy place, with Roman guards and soldiers hanging about (seeing to it that everyone paid and no one tried to rob the place) and a line of folks waiting to pay. The mood: hostile and downcast, and there sits Matthew, not caring what you think about paying taxes or what you think about him. Yell, cry, cuss—whatever you please—you’re going to pay, and he doesn’t care. At the end of the day, he’s going home with a fat wallet. Yet, “As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, ‘Follow me.’ And he got up and followed him.”
Without hesitation, Matthew walked away from it all—the job, the money, everything. He walked away from it all to follow a wandering Rabbi. What would make him do it? On that, the Gospel—even Matthew’s own Gospel—is silent, but I can’t help but wonder.
Some folks can be yelled at and cussed all day long without it affecting them one little bit. Like water off a duck’s back. But for most, it may not impact them much initially, yet over time, it begins to wear on them. Just ask anyone who has ever been in an abusive relationship—they start to believe every word—an illusion of truth effect. So I had to wonder, even with the job and the money, do you think it’s possible that Matthew came to hate himself as much as the people hated him? It wasn’t some pity party, but I wonder if, over time, he started to believe he had no real value, no true friends, no real life. Did he come to believe that he was nothing more than the names people called him?
Perhaps he wasn’t a Biblical whiz kid, but he remembers a few things from his youth, like the words of Psalm 22.
I am a worm and not a man, scorned by everyone, despised by the people.
All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads. (Psalm 22:6-7)
And, day after day, as he sat there collecting taxes and enduring all the abuse the people dished out, do you think he might have hoped for something better? A life where he could be accepted and valued? A life where he could be loved?
Again, the Gospel is silent, but I have to wonder: when Jesus walked by, did he catch Matthew’s eyes? And in Jesus’ eyes, did Matthew see it all—everything he truly wanted: acceptance and value? And in those two words, “Follow me,” did Matthew hear Love calling out to him?
The Blessed Virgin Mary. In Luke’s Gospel, we learn that when Mary discovered she was with child, she went to visit her cousin Elizabeth. When she entered Elizabeth’s house, Mary greeted her. Scripture says, “When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, ‘Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy.’” Elizabeth’s unborn son, John the Baptist, heard Mary’s greeting and knew that Jesus was near, so he responded with joy by leaping in the womb. I wonder if, in a similar way, when Matthew heard the voice of Jesus, “Follow me,” did his soul leap for joy within him?
Former Presiding Bishop Michael Curry said, “When you look at Jesus, you see one who is loving, one who is liberating, and one who is life-giving.” Matthew was loved by God, he was liberated from those things that bound him, and he was given new life in Jesus.
I came across a quote this past week attributed to Kahlil Gibran, the Lebanese-American writer and philosopher. After a bit of research, I found that he did not actually say it, but the quote remains quite meaningful—”God said ‘Love Your Enemy,’ and I obeyed him and loved myself.”
Matthew saw, heard, and I believe his soul leapt within him when Jesus called out to him. Matthew no longer hated the enemy; he no longer hated himself but learned to love himself because he finally understood what it meant to be loved. In doing these things and in allowing himself to be loved by Jesus, he became a Saint of God.
That is also true when you see Jesus, and it is true when you hear him. If you will look up into the face of Jesus, listen to his voice, and follow Him, He will do the same for you. And not only will he make you a saint, but He will make you a child of God Most High.
Let us pray: O Glorious St. Matthew, in your Gospel you portray Jesus as the longed-for Messiah who fulfilled the Prophets of the Old Covenant and as the new Lawgiver who founded a Church of the New Covenant. Obtain for us the grace to see Jesus living in his Church and to follow his teachings in our lives on earth so that we may live forever with him in heaven. Amen.
Scivias I.6: The Choirs of Angels. From the Rupertsberg manuscript, folio 38r by Hildegard of Bingen.
Today, we celebrate Hildegard of Bingen, born in 1098. She was highly sought after for her advice and corresponded with kings, queens, abbots, abbesses, archbishops, and popes. She undertook four preaching tours across northern Europe, practiced medicine, authored treatises on science and philosophy, composed remarkable music and liturgical dramas, and was quite the artist. What makes this even more impressive is that in the 12th century, these roles were typically reserved only for men.
