That He Might Have Mercy Upon All

Click HERE to read today's scriptures

"For God delivered all to disobedience,

that he might have mercy upon us all,"

(Romans 11:32)

St. Paul's message to us in today's first reading, Romans 11:29-36, is a fascinating example of his sometimes strange reasoning, as well as a text used to support the theory of God's universal salvific will--that is, the idea that God wants all to be saved, (see also 1 Timothy 2:4). All people, not just some. Theologians have debated over the centuries of what it means to say that God "wills" all to be saved, and they have created neat little categories that, in the end, leave us back where we began: uncertain. One might say they make God seem like St. Paul, willing the good, but not able to accomplish it (Rom. 7:19a). Perhaps this is unfair to these theologians, considering scripture is ambiguous on this point.

Instead of focusing on these unnamed theologians, however, I wish to quote a feminine theologian and mystic, the great Blessed Julian of Norwich. In a famous paragraph from her Revelation of Divine Love (short text), she writes: "But I did not see sin; for I believe it has no sort of substance nor portion of being, nor could it be recognized were it not for the suffering which it causes. And this suffering seems to me to be something transient, for it purges us and makes us know ourselves and pray for mercy; for the Passion of our Lord supports us against all this, and that is his blessed will for all who shall be saved. He supports us willingly and sweetly, by his words, and says, 'But all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.' these words were shown very tenderly, with no suggestion that I or anyone who will be saved was being blamed. It would therefore be very strange to blame or wonder at God because of my sins, since he does not blame me for sinning," (Ch. 13). In the longer, revised version of her text, she writes, "Furthermore he taught that I should consider the glorious atonement; for this atonement is incomparably more pleasing to God and more glorious in saving mankind than Adam's sin was ever harmful," (Ch. 29).

Sin--that great Christian preoccupation--is trampled under foot by Saint Paul and Blessed Julian, two great Christians who were privileged to really understand the meaning of the Passion of Christ--an act not of a stingy, exclusive, and selective God, but the supreme act of divine generosity toward all of humankind. How, after all, could God choose between peoples, when "all have sinned and are deprived of the glory of God" (Rom. 3:23). Blessed Julian was so moved by the realization that human sin was so petty and little compared to God's love that she struggled to believe that any would be in hell. In the end, she only believed people would be in hell, because the Church taught that there would be (Chapter 32 of the long text).

And St. Paul? He is so moved by the conviction that God's mercy triumphs over all that he reasons that even the rejection of the Messiah by most of the Jews was for the good, because it was a major reason that the Gentiles were brought into the covenant. In supreme, or divine irony, God would have mercy of the Jews, because they helped him to have mercy on the Gentiles (Rom. 11:31). Indeed, Paul argues that God allows everyone to fall into sin--Jew and Gentile alike--so that he can have mercy on us all. This is a bewildering and astounding claim, the revelation of a mystic.

Mystics are comfortable with the strange peculiarities of God. They do not try to categorize God and fit him into a nice little system. In the end, they recognize that to encounter God is ultimately to realize just how "other" he is. As the Prophet Isaiah says, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says Adonai. As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my ways above your ways and my thoughts above your thoughts," (55:8-9). Paul echoes this sentiment when he writes:

"Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom

and knowledge of God!

How inscrutable are his judgments

and how unsearchable his ways!"

(Rom. 11:33)

If the great apostle can admit that God's mercy is such a powerful, overwhelming force--one that eclipses human sin--how is it that so few others are able to do so, as well? Again, I think it is a small, insufficient understanding of what the Passion of Christ was really all about, and perhaps it is self-denial about one's own sinfulness--for Saint Paul and Blessed Julian were two people who meditated on their sinfulness and had an appropriate hatred for sin. Penitents desire mercy for themselves and for all sinners, while the self-righteous see only the sins of others, and have no problem contemplating divine wrath raining down on their neighbors. Would that we were all like Father Abraham, risking God's annoyance by interceding for fellow sinners (Gen. 18:16-33)!

Saint Paul and Blessed Julian call for us to contemplate God's great love for us today, shown through the Passion of Christ, and to have confidence in God's divine mercy. "For his love is so great that everything seems a trifle to him in comparison. For although the dear humanity of Christ could only suffer once, his goodness makes him always ready to do so again; he would do it every day if it were possible; and if he said that for love of me he would make new heavens and a new earth, it would be but little in comparison, for he could do this every day if he so wished, without any hardship; but to offer to die for love of me so often that the number of times passes human comprehension, that is the most glorious present that our Lord God could make to man's soul, it seems to me." (Revelation of Divine Love, Long Text, Ch. 22). 

Br. Paul, OP

Call No One On Earth Your Father: Jesus on Clericalism

Click HERE to read today's scriptures

"Call no man on earth your father," (Matt 23:9). It would be easy to jump to the conclusion that, based on this one little line, that the Catholic and Orthodox Christian traditions have gone wrong somewhere, as some of our Protestant brothers and sisters have argued--but these traditions are too ancient to be dismissed by such a literal interpretation to this little line. As usual, Jesus is trying to say something bigger than what his words denote and a literal interpretation misses the mark.

The website Catholic Answers does an excellent job of giving one apologetic interpretation of the passage and defense of Catholic tradition on this point. (Click HERE to read).

