The Bible is very clear that God does not think like us. He would leave ninety-nine sheep to seek for one lost one, and he would forgive abominable deeds. He even allowed his Son to die upon a cross. In short, God thinks about things in ways that do not fit into our normal human way of thinking. We are, as it were, far too efficient compared to God’s way of thinking. Most of us, perhaps, if we were in God’s shoes and with his power, would simply snap our fingers to bring back the lost sheep, or we would just prevent or fix the sin at hand. For salvation, we would probably find another way to save the world without a violent death upon a cross.
Now this sort of reflection is necessary to understand that terrifying question about our good God allowing us to suffer: no answer will be adequate to our merely human way of thinking. God is not a being like us, and to ask why of the ultimate Why is asking something that will not make sense. It is like a walrus asking us why we eat with forks; the walrus cannot even begin to fathom what a fork does, and such concepts are so beyond his capacity of reason. Yet, although the “forks” of God might elude us, we “walruses” at least know something about eating; we can have an insight into what God really values. And God values a relationship with us more than anything. Suffering makes us weak, and weakness makes us ask for his help. Children understand this; they are content with being weak and being reserved to the fact that they simply need help. When they are hungry, they do not start wondering about how forks work, they simply cry and trust that someone will feed them. Their weakness makes them reliant upon others. Suffering draws us out of ourselves, and so it is a great mystery of encounter with God, especially since his most recognized image is him upon the cross. Again, our minds might be tempted in our old walrus-way of thinking to simply go back to tusks and fishing: couldn’t God just make an easier way to know him without suffering? Perhaps this is what Peter was thinking when he suggested to our Lord that he forgo the cross. We tend to view suffering as a place of separation from God, as undignified, and as something to be avoided. But God makes suffering a place of encounter. He embraces the cross, and he brings himself into all of the suffering that continually afflicts us, from our loneliness to our physical sufferings. And so the answer to our suffering and any suffering that any of us may be experiencing now. Let it draw us upward, that is, toward God. Weakness is the vehicle of the Christian spirit. God made the cross dignified, and so suffering is now god-like and beautiful, and we need not be ashamed of it. It should bring us to a disposition of needing his companionship and the companionship of others, and thus we should be drawn closer to God. Jesus, after all, is found upon the cross, and so that is where we will find God. “My power is made perfect in weakness” — 2 Cor 12:9 Alas, that question. There are numerous iterations of this question as I have heard it over some years, and here is a sampling of other ways of asking it: “I feel more fed by the songs and sermons down the road, can’t I just go there?”; “Aren’t other religions easier and more positive than Catholicism, why not leave?”; “What’s the big deal? Everyone finds God in their own way.” In all of these questions, the problem is not the answer, but rather the question. Any Catholic, by asking it, has missed fundamentally the reason for religion. Religion is not a matter of preference like choosing Subway over Pizza Hut. Religion is not a consumer good, and we are not junkies who choose the place that we like best; as St. Paul says, “The kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness” (Rom 14:17). Righteousness, or “being right” with God, that is right-relationship with God is the goal of religion. Now, if “being right” with God is the goal, that means there must be some ways of “being wrong” with God. In other words, not all religions make us “right” with God.
There are some obvious examples of “being wrong” with God. Some religions of the ancient world thought it pious to sacrifice children, and some extremists (even some Christians) use acts of terror to glorify God. These are obviously wrong and despicable to God; they use explicit evils. But what of the more subtle cases as in our original question with Protestantism? Lutherans do not sacrifice children like the pagans, and Baptists have many of the same beliefs as Catholics. So what makes the difference that Catholicism is the way to “be right” with God? What claim do Catholics have that Protestants do not? People claim to me often that all the Christian religions are essentially the same (which is hilarious because I am a priest who has staked his entire life on Catholicism being the right one). But they are not the same: in fact, they rarely agree on the fundamentals for being “right” with God. Abortion, for example, is wrong, but somehow many Christian denominations accept it. Is this simply not fundamental? What about Jesus being present in the Eucharist, or sexual morality, or any other differences in religion? Who gets to decide what is important and “right” to God? Here we find the greatest difference between Catholics and Protestants, and really the greatest argument for Catholicism being correct: Authority. Protestants claim authority from the Scriptures, but who interprets the Scriptures? There are thousands of interpretations of Scriptures each with their own corresponding Protestant church and morals. There is one Catholic Church, albeit with its sinners, but with an unchanging authority over what is important to God. The job of the bishops (who carry on the teaching authority of the Apostles) is to safeguard the doctrine and moral teachings that have been handed onto them with an unchanging doctrine about the Truth. Catholicism has never been about our preference, it is about what is right. Be right before God. Lent is in a few days. It is at once the dreaded season and the fruitful season for the Catholic. It is when we sacrifice most intentionally for the Lord, and therefore we both hate and love it. It is in this way most comparable to a root canal procedure, or perhaps like an open-chest heart surgery. No one in their right mind would ever desire to experience these painful operations, yet all would also desire to have these done when needed. We like the results, but we hate the work; we love the Promised Land, but we hate the desert of the Exodus.