Along with her many achievements, she was also someone who had visions, which started to appear to her when she was just three years old. She would later describe them as “The Shade of the Living Light.” She wrote, “These visions which I saw—I beheld them neither in sleep nor dreaming nor in madness nor with my bodily eyes or ears, nor in hidden places; but I saw them in full view and according to God’s will, when I was wakeful and alert, with the eyes of the spirit and the inward ears.”
Here is an example of her writing: It is easier to gaze into the Sun than into the face of the mystery of God. Such is its beauty and its radiance. God says: I am the supreme fire; not deadly, but rather, enkindling every spark of life. I am the reflection of providence for all. I am the resounding WORD; the It-Shall-Be that I intone with mighty power from which all the world proceeds. Through animate eyes I divide the seasons of time. I am aware of what they are. I am aware of their potential. With my mouth I kiss my own chosen creation. I uniquely, lovingly embrace every image I have made out of the earth’s clay. With a fiery spirit I transform it into a body to serve all the world.
To me, she shows a genuine understanding of God’s love. Not as we might view God from a theologian’s point of view, but from a human perspective (not that theologians aren’t human).
In our Gospel reading today, John wrote those beautiful words, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” In Hildegard’s poem, it seems she was expressing that same idea: God is saying, I am aware of who they are, their potential. I lovingly embrace them, transform them, and give them my Son to show them this great love I have for them so that they may be where We are.
Hildegard was one who intimately knew of this transforming love of God and was able to express it through music, preaching, poetry, and art, surpassing the boundaries of her time. Perhaps such intimacy with God is not something everyone can achieve, but it is something everyone should strive for. In doing so, we can also become living testimonies, breaking through our own limits.
There is an exceptional German movie about her life, “Vision,” and I recommend it if you don’t mind subtitles (or speak German).
In 2010, Pope Benedict XVI said, “Let us always invoke the Holy Spirit, so that he may inspire in the Church holy and courageous women like Saint Hildegard of Bingen who, developing the gifts they have received from God, make their own special and valuable contribution to the spiritual development of our communities and of the Church in our time.” In 2012, Benedict named her a Doctor of the Church, among thirty-three at the time, with only three being women.
Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw, known as “Sam Bahadur,” served in the Indian Army for forty years and was the first to attain the rank of Field Marshal. His nickname was Sam Bahadur—Sam the Brave. Highly decorated and highly respected. When asked whether he had a fear of death, he replied, “If a man says he is not afraid of dying, he is either lying or is a Gurkha.”
Gurkha refers to the Brigade of Gurkhas, a rifle regiment of the British Army composed of men from Nepal. Of them, Field Marshal Viscount Slim wrote, “The Almighty created in the Gurkhas an ideal infantryman, indeed an ideal Rifleman, brave, tough, patient, adaptable, skilled in fieldcraft, intensely proud of his military record and unswerving loyalty.” However, despite all this praise, at one point, a British Commander asked for volunteers from a unit of 200 Gurkhas to join the Airborne Division—those who parachute into enemy territory. Of the 200, only five volunteered; the rest shook their heads. Hearing of their bravery, he asked the Gurkha commander why so few were willing to join. It was then that the misunderstanding was uncovered—the Gurkhas knew they would be jumping from an airplane, but they didn’t know anything about parachutes.
From that, it’s easy to understand why so few volunteered, but let me ask you this: what the heck was going through the heads of those five who said, Yes?
Today, we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Cross. It is a day to remember and honor the Cross of Jesus and to commemorate the day when the true Cross was discovered.
That story begins on May 3, 326. Helena, the mother of Constantine, the first Christian Roman Emperor, is said to have found the true cross in Jerusalem.
Helena went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to visit the most important sites in Jesus’ life. After talking to many people, she found out that Jesus’ cross, along with the crosses of the two criminals crucified on either side, had been buried to hide them. Some reports say that when she unearthed the crosses, the one belonging to Jesus still had the sign Pilate had ordered put on it: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” Other reports say that at first, they couldn’t tell which cross was which. So, they brought a dying woman to the site of the three crosses and laid her on each one. Then, St. Macarius, the Bishop of Jerusalem, said a prayer.