What I want to pull out from this section of Matthew is the juxtaposition of the line "you are all brothers [and sisters]" (Matt 23:8b) with the line "All their works are performed to be seen" (Matt 23:5). This contrast helps the reader realize that Matthew 23: 1-12 is not about titles in and of themselves, but about the danger of clericalism and hypocrisy in professional religious life. The use of special clothing and titles for clergy--whether the Roman collar or habits and veils, along with titles like "Father" or "Mother", "Sister" or "Brother" (not to mention "Your Holiness", "Your Excellency", and "Your Grace"); or the nice suit and tie and titles like "Pastor", "Elder", "Brother" (as used by Protestants)--create the potential that the common brotherhood and sisterhood of Christians is destroyed by a system of deciding who is more important--who is to be shown greater honor. In contrast, Jesus says, "The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted" (Matt 23:11-12). This is the key to reading all of the other verses of this section. Jesus is saying that true leadership in the Christian way is always rooted in humble service. If we think  he is only talking about titles, then we allow ourselves to miss the many ways, besides titles, that we have of puffing ourselves up and lording our faith over others.

While the reading from Malachi 1:14b-2:2b, 8-10 is a parallel condemnation of sinful clergy, the second reading from 1 Thessalonians 2:7b-9, 13 is the confession of a hard-working, holy man dedicated to the mission. Indeed, it seems Saint Paul could have had the gospel passage from Luke in mind, because he denies having any of the faults that we hear Jesus condemning today. Instead, he describes himself with the words: "we were gentle among you as a nursing mother cares for her children" (v.7b)--an interesting use of feminine imagery to describe Apostolic ministry. This passage clearly highlights Saint Paul's indefatigable preaching and laboring on behalf of the Gospel and the people. His orientation is completely on the good of the people, a result of his deep prayer relationship with God. It would seem to me that Jesus would have been well-pleased with Saint Paul.

Let us sit with these readings today and ponder which image we are most like most of the time--the greedy, snobbish, selfish clergy in Malachi and Luke, or the hard-working, giving, prayerful servant of God in 1 Thessalonians--and ask God the Holy Spirit for the virtues we need to rid our lives of hypocrisy so that we too would show the solicitude and gentleness of a nursing mother for her children to all in need.
Br. Paul, OP

Afterthought:
For those of my readers who wear habits and have religious titles, you know the other side of the story--how these things can actually help ministry by making it clear that we religious, priests, and deacons belong to the people we serve. A habit, for example, sets a person apart in a crowd, but not merely to stand out, but to announce to the others that they can approach that habited person for help, for conversation, and for brotherly or sisterly love.

Our Jewish Brothers and Sisters

Great Synagogue of Rome

"The gifts and the call of God are irrevocable," (Romans 11:29b). The first reading from Romans today, a rather abridged version of chapter eleven, has a clear message: The Jewish people have been and always will be the people of God. No matter what their relation to Jesus as Messiah and to his followers seem to be, Saint Paul the Apostle insists that God has a plan for them and has not and will not abandon them. He writes this as a Christian Jew long before it became easy for both Jews and Christians to think of their theologies and identities as being mutually exclusive. They are not; but even if we disagree on that, it is undeniable that we, as fellow believers in the God of Abraham and Sarah, are related in a special way. Our stories are intertwined and will not be separated.

Unfortunately, supercessionism (the belief that Christianity is superior to Judaism) has polluted the minds of Christians, leading them to behave disrespectfully and sometimes cruelly toward Jews and others. So much so, the followers of Christ (a Jewish man himself who taught "love your neighbors as yourself" and "do unto others as you would have them do unto you") have often restricted the liberties of their Jewish neighbors, relegating them to ghettos, expelling them from their countries, or seeking to outright exterminate them. Christian history, read one way, is a scandalous litany of violations of basic human rights, rooted in the idea that the Gospel gave the Church the right to police the world--it did not. The Gospel gave the Church only one task: to proclaim to all nations that Jesus is the Messiah; to tell the story of salvation and to teach men and women the path to God. The Gospel recognizes the right of all people to make up their own minds to accept or reject it (Luke 9:54-55). In no way does it give any Christian the right to harm another person because he or she rejects the Gospel, rather it recognizes that judgement in such cases belongs to God alone (Matt 10:12-15).

I say this, because today's gospel reading, Luke 14:1, 7-11, can be read as a parable about the topic of supercessionism. The Christian in a crowd of non-Christians--or the Catholic in a room mixed with Protestants, Orthodox, and other Christians--believes he should have the seat of honor next to God. He alone, after all, worships God correctly. But such an attitude reveals he has understood little of what God has said. He has, perhaps, spent so much time cultivating his identity as Christian that he has neglected the most important teachings of Christianity. Not surprisingly, he is asked to go lower and make room for another. His replacement is probably a Jew, a Muslim, a Buddhist, maybe a righteous Atheist, "even" a Mormon. Or maybe the chair remains empty, since none of these groups seems able to get it right either.

We are advised by Jesus to "take the lowest place" (Luke 14:9). This means that Christians have got to rid themselves of any and all traces of arrogance related to "orthodoxy". The dignity of a Christian comes not from saying "I believe", but from living out the example set by the Messiah (Matt 21:28-32). Your belief or your "being saved" means nothing to me, after all, if you use it to judge me, imprison me, or kill me. Your love, however, can heal me, teach me, and bring me to salvation.

