This weekend’s scripture reminds us why the cross is such a great symbol of Christianity.  It has a vertical dimension and a horizontal dimension—making obvious what our religious mindset should be: Vertically, “you shall love the LORD, your God, with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength.  Horizontally, “you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”  We cannot separate our relationship to God from our relationship to one another.

Keep in mind that the term “love” in this context does not refer to a emotional, romantic attachment to God and people (although it could).  Rather, “love” is the attachment one feels toward a group or person of their group via kinship, village, or factional ties of some kind.  In short, Jesus is simply saying that all of our decision must be made in relationship to our commitment to God.  What does GOD call me to think or do (relative to life’s activities).  We do NOT place loyalty to a fad, or country, or hobby, or cultural trend, or political party before our loyalty to God.

One way we strengthen our sense of dependence upon and commitment to God is through what we call “Holy Days of Obligation.”  If we were in Hawaii, the only such days are Immaculate Conception and Christmas whereas for the rest of the U.S., Catholics are “obliged” to attend mass on All Saints, Assumption, Ascension, and Solemnity of Mary.

This weekend, we are honoring All Saints, All Souls, and Halloween.  Some Christian groups oppose anyone celebrating this latter holiday, but they might re-evaluate their position.  Christian history is filled with missionaries building upon the religious traditions of different peoples (and not just stomping them into the ground in a culturally imperialistic way).  And so it is with Halloween. 

Once people of “the way” (Christianity) could gather legally, Roman temples were “converted” into Catholic churches, and German evergreens representing forest spirits became Christmas trees (representing green life in the midst of winter).  Celtic and Roman festivals honored the dead at this time of year (as nature died with the onset of winter).  Pomona, the Roman goddess who oversaw fruits and forests, was honored via costume wearing and “bobbing” for apples (the apple being her symbol). 

Do you know anyone who “bobs’ for apples or who dresses up as a Celtic forest animal—and thinks of a Roman goddess or Druid spirit?  These once “pagan” festivals have been thoroughly secularized.  However, Catholic tradition preserved “Hallow” een by creating All Saints Day (“Hallow” referring to “saint” and “een” referring to “evening”).  This festive Celtic day preceded what became All Saints Day celebrated since the 8^th century.  HOWEVER, over time a clarification was made by Church officials.

Since some virtuous people within Christian tradition were clearly perceived as attaining heaven, they were deservedly declared a “saint,” “canonized” and honored as a “saint” both on a feast day of their own during the year, and one, catch-all feast day called “All Saints.”  Everyone else, who may or may not have led similarly virtuous lives, could be honored with a day of their own, viz., “All Souls” Day.  This is why we celebrate all 3 special days this weekend—combining them into one.

Secular society has its own “saints” who we call American patriots, or war-heroes, or entertainers, or politicians—and recognized with statues and monuments like Mt. Rushmore or Washington Monument, or the thousands of other places where people can “worship” their memory.  This is known as secular religion, and sometimes people conflate the two.  Think of statues to Saddam Hussein that were torn down once he lost power, or those of Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, and countless other “demi-gods” of one or another country whose regime took power and led their people into hell on earth.

We have sports Halls of Fame—with “saints” of basketball, football, baseball, and other athletics of every ilk.  The Church is SUPPOSED to thoroughly research a person’s life and affirm that one or two miracles have taken place because of the person’s intercession.  If some major wrongdoing was found within the life of some Hall of Fame candidate, their candidacy is dropped.  Baseball aficionados, for example, debate if Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe Jackson will ever be admitted if charges for gambling on games is perceived as harmless.

But what does “sainthood” have to do with us ordinary folks today?  Aren’t “saints” a kind of otherworldly person whose behavior was the opposite of our own (and even bizarre at times)?  Maybe not.  St. Theresa of Liseux, known as the “little flower,” was one of the most admired of all time within Christian history.  She made this observation: “Our Lord does not come from Heaven every day to stay in a golden ciborium.  He comes to find another Heaven, the Heaven of our mind and heart–is where he most loves to stay.”

We might think saintliness is for geeky folks who were out of it, socially, but I like what Gandalf, a “white magic” maker,  said in the film Lord of the Rings:  “Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check.  But that is not what I have found.  I have found that it is the small things– everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay.  Small acts of kindness and love.”  Whoever composed those lines (it was not the book’s Catholic author, Tolkien) certainly knew Catholic theology when writing the above.

May this folksy, down-to-earth poem be our attitude:

I sing a song of the saints of God   Patient and brave and true,   Who toiled and fought and lived and died  For the Lord they loved and knew. And one was a doctor, and one was a queen And one was a shepherdess on the green.  They were all of them saints of God — and I mean, God help me to be one, too. They loved their Lord so dear, so dear,  And his love made them strong;  And they followed the right, for Jesus’s sake,  The whole of their good lives long.  And one was a soldier, and one was a priest,  And one was slain by a fierce wild beast: And there’s not any reason — no, not the least–Why I shouldn’t be one too.   They lived not only in ages past,   There are hundreds of thousands still  The world is bright with the joyous saints   Who want to do God’s will   You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea,  In church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea,  For the saints of God are like you and me,    And I mean to be one too.

May the life of Jesus influence our decisions on election day.  

Picture this: you walk into the place of worship and see a sanctuary where there is a Tabernacle.  You also see a sanctuary lamp/light near the Tabernacle.  What is this place?  Answer: Catholics might say they’re in a Catholic church.  A Jewish person might say they’re in a synagogue.  They both could be right.  Both respondents might also be describing the Temple in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus.  It was the central, sacred place of worship for Israelites.

This group of people was divided into 12 tribes who later became the people we know as our cousins in the faith—Jewish people (who practice “Judaism”).  This latter term comes from the name of one of these 12 tribes, the tribe of “Judah” (and so, Judaism).  Priests among these people came from one of those 12 tribes—the tribe of Levi.  If you meet someone whose name is “Cohen,” they might be Jewish and might have a genealogy to this tribe—as the word cohen (in Hebrew) means “priest.”

A religious-political party within Judaism in the first century was that of the Sadducees.  They were priests, and this group appointed one of their number the “high priest.”  Among his responsibilities was entering the “holy of holies” part of the sanctuary—that area restricted to him alone.  He was in that sacred spot that represented Heaven, and his job entailed joining that realm to Earth—which was represented by the rest of the sanctuary.  He was, thus, a bridge between heaven and earth.

Today’s reading from Hebrews is the ONLY New Testament reference to Jesus as a priest.  He was, in the end, a layman! But as the Temple High Priest symbolized, so Jesus became the “bridge” connecting heaven with earth.  THAT’S why the Letter to the Hebrews makes the claim of Jesus being a “priest.”

Israelites recognized God’s presence to them in much the same way as we do.  Namely, in the Temple. the Tabernacle held the first 5 books of the Hebrew scriptures known as the “Torah” (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy).  The Torah’s presence in the Tabernacle was God’s word alive in their midst.  Catholics likewise see/hear God’s presence in the Bible—both within the Hebrew scriptures of what we call the “Old” Testament AND within the “New” Testament.  God’s presence—for both Israelites and Catholics is represented by the light burning near the Tabernacle.  However, within the Catholic Tabernacle is not the “Torah” (the 5 books) but consecrated hosts, the body of Christ.  See the similarity/continuity?  Both Judaism and Catholicism signal God’s presence in the Tabernacle via the sanctuary lamp—the “Old” Testament books of Torah for Jews and Christ’s presence in the Eucharist revealed in the “New” Testament.

Scholars sometimes refer to the “First” testament of Judaism and the “Second” testament of Christianity.    While Christians read BOTH sets of scriptures in our Bible, Judaism just reads the first set (since for them, Jesus was not God but simply a good Jewish man).  Our spiritual cousins within Islam draw upon material from both Old and New Testaments—in their scripture known as the “Qur’an.”  

When the high priest entered the Holy of Holies on one day of the year, he would say what the people considered God’s most sacred name—“Yahweh.”  It was never said at any other time.  As a result, when the Temple was destroyed in 70 a.d., and the Sadducees no longer existed as religious functionaries, that word was never again spoken.  The “Rabbi” became the clergy within Judaism and Christian scripture’s reference to Sadducees and Pharisees addressed roles that were no longer in existence.

When the Bible was translated and printed, the word “Jehovah” made its way into the text—and appeared in the King James version of 1611 (and subsequent versions).  Research showed that “Jehovah” was not accurate—prompting Jehovah’s Witnesses to still spend time arguing why the word WAS correct (and so they asserted there was no need to change their denominational name).  Scholars don’t use “Jehovah.”  N.B., although this group considers itself Christian, it does not affirm the existence of the Trinity.  Founded in the late 1800s by a clothing salesman in Pittsburgh, it took on its present name in 1931 and is a good example of a Gospel-inspired religious practice cobbled together by charismatic leaders who, despite no education in scripture or theology or Christian history, were able to organize a following that became a “church” with millions of members.