“O Lord, who by the Passion of Thine only Son on the cross, didst deign to restore salvation to mankind, and who even now hast inspired thy handmaid Helena to seek for the blessed wood to which the author of our salvation was nailed, show clearly which it was, among the three crosses, that was raised for Thy glory. Distinguish it from those which only served for a common execution. Let this woman who is now expiring return from death’s door as soon as she is touched by the wood of salvation.”
Upon touching the wood of the true cross of Jesus, she was restored to health. True or false? Some might say such stories are nothing more than foolishness. Maybe. But St. Paul tells us, “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:18)
A few weeks ago, we talked about Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, the author of The Gulag Archipelago. The book describes the ten years he spent in a Russian prison. But before he was imprisoned for speaking out against the Communists, he was actually a supporter. Early in his life, he drank the Kool-Aid and became an atheist. That was what most young Russians were doing as they bought into the system. So, when he went to prison, he was an atheist, but when he got out, he rediscovered the faith of his childhood.
The prison was in Siberia. He was cold, hungry, and feeling defeated there. The story describes a day when he was working outside. The wind was howling, and he felt miserable. Standing there, leaning on his shovel, he finally lost all hope. He simply did not care what would happen to him.
He saw a nearby bench, so he dropped his shovel, walked over, and sat down. As he sat there, he fully expected to be beaten to death by a guard for his actions. It is what happened to any prisoner who was disobedient.
After a short while, he heard someone approaching. He thought it was the guard, but it wasn’t. It was another prisoner—an old, very thin man. The man said nothing to Solzhenitsyn. Instead, he knelt in front of him and, with a small stick, scratched out the sign of the cross in the dirt. Then he got up and hurried back to work.
Solzhenitsyn looked at that crude cross, and some part of the true light of God reached him through it. In that moment, he realized that he did not have to face these terrors alone and that he did not have to survive on his own strength. “With the power of the cross, he could withstand the evil of not just one but a thousand Soviet empires.” (The Sign of the Cross, Gezzi, p.3-4)
Listen to these words of the theologian Stanley Hauerwas.
“The cross is not a sign of the church’s quiet, suffering submission to the powers-that-be, but rather the church’s revolutionary participation in the victory of Christ over those powers. The cross is not a symbol for general human suffering and oppression. Rather, the cross is a sign of what happens when one takes God’s account of reality more seriously than Caesar’s. The cross stands as God’s (and our) eternal no to the powers of death, as well as God’s eternal yes to humanity, God’s remarkable determination not to leave us to our own devices.” (Resident Aliens: Life in the Christian Colony, p.47)
These days, when you sit down to watch TV or the news, you see a great deal of violence. Some of the violence appears in the TV shows or movies we watch. And now, a lot of the violence is in the news. I remember a time (showing my age here) when news reporters would say something like, “Due to the nature of the material, you may want to have your children leave the room.” Not anymore. Now, they just throw it out there, and we all have the opportunity to struggle with PTSD. The concern with this bombardment of violence is that we are becoming desensitized to it. It no longer affects us. What we see on the news might as well be a video game because it all looks the same.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “For the great and powerful of this world, there are only two places in which their courage fails them, of which they are afraid deep down in their souls, from which they shy away. These are the manger and the cross of Jesus Christ.” (God Is in the Manger: Reflections on Advent and Christmas) This used to be true, but I believe, like the violence around us, we have become desensitized to the manger and the Cross of Christ. They no longer influence our thinking, our actions, or our way of life. We see the Cross everywhere—jewelry, T-shirts, 100-foot statues beside the road, all the way down to being stitched and bejeweled across the backside of a pair of jeans. It no longer has the power to strike a holy fear in the hearts of those who see it, but it should.
The Cross was once an instrument of torture and death. However, through Christ, the Cross was transformed into—not just “a” symbol—but the very means of our salvation, our victory over Satan and death. St. John Vianney tells us, “The sign of the cross is the most terrible weapon against the devil.” And Thomas à Kempis states, “In the cross is salvation, in the cross is life, in the cross is protection from enemies, in the cross is infusion of heavenly sweetness, in the cross is strength of mind, in the cross is joy of spirit, in the cross is highest virtue, in the cross is perfect holiness. There is no salvation of soul nor hope of everlasting life but in the cross.”
