"DO NOT SWEAR AT ALL."

June 13^th, 2020: Matthew 5:33-37.

          The Ten Commandments do not deal directly with oaths and swearing except to say, “you shall not bear false witness,” and “you shall not take the name of the name of the Lord, your God, in vain.” Jesus goes farther in today’s gospel, when he says, still speaking not as an interpreter of God’s law, but as himself the law-giver: “I say to you, do not swear at all.”

He goes on, then, to give examples of what he has just forbidden. Do not swear, he says, by heaven, by the earth, by the holy city Jerusalem, or by your head. The thought behind this list is that all these things are made by God, so swearing by them is really a way of swearing by God without actually pronouncing his name. Such subterfuges are unworthy of those whose lives are centered on God.

“Let your ‘Yes’ mean ‘Yes,” Jesus says, “and your ‘No’ mean No.’” The person of integrity has no need to reinforce his Yes or No with an oath. When a man and woman come into God’s house to marry, there are no oaths. The priest or deacon who is presiding at the marriage asks the man simply: “John, do you take this woman to be your wedded wife?” He asks the woman, “Mary do you take this man to be your wedded husband?” Each of them answers, “I do.” With those simple questions and answers, the marriage bond is established. It is mutual consent, given without reservation or compulsion, which makes the marriage.

Similarly with a man being ordained as priest or bishop. Again, there are no oaths. The Church requires only that the candidate answer affirmatively to a number of questions about the duties of the office he is assuming. Once these are given, the prayer for the descent of the Holy Spirit, and the laying on of hands by the ordaining bishop follow.

In a beautiful passage in his second Letter to the Corinthians Paul tells us that Jesus is himself Yes personified. Here’s what Paul writes: “The language in which we address you is not an ambiguous blend of Yes and No. The Son of God, Christ Jesus, proclaimed among you by us ... was never a blend of Yes and No. With him it was, and is, Yes. He is the Yes pronounced upon God’s promises, every one of them.” (2 Cor.1, 18ff: New English Bible) To which we joyfully say: “Thanks be to God!”

 

WHY CELIBACY?

June 12^th, 2020: Matthew 5:27-32.

          “You shall not commit adultery,” Jesus says at the start of today’s gospel. The next sentence takes our breath away: “But I say to you, everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” If the commandment really means that, which of us can claim to be wholly innocent? Priests must deal often with people who are in anguish over these words of Jesus.

          Here is an example. Johnny is a seminarian approaching ordination as a deacon. He tells his spiritual director: “I have difficulties with celibacy.” “Well, brother, join the club,” the priest responds. “If celibacy were easy, it wouldn’t be what it is meant to be: a sacrifice.”

“But why does the Church require this sacrifice of us,” Johnny wants to know.

          “That’s an excellent question, Johnny,” the priest tells him. “One answer you’ll sometimes hear is that there is something impure about sexuality. And because he must celebrate Mass, the priest must avoid all impurity. That answer, once common, is wrong. Our sexuality was created by God. And everything God makes is good. That is why the Church can make marriage one of it seven sacraments. God’s gift of sexuality permits us to join in his work of creation, through childbearing.

Yet the goodness of everything in this world is finite. Perfect goodness exists only in another world: the world of God. It is one thing to say this. But people will never believe it unless they see examples of people who are actually living by the standards of God’s world. So, when God calls someone to celibacy, he is asking that person to live in this world as a citizen of another, the world of heaven. The mission of those who are called to celibacy is to witness to a higher form of love, the way we will love in heaven. There, in God’s world we shall experience a communion (bodily as well as spiritual) compared to which even the most intense forms of communion here below pale into insignificance; and celibates make this truth viscerally real for us now.

          “Father, let’s get real,” Johnny responds. “How many priests are actually living this higher form of love you’re talking about?”  

“There are two answers to that question, Johnny” the priest replies. “Both are correct. The first answer is, ‘Not all that many.’ And the second is, ‘More than you would think!’ Moreover, if we posed a similar question about marriage, asking how many married people truly sacrifice everything for their spouses, and for the children God gives them, we would get the same two answers. ‘Not many.’ But also ‘more than you would think.’ Failure to achieve an ideal is no reason to abandon the ideal: whether it be total love for God for celibates, or total sacrifice for others for married people.”