This weekend’s Gospel reading addresses a core Christian teaching.  Scholars say that Mark was addressing a community that tended to think of Jesus as a kind of Superman.  Mark stressed that the role of Jesus—and all Christians—was “to serve and not be served.”  Going to church is half of one’s identity—the other half being to do outreach that reflects the behavior and thought of Jesus. 

This week saw Jesuits and Catholics everywhere honor the memory of “The North American Martyrs”–John de Brebeuf, Gabriel Lalament, Isaac Jogues, Rene Goupil, Anthony Daniel, Charles Garnier, Noel Chabanel, and John DeLalonde.  Two of these men were laypeople dedicated to working with Jesuits.  All from France, these men were targets of the English who warred with the French until 1763 for control of North America.  England paid rewards for French scalps and an additional amount if the scalps were of Jesuits.  Indian America was allied with the French—except for the “League of the Iroquois” (a nation of tribes that included the Mohawk, Oneida, Seneca, Cayuga, Onondaga, and Tuscarora).  These peoples now go by their tribal-language name and, instead of “Iroquois,” use the name “Hoe-dee-na-show-nee.” 

The martyrs died in the 1640s and were canonized saints in 1930.  Each was killed separately with the account of Brebeuf’s death best known.  Appearing in books and articles, the account was read at parish masses—taken directly from a series of books that all good libraries have: The Jesuit Relations.  These volumes contain all the reports of Indian life in the Great Lakes and French Canada where Jesuits worked.  Saginaw’s own Henri Nouvel, S.J. is even mentioned in the Relations.  That is how the high school got its name—Nouvel being the first priest to say Mass in the region, and “nouvel” being the French word meaning “new.”  Since the 3 Catholic high schools were blended into one, NEW, school, “Nouvel” seemed an appropriate name.

While the account of Brebeuf’s martyrdom is horrific, it does not compare with the electronic video games played by young and old players at home.  These games have combatants who splatter the blood of their opponents in life-like, neighborhood settings.  By contrast, the account of a martyr’s death is instructive for modern-day listeners.  We are confronted with what living the faith has meant for people in our Catholic tradition.  We might consider it heroic to simply attend Mass—but we should be stopped in our tracks when we see others put their life on the line.  Since young and old Catholics know little about how people died for the faith, learning of Brebeuf’s example can be inspiring.  It’s at least an alternative to the millions of video games that cater to the bloodlust of modern Americans.

Our understanding of the faith might fail to make us realize what it took for us to have our faith inheritance.  People play video games at home that have the realistic slaughter of opponents while Brebeuf’s martyrdom account tells listeners that Calvary didn’t happen just once.

As described by Wikipedia: Throughout the torture, Brébeuf was reported to have been more concerned for the fate of the other Jesuits and of the captive Native converts than for himself. As part of the ritual, the Iroquois drank his blood and ate his heart, as they wanted to absorb Brébeuf’s courage in enduring the pain. The Iroquois mocked baptism by pouring boiling water over his head. Then they cannibalized him.  Accounts of his torture emphasize his stoic nature and acceptance, claiming that he suffered silently without complaining.  Account were given by Huron prisoners who had escaped (the Jesuits many times witnessed Hurons die at the hands of their enemies, the Iroquois).  They knew they might one day suffer the same fate, and wanted to be exemplars of faith for their torturers.  Would you do the same?

I’m reminded of the film about 45 of us watched a couple of weeks ago-The Mission.  It was based on the real-life history of Jesuits working among the Guarani Indians of South America.  Taking place when Spain and Portugal were 2 of the world’s most powerful countries, the film depicted Jesuits setting up missions in the Amazon jungle and bringing the best of European civilization to the people (young ones able to sing Latin hymns and play musical instruments of all types).  Sadly, Spain and Portugal wanted Rome to award them Guarani lands for development—opening the door to slavery of the Indian population and extraction of the Jesuits.

The final scenes show Portuguese soldiers entering Guarani territory killing priests and Indians, and burning down the missions that had served the people so well.  Actors Liam Neeson and Robert DeNiro played the role of Jesuits who took up arms to fight with the Indians, and they were killed—whereupon the Jesuit superior, actor Jeremy Irons, opted for peace and wore a white surplus over his black cassock.  He led about 50 men, women, and children toward the oncoming soldiers who leveled their rifles and killed the people one by one.  Irons held a monstrance (the gold/silver sun-like circular container that holds a consecrated host at benedictions) and led the group until a bullet hits him in the heart and he fell to the ground dead—clutching the monstrance.

In what was a most gripping scene, the group of Indians stop momentarily and a woman picks up the monstrance—and leads the group into the deadly gunfire that would kill them all.  This last act of each person in the crowd—replicates Brebeuf’s martyrdom.  Just as he gave his life witnessing his faith, so did the men, women, and children of The Mission.  Would you have done the same? 

Until I was age 9, my family was not hurting financially.  Back then, one of our regular experiences was to go out to dinner at a nice restaurant.  Years later, I asked my mom why she and dad allowed my brother and me to order a shrimp cocktail as an appetizer.  They were just as costly then as they are today. 

As an adult, I wondered why they permitted us to order such an expensive item, and then order an entre from the just-as-expensive menu.  We could also order a “Shirley Temple cocktail” as they had their “Old Fashioned.”  We were young boys who had no sense of running up the bill.  Mom said they let us order these expensive dinners “because we loved you.” 

When my dad lost his business and we were poor, we never again went out to dinner as a family. 

This week’s gospel brought these memories to mind.  It tells of a rich young man asking Jesus how he might find eternal life.  Asked if he had observed the commandments, the young man said he did.  Whereupon, Jesus “looked upon him lovingly”—maybe just like my mom and dad looked upon my brother and me.  Jesus knew the young man had much to learn—just as my brother and I had much to learn after experiencing a life of privilege.

I can just picture Jesus reacting to the young man’s assertion that he had observed the commandments.  Jesus probably smiled, rolled his eyes, and sighed before responding to this child of God who thought he was perfect.  Like an all-knowing parent speaking to a naïve child, Jesus then diplomatically suggested the young man sell all his possessions and give his wealth to the poor.  Yikes—the young man probably no doubt thought.  Maybe I better re-think whether or not I have observed the commandments.  Surrendering his wealth to the poor was NOT an idea he wanted to embrace.

Not surprising is that modern-day studies have shown that wealthy people give proportionately less to charities than poor people.  This topic always unleashes political fights when large tax breaks are given to individuals or corporations because some will argue that wealthy people will create jobs with their windfall. 

Known as “supply side” or “trickle-down” economics, tax cuts for the wealthy and corporations have been found to NOT stimulate economic growth that helps the less affluent.  Instead, it has created a greater gap between the rich and lower classes.  Economists currently say that it has been the most enduring failed policy idea in American politics. A timely example of this shows that Trump supporters often point to his administration’s “supply side” policies as worthy of their vote.  However, 16 Nobel Prize winners in economics recently announced that his economic plan will be a disaster.  Meanwhile, many ordinary folks think they know more than these Nobel prize winners, and think the supply-side strategy will work!  See Wikipedia on this.

Jesus told his disciples that it is hard for a rich person to find eternal life.  This coincides with the theory that wealthy people are not dependent on anyone or anything (if their financial pipeline is sustained in some way).  This contributes to a mindset that they need not rely on God, too.  Hence, our secular society has many people comfortable enough to avoid church attendance or have a religious practice of any kind (Christian or not).  Jesus could have asked the young man if he had been generous to people (and not just observed “Thou shalt not steal”).  Or, he could have asked him if he brought life to people in some way (instead of just observing “Thou shalt not kill”).  Each commandment isn’t just a prohibition but is also a stimulus to bring about the opposite of what they forbid.  Thus, each of us is that rich young man who Jesus looked upon lovingly.  Like the young man, we fall short of the ideals we preach.  Jesus “ministers” to each of us—HOPING that we make decisions that see us as proactive and not just living in a neutral gear.

I met with Bishop Gruss and a group from Detroit on Saturday.  The group wanted to know more about the Indian man whose biography I authored which helped put him on the road to canonization as a saint.  “Black Elk” first came to the attention of the world in the book Black Elk Speaks and then The Sacred Pipe: Black Elk’s Account of the 7 Rites of the Oglala Sioux.  These books captured world attention in reporting a “Sioux” (Lakota) man come of age in the buffalo-hunting era of tipis and fighting the cavalry.  He was at Custer’s Last Stand (the battle of the Little Bighorn) in 1876 and Wounded Knee in 1890.  This latter site saw many elders, men, women, and children killed.  Weaned on these books and others, I was curious to learn more about Indian people—and so requested an assignment to teach at Red Cloud Indian School on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota.