Remember those five Gurkha soldiers—the ones who volunteered to jump out of the plane even before they knew about parachutes? They weren’t crazy. They weren’t blindly risking their lives like suicide bombers. Nor were they so naive that they had no idea what happens when someone falls from a great height. Instead, they had this courage—this faith in themselves and their abilities. Crazy as we might think them, they thought, “I can do that.”
I’m not asking you to jump out of an airplane without a parachute, but I am asking you to have that kind of courage and put that kind of faith in the Cross of Jesus.
Going forward, when you see the Cross, don’t just look at it without recognizing what it represents, for it is nothing less than the power of God working in you, for you, and through you.
I love that verse from Joshua when the Lord says, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9) The Lord our God “gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control,” (2 Timothy 1:7) and we can know and experience these things through the Holy Cross of Jesus.
Let us pray: Holy Cross of Jesus, be my true light! Holy Cross, fill my soul with good thoughts. Holy Cross, ward off from me all things that are evil. Holy Cross, ward off from me all dangers and deaths and give me life everlasting! Crucified Jesus of Nazareth, have mercy on me now and forever. Amen.
The Martyrs of Memphis iconwas painted (or “written”) in 1999 by Br. Tobias Stanislas Haller, BSG.
In 1873, the sisters of the Community of St. Mary in Peekskill, New York, were invited by the Bishop of Tennessee to establish a school for girls in Memphis. I couldn’t determine the exact reason; however, I suspect it had something to do with the Yankees’ arrival in the South shortly after the Civil War. Still, it is implied that the sisters’ presence was not appreciated. Undeterred, the sisters continued their work, but as soon as the school opened, the first of two Yellow Fever epidemics broke out. While most of the city was fleeing, the sisters remained and cared for the sick. A member of the community wrote about Constance:
“Sister Constance went out first to the sick. Before she reached the house to which she was going, she was met by a young girl weeping and in great distress. She said her sister was just taken with the fever, that they could get no doctor, and did not know what they ought to do for her. My Sister went immediately to the sick child, did for her all that could be done, and ministered to her wants daily till her recovery. My Sister always loved to speak of this little Louise as her first patient.”
During that first epidemic, 5,000 people became ill and 2,000 died.
Afterward, the school opened, and during four smooth years, Constance and another sister went back to New York for a retreat. However, they were gone only two weeks before news arrived that a second epidemic had started. They quickly returned to Memphis and once again began caring for the sick.
Over 5,000 died during this second wave of Yellow Fever, including Constance and most of her companions, known as the Martyrs of Memphis. Speaking of Constance’s death, one biographer wrote, “Few know what a wonderful life it was that ended, for this world, when Sister Constance died. It was one long and entire consecration to Christ and the Church; and the strength with which she met the fearful trials of those last days, directing, sustaining, and cheering her devoted companions, and working day and night to spare others, was a supernatural strength. She was but thirty-three years old when called away; a woman of exquisite grace, tenderness, and loveliness of character, very highly educated, and one who might have adorned the most brilliant social circle. All that she had she gave without reserve to her Lord, asking only Himself in return as her own.”
Constance’s final words, “Hosanna. Hosanna.”
Father Morgan Dix wrote: “Before the memorable year 1878, many spoke against these faithful and devoted women; but after that year, the tongue of calumny was silent, while men looked on with beating hearts and eyes dim with tears.”
Jesus said, “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.”
Constance and her companions were those who first died to self and, like single grains of wheat, fell to the ground, grew, and produced much fruit. They then sacrificed their lives again, just as their Savior did, by serving others.
The final petition of our collect (prayer) for Constance asks the Lord to “Inspire in us a like love and commitment to those in need, following the example of our Savior Jesus Christ.” We pray that God’s Church will be inspired by these Martyrs of Memphis and many others who give of themselves and produce such abundant good fruit.
A father told his daughter, “You graduated with honors; here is a car I bought many years ago. It’s quite old now. But before I give it to you, take it to the used car lot downtown and tell them I want to sell it to see how much they’ll offer.” The daughter went to the used car lot, came back, and said, “They offered me $1,000 because it looks very worn out.” The father then said, “Take it to the pawnshop.” The daughter went to the pawnshop, returned, and said, “They offered $100 because it is a very old car.” The father then asked his daughter to show the car at a car club. The daughter took the car there, came back, and told her father, “Some people in the club offered $100,000 because it’s a Nissan Skyline R34, an iconic car that’s highly sought after.” The father said, “The right place values you the right way. If you are not valued, don’t be upset; it means you are in the wrong place. Those who recognize your worth are the ones who appreciate you. Never stay in a place where no one sees your value.”
