Author: DVO

Aileen O’Donoghue ponders on who her “enemies” are. “My ‘enemies’ are rarely true enemies; they’re usually people who are either difficult to get along with or who annoy me. And yet, when I hear this passage, I think, Really? Jesus wants me to love that jerk?” Yes, he does. We sometimes fail to see what Jesus is saying within the context of his overall message. Jesus tells us in today’s reading to “be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.” Remembering that he prefaces that statement with examples of loving others is important. His message is a call to love in ways that challenge us – even scare us. This love he calls towards is the love of another simply for the other, with no quid pro expectation. Could this be the perfection he asks us to embrace, the perfection of love? The Apostle John tells us, “God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.” When you abide in love, love is perfected in you. George Watson, a famous post-Civil War evangelist, said, “When the heart is made pure, it is then in a condition to be filled with the Holy Spirit, the abiding Comforter, whose presence floods the soul with unmixed love.” The perfection we are asked to pursue is all about perfecting the indwelling love of the spirit. That should be our daily effort – emptying ourselves so we can be filled with his love – then going forth to share that love with others. That’s the mission of the Church and the mission of all who call him Lord and Savior. That is the evangelism we can and should participate in.

Alejandro Iñárritu’s film The Revenant is the story that revolves around a fur trapper from the early 19th century named Hugh Glass and his quest for retribution against the man (Fitzgerald) who kills his son in cold blood and buries him in a shallow grace – left to die. Bishop Robert Barron writes that The Revenant is unremittingly honest in its portrayal of people caught in the awful reality of this fallen world, which is marked through and through by violence, suspicion, hatred, revenge, and the constant struggle to survive in the context of an indifferent nature. For the residents of this universe, the correct mottos are indeed “kill or be killed,” “love your friends but hate your enemies,” and “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” If there is no God, as Fitzgerald suggests to one of his underlings, survival at any cost, the law of the jungle, is the supreme law. But if there is a dimension that transcends nature, if there is a God who provides a moral compass and presides over human affairs, then one can let go of vengeance and seek a higher justice. The film ends just as this consciousness of God dawns on Glass. How much of human history has been dominated by revenge which produces an endless cycle of violence? And how present is this dynamic in today’s struggles: Muslim factionalism in the Middle East, anti-Christian violence in Africa, and terrorism everywhere? Nothing within fallen nature will ever break us free of these cycles. Only an openness to the transcendent God, a higher power to whom we can entrust our thirst for justice, will solve the problem that most bedevil the human heart. The slowly-dawning awareness of this truth is the greatest re-birth undergone by Glass.

Today’s Gospel reading begins with a familiar scene: Jesus is preaching, healing, and giving himself completely to everyone who comes to him. But then he pauses; the overwhelming need of the crowds strikes him. And notice this; he doesn’t just redouble his efforts or pray to the Father for his intervention. No, he turns to the disciples and urges them to pray for more workers. Then he sends them out to do works of ministry without him. From that day onward, it became clear that Jesus didn’t intend to do everything himself. He has reserved much of the work of his kingdom for his followers, including us. Bishop Barron writes that we Catholics cannot avoid the demand of evangelization, of proclaiming the faith. Vatican II couldn’t be clearer on this score, seeing the Church as nothing but a vehicle for evangelization. According to Vatican II, it’s not so much the case that the Church has a mission, but rather that a mission has the Church. Bringing people to Christ is not one work among many; rather, it is the central work of the Church, around which everything else we do revolves. Do we need evangelization? The statistics couldn’t be clearer. Did you know there are nearly as many ex-Catholics as Catholics in this country? Did you know that by some estimates, between 50 and 80% of those who attend one of the largest Protestant mega-churches are former Catholics? Did you know that the fastest-growing category in those polls of religious affiliation is “none?” St. Augustine says we need to work as if it all depends on us but pray as if it all depends on God. That can sound awfully challenging, but Jesus reminds us that we have freely received God’s goodness and grace—and that’s what we should be working hard to give away. So let’s give ourselves over willingly to this great work of welcoming and advancing God’s kingdom among us.