Why should I, someone born and raised in Detroit, decide to forsake teaching at a Jesuit prep school and seek a placement at the poorest school run by the Jesuits?  Over time, it occurred to me that my story is, or can be, your story–just as the rich young man is a story about each of us. 

My departure for the reservation was not an easy decision to make.  After all, I had any number of other options that glittered enticingly with fantasies of “the good life.”  Fortunately, I did what each sincere Christian should do. I  told my spiritual director about entertaining thoughts of going to Pine Ridge to teach instead of places where my peers would go.  Maybe I should drop the idea and simply go with the flow.  After all, I’d probably “fit in” better at a nice, first-world school.  No one was interested in teaching on a reservation, but here I was—thinking of what a neat setting I’d be inhabiting with this famous tribe.  Maybe this was a silly fantasy and not reality-based.

My adviser said it seemed my interest in the Sioux/Lakota was solid, and that the “call” to be at Red Cloud Indian School seemed authentically from God.  He said: “Stelts, you reach the highways through the byways, and it seems you’re being offered to take one of those byways now.”  And the rest is history—except for learning the truth of what Albert Einstein once observed: “Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.”  In retrospect—and not at the time—I was able to see one coincidence after another on my path to writing about Black Elk.

Getting my college degree, the Jesuits allowed us guys to get a Master’s degree before teaching—my class being the first to be given this option.  I wanted to learn more about Indians—so this new policy was serendipity.  Good timing.  A Jesuit scholar suggested I go to Indiana University’s Folklore Program.  I did so, and what a surprise to learn that the author of The Sacred Pipe was a visiting professor that year at I.U.

I was nervous and frightened about making the big move to Pine Ridge—wondering if I’d fit in or fall out, succeed, or bomb in the classroom and with the kids.  Would I meet Black Elk’s relatives and learn more about his religious practice in the old way?  Uptight, I flew to South Dakota holding my turtle bowl in my lap since I was accompanied by my little turtle who could only go with me if I carried him.

Long story short is that I met Black Elk’s only surviving son, Ben, and was excited to make some contact with the venerable patriarch’s family member.  It was a great disappointment when Ben died just months after I met him.  I now knew no one who could provide me with information about the revered Black Elk. I was disappointed. 

And then, one day, the boiler stopped working in the school, and classes were canceled.  I went outside to have a smoke and sat next to a Lakota grandmother on a bench.  I asked if she had gone to school here and she said that yes, she had, and that the school dedicated its yearbook to her brother.  Since I was the faculty member who volunteered to oversee making a yearbook, I knew about its dedication to Ben Black Elk.  That’s how I met the holy-man’s only surviving child, Lucy Looks Twice.  Over the next 5 years until her death, I gathered as much information as I could about her father. Eventually, the University of Oklahoma published Black Elk: Holy Man of the Oglala, and Nicholas Black Elk: Medicine Man, Missionary, Mystic.  These books told the story of a buffalo-hunting Sioux warrior who converted to Catholicism in 1904 on the feast of St. Nicholas and became a dedicated catechist for the rest of his life.  He died in 1950.

In 2017, the bishop of Rapid City, Bishop Gruss, asked the U.S. Catholic Conference of Bishops if they would vote for Black Elk to be considered for sainthood and name him a “Servant of God” (the first title given to a person who was being considered).  The bishops unanimously declared him a Servant of God on November 14^th, my birth date (unbeknownst to anyone there).

By the grace of God, I somehow made decisions that seemed to be good promptings of the Holy Spirit.  For some reason, a sincere interest in something good (learning about Indians) presented me with the option of pursuing that interest more seriously.  I could have made many other decisions that percolated within my mind and heart.  But I took the percolating and wonderment to a spiritual director, and involved myself with more “mini-decisions” related to the interest area—and made my way west.  The same process is offered each parishioner of St. John’s (and all God’s people). Coincidences and other experiences combine to help us pursue the special roles God created each of us to incarnate.  This process is at play right now as you read this.

One of the readings from a weekday mass is worth noting here—for your benefit.  It spoke of Paul persecuting Christians before falling to the ground on the way to Damascus (in present-day Syria).  He heard the voice of Jesus ask him “Why are you persecuting me?”  From that experience on, Paul ended his old way of life, changed his thinking, and became a great light of Christian tradition.  Most importantly, he realized that God/Jesus was telling him that the past was the past—and he could start afresh NOW.  He could find new life in his commitment to living as Jesus had taught.  And so it is with you and I.  We can begin anew today.

Sometimes, the weekend readings do not stir thoughts that are easy to apply to our experience.  By contrast, this weekend’s offering is rich with material—enhanced by two feast days that fell during the week.  This is the time of year when we are called to reflect on the life of Theresa of Liseux (the “little flower”) and Francis of Assisi (founder of the Franciscan Order).

By contrast, today’s rich reading is from Genesis—and reports one of the TWO creation stories that appear in that first book of the Bible.  This is not the story of Adam and Eve, but of God making a man whose rib God crafted into that of a woman. In the Adam and Eve’s story, humans are created after the animals and in both male and female sexes. Here, however, man (male) is created first.  Animals were then created to serve him (naming them indicates control over them).

We could spend much time addressing the content of these creation stories, but for our limited time today, it’s worth noting some key points that are important for each of us to internalize and take to heart each day of our lives.  Namely, there is no hierarchy within the human race.  That is, humankind did not come into existence UNTIL both man and woman were created.  The two are of one flesh.  As one verse puts it, “Male and female he created them.”  One is not beholden to or superior to the other.

Similarly, throughout human history, groups and individuals have asserted that THEIR people are #1—over and above or smarter than all others.  In America, we’ve had a history of seeing Indians as non-human and Blacks as inferior to “White” people.  When the Ku Klux Klan emerged, they rose to power by hating Jews, Blacks, and Catholics.  Today, the KKK has been replaced by a variety of “White supremacist” groups such as the Aryan Nation, Nazis, and a variety of militia groups.  Surprisingly, some Catholics identify with these groups and are unaware that they, Catholics, were once the object of racial/ethnic prejudice and hanged. 

It is hard to understand how Christians of any denomination can attend church and carry this sort of prejudice.  Their own scripture, as in Genesis today, teaches them that humankind was created by God—and that God made one “race”—the human race.  There was no mention of skin shade.  God created man and woman—“and saw that they were good.”  Importantly, Genesis informs us that creation is incomplete without YOU—in your special identity as this male or this female in this place within the garden of Eden that is our home.

Genesis tells its readers that we are to care for this marvelous gift of planet Earth, but you may recall the “Crying Indian” commercial that depicted an Indian looking at polluted lands and rivers.  It reflected an Indian criticism of Genesis—Indians saying that Christianity has been killing “Mother Earth” for centuries.  Their perspective is not based on an accurate reading of Genesis, but Christian actions have spoken louder than words.  Sadly, the example of St. Francis of Assisi has not been able to offset human spoilage of the environment.

Taking this saint’s name, Pope Francis issued the encyclical “LAUDATO SI’, mi’ Signore” – “Praise be to you, my Lord”.  (a line from the prayer of St. Francis). He challenged Catholics (and people everywhere) to realize that we are on a course to ecological calamity. With the past couple of years being the hottest globally in recorded history, and with climate disasters occurring with greater frequency than ever, 72% of Americans agree with scientists that global warming is a reality.  Fossil fuels have long been a major contributor to “eco-cide” but U.S. politicians from both parties have been financially supported by corporations that place profit over people (and scripture).

NASA was aligned with the encyclical.  It reported that the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, composed of scientific experts from countries all over the world, concluded that “it is unequivocal that climate change is the result of human activities and that human influence is the principal driver of many changes observed across the atmosphere, ocean, cryosphere and biosphere.  Since systematic scientific assessments began in the 1970s, the influence of human activity on the warming of the climate system has evolved from theory to established fact.” However, this reality has been reduced to a popular political position that the issue doesn’t exist.

Just this week, the governor of Florida banned the term “climate change” from State literature and allied himself with other bribed politicians to assert that the issue is something “made up” by their political opponents.  All sorts of industries that make trillions of dollars by avoiding regulation were no doubt pleased with the support of politicians allied with this governor.  We who claim to have a Gospel identity need take to heart the Pope’s counsel.  In listening to speakers on the topic of our environment, we need to realize that Francis speaks on behalf of a Bible that told us to take care of our “common home” and not listen to those who speak on behalf of their wallet.

It is not surprising that this topic has people take sides in the matter (trusting politicians over scientists who actually know what they’re talking about).  It seems we live in a time when people will even question if the earth is flat.  Well, this week’s readings throw us another topic that could itself be the focus of a workshop: marriage and divorce.