While he was in Corinth, the Apostle Paul wrote a letter to the church in Rome—The Letter to the Romans. He had not yet visited the city, but news of the church there had reached him.
Broken down, Romans provides guidance on several topics, but overall, Paul’s main concern is the conflict between Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians. This was actually a common issue in the early Church.
We know that the Israelites are God’s chosen people. The word “chosen” is defined as “selected or marked for favor or special privilege.” That very much describes the Covenant God made with Abraham and explains why the Israelites were chosen. When making the Covenant, God said, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” (Genesis 12:2-3)
It is easy to see the “marked for favor or special privilege” in those words. And it is also easy to overlook why the Israelites were so marked, but it is right there in the middle—“And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.”
Yes, God says, I am setting you apart for blessing and honor, but I am doing so for a very specific purpose. I am blessing you so that you will be a blessing to the world. The Lord stated it clearly through the Prophet Isaiah.
“It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob”
(The “tribes of Jacob” is understood to be all the Jewish people—the Israelites.)
“It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to bring back the preserved of Israel; I will make you as a light for the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” (Isaiah 49:6)
God selected the Israelites to be His chosen people so they could bless others, and in return, He promised to bless them. However, somewhere along the way, it seems that the Israelites focused more on being blessed than on blessing others. They viewed their chosen-ness as a privilege and a right to look down on those around them.
Following the death and resurrection of Jesus, many Israelites became Christians and brought their Jewish practices with them. This wasn’t a problem as long as they didn’t impose these practices on the Gentiles. However, they also carried with them a false idea of being chosen and privileged. So, in his letter to the Romans, Paul asks, “What then? Are we Jews any better off? No, not at all. For we have already charged that all, both Jews and Greeks, are under sin.” (Romans 3:9) A few paragraphs later, he asks, “Is God the God of Jews only? Is he not the God of Gentiles also? Yes, of Gentiles also, since God is one—who will justify” both by faith. (Romans 3:29-30) In other words, no one has any special privileges except those who come to God in faith. Therefore, Paul says in chapter 12 of Romans, “Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor.” (Romans 12:9-10) and “Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly.” (Romans 12:16a)
This theme recurs often in Paul’s letters. In his letter to the Philippians: “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:3-4) To the Ephesians, he says, “I… urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” (Ephesians 4:1-3)
This all connects back to and could have originated from the events in our Gospel reading today.
Jesus was invited to the home of a Pharisee to share a Sabbath meal. As we know, most Pharisees were not real fond of Jesus and were happy to let him know. Usually, when they had Him around, they looked for ways to trap Him. This time is no different.
The Pharisees closely resembled the Jewish Christians of Paul’s time. They, more than any other Israelites, were called to be the priests—if you will, the light of the lights of the world. Instead, they became a burden to the people and saw themselves as superior. In their eyes, they were the truly chosen. Remember the Pharisee and the tax collector praying in the Temple, and how the Pharisee prayed, “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.” (Luke 18:11-12)
And, in the time of Jesus, this one-upmanship wasn’t limited to the religious leaders. Remember when James’ and John’s momma got into the mix? “Say that these two sons of mine are to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.” (Matthew 20:21) Then there was the argument over who is the greatest. On and on and round and round. It all boils down to the same thing—they all wanted the best seat at the party or, at the very least, a place at the head table.
You’re probably thinking, I know where he’s going with this one. He’s going to tell us how we wrongfully assign value to others based on influence, income, status, and similar factors. That’s a sermon I’ve preached before, but today, I want you to focus on yourself. What value do you place on your own soul?
I know many people who believe their worth to the world doesn’t even reach 100 dollars—pocket change, if that. They think that not only are they unworthy of a good place at the table, but they shouldn’t even be invited to the banquet. Yet, Jesus the Good Shepherd would leave the ninety-nine to find you. No matter how you see yourself, Jesus looked at you and said, You are worth dying for. Each individual soul is of the utmost value to God. To paraphrase St. Augustine, “The whole universe, with all its good things, is not worth as much as the soul of one humble person.”