Here, on the brink of Lent, a Catholic intuitively relearns what religion is about. Religion is about God, and if we are honest, our lives are not about God even though they should be. We are addicted to sins, things, opinions, scrolling, and a whole host of things that are not God. Therefore, God wants to do work on our hearts; he is the heart surgeon, and Lent is his operating room. For Lent, we are addicts in rehab, and the Doctor prescribes cold turkey so that our heart stays healthy. And so, the question naturally arises at the check-in before Lent: what is your addiction? That is a good place to start when deciding how to make a good Lent. The Church describes three practices characteristic of the Lenten season: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Fasting is simply giving up things to help focus on the most important things, or rather to focus on the most important Person. Some simple fasts are not eating between meals, taking a cool shower, or not using any screens for recreation. Do not cheat yourself on fasting; it should not be simply giving up chocolate when you will just eat ice cream. Make it a “no” that hurts a bit. Fasting from all unnecessary screens is a great way for a family to fast; it will put screens in their proper place in our lives. Lent is not just fasting, though, it is also a time to increase in prayer. If a family gives up screens, then praying a Rosary is a good substitute for the family. I encourage your family to try praying together this Lent. We do not want our fasting to lead us to another addiction; instead, prayer should fill the gap. Lastly, almsgiving is another practice to accompany our fast; we give financial and temporal assistance to those in need. Helping at the food pantry or making a donation to charity is a great way to make Lent special this year. May the Lord give us a fruitful Lent this year, Idolatry, in its basic sense, is the sin of worshiping something other than God. It is the confusion of the most severe priority, the replacement of the Creator with his creation. Most of us can easily think of some examples of this: like pagans worshiping trees or biblical examples of worshiping a golden calf or the false god, Baal. Yet, idolatry today is still very close to home. As the Catechism states, “Idolatry not only refers to false pagan worship… Man commits idolatry whenever he honors and reveres a creature in place of God” (CCC 2113). In short, idolatry occurs whenever we value things over and above God.
The most common examples I see today of idolatry occur with the prioritization of Mass on Sunday. How many times does sleeping in and a sports game prevent someone from going to Mass? Sleeping in can be a good thing, as can a Packer game and a sports game; but when such things are valued to the expense of worshiping God, it is thereby being given honor that is due to God alone. We become what we worship. The worshipers of sleep become soft like their beds; and the worshipers of sports become happy and chipper when their team wins and depressed when they lose. Workaholics become their work, which is never play and never good enough. When we value our preferences and desires over God’s preferences and desires, we worship ourselves, and then we become little idols, pagan rivals to the One Majestic King of the Universe. Worship has everything to do with identity; what we live for has everything to do with how we view ourselves. When we worship God as we are meant to, we become like Him, loving and creative, and possessing sacrificial heroism. Hence we eat Him in the Mass; we eat Jesus to become Jesus, and Jesus lives his sacramental life in us. Each small choice slowly reveals who we really are. Either we are a creature whose life exists for itself and its own autonomy or we exist for God and his will. Either we are our own god, or God is our Lord. At this point, I must be clear: there are certain things that can legitimately dismiss one from the obligation of Mass, like health-care workers who need to work over all Mass times (which is why this city has Saturday night Masses and a Sunday night Mass). Likewise, those who are too ill or unable to come to Mass because of some condition are also not required. I am not writing about these so much as I am about the dangerous mindset that we can get ourselves into. The dangerous mindset we get ourselves into is pride when it comes to religion; to play out our thoughts and desires at the expense of God’s desires and preferences. It is the primordial sin from the first temptation from the Garden of Eden, “you shall be like God” (Gen 3:5). Such sin is the same today whenever we belittle that which God commands, for we, it is true, act in defiance of the majesty of God whenever we act against his precepts in the Catholic Church. Whenever we sin, we act like we are our own god, with our own laws and opinions about the universe instead of God’s. May the Lord give us obedience and conformity to His will. During this Eucharistic Revival, the question has come up about how to receive Holy Communion, and with it, whether to receive on the hand or tongue. The tradition for centuries in the Church has been that the faithful could only receive Holy Communion on the tongue, and then it suddenly changed to also allow reception on the hand (as many may remember) in 1977. What do we make of this?