Picture yourself at age 21 coming home and announcing at the family dinner table that you’ve found the person who you love and who you’re going to marry.  With a proud smile on your face and hoping to be congratulated by family members, you instead are told by one of your parents: “Love shmuv!  You’re going to marry who we’ve chosen for you.  Mr. and Mrs. X are respected people whose son/daughter will be a good provider for you and the children you’ll have.  You and our family will be much respected by this union.”  In the words of a woman who had this experience, “Over time, you grow to love your husband.”  Love generally meaning that he was a decent provider for the family.

Unlike American culture, peoples globally—since earliest times—regarded marriage as an institution that was arranged by parents (and not their child).  It was thought that marriage was too important a decision for a young person to make.  We might fantasize “falling in love,” but in their study of cultures around the world, anthropologists pretty much define marriage as “an economic transaction uniting two groups.”  No warm embraces with that cold statement!  From time to time, you’ll read the story of a girl’s family killing her for not abiding by the marriage custom of her people—marriage being serious “business”—literally.

In the modern era, 41% of first marriages, 60% of second marriages, and 73% of third marriages end in divorce.  Such is the state of marriage in 21st-century America.  It has not always been this way. Customs change, e.g., 19^th-century America saw MANY first-cousin marriages. 

In the time of Jesus, Israelite culture held that just as children cannot choose their parents, so too children could not choose their spouse. God chose one’s parents, and through one’s parents God chose one’s marriage partner.  And so it was that Jesus stated a cultural truism, i.e., “What God joined let no one separate.”  If marriages dissolved, such things as shame, feuding, and bloodshed could result.  Thus, the “Marriage bond” needed preservation at all cost.  It was NOT a decision made by a couple kissing affectionately.  It was, rather, a “social contract” that involved a community that would be bound together in all sorts of activities because of the “marital bond.”  Modern America pretty much lets a couple decide their fate going into or out of marriage.  Cultures everywhere saw broader ramifications to a union, e.g., the couple living with his family for a period, or hers, or their own—with obligations of various kinds. America largely lets young people do what they wish.

As is obvious in the Gospels, Jesus was one who brought people together and healed people whose minds, hearts, and bodies were broken in one way or another.  His role was to encourage the union of people and couples.  His efforts were not aimed at dissolving the marriage pact but to help it be a stabilizing force within communities.  That same strategy is what the Church tries to implement 2000 years later.  However, early in Church history, the Christian community had to address problems that arose with marriage—problems that seemed to have no positive resolution.  Hence was born the Pauline and Petrine privilege that granted a couple’s release from the marriage contract under certain circumstances.  In our time, you might know someone who was granted an “annulment” which allowed them to marry.  Some Protestant groups reject these Catholic teachings and do not allow divorce based on today’s scripture.  As stated, the topic is a sensitive one still—and not limited to the fallout noted above within Israelite culture of the first century.  This is why the matter requires sensitivity on the part of a marriage tribunal, parishioners, and anyone dealing with people caught up in these circumstances.

Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi

Most High, all-powerful, all-good Lord, All praise is Yours, all glory, all honour and all blessings.  Praised be You my Lord with all Your creatures, especially Brother Sun,

Who is the day through whom You give us light?  And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendor, Of You Most High, he bears the likeness.  Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars,

In the heavens you have made them bright, precious and fair.  Praised be You, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air, And fair and stormy, all weather’s moods, by which You cherish all that You have made.  Praised be You my Lord through Sister Water–So useful, humble, precious and pure.

Praised be You my Lord through Brother Fire, through whom You light the night and he is beautiful and playful and robust and strong.  Praised be You my Lord through our Sister, Mother Earth,  who sustains and governs us, producing varied fruits with coloured flowers and herbs.  Praise be You my Lord through those who grant pardon for love of You and bear sickness and trial.

Blessed are those who endure in peace, By You Most High, they will be crowned.  Praised be You, my Lord through Sister Death, from whom no-one living can escape. Blessed are they She finds doing Your Will.

St. Theresa of Liseux

“When I have been lonely, depressed or ill, I’d often repeat to myself a line of poetry which brought peace and strength back into my soul. It says: “Time is just a ship that bears us. It is not our home.”  “When we cannot rise above our difficulties, we should pass through them or beneath them with trust in God.”

“Our Lord does not come from Heaven every day to stay in a golden ciborium.  He comes to find another Heaven, the Heaven of our mind and heart–is where he most loves to stay.”

“When it comes to his closest friends, the Lord tests them by keeping them waiting for a miracle. He allows Lazarus to die when Martha and Mary have sent warning that he is sick.  At Cana of Galilee when his mother tells him the host has run out of wine, he tells her that his time has not come yet.  Why shouldn’t our Lord treat me the same way, by keeping me waiting first, I savor God all the more because in his own time he satisfies the deepest wishes of my heart?”

“In God’s garden, there are big flowers and little flowers.  Not all of us can be big lilies and roses.  Some of us have to be content to be little daisies —and God loves those little daisies just as much as he does those big lilies and big roses.”

This week’s Gospel reading reminds us of how some people take scripture literally (sometimes it SHOULD be and sometimes NOT).  Today’s passage illustrated the latter.  For example, today Jesus says that if your hand or eye or foot are a source of sin for you—CUT THEM OFF.  Boy, if understood this way, he was a stern taskmaster.  He’d fit in with those countries today that do, in fact, punish lawbreakers in this fashion (countries like Saudi Arabia, Iran, and several others. 

Contrary to this MODERN practice (that goes back millennia), Jesus was NOT making this point.  Otherwise, we’d have millions of disabled people coping with these amputations.  Instead of thinking that this is the point of what Jesus said, forget it.  Jesus is using hyperbole—exaggerating an example just to make his point.  That is, he’s saying: “If you can identify the source of your bad behavior—STOP IT.  Make no excuses and never say: “The devil made me do it.”).

This topic reminded me of an American Indian comedy video that had a young Indian guy sitting across from a medicine man at a table.  The young man hands a gift to the medicine man [a traditional custom when seeking wise counsel from a traditionalist elder].  The young man then respectfully says: “I’ve been going to a lot of white doctors and they can’t tell me what’s going on with me.  I ain’t got no singing voice and I’m always tired.”  The medicine man then asks: “Well, do you party all the time?” And the young man smilingly responded: “Hell yes.”  With that, the medicine man slaps the young man across the face and says; “Knock it off!”

Jesus and the medicine man are both basically saying that one should stop doing what they know to be destructive behavior.

Apart from this lesson in scripture this week, I was reminded of a term I heard bandied about by commentators on the upcoming elections.  They were referring to people who cast their vote based on very little knowledge of the persons or issues.  Or, they are victims of intentionally misleading or deceptive data called “disinformation” (as when the Russians or other countries fill our social media for unsuspecting Americans who think what they see is accurate or true—when it’s not).  Whether one knows little about candidates or issues their mindset is: “I’ve always voted for whoever is a Green Party candidate” (or one of the other parties).  Or these people might simply THINK they know issues (but when interviewed reveal a lack of knowledge—as has been found with people who limit themselves to FOX broadcasts (its viewers being the LEAST informed).  People within these populations are referred to as “low information” voters (the technical term I recently learned). 

Just this week, when the vice-presidential candidates debated, a poll showed that 25% of the population had no idea who the VP candidates were or what they stood for.  If you fall within this group and wish to acquire a sense of candidates, I’d be happy to provide you with information on them.  For example, VP candidate Vance thinks the U.S. should “delete” its form of government and replace it with a dictatorship.  This is simply to point out that you should know one’s vision of America if it is contrary to yours.

Learning this term dovetailed with what Pope Francis recently said.  He told people that they had a responsibility to educate themselves on all the candidates and issues and NOT limit themselves to voting for one issue only.  The Pope was calling us to be a “high information” voter. 

This topic brought to my mind that I’m “low information” in many areas of life.  For example, I’ve known about the existence of soybeans for years, but it wasn’t until this week that I learned what they looked like.  Parishioner Irene Peck brought some to the Tuesday 5 p.m. Mass for me to see.  What also came to mind is that a priest’s role within a parish is to help the people become “high information” members of the faith community—and be people familiar with biblical literature, Christian history, ethics, traditions, spirituality, and all aspects of life as seen through the eyes of Jesus.  That’s why a “homily” is supposed to teach people about scripture passages at Mass, and how those passages might apply to our everyday living.

This week we see the names of Moses and Joshua and their dealing with people who weren’t “official” prophets chosen by the community.  We might be tempted to yawningly listen to this story from the Book of Numbers—andhave no clue as to its relevance for us.  However, to be high-information Catholics, we need to know how these elements of the story DO relate to us.

In short, our Christian religion is based on the teachings and life of Jesus.  He is called the “second Moses” because he led us out of slavery to behaviors that enslave us.  Moses led his people to the Promised Land, and so does Jesus lead us in that direction.  However, it was Joshua who accompanied the people across the river into the new territory (since Moses died just before getting there).  And we need to keep in mind that Joshua and “Yeshua” (Hebrew) are the same name as “Jesus.” 