St. Paul said, “For none of us lives for ourselves alone, and none of us dies for ourselves alone. If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s possession.” (Romans 14:7-8)
We are given the freedom to set aside concerns about which seat we hold at the table. Why? Because we are all the Lord’s possessions. He bought us with His very own blood. Therefore, our one and only concern should be whether or not we are living a life worthy of an invitation to the banquet. That is why Paul and Jesus both became upset about this argument. It was never about who was the greatest or who would sit at the head table. It has always been about who would be invited to the banquet—who would attain salvation.
Jesus’ life, every word and action, proclaims to you, You are worth more to me than life itself. I invite you to the banquet. I have a seat set aside just for you. Here, He says, is your invitation. All you need to do is accept.
Let us pray: O God, source of all life and goodness, you fashion human lives in your image and likeness, and through your love, give each human life dignity, sacredness, and priceless worth; awaken in every heart new reverence for the least of your children, and renew among your people a readiness to nurture and sustain your precious gift of human life at all stages, and in all conditions. Amen.
We have discussed before that not all saints are born as the holiest of holy people, and many start out as quite sinful individuals. One such Saint is Augustine of Hippo. He is the patron saint of beer brewers because of his past habits before his conversion. Yet, he is now considered one of the preeminent Doctors of the Church, and it would be hard to find anyone who has influenced Christianity more than him outside of the Holy Scriptures. So, how did he go from a bad boy to a saint? There were many factors, but if you asked Augustine, he would probably say, “Momma.” We know her as Monica. However, Monica was not always a saint either.
She grew up in a Christian home, but not all the virtues seemed to be present in her life, and one area of concern ultimately led her to a deeper faith. She was responsible for going into the cellar to get the wine for family meals. As a child, she didn’t partake, but one day out of curiosity, she took a sip. Later, that sip became a cup, and eventually, she drank as much as she could. She was eventually found out by a servant who called her a “wine-bibber,” meaning a drunk. The comment made Monica so ashamed that she never drank liquor again, but she must have passed that taste onto her son Augustine.
At first, she would raise a fuss with him and scold him, but he simply ignored her pleas. However, with the help of a priest, she realized that this approach would only breed frustration and create a rift between her and Augustine. So, the priest suggested she try a different approach, which involved intercessory prayer, fasting, and vigils for her son. Later, she had a dream in which she was weeping over her son’s downfall, when suddenly an angel appeared and said, “But your son is with you.” When she told Augustine about the dream, he laughed and told his mother that they could be together if she would give up her Christianity. She replied, “The angel did not say that I was with you, but that you were with me.” That gave her the hope she needed, and she continued to pray. It took several years, but eventually Augustine converted and became one of the greats.
There is an incident in Mark’s Gospel where a young boy is said to have a demon that throws him down and harms him. The boy’s father brought him to Jesus’ disciples and asked them to heal his son. They tried, but were unsuccessful, so the man brought his son to Jesus, who was able to heal him. Later, in private, the disciples asked Jesus, “Why could we not cast it out?” He answered, “This kind can come out only through prayer and fasting.”
It would be wonderful if every time we offered intercessory prayers for healing, the person was healed immediately—and that can happen!—but more often, healing (which can take many forms: physical, spiritual, emotional) takes time. That was a lesson that both the disciples and Monica had to learn, and it is one we also need to be taught. In faith, we must believe that—regardless of the perceived outcome or lack of result—God is working, hearing the prayers of his people, and fulfilling those prayers according to his purposes.
Monica did not become a saint because she performed great deeds or died violently as a martyr. Monica became a Saint because she prayed and she believed in God’s promises. That is a practice we can all follow.
I don’t consider myself a bona fide marriage counselor, so I depend on other sources to help me give good advice. For example, I’m particularly fond of a Home Economics book from the 1950s. I believe it gets to the heart of the matter.
The section heading is “How to be a Good Wife.”
HAVE DINNER READY: Plan ahead… Most men are hungry when they come home, and having a good meal prepared is part of the warm welcome they need.
PREPARE YOURSELF: Greet him with a smile.