Pope Benedict, in the address he delivered during a visit to the Great Synagogue of Rome, spoke about Jewish-Christian relations and identified the central problem when he said, "Christians and Jews share to a great extent a common spiritual patrimony, they pray to the same Lord, they have the same roots, and yet they often remain unknown to each other." (Click Here to read complete text.) This same problem of ignorance of one's neighbor divides Christians from other groups as well, including groups of other Christians. We do not know each other. I wonder if we're afraid that if we ventured into the other's camp we will like what we find so much, it would lead us to convert. This reminds me of the response of the soldiers to the beauty of Judith. They say, "Who can despise this people that has such women among them? It is not wise to leave one man of them alive, for if any were to be spared they could beguile the whole world!" (Judith 10:19).

What ought we to do, then? Visit the Bahai temple down the street? Go listen to the Gospel music at the Baptist Church, take in a sermon at the Mosque on Friday, or study Torah with the Jews on Saturday? One wonders how I could recommend these things to my fellow Catholics when I see such a culture of intolerance within my own Catholic community. If Catholics cannot respect other Catholics, how can we hope to be a people of interfaith and ecumenical dialogue as the Holy Spirit, through the Second Vatican Council, called us to be?

As always, the first step is to exhort one another to love each other--the first step of which is to stop doing to others what we would not want done to ourselves. But for the few who are brave and secure, let them venture into foreign camps to be beguiled and to beguile--not with words that mean little, but with open hearts that reveal most potently that God actually exists and is beautiful.
Br. Paul, OP

Loving God for God's Sake Alone

"Praise to God"

by Anna Laetitia Barbauld (1743-1825)

(A reworking of Habakkuk 3:2-19)

"Praise to God, immortal praise,

For the love that crowns our days;

Bounteous source of every joy,

Let thy praise our tongues employ.

For the blessings of the field,

For the stores the gardens yield,

For the vine's exalted juice,

For the generous olive's use.

Flocks that whiten all the plain,

Yellow sheaves of ripened grain;

Clouds that drop their fattening dews

Suns that temperate warmth diffuse.

All that spring, with bouteous hand,

Scatters o'er the smiling land;

All that liberal autumn pours

From her rich o'erflowing stores.

These to thee, my God, we owe,

Source whence all our blessings flow;

And for these my soul shall raise

Grateful vows and solemn praise.

Yet should the rising whirlwinds tear

From its stem the ripening ear;

Should the fig-tree's blasted shoot

Drop her green untimely fruit;

Should the vine put forth no more,

Nor the olive yield her store;

Though the sickening flocks should fall,

and the herds desert the stall;

Should thine altered hand restrain

The early and the latter rain,

Blast each opening bud of joy,

And the rising year destroy,--

Yet to thee my soul shall raise

Grateful vows and solemn praise;

And when every blessing's flown,

Love thee for thyself alone."

Standing in God's Way

Click HERE to read today's scripture

"For I am convinced

that neither death,

nor life,

nor angels,

nor principalities,

nor present things,

nor future things,

nor powers,

nor height,

nor depth,

nor any other creature,

will be able to separate us

from the love of God

in Christ Jesus our Lord."

(Romans 8:38-39)

Continuing the thoughts of yesterday, today's message from St. Paul in Romans 8 soars to the happy heights of one inebriated by faith. The one obstacle that he does not list here is the one that does have the power to separate us from the love of God, and that is ourselves. Our lack of faith, our inconstancy, our weak prayer, our indifference, our sinfulness, our ignorance...us. We are weaker than death and life, angels and principalities, present and future things, powers and heights and depths, and most other creatures, but we humans are strong in the ways of running from God's love. As Jesus says in the gospel for today, "How I yearned to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but you were unwilling!" (Luke 13:34b).

So we might ask ourselves, with St. Paul, "What will separate us from the love of Christ?", but instead of making a list of outside forces, without worrying about anyone else, we might list the things within ourselves that do separate us from God. And then, in humble submission, ask Jesus to help us be rid of these obstacles, letting him hold us in his arms until we are able to bear his love and give love in return.
Br. Paul, OP 

Lord, Will Only A Few Be Saved? Divine Mercy & Human Indifference

Click HERE to read the Scriptures

On Monday evening, my Teaching Literature classmates and I studied the following poem by British poet Stevie Smith. It's a good juxtaposition to the gospel reading for today, Luke 13:22-30, but more on that after the poem.

The New Age


Shall I tell you the signs of a New Age coming?
It is a sound of drubbing and sobbing
Of people crying, We are old, we are old
And the sun is going down and becoming cold
Oh sinful and sad and the last of our kind
If we turn to God now do you think He will mind?
Then they fall on their knees and begin to whine
That the state of Art itself presages decline
As if Art has anything or ever had
To do with civilization whether good or bad.
Art is wild as a cat and quite separate from civilization
But that is another matter that is not now under consideration.
Oh these people are fools with their sighing and sinning
Why should Man be at an end? he is hardly beginning.
This New Age will slip in under cover of their cries
And be upon them before they have opened their eyes.
Well, say geological time is a one-foot rule
Then Man's only been here about half an inch to play the fool
Or be wise if he likes, as he often has been
Oh heavens how these crying people spoil the beautiful
     geological scene.


The question of the Divine Judgement is a key question for those who believe in the immortality of the soul. It was certainly on the mind of the man or woman in the crowd who asked Jesus, "Lord, will only a few people be saved?" (Luke 13:23). It is on the minds of those Christians caught up in the flurry of end of the world predictions (despite Jesus's commands not to listen to these false teachers). There is a sense that concern for the end of the world, the final judgement, gives meaning to the moments we have now. Unlike the speaker in Smith's poem above, the people he or she is making fun of get that thinking of humanity's end does not make you a fool, it makes you wise. The "sighing", "whining" show we understand that there is a deeper purpose and order to things, and our frame of reference does not merely begin with ourselves or our planet's cycles, but with the Author of All. Our lives achieve true beauty only when they are in line with the will of God. If most people were honest, they would realize that they are not in line with God, and that realization is a sad or frightening discovery, perhaps mostly frustrating or mysterious.