So today, we are thus reading about our grandparents in the faith who were symbols or forecasts of what was later to come full fleshed out in the Gospels (a technical name for people who presage/illustrate a New Testament figure is “type” (as in “Moses is a ‘type’ for Jesus”).  These leaders in the “Old Testament” became fleshed out in the totality of goodness when Jesus arrived on the scene in Bethlehem.  Their lives and experiences pointed the way to Him.

Such as today’s reading had Moses comment: “Would that all the people of the LORD were prophets!”  This, too, is a major statement to you and me.  Why?  Because when we were baptized, we were baptized to become a “prophet.”  Not in the sense of predicting the future (the meaning we generally have in mind), but as one who speaks or shows others how God is present with us HERE AND NOW.

In this role, we’re likely to have a family member or friend or acquaintance say to our “prophetic voice” a response like: “Mind your own business,” or some such dismissive reply to what we say.  We needn’t get on a soapbox, or “in someone’s face” when we live our prophet role.  As with the prophets of the Old Testament, so with us prophets of the New Testament.  You and I might be criticized or ignored or be martyred—but such is the role of prophets described in scripture.  Our challenge is to somehow make our Gospel point in a way that people can “hear.” 

Maybe when speaking with someone who we think needs our counsel, we can use a “hook” like the one used by Dr. Phil on TV.  When his guest reveals all the problems they’ve had with drugs or behaviors that brought lots of anguish, Dr. Phil asks them: “How’s that working for you?”  The reason this question is a therapeutically good question to ask—is that Dr. Phil is not himself outright telling the person that they’re really “messed up.”  He’s led the person to be able to objectively look at their behavior and respond something to the effect of “It hasn’t been working out for me.”  And so it is with our being a prophet.  We need to learn HOW we might deliver the counsel we prophets seek to provide. 

When the apostles told Jesus about other people doing good—but not doing it in the name of Jesus—they remind us of the first reading from Numbers.  Jesus is acknowledging good behavior when it is performed when he says: “For whoever is not against us is for us.”  Such people can be considered what’s been termed an “anonymous Christian.”  They’re doing Christian behavior without consciously calling it Christian.

This is the season when students are getting accustomed to a new school year.  Each Fall, I think of my many years in the classroom at Jesuit universities and am reminded of phrases associated with the 27 schools founded by my Order.  These schools tell students that Jesuit education doesn’t just teach one how to make a living.  It also teaches them how to live.  A spin-off of this thinking is that we try to produce “men and women for others” in the tradition of Jesus. 

Mass has these same goals.  In this sacred context of the sacrament, we learn how to live and become people “for others.”  This week’s Gospel reinforces these thoughts—but to understand how it echoes Jesuit orientation, we need to get a deeper sense of the first-century culture within which Jesus lived.

A surface reading of the passage leads us to think that Jesus instructed his apostles to be hospitable toward children.  The apostles had been arguing about who was the greatest among them, and Jesus placed a child in their midst to answer their questions.  “Whoever receives one child such as this in my name receives me.”  In doing this, they will also receive the One who sent Jesus.

What modern readers need to know is that when Jesus hugged the child and greeted it warmly, Mark was NOT portraying Jesus as someone who was simply kind to children.  Instead, Jesus was calling their attention to one who symbolized the “lowest level” of society.  It was children who held that unpleasant distinction.  Mr. Trump’s former press secretary said that his “core” followers did not know that in private he spoke of them disparagingly as “basement dwellers” for whom he had no interest other than getting their votes.  Jesus was pointing to the “cellar dwellers” of society when he pointed to a child.  Such persons were the ones who should receive the attention of his apostles.  Children were the “basement dwellers” of his time.  They held the status of little more than of a slave.

30% died at birth while 60% died by age 16.  Moreover, children had no rights, and were the last to be fed.  Proverbs and Sirach said that fathers should physically punish their sons lest they suffer abuse or neglect in later life (Prov 13:24; 19:18; 22:15; 23:13-14; 29:15, 17, 19; Sir 30:1-13).  As biblical exegete John Pilch noted: “This does not mean that children were not loved or appreciated. Mediterranean discipline fuses love with violence as parents explain: “We only do this because we love them.” Even God disciplines “him whom he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives” (Prov 3:11-12).  1200 years later, the great St.Thomas Aquinas even described the status of children in terms that seem abhorrent to us.  He said that when rescuing people from a fire, a man should first save his father, mother, wife, and children (in that order).

In today’s Gospel passage, we might think Jesus is saying that we need to treat children kindly.  While that understanding is not wrong, it is not his main message.  Rather, Jesus is telling his followers that it is the least among us who we should serve.  It is those without status or without power who true Christians serve.  Recall, too, the scripture that echoes this thought when Jesus says he came not to be served but to serve.  That is his answer to who is the greatest among us.   Evangelist Mark also countered false teachers who saw Jesus as a divine miracle worker and themselves as successors.  Thus, Mark emphasized service and humility—symbolized by the cross.

The teaching is still counter-cultural since we are raised to be hired into a fine job, seek promotions, acquire leadership roles with “perks,” and “ladder climb” throughout life.  By contrast, Jesus is telling you and me that our most basic identity is to be, as the Jesuit motto states, a “man or woman for others.”

Today’s reading is timely for people associated with Boston College—a Jesuit university regarded as one of the country’s finest educational institutions.  This is the weekend on which they play what is now called their “Red Bandanna” football game.  Just as Jesus used the symbol of a child to illustrate his point, so on our altar is the symbol of a red bandanna which commemorates the life of a Boston College graduate.  He embodied being a “man for others” when 9/11 took place.  Several months after that tragedy occurred, his parents learned the details of how their son perished that day.  He held a well-paying position and worked on an upper floor of the World Trade Center.  As stated in Wikipedia, survivors

“. . . didn’t know his name. They didn’t know where he came from. But they knew the man in the red bandana had saved their lives. He called for fire extinguishers to fight back the flames. He tended to the wounded. He led those survivors down the stairs to safety and carried a woman on his shoulders down 17 flights. Then he went back. Back up all those flights. Then back down again, bringing more wounded to safety. Until that moment when the tower fell.”

Welles Remy Crowther’s bravery and selflessness have inspired numerous tributes. In 2024, Rockland County introduced a cyber detection dog named “Remy” in his honor. Remy, a black lab trained to detect electronic devices used in criminal activities, is one of only 100 “cyber dogs” in the United States. The dog wears a red bandana, symbolizing Crowther’s iconic red bandana worn during the 9/11 rescue efforts.

Each year, the home football game closest to 9/11 sees Boston College players wear Crowther’s name on their jerseys along with their number appearing as a red bandanna.  Many in attendance wear red bandannas showing their solidarity with a BC graduate whose heroic, Christian sacrifice embodied a vision they were trying to incarnate. 

So this week we have a child, a red bandanna, and a cross—as symbols of the service that today’s Gospel states is what identifies us as Christians.  What follows are reflections you might spend private time considering:

If you’re not in service to others, you’re not living the Christian life. 

True honor can be found in the most unlikely places.

“Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”

“ . . . anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve.  You don’t have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve… You don’t have to know [Einstein’s theory of relativity] to serve.  You only need a heart filled with [desire to do the right thing]” 

And if the notion of service is intimidating, think of what Mother Teresa said:  “If you can’t feed a hundred people, then feed just one.” 

He who shuts his ear to the cry of the poor will himself also call and not be heard. (Proverbs)

Service is God’s therapeutic counsel telling you how to be fully you.

And the Christian notion of service is “wonderful because nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.” 

“A bone to the dog is not charity.  Charity is the bone shared with the dog, when you are just as hungry as the dog.” 

While not a liturgical holiday, “Grandparents Day” was a good event probably spawned by candy/flower/restaurant corporations.

Grandparents are included in Mother’s and Father’s Day celebrations, but our grandparents deserve recognition for the roles they play in many households.  They’ve learned from raising their own children, and have a second chance to do an even better job in doing it again. 

The Lakota Sioux Indians begin all prayer by addressing “Grandfather, Great Spirit” (Tunkashila Wakan Tanka)—recognizing the Creator as a very special relative and giver of life.  This idea gives spiritual substance to Indian cultures that frequently refer to “elders” as especially worthy of our reverence.  Black Elk reflected that elders should be taken good care of and learned from—since they are close to God when in their final years. 

Sometimes, grandparents (great-grandparents) feel that their presence is no longer useful, and so they get discouraged.  They often don’t realize that the family is just glad that grandmother and grandfather are present!  It doesn’t matter if they’re make the family meal, mopping the floor, or some other chore.  It’s their presence  that matters.  I don’t think of this experience without recalling the void my family felt when my grandmother went back to God.  I missed putting a shot of whiskey in her egg nog at Thanksgiving time.  I should say a “half a shot” of whiskey—as my grandmother did not imbibe well—and a “half” was plenty for her (even when she was young).