          So, what’s the bottom line? First, just about all of us have difficulties with purity at times. When we stumble and fall, there’s a simple remedy: sacramental confession. Finally, let’s never forget what our wonderful Pope Francis tells us time and again: “God never gets tired of forgiving us. It is we who grow tired of asking for forgiveness.”

"BUT I SAY TO YOU."

Homily for June 11^th, 2020: Matthew 5:20-26.

In today’s gospel Jesus speaks about the central concern of Jewish religion: God’s law. He does so differently, however, from other teachers of God’s law. They cite a Commandment and then discuss its interpretation, quoting the interpretations of other famous rabbis. The Commandment to “Keep holy the Sabbath day,” for instance, raises the whole question of what kinds of work are forbidden on the Sabbath. Jesus speaks not, like other rabbis, as an interpreter of the law. He speaks as himself the Lawgiver.

“You have heard, ‘You shall kill.’ But I say to you, whoever is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment. Or – “You have heard, “Do not commit adultery.’ But I say to you whoever looks lustfully on a woman, has already committed adultery with her in his thoughts.” Or again – “You have heard, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy’ But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” Or finally – “You have heard, ‘Do not take a false oath.’ But I say to you, do not swear at all.”

Do you see what Jesus is doing? Two things. First, by speaking not as an interpreter of God’s law, but as the Lawgiver, Jesus is manifesting his divinity. He does the same when he forgives sins. Second, he is plugging the loopholes in the law developed by legalistic interpreters – “the scribes and Pharisees” mentioned at the beginning of today’s gospel. If the Commandments really mean what Jesus says they mean, then who can fulfill them completely? 

Many people think of the Commandments as questions in a moral examination in which we must first get a passing grade before God will love and bless us in this life, and admit us to heaven in the next. No! God loves us already, just as good parents love their children from birth, or even from conception, without waiting to see how they’ll turn out. The Commandments tell us how to respond gratefully to the free gift of God’s love. And if a long life has taught me anything, it is this: grateful people are happy people – no exceptions!

FULFILLING THE LAW AND PROPHETS

Homily for June 10^th, 2020: Matthew 5:17-19.

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law and the prophets,” Jesus says. “I have come not to abolish them, but to fulfill them.” We sometimes hear that the Old Testament presents a God of law, the New Testament a God of love. That’s not true. While law is indeed central in the Old Testament, it presents God’s law as an expression of his love -- a gift granted to his chosen people, and not to others. We read in Deuteronomy, for instance, about God telling his people to be careful to observe his commandments, “for thus you will give evidence of your wisdom and intelligence to the nations, who will hear of all these statutes and say, ‘This nation is truly a wise and intelligent people.’ … Or what great nation has statues and decrees that are as just as this whole law which I am settling before you this day.” (Deut. 4:6-8)

While the New Testament does emphasize God’s love, almost the whole of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, from which the gospel readings this week and next are taken, consists of examples and stories of how God’s law is lived out in daily life. And at the Last Supper he gives his apostles “a new commandment: Love one another” (John 13:34). Both parts of the Bible proclaim the same God. If God’s self-disclosure is fuller in the New Testament, this is because in it God comes to us in person, through his Son. As we read in the opening verse of the letter to the Hebrews: “In times past, God spoke in fragmentary and varied ways to our fathers through the prophets; in this, the final age, he has spoken to us through his Son ...”

Human laws command us to respect the rights of others. But I can respect your rights without having any human contact with you. Hence the enormous amount of loneliness in our society. Mother Teresa called loneliness “the worst disease of modern times.”  There is only one cure for loneliness: love. We come here to receive love: a free gift, not a reward for services rendered. The One who gives us this gift does so under one strict condition: that we share his love with others.

WE BECOME WHAT WE EAT

Corpus Christi Year A; Deut. 8:2-3,14-16; 1 Cor. 10:16-17; John 6:51-59.
AIM: To help the hearers understand the Eucharist better and celebrate it more
          fruitfully.