I remember when I was hospital chaplain a little over a  year ago in Albuquerque, a patient I was visiting for the first time was upset and worried about this very topic--not for himself, but for everyone. He believed only a few would be saved. I chose to respond to his concerns by talking about the message of Divine Mercy--the promises made by Jesus to St. Maria Faustina--but later, I reflected on what I had said, and today's gospel came to mind. Jesus himself declares: "Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough. After the master of the house has arisen and locked the door, then will you stand outside knocking and saying, 'Lord, open the door for us.' He will say to you in reply, 'I do not know where you are from.'" (Luke 13:24-25). Dreadful words. They indicate that the ultimate goal of eternal life with God is not easily obtained, even by those who "ate and drank" with the master, and seemingly belonged to group of believers. It seemed to me then that perhaps I was wrong to emphasize Divine Mercy, as if all the worry about sin would ultimately be a waste, since God was just going to decide to be merciful.

It hit me, now, that view I had was an oversimplification of the Divine Mercy message. A specific line from St. Maria Faustina's diary illustrates the point: "I desire that priests proclaim this great mercy of Mine towards souls of sinners. Let the sinner not be afraid to approach Me. The flames of mercy are burning Me--clamoring to be spent; I want to pour them out upon these souls...Distrust on the part of souls is tearing at My insides. The distrust of a chosen soul causes Me even greater pain; despite My inexhaustible love for them they do not trust Me. Even My death is not enough for them. Woe to the soul that abuses theses gifts" (Paragraph 50, Notebook I, 22 Feb 1931).  It isn't that Jesus does not want to have mercy on sinners, rather it is that unlike the questioner in the crowd from the gospel, or the patient in the hospital bed, or the mourners in the poem above, most people are not interested, even Christians who should be.

What an odd thing, because, as St. Paul says in yesterday's reading from Romans, "Creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God...that creation itself would be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now; and not only that, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, we also groan within ourselves as we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies" (Rom. 8:19, 21-23). He goes on to say that we Christians are a people of hope; that is, a people focused on what we cannot see and what we believe is coming. We're precisely the people concerned with salvation, judgement, the end of the world, but on a larger scale than just our own happiness. As St. Paul shows, a Christian is a part of the whole created world, and as last part of Jesus's answer to the question implies, this project of salvation involves all people.

For a global community to think as does the speaker of Smith's poem would be naive. It may alleviate for a time that nagging worry called the human conscience, but it would not succeed in silencing it altogether. Our very purpose as humans is to, in slag terms, "give a damn" about what it all means, in relation to God, to the planet, to each other, and to ourselves. And we have our awareness of our mortality, our fragility and preciousness--not simply Christian eschatology--to thank for giving the question such urgency.

"Lord, will only a few be saved?" That's a good beginning question. If it is overwhelming, take time to sit with Romans 8:26-30, which teaches us that the Holy Spirit is with us to help us. Salvation is God's work from beginning to end.
Br. Paul, OP

The Kingdom of God is like...[A Taoist Version?]

Compare today's Gospel reading (Luke 13:18-21), with its rather abstract metaphors for the Kingdom of God, to the following passage from the Tao Te Ching. 

If a country is governed wisely,

its inhabitants will be content.

They enjoy the labor of their hands

and don't waste time inventing

labor-saving machines.

Since they dearly love their homes,

they aren't interested in travel.

There may be a few wagons and boats,

but these don't go anywhere.

There may be an arsenal of weapons,

but nobody ever uses them.

People enjoy their food,

take pleasure in being with their families,

spend weekends working in their gardens,

delight in the doings of the neighborhood.

And even though the next country is so close

that people can hear its roosters crowing

and its dogs barking,

they are content to die of old age

without ever having gone to see it.

(Saying 80)

The Law of God vs. The Law of Sin: The Confession of St. Paul

Rembrandt's St. Paul

"For I know that good does not dwell in me,

that is, in my flesh.

The willing is ready at hand,

but the doing the good is not.

For I do not do the good I want,

but I do the evil I do not want.

Now if I do what I do not want,

it is no longer I who do it,

but sin that dwells in me.

So, then, I discover the principle 

that when I want to do right, 

evil is at hand."

(Romans 7:18-21)

I think that next to his hymn on love (1 Cor. 13), this passage from Romans, along with the verses that follow it, completing chapter seven, are some of the most moving words St. Paul ever composed, and some of the most important in all of scripture. The lectionary has the reading end at verse 25a, but 25b is equally important, though it's a low note: "Therefore, I myself, with my mind, serve the law of God but, with my flesh, the law of sin." This line is the summary of what came before, and it's an astounding confession to hear from the great apostle.

This confession could not come at a better time, liturgically. All week Jesus and Paul have been given us a hard time, challenging us to practice what we say we believe. In today's gospel reading (Luke 12:54-59), we are told to read the signs of the times and to "judge for [our]selves what is right" (v.57). There is a great pressure to just choose to be good, as if it were that simple.