So it’s Grandparents Day this weekend.  It wouldn’t hurt to express your appreciation to your loved ones.  And if your grandparents are no longer with us—why not give your grandchildren a treat of some kind—and tell them you’re celebrating BEING a grandparent to them.

This is also the weekend that we read from Mark’s gospel instead of John’s.  Recall that Mark is the oldest of the 4 Gospels—and is thought to have provided material for Luke’s and Matthew’s books.  Mark’s is the shortest of the 4, and is the only one that has today’s story of the deaf-mute.  Interestingly, Mark’s Gospel is written in Greek and uses the same word for both “mute” and “deaf.”  Therein lies the potent meaning of the encounter with Jesus.  Think of people who can’t hear anything as infants.  They might never be able to speak.  Now think of this theologically.  If our young (or older ones) hear nothing about our faith and have no participation within the sacraments (like attending Mass), what will they be able to say about God,  or Jesus, or Christian virtues.  Our faith-life is SUPPOSED to stir within us a movement of Spirit that motivates us to feed the hungry, clothe, the naked, etc.  But if you hear nothing about your faith, what will motivate you to accomplish anything of value?

Within that long-ago first-century world, Jesus was a healer.  As with other tribes in other parts of the world (North America, too), people did not regard illness or physical misfortune the same way as us.  Instead of saying something like “He caught a virus” or “She slipped and broke her ankle,” people would say: “An evil spirit did this to him/her!”  And as was the custom, if an evil spirit was present (as with the deaf-mute whose condition signaled an evil spirit’s work), the healer would “spit” to chase it away.  In this instance, Jesus spit and then rubbed the man’s spirit-stricken disability.  Voila!  The miracle worker did his thing.  What a great miracle worker Jesus was.  Yay.  He could overcome evil spirits!  Write about his power in action-packed comic books.

Stop.  That’s not the main point of this story.

What we’ve read is that Jesus performed an exorcism that cast out whatever prevented the man from hearing THE WORD OF GOD and sharing it, or speaking it to others.  THAT is what Mark was telling his audience.  Put another way, any incident that reported someone locked in the grasp of an evil spirit or demon—is the Evangelist’s way of saying that Jesus can heal you of YOUR demons, and lead you out of the paralyzing addiction or affliction or behavior that prevents you from becoming the best version of yourself.

This deaf-mute story addresses we humans who carry memories of something we’ve done that shames or festers in our conscience.  At the beginning of the incident, we’re told that Jesus speaks to the man (you or me) “in private.”  And so it is, the healing we can receive from living the Christ-life is offered to us privately as the risen Lord speaks to our hearts.  I was reminded of a country-western song that might speak to you in contemporary terms of everyday life:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkZyqxVCPYs  (or Google Youtube Walk On Reba McIntyre).

This week we buried two parishioners and I was once again reminded of God calling each of us one day.  We’ve walked many paths in life and found ourselves in mid-Michigan.  Grandparents see family members and each of us deaf-mutes look at our lives and wonder if where we are is where we should be.  While thinking these different thoughts, I was reminded of a best-selling novel of several decades past: I Heard the Owl Call My Name.  It was made into a film and told the story of an Episcopalian priest assigned to an Indian reservation in Canada’s British Columbia

[Google this site to see the entire film: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MAoIYDxNefU]

The “reserve” (what Canadians say instead of our “reservation”) is a poverty-stricken fishing village, and the priest thinks of his role as that of one who will help people fit into the larger Canadian society.  By the story’s end, it is he who learned from the people.

A scene that came to mind was that of the priest speaking with the local school teacher.  This man was condescending toward his students and the reserve people in general.  The priest invites him to attend services and the man says he’s not a religious man.  The priest replies that if it weren’t for a teacher in the 7^th grade who inspired him, he’d be nowhere at all.  Whereupon the teacher said: “Look around you, vicar, this IS nowhere at all.”

Because the priest was trying to understand what his role among the people should be, the teacher’s observation hit home.  Then he learns that he has a fatal disease that will take him to eternity in the months ahead (the people believe that one’s death day is near when one “hears the owl call my name”). 

Like grandparents who might think their lives aren’t of much consequence now that they can’t get around like they once did.  Like each of us deaf-mutes who deal with our limitations and wonder if our lives will be of any further consequence, we’re like the priest (who was buried there on the reserve cemetery grounds).

Before the owl called his name, he learned that THERE on a destitute Indian reserve, was far from being “nowhere.”  Because he was God’s child, among other of God’s children from a far different background than his.  He was very much SOMEWHERE important.  And so it is that God know each of us by name, and is with us HERE—making our presence with others of supreme importance.

This Sunday’s scripture gives us a description of what should define one’s religion.  Namely, it is to care for orphans and widows in their affliction and to keep oneself unstained by the world.  Let’s translate what, exactly, that means.  As ever, we need to go beyond the literal meaning of what we read in scripture.  In this case, we’re NOT being told to just look after widows and orphans.  The reference includes them but is a way of referring to those who are most neglected and poor in society.  “Widows and orphans” is “code” for the marginalized and “have-nots.” 

You can see how this definition might upset some people—because many dismiss these underdogs by saying “God helps those who help themselves!”  Or, “Charity begins at home.”  Or, “We take care of our own” (and no others). There are different ways we can let “the wretched of the earth” remain wretched, but Jesus taught us to “feed the hungry” and “clothe the naked,” and that has defined Christian philosophy since its beginning.  There’s a quote from a 3rd-century Roman historian that says: “The Romans feed the Romans and the Jews feed the Jews, but the Christians feed everyone.”  So you can see how early those outreach roots were in identifying our ancestors’ behavior.

Speaking of which, this past week saw two feast days observed—one devoted to Saint Monica and the other to her son, Saint Augustine.  They lived around the year 400, and just for good measure, John the Baptist’s feast day also took place this week (he lived in the 1st century).  All three are relevant to scripture this weekend and to each of us in attendance.

St. Monica was a devoted mother who prayed and prayed for her son to turn his life around.  She never gave up on him, but instead did all she could to help her son make better choices—choices that were grounded in the Gospel and not in his self-interest.  She is like the mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers in the parish here—praying for their young to have a “conversion experience.”  She never gave up, and eventually saw the day come when Augustine was one of the greatest theologian-preachers in early Christendom.

A sidebar to Augustine’s story is that the Augustinian congregation—founded a few hundred years after Augustine was alive once included the Catholic priest we know in history as Martin Luther.  Luther tried to reform the Church and make innovations that eventually were adopted by Rome.  He was, however, excommunicated and is associated with what we know today as the Lutheran division of Christianity.  Centuries before Catholics offered the Mass in English, Luther was a proponent of Mass (and the Bible) in the language of the people. 

Like everyone, he made mistakes, and one was his hostility toward Judaism.  He also had the gall to argue for the Letter of James to be dropped from the canon of New Testament books.  Coincidentally, our second reading today is from that very letter.  Christians had been reading it as part of the canon for 1500 years when Luther argued that it be dropped, but this was one argument he did not win.

After he led a life of debauchery (recorded in his religious classic The Confessions of Saint Augustine), this “Doctor of the Church” influenced Christian thought regarding “original sin.”  Jewish tradition did not think of Adam, Eve, and the serpent in terms of the devil tempting our “first parents” with fruit (the “apple” was not in the biblical story but became the popularly imagined fruit many centuries later).  Instead, a first-century writing titled The Life of Adam and Eve conjured up Satan as the snake causing humans to commit the ORIGINAL sin. 

Perhaps because he led such a sinful life, Augustine focused on the sinful aspect of our human identity. Our Jewish relatives, however, read the story as one of original BLESSING. Augustine’s legacy combined with Luther’s to see branches of Christianity emphasize our fallen human nature—a famous colonial writing by Jonathan Edwards capturing the mindset of many Christians who thought we all were “Sinners In The Hands of An Angry God.’

And this takes us back to today’s Gospel.  It gives us a list of behaviors we should do our best to avoid.  We are tempted to express these behaviors at different times, so it is good that we spend some time reflecting on how they influence our thinking.  Take some time and spend a period of reflection on how these non-Christian thought patterns arise in our everyday lives.

Three topics cited in the Gospel are already familiar to us in the 10 Commandments.  We’re told to NOT steal, murder, or commit adultery. If you’ve not committed these deadly behaviors, how might you have done so metaphorically, or figuratively?

We’re then asked to consider the role of “greed” in our lives.  Our intense, selfish desire for more money or power can destroy lives.  We hear of inflation being high but how many of us write food corporations that have been making 300 or 400% profit—the only reason grocery prices are high is because the CEOs and Boards can price gouge!  What makes one seek 100% profit, then 200, then 300, then 400?  Greed!  No trait of Christian behavior.