           Running like a golden thread through all three readings on today’s feast of the Lord’s Body and Blood is a common theme: food and eating. Each reading tells us something about the heavenly bread of the Eucharist, and how we should eat it. Our eating of this food should be continual, corporate, and contrite.

1.       The mysterious food called manna (a Hebrew word thought to mean “what is it?”) mentioned in our first reading, reminded the people who received it of their dependence on God. In giving the manna to his people during their desert wanderings, God commanded them to gather each day only enough for that day.  There was one exception. In order to observe the Sabbath rest, the people could gather a two-day supply the day before. Inevitably some of the people disobeyed God’s command by gathering more than they needed. The excess supply spoiled.   Making it impossible to hoard the manna was God’s way of teaching them that they could not live from their own resources. They remained always dependent on the Lord’s bounty.

          A similar principle applies to the heavenly food of the Eucharist. Like God’s people under Moses, we must receive this food continually. The Catechism says: “The Church strongly encourages the faithful to receive the holy Eucharist on Sundays and feast days, or more often still, even daily” [No. 1389]. Why? Is God’s gift to us limited? Of course not. When God gives, he gives not only abundantly, but super-abundantly. Jesus demonstrated this repeatedly. The quantity of water he changed into wine at the wedding feast at Cana would have kept the party going for a week. When Jesus fed the vast crowd in the wilderness, he didn’t give them just a snack. They all ate to the full, and there was food left over. 

          What is limited is not God’s gift, but our capacity to receive. It is something like fetching water in a cup from an ever-flowing spring. Though the water flows continually, the amount we can take away is limited by the size of the cup. Our need to come continually to receive the Lord’s Body and Blood reminds us of our dependence on God. We live not from our own resources, but from God’s gift.

2.       Our second reading tells us that our eating of the food God gives us in the Eucharist is not a private, me-and-God, affair. It is corporate. “Because the loaf of bread is one, we, though many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf.”

          Ordinary food is converted, through the process of digestion, into substances which we need to build and maintain bodily strength. It becomes, in a sense, part of us. When we eat the heavenly food of the Eucharist exactly the opposite happens. We become what we eat. “What material food produces in our bodily life,” the Catechism says, “Holy Communion wonderfully achieves in our spiritual life” [No. 1392]. We, who have been made members of Christ’s body in baptism, become his members afresh in the Eucharist. The Catechism says: “Communion with the flesh of the risen Christ ... preserves, increases, and renews the life of grace received at Baptism.” [No. 1392]. Through the Eucharist we become people through whom Jesus continues today the works of love and compassion which he accomplished during his earthly life through his physical body. United with him in the Eucharist, we are united too with one another. That is why, before coming to the Lord’s holy table, we share with one another the greeting of peace. “Those who receive the Eucharist,” we read in the Catechism, “are united more closely to Christ. Through it, Christ unites them to all the faithful in one body – the Church” [No. 1396]. Our continual eating of the food God gives us is corporate.

3.       In the gospel Jesus tells us that his Body and Blood, given to us in the Eucharist, nourish us not only in this life, but for eternity. “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink.” 

          As with other food, however, our capacity to benefit from the nourishment it contains depends on our condition when we eat it. A person who is gravely ill cannot benefit from a hearty meal. A spiritually sick person does not benefit from receiving Christ’s Body and Blood in the Eucharist. Essential to spiritual health is the admission that we are sinners. That is why we say, following the greeting of peace: “Lord I am not worthy ...” To benefit from the food the Lord gives us in the Eucharist, therefore, we must come with sorrow for our sins. The technical term for this sorrow is contrition. “Before so great a sacrament,” the Catechism tells us, “the faithful can only echo humbly and with ardent faith the words of the Centurion, ‘Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul will be healed’” [No. 1376].

          The capacity of Christ’s Body and Blood to nourish us is unlimited. Our capacity to receive nourishment, however, is limited by our consciousness of our need, by our contrition for our sins, and by our longing for the Lord’s healing and strengthening love.

          On today’s feast of the Lord’s Body and Blood the readings remind us of the conditions imposed by the Lord who gives us the Eucharist upon our eating of this heavenly food.  We must receive this heavenly bread:

—      continually, conscious of our permanent dependence on God;

—      corporately, rejoicing in our fellowship with all who share this sacred meal with us; and —

—      contritely, acknowledging our unworthiness, and seeking not a reward for good conduct, but God’s mercy and love.