I know even my recent postings have made it seem as if I believed if were that simple. But it isn't. We all know it isn't. Despite the grace of God that comes through the sacraments, the scripture, the Christian community, the gift of the Holy Spirit, the intercession of Jesus the one mediator between God and humanity,  we still find ourselves overwhelmed with the inability to always do what we know we ought to do, even if we seem to want it.

St. Paul does not pose the question I am about to, but I think the situation seems to beg it. Did the Christ event, as his life, death, resurrection, and ascension are called, really change anything? If, indeed, the flesh still serves "the law of sin", what is different? After all, St. John writes in his first letter "no one who remains in him sins; no one who sins has seen him or known him" (3:6). He further says, "In this way, the children of God and the children of the devil are made plain; no one who fails to act in righteousness belongs to God..." (3:10). By this measurement, it would seem that St. Paul was a child of the devil...and me...and most, if not all, of the people I know.

But we know that St. John was preaching through his letter, knowing that his audience of Christians were struggling in just the way that St. Paul was, and he wanted to impress upon them the importance of resisting sin. His exaggerated claims serve to create a sense of absoluteness about his instruction. Perhaps that method would scare some of his congregation into righteousness, in either the good or bad sense that that can happen. "The fear of God is the beginning of knowledge" (Prov. 1:7), after all. And next to that is the hatred of sin, which is what St. Paul and St. John are both talking about. It is only when we confess our sins and learn to hate them (not ourselves) that we begin to understand ourselves and what is actually for our own good and what contributes most fully to our happiness. We can begin to choose wisely, like a son or daughter of God ought to choose.

Something did really happen with the Jesus event, but it was not an easy fix or a reset button. We Christians struggle with living out our faith--loving our God and neighbor--as much as our non-Christian neighbors do, and yet, if you talk to faithful Christians, they will tell you about experiences of grace and healing that make it clear something is really at work in their lives. Someone, I should say: The Holy Spirit, who is guiding them each day closer to the Father. The graces given by the Spirit strengthen us and make us new creatures.

Although I am a sinner still, and do the things I do not want to do from time to time, I am not the same person I was before my baptism, confirmation, or religious profession. I may not be able to articulate it fully, but I believe from what I have experienced in my own life, that Jesus did conquer sin and death, and that his victory is the final word on the subject. And sinners, though we Christians all may be, we are joined to Christ, and so participate in his victory. "Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord" (Rom 7:25a).
Br. Paul, OP

The Vigilant and Faithful Servant

Click HERE to read today's scripture.

"That servant who knew his master's will

but did not make preparations

nor act in accord with his will

shall be beaten severely;

and the servant who was ignorant

of his master's will

but acted in a way deserving of a severe beating

will be beaten only lightly."

(Luke 12:47-48)

The image of happy-go-lucky Jesus is replaced in today's Gospel by the rather harsh and demanding rabbi who wants to impress upon his audience the importance of living a holy life. In this particular case, as in the Parable of the Rich Fool, there is an urgency to our actions that Jesus roots in the image of the returning master--a metaphor for "the end", be it one's death or the return of the Messiah. This end marks the conclusion to the time when one was at liberty to make decisions for oneself. Indeed, the parable compares the gift of free will to the duration of time a servant has to him or herself while the master is away. What is done during the period of freedom reveals the servant's true character. For the Jew or Christian, it tests the level of authentic integration of the Word of God into one's way of life. For those Jews or Christians who have not fully integrated God's Word into their way of living, the consequence will be severe--more severe than for others who committed the same mistakes, but who did not have God's Word to guide them. This is only just, because the Jews and Christians should have known better. To know what God wants of you and to do the opposite is a double sin.

In the reading from St. Paul's letter to the Romans, the same level of urgency is notable. He says, "For sin is not to have power over you, since you are not under the law but under grace," (Romans 6:14). Using the imagery of weapons (war) and slavery (to either evil or righteousness), Paul, like our morality coach, urges us not to continue to live in sin, now that we have heard the Gospel. To do so is an embarrassment to the Church. What good is the Gospel if Christians live like everyone else? If they are just as morally lazy as unbelievers, or even more evil than unbelievers? In such a way, our immoral lives can be a preaching against the Gospel.

As excited as people get over the topic of Faith or Works, it is clear that  both Jesus and Paul believed works--that is, living according to one's faith--was essential. To fail to do so only proves detrimental to one's soul, meriting punishment. Important in all of this is not to focus merely on "acts", but on "character". The moral servant who is prepared for his master's return has a radically different character than the wicked servant who abuses his freedom. It is not just that they do  not behave alike, it is that they see the world in radically different ways. They value different things. They love differently. The key to moral living is doing all things in reference to God.

How might our values, our loves be hindering our preparations for the master's return today?
Br. Paul Byrd, OP

Parable of the Rich Fool

Rembrandt's The Rich Fool

In today's gospel (click HERE to read), a man commands that Jesus tell his brother to share his inheritance, which reminds me of the story of Jesus's visit to the home of Martha and Mary when Martha asks Jesus to order Mary to help her. At first, these requests seem reasonable. It looks rather unfair of Mary to leave Martha to do all of the hostess work, and it may have been unfair of the brother who had the inheritance not to share it with the brother who did not.

Jesus, who can read people, and who does not need to infer from appearances, reacts in both cases by refusing to do what was requested. It is not often that we see him refusing to help a person. If it is surprising with the random, unidentified man in the crowd, it is even more so with Martha, his friend. Except when we realize that Jesus understood that something more was going on. With Martha, of course, it was her preoccupation with worries, her busyness. In the case of the man from Luke 12:13-15, it is his greed, something we could not know without further clues.