What simmers within us when we want to see something unpleasant happen to someone?  “Malice” is not a Christian attitude. As with “envy,” this trait pulsates with ill will and serves no good end.  How often I’ve harbored malice or envy, or seen it within others, and later learned that the target of this hostility was forced to carry much heavier crosses than I ever did.  How dare I be upset that they experienced something nice or fell prey to some hurtful event?

 Or imagine if everyone practiced “deceit” on everyone with whom they interacted.  All of us would have to cope with lies that ensnared us in bad products that hurt us in some way.  When truth is misrepresented to us, we are forced to make poor decisions, or just stand on shaky ground all the time.  The Russians celebrated in 2016 when their candidate for the U.S. presidency won.  They spent millions of dollars flooding social media with lies that many Americans believed were truthful reports (even using actors to portray Americans praying that Hilary Clinton not win).  We didn’t even know we were being duped by Russians!

Today’s Gospel also cites licentiousness as a behavior that only brings trouble via lewd conduct.  One would think that the many deaths and damage done by venereal diseases would scare us away from this behavior—but Augustine was qualified to tell us that this behavior produces no good result.  Nonetheless, most advertising has a sexual component to it that casts a reptilian appeal to us “poor souls.”

Or how about the trait known as “folly?”  It refers to our lack of good sense when acting a certain way.  For example, you see something that casts appeal.  You can’t afford it but you get it anyway “because I wanted it.”  Meanwhile, the roof is leaking and your costly purchase will affect your home life and the health of your family.  You act on impulse and do not use the good sense God gave you to make good decisions.  You wanted something and you took it—as when someone grabs another sexually and thus becomes a predator.  You want something and you act solely on your basest instinct.  Not Christian.  So what do we do about this?

Spend a day on each of these “traits” of human behavior that affect us so negatively.  Take each one separately and ask God to help you extricate it from your life.  And at the same time, take to heart a quote of Augustine that might help calm your frustration in dealing with the void you feel even when things are going your way.  The doctor of the Church knew that “Our hearts were made for God, and they will not rest until they rest in God.”

In the meantime, think of the 3^rd saintly feast day of this past week—that of John the Baptist.  He was someone who knew that he was not, and would never be, the Messiah.  He always pointed to Someone greater than himself, and so lived his life trying to give glory to God (and not himself).  We’re raised to put ourselves at the center of attention and be recognized as someone great—and we are (in God’s eyes).  But our role in everyday experience is always to thank the One from whom all good things come.  Our role, as the Letter of James tells us today, is to be doers of the Word and not just listeners of it.”

The first reading today comes from the Book of Joshua.  Maybe you know someone named Joshua.  That’s the Hebrew name for “Jesus.”  That is, if Jesus came among us as an English speaker, we’d be referring to him as “Josh” or “Joshua.”  Recall, too, that Joshua took over the leadership of the Israelites when Moses died.  Jesus has been called a “second Moses” for showing how we can reach the “Promised Land”—just as Moses led his people TO the Promised Land.  Moses died before crossing the river to step foot there—so it was Joshua who actually led the way (so “Jesus” took the Israelites into that land—and like a 2^nd bookend, Jesus led us to that place.

Today’s first reading has further relevance to us—that might not come to mind upon first hearing it.  Namely, we hear of the Israelites meeting diverse tribes in this new territory, each of them worshiping a different god.  Then the great scriptural quote concludes today’s reading when we hear Joshua say: “As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord [Yahweh]”—and not the many other gods that capture the attention of the different tribes.  That line from Joshua can be found in religious goods stores, and people then proudly hang that plaque somewhere visible in their house—for visitors to see and as a reminder to the occupants.  We need these sorts of reminders—along with a crucifix in each bedroom or in the den or living room.

The gospel also provides us with a line that likewise should be tattooed on our hearts.  Jesus asks of the apostles (us, too): “Do you also want to leave?” And our response to his question should echo Peter’s: “To whom shall we go?”  With Peter, we know it is Jesus “who has the words to eternal life.”  Not only that, but his words are the philosophy that guides our decision-making (at least, it SHOULD guide it).  This takes us back to the reading from Joshua.

This passage might initially sound simply like Israelite history—but it’s more than that.  It’s a commentary on our era!  How’s that?  Because you and I have a smorgasbord of “gods” to adopt and place at the center of our consciousness.  And NOT the Lord revealed in Jesus.

I’m reminded of the old Braniff Airlines commercial that said: “When you’ve got it, flaunt it.”  It was a catchy statement produced by Madison Avenue that taps within us a certain self-centered desire to be noticed for what we have in wealth and possessions.  Is that what Jesus did—flaunt his powers or possessions?  No.  Nowadays we don’t hear Braniff commercials but we do hear in everyday speech some kind of reference to having “swag”—something that draws attention to how cool we look, how we dress, or what we own.  Again, is having “swag” a value Jesus taught?  No.  The term is generally used in a good-natured way but still has the subtle effect of moving us to seek the praise of others.  This human tendency is why Ignatius encouraged people to do all things “For the greater glory of God” (and not our personal glory).

So the Joshua reading reminds us that there are a lot of “gods” out there in secular society.  Our participation in a faith community indicates we at least acknowledge that we are not gods, and that we need to consult the One who created us.  We need to be at “table” with the Lord at Mass where we can hear God’s word, reveal in prayer our heart’s longings, raise our voices in song prayer, be inspired by choir members reminding us of angel voices, see fellow parishioners helping where they can in serving others at the table—and realizing that God loves them and calls them to be the flesh and blood of Christ for others with whom they interact.

By contrast, many serve a contending power whose scriptures appear in many different forms.  These are the canons of the god known as “secularism”—a definition of which is “the practical exclusion of God, the Sacred, the Christ—in everyday life.”  This god is a powerful one—as it has us locked into schedules and athletic practices and entertainment and lawn care and hobbies and TV, etc., etc.  The list of this god’s minions is endless.  They appear as reasons why so many Catholics avoid an hour-long Mass on the weekend. One isn’t hostile to the REAL god.  Rather, one has “practical” obligations to go fishing, attend a ball game, mow the lawn, sleep in, etc., etc.  All practical reasons that one uses to justify not putting time with God into their weekly schedule in some way.  Again, recall Joshua saying: “As for me and my household, we shall serve the Lord.”

For those who find it a challenge to wake up on Sunday morning or attend Saturday afternoon Mass, I suggest they give the Tuesday 5 p.m. mass a try, or the Thursday 6 p.m. Mass.  Make an evening of it—Mass followed by dinner at a restaurant with someone close to you.  What a shot in the arm that double-whammy could be.

Another topic scripture suggests and which this week brings to my mind is that of “vocation.”  Bishop Gruss has asked that all the parishes pray for vocations and that they use the traditional prayer known as the “memorare.”  A timely topic for me this week because it’s my anniversary of entering the Society of Jesus with 21 other guys.  Back then, we had more “provinces” than we do today, and my geographical province was Detroit.  The Chicago Province had about 30 guys enter that year, and the Wisconsin Province had about the same number.  Those 3 provinces drew about 75 novices that year.  Over time, the Jesuits combined those 3 provinces into what we now call the “Midwest Province.”  This year’s entrance class?  6 guys—from what was at one time 3 provinces that drew 75 guys.

So you see why all the bishops are beating the bushes for fellows to become priests.  Some might suggest we ordain women, but Pope John Paul 2 the 2^nd said this topic is not to be discussed.  As a result, a number of women have joined the Episcopalian Church and become priests within that denomination.  Some people might suggest ordaining married men (as was done until around 1100 a.d.).  People see that the Church accepted former Lutheran and Episcopalian priests into the Church, and they were married.  How can it be that one get ordained a non-Catholic priest, be married, and then join the Catholic Church as a married priest?  This issue has been an issue with which the Church has been wrestling.

Meanwhile, however, there are within our ranks any number of people who should be considering the role they could play as a priest.  Does the topic ever arise in your household?  Have your children or grandchildren ever said anything about the matter?  When I entered the Jesuits, I thought I’d be home in at least a week or two—so certitude about such topics need not be part of one’s thought process.  You who are older—parents and grandparents—what about YOUR vocation?  Every time you come to mass, that thought is at play in your mind and heart.  It basically amounts to you wondering or talking to God about what you’re doing with your life.  That is—how are you living out your vocation?

Keep this in mind whenever you feel inspired to do something that you think might really have legs to it—a good course of action to take that will help others and your own sense of being part of something bigger than just yourself.  You might feel a wave of hope or excitement about a challenge you want to engage.  As this experience flutters within your mind and heart, be prepared to hear your mind—or others—raise questions about your vision of what might be.  At this point, you are in need of what spiritual directors refer to as “discernment.”  Is what you’re entertaining “of God” or is it not? 

If it IS “of God,” another “movement of spirit” will arise within you that is unsettling, and makes you question your virtuous vision of what you might do.  This questioning or gnawing doubt need not be a demonic force that scares you into going nowhere and throwing in the towel.  It is generally more subtle than that.  It tells you something along the legendary lines of: “This apple is beautiful, isn’t it?  Why not take a bite of it?”