          For those who are trying to fulfill these three conditions Jesus’ words in the gospel reading are fulfilled:

          “Whoever eats this bread will live forever.”              

"YOU ARE SALT, LIGHT."

Homily for June 9^th, 2020: Mathew 5:13-16.

Jesus spoke in simple, everyday language that even children could understand. What could be simpler than the two images Jesus uses in our gospel reading: salt and light? In Jesus’ day soldiers received an allotment of salt as part of their pay. Because the Latin word for salt is sal it was called their salarium, from which we get our word salary. Even today, when someone doesn’t measure up or do his duty, we say he’s “not worth his salt.” So when Jesus says, “You are the salt of the earth,” he is telling us that we are that ingredient in the world which, like salt, may be small in quantity, but which makes all the difference in quality.

Jesus also tells us: “You are light -- the light of the world.” The first creation tale in Genesis says that creation began when God said: “Let there be light.” When, in the fullness of time, God’s Son came into the world, he said: “I am the light of the world.” (Jn 8:12) Pondering those words, and the story of creation in Genesis, Christians came to discern Christ’s role in creation. Hence, we say in the Creed: “We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, ... through whom all things were made.”

How dark the world would be if he had never lived! When Jesus says, “You are the light of the world,” he is not telling us to become the world’s light, any more than he tells us to become salt. As followers and friends of Jesus Christ, given a share of his life in baptism, we already are salt and light for the world. “Be what you are!” Jesus is saying.

Does that mean isolating ourselves from modern society? Some Christians favor that. They are good people. But they are mistaken. To isolate ourselves from others is like putting the lamp which lighted the small one-room house of Jesus’ day under a basket. The people who heard Jesus knew that wasn’t what you did with a lamp. You put it on a lampstand where, as Jesus says in today’s gospel, “it gives light to all in the house.” Just so, Jesus continues, “your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify God.” Why? Because God is the one who inspires us to do good deeds. And it is God alone who gives us the power to do good -- to be what we are: salt to flavor and preserve; and light to shine in the darkness of our world.

Here at these two tables of word and sacrament the Lord first takes us up into his light and then sends us forth to pass on that light to others in a dark world, through a life of joyful service and generous love.

THE BEATITUDES

Homily for June 8^th, 2020: Matthew 5:1-12.

We call these sayings of Jesus the Beatitudes. They contradict just about everything our culture tells us. There is no way we can accept these teachings of Jesus, and at the same time accept all the values of the society in which we live.

Does that mean we must opt out of society? Not at all. It does mean, however, that if we are serious about being Jesus’ disciples, we must live by standards that are different from those of many around us — even when they are good people. Nor can we choose among the Beatitudes, selecting the one that best suits us. The Beatitudes are not descriptions of nine different people. They are nine snapshots of one happy person: happy because he or she lives a life centered on God. 

          The Beatitudes challenge us. They summon us to put God first in our lives. To the extent that we try to do that, and keep on trying despite our many failures and discouragement, we discover that a life centered on God is a happy life. It is a fulfilled life, and one that brings true peace. Why? Because God is the only source there is of true happiness, of fulfillment, and genuine peace. To all those who respond to this challenge, Jesus says: “Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.”

          Only in heaven? No, the reward Jesus promises begins here on earth. Then beatitudes describe a life that is shot through with generosity: generosity to God, but to others as well.  Generosity doesn’t make us poor. It makes us rich. Winston Churchill, not a notably religious man, said once: “We make a living by what we get; but we make a life by what we give.” Jesus Christ says it best: “Give and it shall be given to you. Good measure pressed down, shaken together, running over, will they pour into the fold of your garment. For the measure you measure with will be measured back to you.” (Lk 6:38) 

          Is living by the Beatitudes beyond human powers? It is. To live as Jesus tells us to live in these nine sayings, we need a power greater than our own. That is why we come to the Eucharist: to be strengthened uplifted, shaken up, and set ablaze with joy unbounded by the love that will never let us go.