Jesus then uses the moment to teach the crowd, and tells the Parable of the Rich Fool--a parable that Christians who buy into the so-called Prosperity Gospel need to take to heart. In the story, a man finds that his harvest is so large that he does not have enough room to store it all. His solution is to tear down his old barns and build larger ones. Then he intends to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

On the surface, many Christians might not see the problem. There is nothing in the parable that indicates the man gained his wealth in bad ways. And if he worked hard for it, what could be wrong with prudently storing it away and later enjoying it and taking a rest? Something must have been very wrong, for God calls the man a fool. He then predicts the man's death, and that the wealth will fall into the hands of others. [It's a similar plot to Dickens' A Christmas Carol.]

The moral of the story gives us a clue to its meaning. Jesus says, "Thus will it be for the one who stores up treasure for himself but is not rich in what matters to God," (Luke 12:15). The man was so preoccupied with wealth, success, and comfort that he neglected to learn what the purpose of his life was from God's point of view, and so all his hard work was a waste of time.

We are called today to ponder "what matters to God". A good beginning place for that would be to take another look at Jesus's first preaching in Nazareth where he quotes Isaiah, saying, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, and to let the oppressed go free," (Luke 4:18). Another good place would be to meditate on the life of Abraham, who is held up in the first reading from St. Paul's letter to the Romans as a model for us. He, unlike the Rich Fool, placed all of his hopes in God, and he was not disappointed.
Br. Paul, OP

Render unto God: 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Click HERE to read Sunday's Scripture

"Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God," (Matt 22:21) is a rather clever answer, to which the men trying to trick Jesus are so amazed, they just go away. It is a funny, and well-told fragment story, short, simple, and a great way of highlighting Jesus' savvy. His response also leaves room for discussion on what exactly is due both to God and to Caesar (one's government)--always an important question for religious people living in pluralistic society. It was definitely an important question for the Jews of the 1st Century of the Common Era, as the power of a foreign empire continued to encroach on their religious liberties.

But what struck me when I read this passage again were the four points that are made by the man questioning Jesus. His sincerity is certainly dubious, but what he says to flatter Jesus reflects the reputation that Jesus had in his own day, and so is good material for meditation. 

First, the man calls him Rabbi, a mark of respect to Jesus as a recognized teacher, and then adds: "We know that you are a truthful man." Readers of the story may take this for granted, but having a reputation for telling the truth is an important characterization element. When you read scripture, it is obvious that many people--both the heroes and the villains--struggle to tell the truth. So much of "getting by" in life seems to be rooted in lying, but Jesus remained free from that vice. 

Second, the man continues with "And that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth." So not only is Jesus honest about ordinary things related to himself, he is reputed to be a man who instructs others well on morality. Again, not all members of religions are good about this. Some Catholics, for example, opening contradict Church teaching, leading fellow Catholics who know them (their friends, spouses, children, students, or parishioners, etc.) to be confused or misguided by them.

Third, "You are not concerned with anyone's opinion." Jesus seems a rather independent character, in contrast to others who may have been consumed with concern for other people's opinions. It must have been apparent to others that Jesus had a level of self-confidence and a sense of authority--a trait that echoes throughout the gospels, all the way up to the Passion narrative when he stands before Pilate and Herod. Needless to say, society trains us to be concerned with other people's opinions. Parent's punish or reward us, schools grade us, jobs evaluate us, churches watch us, and friends take or leave us. Even strangers don't mind presuming that we should care about their opinions of us. Things were no different in Jesus's day, yet he refused to buy into the negative influence of others.

And fourth, "For you do not regard a person's status." Related to the third, this trait indicates that Jesus was known for treating everyone equally, from Pharisee to tax collector to prostitute to his own mother and siblings. Everyone encountered the same Jesus. Again, very different from even our own Church culture that has a whole system of granting greater or lesser importance to people based on positions within the Church, from the pope and cardinals in Rome, to the local bishops, then the priests, religious, and deacons, the wealthy lay people, then the "regular" folk, then the poor with problems. The same kinds of hierarchies impact general social interactions, based on wealth, profession, education, relationship to legal power, public fame, talent, and physical appearance.

 St. John wrote, "Whoever claims to abide in him ought to live just as he lived," (1 John 2:6), so what might these four traits of Jesus inspire in his followers today? We who are called to imitate Jesus, are we honest in all respects and known to be trustworthy? Do we teach people correctly the way of God as the Church has handed on, or do we teach our own way? Are we so concerned with other people that we behave differently to please them, violating our own values and beliefs? And do we treat others with greater attentiveness and love or respect because they have a particular office? If yes--then we are called to change our ways today, shaking off anything that is not a truthful reflection of who we are and are called to be as Catholics striving to imitate Jesus the Messiah. Only then can we really claim to be rendering unto God what belongs to God.

Br. Paul, OP

You are worth more than many sparrows

Click Here to read today's scripture readings

Jesus gives us an insight into God the Creator's perspective on our world today in Luke 12:6-7. He says that God notices the little sparrows: "not one of them has escaped the notice of God"--an extraordinary claim, especially in contrast to the image just before of five sparrows being sold for two small coins--proof that humans see them as insignificant. What a contrast between the values of God the Creator and human beings.