If you speak with God about your thoughts of doing something new and different and helpful to others, and if you seem to think God is smiling at you and encouraging you to do this good course of action that will help you and others—say: “No thanks.  I don’t feel like eating that apple.”

As you know, my vocation was to enter the Society of Jesus, or “Jesuits.”  The 3 other religious “orders” in the Church are Dominicans, Franciscans, and Benedictines.  Other nuns and priests join what are called “congregations” (not “orders”).  While the Orders and Congregations take vows that are generally poverty, chastity, and obedience, diocesan priests do not take vows.  Orders and Congregations tend to see their members go to different geographical regions where they serve people in different ways such as educationally, medically, and in missionary work whereas diocesan priests are ordained for a particular diocese within which they serve parishes or other Church institutions.

Use of the words “poverty, chastity, and obedience” are names for the vows one takes within the religious life, but commentators have suggested these words might be more confusing than clarifying.  For example, “poverty” does NOT mean one lives in destitution.  Synonyms have been proposed for these terms and they are: stewardship instead of poverty (what do you do with your time, talent, and treasure? Do you feed the hungry, clothe the naked?), hospitality instead of chastity (do you welcome the alien, receptive of others, gracious in greeting them, visit the sick, lonely, and imprisoned? and partnership instead of obedience (every good marriage is a partnership). 

The fact is that these terms are drawn from the life of Jesus, and it is HIS lifestyle that we are called to personify in our lives.  So each person who is Christian is called to live these vows.  I have seen married couples live these them as well if not better than priests who formally pronounce them in a chapel. 

Remember!  Jesus is coming—so look busy.

To a non-Christian, a line from John’s gospel today might sound really bizarre.  The evangelist reports that Jesus said: “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood.”  Yikes!  As a non-Catholic man once said to me: “You seem to have ritualized cannibalism in your ceremony.”  That’s how this Sunday’s passage came across to him.

This person’s understanding might make us roll our eyes—just as much as some might be concerned about what many biblical exegetes tell us about this verse.  Namely, they tell us that Jesus never said the words in this passage.  Huh?  How dare someone question what the Gospel says!  Hold on.  Let’s look at the “bigger picture” what the evangelists have written.

What we refer to as the “institution narrative” of the Eucharist—which you hear at each Mass—occurs when the priest says “Take this, all of you, and eat . . . this is the cup of my blood . . .”  This important moment in Christian history—Jesus at table with his disciples breaking bread—ISN’T IN JOHN’S GOSPEL!!!  Why did he not include it?

Did he not think it was important?  Hardly.  Then why didn’t he give us this “history?”  Aha!  Because neither he nor the other 3 evangelists are writing history.  They are writing a theology based on the life of Jesus.  Scholars tell us that John’s “Eucharistic meal” occurred when he fed the 5000 (and us) with just a few loaves of bread).  He didn’t need a “last supper” scene.

Theologian John Pilch reminds us that: “Literal drinking of blood was prohibited in Judaism and perhaps also in early Christianity (sec Gen 9:4; Lev 17:10, 12, 14; cf. Acts 15:29).  So keep in mind that the evangelists are all writing decades after Jesus died, and are presenting a THEOLOGY in their different books, e.g., Matthew has most references to the Old Testament because he seems to have aimed his Gospel at Jewish audiences while Luke aimed his at Gentiles. 

By contrast, John’s Gospel explores other territory.  And one reason for this is that he was writing at a later date than the others.  In the closing years of the first century,  By that time, “eating Jesus’ flesh and drinking his blood” became a common way for Christians around the time of John’s Gospel to describe participation in the Eucharist. Ignatius of Antioch said, “I desire ‘the bread of God’ which is the flesh of Jesus Christ … and for drink I desire his blood.”

Forms of speech change over time in all areas of life—and so it was with our theological vocabulary and understanding.  Today, you hear these variations among Catholics when referring to drinking/sipping the consecrated wine.  One might refer to “the blood of Christ,” “the cup,” “wine,” “precious blood,” etc.  Each term refers to the same thing.

Pilch further says: “In John’s view, the Eucharist is not so much a memorial of Jesus’ death nor a continuation of mealtimes with Jesus during his life . . . Rather, John views the Eucharist as a liturgical or cultic extension of Jesus’ incarnation”—and in the middle of his covering the public ministry of Jesus—where succeeding generations of Christians ARE the Eucharistic community.

John put the feeding of 5000 immediately after his lengthy “homily” on the nourishment he provides in revealing the Father.”  It is a colloquialism for us to say: “I could take a bite out of you” when expressing affection for someone.  What Jesus is quoted as saying is John using the language of intimacy to make his point.

Church guidelines for interpreting scripture tell us that “Evangelists relate the words and deeds of the Lord in a different order, and express his sayings not literally but differently.”

The feast of the Assumption occurred this week, and its teaching is worth our reflection.  It was a dogma defined in 1950, and followed on the heels of an 1854 dogma announced by Rome.  Why, you might wonder, did it take the Church 1800 years to declare 2 dogmas of the church (a hundred years apart from one another and both dealing with Mary)? 

As for the Immaculate Conception, this is a MARIAN dogma.  A basic concern at play was this.  A widespread understanding of Genesis is that Adam and Eve’s “original” sin brought into human life such experiences as pain at childbirth, having to work for a living, and dying.  We inherited the sinful condition much like we think of genes passing to us our ancestral traits.  But there is a theological problem with this thinking.  Namely, if “Jesus was like us in all things but sin, we’ve backed ourselves into a problem.  Namely, since Mary was human, and since she gave birth to Jesus, he would have inherited “original sin” through her.

Well, it took 1800 years for the Church to clarify its theology.   This was done by declaring that Mary was “immaculately conceived.”   God spared Mary from inheriting the sinful condition.  Voila—no sinfulness was passed to Jesus.  The dogma was like a “deus ex machina” theological teaching that saved the Church from contradicting itself. 

N.B., the Latin phrase means “God from a machine” and derives from Greek theater.  Actors played the role of gods who were brought on stage using a machine. The machine could be a crane to lower actors from above or a riser that brought them up through a trapdoor.”  These devices were used to solve a “seemingly unsolvable problem in a story. An issue is suddenly or abruptly resolved by an unexpected and unlikely occurrence.”  In this case, the Church simply declared that Mary’s sinlessness existed because God declared her sinless (in order for Jesus to have two parents untouched by “original sin”).

So a kind of ecclesiastical deus ex machina solved the dilemma of having a Jesus inheriting original sin.  However, over the next hundred years, a problem arose with this “dogma.”

So Mary was declared sinless (“Immaculate”—like my 7^th grade teacher, Sr. Mary Immaculate).  Uh-oh.  So then she didn’t die (what happened to people because of Adam & Eve’s sin)?  In 1950, another deus ex-machina came to the rescue.  The Church declared that: “Having completed the course of her earthly life, [Mary] was assumed body and soul into heavenly glory.” 

While critics of Catholicism might say this is pulling another rabbit from the hat, it is instead saying that Mary’s eternal destiny points to where we should direct all of our thoughts and deeds (i.e., eternal life with God).  It did NOT say she never died, but instead declared that she went straight to God upon her transition from this life to eternal life with God.  She is a role model, and her behavior of giving birth to Jesus in our daily life is what the Assumption celebrates every August 15^th.  That reality cuts through the theological challenges addressed above.

This same week also gives us the role model of “Servant of God” Nicholas Black Elk, the “holy-man” of the Oglala Sioux (Lakota).  He died the same year that the Assumption dogma was declared.  As he was laid to rest, people were of one mind recalling how good a man he was—always seeing God in the natural world and in the life of individuals.  If you are confronted with some illness that seems untreatable, pray to Nicholas Black Elk for help.  His cause for canonization awaits such a miracle to be reported.

Some think his first miracle occurred when he died.  That is, he told family members and friends that when he dies, he thinks God will give a sign in the sky that all is well—and that he is in what the Lakota call “the lad of many lodges” (heaven).  When he passed away on August 17^th, 1950, the sky was unlike what anyone had ever seen.  At 11 p.m. it was like daytime—so bright was the sky with falling stars and the Northern Lights.  His friend, John Lone Goose, said that people were a bit frightened at the immensity of the celestial display.  Even the next day, when the rain made the cemetery grass slippery and the people all wet, the sun broke through the clouds and shone on his grave as he was lowered into the ground.

As a young man and adult, Black Elk prayed to the “Thunder Beings” who his people said controlled lightning and thunder and rain—and he was able to make storms go away (so people claimed).  There was no doubt about the man’s saintliness on this occasion.  His lifestyle, like Mary’s, made it seem that heaven was a destination we all might one day claim as our own—if we but imitate the example they set.