Yesterday we celebrated the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Today we enter with awe into the inner chamber of his Mother’s heart. Sr. Gail Fitzpatrick writes about the amazing contrast this is yet is also deeply uniting. Jesus’ heart overflows with God’s love. It is physically and emotionally tortured by the rejection and hatred of the ones he sought to draw into the circle of the Father’s love. Ultimately, Jesus’ heart is pierced in death—blood and water flow out. Mary, the first disciple of Jesus, shared his heart’s love and suffering. She suffered in the watching, waiting, and pondering, in the hope that holds in prayer but cannot control the events that inevitably lead to her son’s death. Today we might remember all the mothers, fathers, and friends who watch and wait in the suffering of loved ones – the “disappeared” of our world – the beloved elders who courageously walk their final steps into eternity – the children whose lives are tragically cut short. Each of us is called to bear the heartache of others – that is the cost of love. We can learn from Mary to ponder the mystery of God in every person and event. Nothing, no matter how painful, is outside of the circle of God’s love. Mary didn’t understand but accepted in faith these events, even to the breaking open of her own heart.

Fr. Rolheiser writes that the Roman Catholic devotional tradition is one of the great complements to theology. This tradition doesn’t trade on critical thinking but on the romantic imagination. It aspires to inflame the heart. Admittedly, this is risky. Feelings can lead us in many directions, but faith without feeling is perhaps the greater danger. The heart also needs its due. Wendy Wright, a theologian at Creighton University in Nebraska, has written a remarkable book entitled: Sacred Heart – Gateway to God. The book chronicles how she was led to faith and how she now sustains herself there: “A layered reality is part of the Catholic imagination. To possess this imagination is to dwell in a universe inhabited by unseen presences – the presence of God, the presence of saints, and the presence of one another. There are no isolated individuals but rather unique beings whose deepest life is discovered in and through one another. This life transcends the confines of space and time…We – and Jesus and the saints – exist in some essential way outside of the chronology of historical time. We have being beyond the strictures of geographical space. And we can sense this now, in the concreteness of our lives.” The Catholic devotional tradition has long helped make us aware of our many-layered universe. We need to continue to employ its imagination if we are to help our fleshy hearts feel what lies inside God’s eternal heart.

St. John Chrysostom writes that we should listen to the Lord’s words and remember that if we are bringing our gift to the altar and remember that our brother or sister has something against us, we need to leave our gift there before the altar and first go and be reconciled with our brother or sister. Then we can come and offer our gift to the Lord. What does this mean? Am I really to leave my gift, my offering, there? Yes, he says, because this sacrifice is offered so you may live peacefully with your brother or sister. So if the attainment of peace with your neighbor is the object of the gift and you fail to make peace, even if you share in the sacrifice, your lack of peace will make this sharing fruitless. Before all else, therefore, make peace for the sake of which the gift is offered. Then you will truly benefit from it. The Son of God came into the world to reconcile the human race with the Father. St. Paul said that Jesus reconciled all things to himself, destroying enmity in himself by the cross. He came to make peace as well. The Lord calls us blessed if we do the same and shares his title with us. He says the peacemakers are blessed, for they shall be called children of God. So as far as human beings can, we must do what Jesus, the Son of God, did and become a promoter of peace for ourselves and our neighbor. Christ calls the peacemaker a child of God. The only good deed he mentions as essential at the time of his sacrifice is reconciliation with one’s brother or sister. That should show us that of all the virtues, the most important is love.