Briefly, here is the story. Shortly after Vatican II, some bishops asked the pope if it would be possible to allow reception of communion on the hand. The reasons for this request were many, but perhaps chief among them was that there is evidence of at least some ancient custom of receiving on the hand. Vatican II had brought back other ancient customs and prayers into the modern rite, and it seemed to many bishops that communion on the hand was a logical addition to the return to ancient customs. After these requests, the pope decided to consult all of his bishops to inform his decision on the matter. His decision is obviously in the positive, and for the United States, at least, reception on the hand is now an allowable practice. Nevertheless, it must be noted that the Church usually has a precaution whenever mentioning reception on the hand. With reception on the hand, there is “danger of loss of reverence” for the Eucharist (Memoriale Domini of 1969). What does this mean for us? It means that, of course, you are allowed to receive on the hand just as much as you can receive on the tongue. It also means, however, that if any of us do receive on the hand, we best make sure that our reception is respectful and reverent of the Eucharist. What does this mean for how we receive the Eucharist? It means that no matter how we receive, it should be in a manner that shows our belief in the Eucharist. Before I was a priest, I have frequently received both ways, and a game-changer for my faith in my day-to-day life was when I started paying attention to crumbs of the Eucharist that might be on my hands. Since the Eucharist is Jesus, and Jesus is God, that means every crumb, no matter how small, is a crumb of God. How does the Eucharist enter our mouths? Is it like a potato chip, or the God of the Universe? Does our carefulness with every possible crumb show to us and others that we really believe? Does our careful preparation of our souls, especially morally and with a recent Confession, show that we really mean our “Amen” when presented with the Body of Christ. In short, when we are asking about whether to receive on the hand or the tongue, perhaps it is a better question to ask whether we are receiving the Eucharist with careful reverence. Each crumb, even the ones we cannot see, are really the precious savior. When we consume and swallow, that is really Jesus we are eating, and every crumb matters. How we handle Jesus at Mass shows a great deal about how we think of Jesus in our heart. Purgatory can seem like some elusive thing that Catholics believe. It is time for a refresher on what it is and why it is a necessary teaching of the Church in this month of November when we pray especially for the dead in purgatory. Firstly, purgatory is the purge-a-tory: it is simply the place where things are purged before they go to heaven. Heaven is a permanent state of perfect union with God where sin, death, and imperfection are not possible. Therefore, imperfect things going to heaven need to be purged of imperfection. Catholics need never be embarrassed of this teaching, as it is one of the most ancient teachings in the Church. First century catacomb tombs have inscriptions of prayers upon them for the dead who are on their way to heaven, as well as inscriptions imploring travelers to pray for the deceased in the tomb. In short, early Christians believed that the faithful departed did not go “straight to heaven.” Rather, the dead needed prayers of assistance before they could reach the heavenly homeland.