CLEAR AWAY THE CLUTTER: Make one last walk through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives, gathering up children’s books and toys, papers, etc. Then run a dust cloth over the tables. Your husband will feel he’s reached a haven of rest and order, and—as a bonus—it will give you a lift too.
PREPARE THE CHILDREN.
MINIMIZE ALL NOISE.
SOME “DO NOT’S”: Don’t greet him with problems or complaints. Don’t complain if he’s late for dinner. Consider this a minor issue compared to what he might have gone through that day.
MAKE HIM COMFORTABLE: Have a cold or warm drink ready for him… Allow him to relax and unwind.
LISTEN TO HIM.
MAKE THE EVENING HIS: Never complain if he doesn’t take you to dinner or other entertainment. Instead, try to understand his world of stress and pressure, and his need to unwind and relax.
THE GOAL: TO MAKE YOUR HOME A PLACE OF PEACE AND ORDER WHERE YOUR HUSBAND CAN RELAX IN BODY AND SPIRIT.
Fellas, I’ll need some bodyguards following the service.
The truth is, we all need opportunities to rest and relax in body and spirit. In terms of our faith, such a rest is called a Sabbath.
As you know, keeping the Sabbath ranked in the top five of the top ten Laws of Moses—“Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor, and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God.…Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.” (Exodus 20:8-9, 11b)
Philo of Alexandria was a Jewish philosopher who lived during the time of Jesus. Speaking of the Sabbath, he wrote, “On this day we are commanded to abstain from all work, not because the law inculcates slackness…. Its purpose is rather to give man relaxation from continuous and unending toil and by refreshing their bodies with a regularly calculated system of remissions to send them out renewed to their old activities. For a breathing spell enables not merely ordinary people but athletes also to collect their strength with a stronger force behind them to undertake promptly and patiently each of the tasks set before them.” (The Sabbath, p.14)
Rabbi Heschel tells us, “The Sabbath is not for the sake of the weekdays; the weekdays are for the sake of the Sabbath. It is not an interlude but the climax of living.” (Ibid.)
There is a great deal of writing on the Sabbath, so this is very much an oversimplification, but it is a gift—a gift from God. It is the opportunity for everyone to be renewed in body and spirit. We can see the Sabbath as just a Law, something that must be obeyed, but it’s so much more than that. It’s a Law that allows us to be with our God, but it’s also a Law because we need it. Our bodies need rest, as do our souls. A quote from St. Augustine I shared with you a few weeks back, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.” Not just at the end of our days, but each and every day.
From our Gospel reading: “Now Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight.” I’m certain that this woman would have been thrilled with a weekly Sabbath free from her crippling pain. One day out of seven to rest and relax from it is better than none; however, what she truly needed was a daily Sabbath, a lifetime Sabbath from her burden, and she received it. “When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, ‘Woman, you are set free from your ailment.’ When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God.”
We also know that these signs and miracles of Jesus are multidimensional—they are healings, but they also point toward something even greater. Therefore, in this case, we could also say that the woman was burdened not with a physical malady but a spiritual one. We could say she was burdened with sin or the shame and guilt of sin or even the anger caused by another’s sin. We could say that she had been carrying this spiritual malady for so long that her soul was bent from the burden. Just like the physical issue, she would rejoice over one day of freedom, but what she truly needed was a lifetime Sabbath. Her entire life needed to find rest, and this, too, Jesus would give her. “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.”
Is that possible? Can a soul have a lifetime Sabbath from its burdens? St. Augustine tells us, “Our soul is weighed down by sin as by a burden. When it turns to You, Lord, it finds rest, for it finds forgiveness.” (Confessions, X.28) And St. Gregory of Nyssa writes, “True Sabbath is when the soul looks no longer at its own sins, nor is burdened with the memory of evil, but rejoices in the good alone.”
Yes, it is possible to have a lifetime Sabbath from those things that burden our souls, and our souls need it. Just as our bodies break down without rest, so do our souls.
A professor walks to the front of the class and holds up a glass of water. She asks, “How heavy is this glass of water I’m holding?”
The students begin shouting out answers.