Jesus then says that, given God's attention to these little creatures, how much greater is his attention to each human person. "Even the hairs on your head have all been counted." He's not talking about the hair of kings, popes, or celebrities only--he's talking about your hair and mine (what's left of it). Then he says, "Do not be afraid," that characteristic motto of his. He knew that so many of the people that he came in to contact with were fearful. In this case, fearful that God did not love them. He declares, "You are worth more than many sparrows." I doubt we humans, so desensitized to the value of everything around us and ourselves, can really grasp what the Messiah is saying here--but it's none other than the rationale for the coming Passion of Jesus. God loves you so much--yes, you--that he would pay the ransom for your offenses against him.

Our challenge for today is to spend some time sitting with and enjoying the knowledge that God loves us and that he is keeping a loving eye on us.
Br. Paul, OP

Woe to You, Torah Experts!

Jesus and the Pharisees by Gustave Doré

In today's gospel portion, (Luke 11:47-54) the image of Jesus is not a depiction of the kinder and gentler Jesus so popular in religious artwork. No, it's the image of an angry Jesus, listing condemnations to a crowd of Torah experts after having just finished telling off some misguided Pharisees.

What is at stake here is very important, and may be summarized by Jesus' last accusation to them: "Woe to you, scholars of the Torah! You have taken away the key of knowledge. You yourselves did not enter and you stopped those trying to enter," (Luke 11:52). Nothing gets the Messiah King and Shepherd of his people more angry than religious people who say and do things to keep others from God. Making rules impossible to keep, making people feel guilty without helping them to be healed and reconciled, and silencing the voices of the opposition (in this case, the prophets), these actions obstruct the very purpose of the Holy Torah, which was to clear the way for communion between God and humanity. 

--St. Paul makes this very clear in the first reading, (Rom. 3:21-30), where he unequivocally declares: "All have sinned and are deprived of the glory of God. They are justified freely by his grace through the redemption in Christ Jesus..." In other words, the moral score card is the same for all of us, and God's gifts of mercy and forgiveness are offered to all. No one, therefore, should obstruct this saving work, rather they should lend a hand to those in need of help. He further says that no one ought to boast, a further indication that the temptation for religious people is two fold: 1) to believe that God loves them because of something they did, and 2) because they do good things like study scripture, follow the customs, that they somehow have possession of God--that they are experts not just on scripture and tradition, but on God godself, and therefore  have a special right to tell other people what to do, all the while wanting to keep this supposed special place next to God for themselves and other people at a distance.

These readings are challenging to Christians--particularly ministers (lay or ordained)--who may be careless in the way they advise those who come to them for help. It is not the job of any Christian to burden a soul with either guilt or undue penance, rather, it is the Christian's job to help his or her neighbors carry their burdens until they may be left off altogether and freedom is restored. Tough love and hard advice are sometimes necessary, but to these must be added the reassurance of fraternal or sororal support. Above all, we must remember that no one saves his or her own soul, rather God saves us freely through Jesus Christ, so none of us has the right to boast. May the knowledge of it turn our hearts again in wonderment to our compassionate and patient Lord and unite us to our neighbors.

Br. Paul, OP

Saint Clarissa Harlowe

Clarissa with Sean Bean and Saskia Wickham

Samuel Richard’s Clarissa is one of those 18^th Century novels that weigh about five pounds and intimidate even the most determined of English majors. Thus when I was at my local public library and spotted a film adaptation of the novel, I had no scruples in checking it out and making it my literary meditation for the past few days.

The story has all the typical tropes: a saintly heroine, an unscrupulous but handsome villain, and a plot that keeps one on the edge, although there is just one simple dramatic question: Will or will not Mr. Lovelace succeed in his plans of seducing or, if that does not work, raping Clarissa Harlowe? 

I loved this story, because it was able to make me so angry. The behavior of everyone, including Clarissa, drove me wild. Clarissa's family is hideously cruel to her. Her relatives try to manipulate her into doing what they want (Clarissa to make a materially advantageous marriage to an odious man) by using Clarissa's impeccable morality against her, arguing she owes it to her family to obey them absolutely, sacrificing her own happiness for theirs. Clarissa, however, wisely understands that she also has a duty to herself, and that moral obedience to one's parents does not give them license to force you to do something that is repugnant to your own happiness. First in this cast of familial villains is Clarissa's brother James. What a delightful character to loathe! So sanctimonious, hypocritical, coldhearted, and yet craven and weak. 

It is Mr. Lovelace, however, who is Clarissa's greatest enemy. He's a young man with absolutely no respect for women, who is known for his sexual exploits. He seeks to torment and conquer Clarissa, but it is she who ultimately torments him. Her genuine piety, her frankness, and her modesty confront Lovelace's baser, animalistic, irrational, violent, and false behavior. 

Indeed, Clarissa stands out--as she was intended to do--as a model of Christian virtue. Like Susanna in the Book of Daniel, she faces a trap designed to ruin her good name. The words of Susanna could easily have been Clarissa's, "I am completely trapped. If I yield, it will be my death; if I refuse, I cannot escape your power. Yet it is better for me to fall into your power without guilt than to sin before the Lord" (Daniel 13:22-23). Indeed, to give in would be to become the very thing one resists, neither Susanna nor Clarissa would stoop so low as to forfeit their eternal souls in such a manner. In so doing, they keep the advice that Jesus gives to us when he says, "Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but after that can do no more. I shall show you whom to fear. Be afraid of the one who after killing has the power to cast into Gehenna," (Luke 12:4-5). 