Numerous scriptures hint at purgatory, but the most clear I know of is Luke 12:43-48. Here, Jesus describes what will happen to those who are unprepared for his final return at the end of time. The wicked servant will be “cut to pieces” and put with the “unbelievers,” which is clearly Hell. Yet, he provides a couple other options for servants not so wicked. These will be “beaten” either a lot or a little, but do not end up with the unbelievers. In other words, there is some other punishment for those who are not outright wicked servants, and it is less than Hell. In short, it is purgatory. If you ever find yourself in need of arguing for purgatory, I find this the best scripture to use. Now it is important for a Catholic to understand why many people do not believe in purgatory. The first reason is that “purgatory” is not in the Bible; but then again, neither are the words “Trinity,” nor “incarnation.” The Church has given these technical names to certain doctrines over time, just like purgatory was given its name over time; so that argument should not sway any serious debater. The second and biggest reason people do not believe purgatory is Protestantism which sees purgatory as a violation of the doctrine “salvation by grace alone.” Basically, the problem Protestants see is that purgatory makes it seem like our prayers and actions are saving souls instead of God. The problem with this thinking is that all Christians do this all the time when we pray for others. God often dispenses graces through creation: our prayers, actions, sacraments, and most of all through His Son’s created flesh and cross. I encourage you to pray for the dead this month, and praise God for His gracious gift of purgatory! Recently I have been catching up on some nostalgic classics that had some vague bearing on my childhood memory. The most recent of these is The Truman Show, a 1998 movie about a man, Truman, who slowly discovers and escapes a TV show in which he is the unwitting star. Unsurprisingly, like all good stories, the movie takes up some Christian themes, most notably the human need for truth. “The truth will set you free,” says our Lord, and so the Christian journey to freedom from sin and death is only found in the truth, which is literally how God sees things. God’s sight is truth, and only until one sees as God sees, can freedom occur. It is no wonder, then, why so many of Jesus’ miracles concern healing the blind; his salvific mission in many ways is to help humanity see correctly.
The two forces at play in the movie are the star Truman and the director Christof, who created Truman’s TV world. Throughout the movie, Christof sees himself as Truman’s savior and champion, and thus I find it no accident that his name derives from Christ. Christof sees his world for Truman as a world with the “same lies” as the real world, but unlike the real world, his world has “nothing to fear.” Here we can see the subtle and classic Satanic move, the controlling of fear. God’s world frequently appears to us as scary because it is so raw and intimate, vulnerable and delicate; and yet so often God demands of us to “be not afraid.” Satan’s solution to the fearful suffering world is fundamentally controlling and hiding; fear leads us to protect, grasp, medicate. Fear is his bidding because it makes us retreat into perfectly safe worlds, but they are boring worlds that are numb and without love. These are the homes of sinners, and we, myself included, are so familiar with what that is like, for we all sin, hide, and retreat into the comfortable. God’s solution to suffering is fundamentally opposite of Satan’s approach. Where Satan would have us hide from suffering, God would have us accept suffering. For a safe world is one without love. This is the world Truman desires. He is discontent with the safe world, for he would rather have the dangerous and true world where he at least knows authentic love. Truman finds himself in the middle of the age-old battle, like all of us. We have a choice, like Truman. On the one hand, we could embrace the fake world of hiding from evils, problems, sufferings, sins, addictions, and any number of other bad things; but then we would find ourselves in a fake world without love. Or, on the other hand, we could sail into the dangerous world of authentic interaction, honesty, love, empathy, suffering, service, and truth, for the truth will set us free. Quite recently I was at my parents’ house, and at my suggestion, we watched a movie. The movie box was tucked away, so I thought it would be best to see which ones were easily accessible, and there I discovered the nostalgic 2008 Horton Hears a Who! The Dr. Seuss story is about Horton the Elephant who discovers and saves a tiny speck of dust with an entire society upon it. Throughout the movie, only Horton has the acuity of hearing to detect the existence of the tiny Whos, and as the only one aware of their existence, he is the only one whose heart is moved to defend them from the dangers of the world.