Bishop Barron notes that Protestant theologian N.T. Wright has pointed out that the Old Testament is essentially an unfinished symphony, a drama without a climax. It is the articulation of a hope, a dream, a longing—but without a realization of that hope, without the satisfaction of that longing. Israel knew itself to be the people with the definite mission to become holy and thereby render the world holy. But instead, Israel fell into greater and greater sins, and instead of being the catalyst for the conversion of the world, the world was continually overwhelming and enslaving Israel. In the law God gave to Moses for the children of Israel, God sought to provide a roadmap for their happiness in the Ten Commandments. Yet his chosen people still strayed from him and his desires for them. We can imagine that at some point, God said, “I’m going down there and personally show them how much I love them. Surely if I do that, they will understand and follow my desires for them.” So God sent his Son, Jesus, to show us what his law was really intended to create for humanity through the lived life of his Son. Jesus was the fulfillment of the entire spirit and intention of the mosaic law and all the prophets. When someone asked Jesus, “Which commandment in the Law is the greatest?” Jesus replies: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the Law and the prophets.” The Old Testament law must be interpreted in light of this twofold yet single commandment of love, which is the fullness of the Law: “You shall not commit adultery, You shall not kill, You shall not steal, You shall not covet,” and any other commandment, are summed up in this sentence: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is fulfilling the law. Jesus’ life was the preeminent example of this love – a love we are asked to emulate.

Curtis Mitch writes that in the face of the many problems in the world—violence, materialism, poverty, moral relativism—Jesus challenges us to ask, “What can I do to share God’s love in the world?” Christians are called to be light to the world, and the world will be impacted for better or for worse by the way we live our lives. When we as Christians fail to be saints and live the beatitudes and be light, the world suffers. But when we imitate Christ’s love, mercy, and generosity, the world will see our good deeds and glorify our heavenly Father. St. John Chrysostom invites us to ponder what the world would be like if the entire Christian community lived in imitation of Christ: “Assuredly, there would be no heathen if we Christians took care to be what we ought to be; if we obeyed God’s precepts if we bore injuries without retaliation if when cursed we blessed if we rendered good for evil. For no man is so savage a wild beast that he would not run immediately to the worship of the true religion if he saw all Christians acting as I have said.” Jesus had his critics, as did St. Paul and those in the early church. And this continues even today as we see in the lives of people like Mother Teresa, who exemplified living the light and love of Christ to the world. Authentic Gospel living will ultimately shed its light as love conquers all.

I love the process of re-engaging great writers who I have read previously but have allowed dust to collect on their work. While I’ll generally recall where the writer is taking me, I knowingly anticipate the joy that awaits in the unfolding story. Henry Nouwen is one such writer. I love his reflection on The Beatitudes, where he sees Jesus telling us to be like him in the world, reflecting his light and love, and not being a reflection of the world’s ways. “This self-portrait of Jesus at first might seem to be a most unappealing portrait; who wants to be poor, mourning, and persecuted? Who can be truly gentle, merciful, pure in heart, a peacemaker, and always concerned about justice? Where is the realism here? Don’t we have to survive in this world and use the ways of the world to do so? Jesus shows how to be in the world without being of it. When we model our lives on his, a new world will open up for us. The Kingdom of Heaven will be ours, and the Earth will be our inheritance. We will be comforted and have our fill; mercy will be shown to us. Yes, we will be recognized as God’s children and truly see God, not just in an afterlife, but here and now (see Matthew 5:3-10). That is the reward of modeling our lives on the life of Jesus.” Amen, amen!

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ. Jesus is telling those gathered and his disciples about the gift of his own body and blood. As Bishop Barron writes, the challenge for the Jewish people is that what they hear Jesus say is akin to cannibalism. “For a Jewish man to be insinuating that you should eat his own flesh and drink his blood was about as nauseating and religiously objectionable as you could get.” But sensing the objection, Jesus does not soften what he is saying. He becomes even more specific, “Amen, amen I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.” Scripture says, “As a result of this, many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him” (John 6:66). Some scholars say hundreds left him. What the “many” were missing was that Jesus was speaking to them about being the new sacrifice. No longer would temple sacrifices be needed; the unblemished lamb would no longer be the sacrifice. Christ, the lamb of God, who freely gave his life for the salvation of all, became the paschal lamb. Jesus gives us his presence in His Word and his physical self. In the Holy Eucharistic, we are able, 2,000 years later, to receive Christ’s true body, blood, soul, and divinity in the bread and wine of Holy Communion. That is the power of the gift of himself. That is the power of the paschal sacrifice.