This movie made an excellent meditation for this week, as the readings from Romans and Luke for the daily Masses all relate to the problem of hypocrisy. Stories like Clarissa expose not only the hypocrisy of obvious villains like Lovelace, but also those that actually consider themselves to be good Christians, like the Harlowe family. The Comedy of Manners novels of Richardson, Fielding, Austen, and others do this so effectively by contrasting the public lives of the characters with their inner, secret motivations. So often, people will violate morality if they think no one is looking or will ever find out, but what we think and do in our private moments is precisely the test of our personal morality. If we only believe that all would be exposed someday, we would all tremble with shame at our double dealings. And why should we not believe it will be so, when it is written, "There is nothing concealed that will not be revealed, nor secret that will not be known," (Luke 12:2). Therefore, let the saintly Clarissa Harlowe be our model, and resist sin with all our might, praying God to help us.

Br. Paul Byrd, OP

(I obviously highly recommend this film and the novel it is based on.)

The Phantom Rickshaw or The Jerk Gets Punished

The stylish gentleman pictured on the left is famed author, Rudyard Kipling. Yesterday evening, my Teaching Literature class discussed a lesser known work by Kipling, a short story entitled "The Phantom 'Rickshaw". For those who do not know, a 'rickshaw is a human pulled or carried carriage.

The story, like so many others in the English language tradition that incorporate the supernatural (think Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray, Dickens' A Christmas Carol, or Poe's "The Tell Tale Heart"), the ghostly apparition in this story serves as a moral challenge to the immoral main character Jack Pansay, an English officer serving in India. Pansay had an affair with a married woman, and when the thrill of the romance ends for him, he casts off the woman, and eventually grows to hate her. The woman, Mrs. Keith Wessington, is tenacious, however, and tries to regain Jack's friendship. Unmoved, Jack falls in love with another woman, a young, unmarried girl named Kitty, and Mrs. Wessington dies brokenhearted and forgotten.

The last image that Jack has of Mrs. Wessington is vividly told. Jack says: "The scene and its surroundings were photographed on my memory. The rain-swept sky (we were at the end of the wet weather), the sodden, dingy pines, the muddy road, and the black powder riven cliffs formed a gloomy background against which the black and white liveries of the jhampanies [the men who carried the rickshaw carriage], the yellow-paneled 'rickshaw and Mrs. Wessington's down-bowed golden head stood out clearly. She was holding her handkerchief in her left hand and was leaning back exhausted against the 'rickshaw cushions. I turned my horse up a bypath near the Sanjowlie Reservoir and literally ran away. Once I fancied I heard a faint call of 'Jack!' This may have been imagination. I never stopped to verify it. Ten minutes later, I came across Kitty on horseback; and in the delight of a long ride with her, forgot all about the interview."

The question of the veracity of what then follows, the subsequent appearances to Jack of Mrs. Wessington in her 'rickshaw, is disputable. Is Jack actually seeing an ghost, or is he having a nervous breakdown? Either way, Jack interprets the other-worldly visitation as a punishment for his treatment of poor Mrs. Wessington. Even so, his pride and selfishness persist, and he says, "My only anxiety was to get the penance over as quietly as might be," a line that reminds me of Ebeneezer Scrooge. Like Scrooge, however, Jack is finally moved to realize his crime, and the story ends with his confession of wrong.

The story is an interesting handling of the question of morality--meaning, the way that we consciously construct our behavior. On the surface, there is the central moral problem of adultery--but the real central moral problem at the heart of things is the selfishness of the main character, a selfishness that allows him to see other people as useful or expendable. Consequently, Jack is a jerk, through and through, and readers of the story are asked to consider if they, too, are jerks.

Not a lot of preaching or teaching in Christian circles is directed to that question, but really morality has everything to do with asking yourself if you are a jerk. Are you racist, sexist/misogynistic, homophobic? Are you crass in your language, rude, vulgar, or generally verbally abusive? Are you more concerned with your own happiness than with the happiness of the community? Do you seek to gain and never to give, or use your wealth and power to control others? Do you, in short, withhold your love? If "yes", you're a jerk and not a good person/Christian. That seems to be the moral of this and like stories. It's a lesson Dorian Gray, Ebeneezer Scrooge, Jack Pansay, as well as characters from other stories like the Malfoys and the Dursleys of the Harry Potter series and Jane Eyre's rich relatives, the Reeds, (just to name a few) needed to hear, and its a strong challenge that many people in our own lives (and maybe ourselves) need to hear from time to time.

Jack says, "I felt that it was bitterly, cruelly unfair that I alone should have been singled out for so hideous a fate." Actually, there is truth to that statement, just not not the way that Jack means it. Really, it would be interesting if God punished every jerk so obviously and strongly, the way Jack is. Wouldn't it be a better world if we all received a visitation from those we have hurt, so that we might reform--happily ever after, for Scrooge, not so happily for Jack Pansay?

Well, I think the answer to that question is complicated. While a ghostly apparition is interesting, perhaps the better tool for moral correction is social disapproval and punishment. This is represented in the story by the second lady Jack was in love with--Kitty Mannering. Unlike the weak and submissive Mrs. Wessington who endured Jack's jerk-like behavior, Kitty would not stand for it. She stood up for herself, knocked Jack down a peg or two, and made sure that the town knew what he had done wrong. If not for ourselves, then for others, we need to communally work against the prevalence of jerk-like, immoral behavior, and actively work against our own urges to be selfish, petty, and unkind.

Br. Paul, OP