Several things struck me about the story, but maybe just a couple will suffice for this article. Horton’s life is changed by a tiny call. Like a man whose life is forever changed by the tiny cry of his baby child, Horton became a caregiver, a father perhaps. When the Whos cry for help, Horton steps up to meet the challenge, and this is what God’s call does to us. God’s call is a tiny call, quiet, but when heard, it resounds in the walls of our hearts with such noise that we cannot help but answer. Yet we are only moved if we listen, like Horton. God is constantly calling us to heroics in little ways and with quiet voices, through our neighbors asking for help and in the sacred silence of prayer. God’s voice echoes in the depths of our conscience, thus helping us to see right and wrong, his will and what is not. Yet, what struck me even more than the tiny call was the mantra that animated the entire story: “A person’s a person, no matter how small.” Here the abortion connection becomes quite obvious. Horton was the lone voice of reason amidst the voices that claimed to be reasonable but were otherwise. That speck was more than a speck, just as we know that a fetus is far more than a fetus. Interestingly, it was more than just Horton’s view of the Whos that caught my attention, however. Horton not only saw the Whos as persons, but he consistently saw his opponents as persons as well. Throughout the movie, he never fails to see goodness in everyone he meets, even those who attack him. Here we find a powerful lesson for us who defend life. There is hypocrisy if we claim to defend life while hating those who disagree. Pro-life means that we are pro-life inside and outside the womb, and inside and outside our religion. Love is the standard we aim for, in all circumstances, even if that sometimes looks like reprimanding or correcting, but never hatred. A few recent events bring seminary to my mind. Just a couple weeks ago, I brought a group of high-schoolers to the Milwaukee seminary for a discernment retreat. Some days later, our bishop ordained four new priests. The day after that, I celebrated my first priestly anniversary. Now, we have a seminarian living at the parish! To say the least, priesthood and seminary has been on my mind, and I thought I would share some of the history with you. Such a history starts with a man who saw a great need for healthy and holy priests, and that man is St. Charles Borromeo.
Seminaries are an invention that is only a few centuries old, which by Church standards, is rather young. Back then, in the late 1500s, there was a lot of corruption in the Church, especially in the priests. Thus the young priest, Charles, helped convince the pope of the need for good priest-training programs. More literally, he wanted a garden or “seed-bed” where men could grow up, as it were, into another Christ. Hence the word “seminary,” which means “seed-bed.” The program absolutely revolutionized the Church, for the new seminaries helped men grow into healthy and loving priests. As someone who is just a year out of seminary, I can attest that seminary is not some dark dungeon where there is no sunlight. Rather, it is much closer to a seed-bed; it is nurturing and cultivating. It is also oftentimes the messy work of gardening. Growing a priest, so to speak, is a lot of work, but it is good work. Seminarians study a lot, and they learn sacrifice at the altar of their desk before they learn to perform the sacrifice at the altar. Do not get me wrong; they play frisbee and basketball, as well as all sorts of normal stuff, but they are also daily introduced into the sacred silence of prayer, study, and profound holiness. They play hard, pray hard, and yes, contrary to how skinny I was right out of seminary, they also eat well, too. Now, back to us today, Charles Borromeo offers a practical example for all of us. He saw learning as the way to fight corruption. People don’t do evil simply because they are evil, but oftentimes they do evil because they never knew anything better. Many never had a good “seed-bed” to learn what was important, and many don’t recognize the Gardener. Like Charles’ example, our homes must become “seed-beds” where we can grow into Christ. We should have time to be watered in prayer, nurtured with talk about the important things, and certainly enjoy the sunlight of the joy of Christ. “My will be done” is the age-old sin. Ever since Eden, there is something deep in our bones that compels us to reach for forbidden fruit. We humans often feel as if we are held back and limited, and so in a show of force, we push the envelope on this universe and those around us. Thus, we break out in anger to get our way and show our resilience to the world. We also click and drink as well as do all sorts of other things that we claim to have control of. In short, we humans have a power-craze; we are obsessed with our will-power, and it leads to our unhappiness. The most severe symptom of our power-craze is the way our culture views children. Children, by their nature, represent self-sacrifice; no one wants to change a diaper at 2:00AM. It is no accident, therefore, that our culture favors and promotes abortion, contraception, and very small families.
Now compare our culture with Christ’s example, which is complete self-sacrifice. In the garden of Gethsemane, he prayed, “Thy will be done,” but we still so often live like our first parents in the garden of Eden where we grasp for our wills. A worthy reflection, therefore, is to reflect honestly whether we have open wills like Jesus or grasping wills like Adam and Eve. Compare their hands: Eve grasps at the fruit, but Christ’s hands are open, nailed upon the cross. Christ possesses no self-will; our first parents are the archetype for self-will. Perhaps this is why their punishment is also their remedy: pain in childbirth and labor for food both are forms of sacrifice for good things. God wants us to appreciate the fact that we are nothing without him, that we are “dust, and to dust we shall return.” Our happiness, however, lies only within his vocation, his calling on us to serve him and others. Ironically, it is when our wills are emptied that we are filled most. Ask the Lord to empty us of our wills so that his plan for us will take place. |