After a few guesses, she says, “From my perspective, the absolute weight of this glass doesn’t matter. It all depends on how long I hold it. If I hold it for a minute or two, it’s fairly light. If I hold it for an hour straight, its weight might make my arm ache a little. If I hold it for a day straight, my arm will likely cramp up and feel completely numb and paralyzed, forcing me to drop the glass to the floor. In each case, the weight of the glass doesn’t change, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it feels to me.”
She continues, “Your stresses and worries in life are very much like this glass of water. Think about them for a while, and nothing happens. Think about them a bit longer, and you begin to ache a little. Think about them all day long, and you will feel completely numb and paralyzed—incapable of doing anything else until you drop them.” (Source)
Stresses and worries, carried for too long, can make you completely numb and paralyzed. Sin, the shame and guilt of sin, the anger at another’s sin, can do the exact same thing. It can burden and cripple your soul. The weight, carried for too long, is too much. You need a Sabbath rest from it, but not just for a day. You need to live a Sabbath life, resting in Jesus. How do we rest in Jesus? Peter says, “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:6-7) We find rest in Jesus by coming before our Lord and, with gratitude in our hearts, placing our burdens—the sin, the pain, the evil—in His strong hands. In doing so, we will hear the words of Jesus, “You are set free from your ailment.”
Jesus said, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest—I will give you a lifetime Sabbath. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest—Sabbath—for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)
My marriage counseling might not be up to snuff, but this I know to be true:
“Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved.” (Psalm 55:22)
Jesus died on the Cross and rose again, not only so that on the last day you might have an eternal Sabbath in Him, and not only so that you might have a Sabbath rest one day a week. Jesus died and rose again so that you might have a Sabbath in Him all the days of your life. “Cast your burden on the Lord,” so that you “may have life and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10b)
Let us pray: Lord Jesus, in our weariness and burdens, we come to You. In Your gentle heart, we find rest. Teach us to walk in Your humility and to trust in Your love. Yoke our lives to Yours, that we may carry our trials with grace, knowing You are beside us. Calm our restless souls, and let Your peace dwell within us. In You alone is our refuge, our strength, and our home. Amen.
Born in 1090, Bernard of Clairvaux grew to become a force to be reckoned with. Not only did he establish a monastery at Clairvaux, but through his teachings, sixty other monasteries were founded and linked with Clairvaux. That alone was a great achievement, but he was also a poet and hymn writer, a preacher of the Crusades, a priest to the Knights Templar, and an advisor to popes and kings. “By 1140, his writings had made him one of the most influential figures in Christendom.”
In his writings, especially those addressed to Pope Eugenius III, Bernard emphasized moderation in all things. He wrote to the overburdened pope, “As the Lord says, ‘What does it profit you to gain the whole world, but lose yourself alone?’ Now since everyone posses you, make sure that you too are among the possessors.” Yes, Bernard is saying, dedicate yourself fully to the work the Lord has called you to, but don’t forget the Lord or yourself in the process. However, if there was one area where Bernard would not preach such moderation, it would be in “love,” for when it comes to love, Bernard knows no limits. For Bernard, this understanding of love partly stems from his meditations on our Gospel reading.
Jesus said, “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” Bernard understood “in me,” in God, to mean, in love with God. To be in God is to be in love with God. He believes we are called to be in love with God and were created for this purpose, writing, “God hath endowed us with the possibility of love.” When someone asked him, “Why should we love God?”, he answered, “You want me to tell you why God is to be loved and how much. I answer, the reason for loving God is God himself; and the measure of love due to him is immeasurable love.” He concludes by asking, “Is this plain?” A more modern way of saying “Is this plain?” could be something like, “Duh!”
Not only should our love extend to God, but also to one another. Perhaps one of his most famous quotes states, “Love me, love my dog.” If you are going to be in a relationship with someone, then you have to love everything about them, including the goofy dog with fleas, bad breath, and all the other unfortunate and annoying aspects of their character.
In living a life of moderation and love, Bernard fulfilled his own definition of a holy person: “seen to be good and charitable, holding nothing for himself, but using every gift for the common good.”
Centuries later, St. Josemaría Escrivá wrote, “Lord: may I have due measure in everything… except in Love.” Escrivá wasn’t speaking directly of Bernard, but those words clearly articulate the pattern of life that Bernard of Clairvaux would call us each to: a life of moderation and perpetual, unrestrained love.
Candle in a Cave 