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.

A bird’s eye view of how archaeology helps our study of scripture. 

The story of Jesus is well known. in addition to the gospels, numerous secular authors within 150 years of his life mention him. In addition, Josephus affirms that Jesus was called the Christ and that his brother was James, Pliny the Younger notes that Christians worshipped Jesus “as a god,” and Tacitus wrote that Christ, “suffered the extreme penalty during the reign of Tiberius at the hands of one of our procurators, Pontius Pilatus.”  No serious historian questions the existence of Jesus.  Numerous archaeological discoveries affirm and illuminate details about Jesus’ life as recorded in the gospels.  Here are the top ten discoveries related to Jesus.

10.  The Galilee Boat. In 1986, a severe drought in Israel resulted in the water level of the Sea of Galilee dropping several meters.  2 brothers went along the shoreline for archaeological objects and discovered the outline of an ancient boat in the mud.  The fragile wood, exposed for the first time in 2000 years, required skill to remove it safely.  It was submerged in a chemical preservative for 11 years before it was put on display in a local museum.

The “Jesus Boat” is approximately 27 ft long, 7.5 ft wide, and 4 ft. deep, and would have accommodated a crew of up to 15 men. It was typical of the style of vessel that fishermen like Peter, Andrew, James and John would have used.  Jesus crossed the Sea of Galilee in such boats, and even taught from a boat when the shore became too crowded.  It’s the only ancient boat ever discovered at Galilee and helps us understand the types of boats Jesus and his disciples used.

9. Synagogues  The remains of the synagogue at Magdala.

While some scholars have suggested the synagogue did not arise until after the destruction of the temple in AD 70, and that the references to synagogues in the gospels are anachronistic, archaeology has proven otherwise.  To date the remains of ten synagogues dating to before AD 70 have been unearthed in Israel, including at Capernaum. Structures were public buildings used by Jews for civic and religious gatherings.  The religious gatherings focused on the study of the Hebrew Bible and prayer.”  The archaeological record affirms the descriptions of the synagogues in the gospels and helps us understand Jesus’ role as a teacher within first-century Judaism.

8. The Pool of Siloam.  Jesus healed a blind man by putting mud on his eyes and having him go wash in the Pool of Siloam. 

In 2004, the Pool of Siloam from the first-century was accidentally discovered during repairs to a drainage system. Archaeologists were called in to excavate and unearthed a large pool that had at least 20 steps leading down from the street level into the pool.  Pottery from one end of the pool was used to date it to the First-Century AD.  Given that it was in the exact location that scholars had long believed the actual Pool of Siloam to be – and that it dated to the time of Jesus, it was identified as the actual Pool of Siloam where the blind man had washed to receive healing.

7. Jacob’s Well.  Jesus met a Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well near Sychar and revealed to her that he was the Messiah.  Today, an ancient well located at the foot of Mt. Gerizim just south of the village of Askar is unanimously identified as Jacob’s Well by all traditions – Jewish, Samaritan, Christian, and Muslim.  A pilgrim account from AD 330 also identifies it as the well that Jesus visited.  French archaeologist Andre Parot once described the water from the well as “cool and pleasant-tasting…drawn from a depth of 128 feet.”  Today a Greek Orthodox church stands over the well.  While many modern tourist sites in Israel are of dubious authenticity, nearly all scholars agree is the actual location of Jacob’s Well where Jesus met the Samaritan woman and offered her “living water.”

6. The Southern Steps of the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem. A 61-meter wide flight of stairs led to the main entrances to the Temple complex; the easternmost portion of this staircase has been unearthed with alternating short and long steps. Jesus likely used these steps many times.

Josephus records that there was a wall on which there were warning signs in both Greek and Latin that forbade foreigners from going beyond that point on pain of death.  In 1871, a limestone slab with a seven-line warning inscription was discovered – the very one described by Josephus.  Jesus would have walked past these warning inscriptions many times. 

5, The Caiaphas Ossuary  He was the high priest who oversaw the trial of Jesus. The ancient historian, Josephus, records that Caiaphas’s full name was Joseph Caiaphas. In 1990, a construction team was building a water park near Jerusalem when their bulldozer plowed through the roof of a first-century tomb.  Archaeologists were called in and discovered a variety of ossuaries (bone boxes used in the first century), including an ornate one that was inscribed with the name “Joseph son of Caiaphas.”  Inside were the bones of six people, including those of a 60-year-old man which scholars believe are the remains of Caiaphas himself.

4. The Pilate Stone confirms that Pontius Pilate was Prefect of Judea.

All four gospels declare that the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, sentenced Jesus to death by crucifixion.  While his historicity has never been questioned,archaeological evidence for his existence was unearthed at Caesarea Maritima in 1961.  Excavations near the amphitheater revealed a limestone block inscribed with a dedication to Tiberius Caesar from “Pontius Pilate, Prefect of Judea.”  The Pilate stone confirms that Pilate was the Prefect of Judea, governing as the gospel writers described. Furthermore, in 2018, a copper ring that had been unearthed during the 1968-69 excavations at the Herodium was cleaned, photographed, and analyzed revealing the Greek inscription, “of Pilatus.” Rings like this were common among Roman soldiers, and since the name Pilate is uncommon, many believe the ring was once the property of Pontius Pilate or one of his servants.  The Pilate Stone and the Pilate Ring provide archaeological evidence for the Roman Prefect, Pontius Pilate, who handed Jesus over to be crucified.

3. The heel bone of the crucified man.  Archaeological evidence for Roman crucifixion was unearthed in 1968. A construction crew accidentally dug up several tombs in northeast Jerusalem.  Inside the tombs were several ossuaries, including one inscribed with the name Jehohanan, which contained skeletal remains of an adult male, including his heel bone with a nail still embedded in it.  The anthropologist who examined the remains determined that Jehohanan had been in his twenties when he was crucified in the first century (ca. AD 7-66). Further study revealed that he had likely been crucified with a leg on either side of the cross and the nail driven in sideways through his heel. The heel bone of the crucified man affirms the description of Jesus’ crucifixion in Scripture. Furthermore, it counters the objections of critics who have argued that Jesus would have been thrown into a mass grave for criminals rather than have been dignified with a proper burial.  We now see that the loved ones of a crucified victim could retrieve the body and prepare it for burial it in a family tomb.

2. Tomb of Jesus in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre   There are 3 tombs in Jerusalem purported to be the final resting place of Jesus. The site with the oldest attestation to being the tomb of Christ lies within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.  Archaeological research has demonstrated that this site was a Jewish cemetery in an ancient limestone quarry outside the walls of Jerusalem at the time of Jesus’s death. This aligns with the biblical description of the tomb in which Jesus was laid outside the city walls.  The historian Eusebius wrote that the emperor Hadrian (2nd century) built a huge platform over the quarry and constructed a temple to Venus/Aphrodite (ironically the Latin/Greek goddess of love) over the tomb of Christ. This temple stood there until Emperor Constantine destroyed the pagan temple and excavated until he found the tomb of Christ. He then had a new structure (the Church of the Holy Sepulchre) built around the tomb. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre has been restored and rebuilt several times since its construction.

During restorations to the shrine that surrounds the remains of the ancient tomb, experts removed the limestone slab that covered the burial bed of the tomb for the first time in almost 500 years.  Mortar samples from the structure surrounding the tomb were tested, confirming it was built in the mid-4th century and then rebuilt Crusader chapel in the middle ages, affirming the ancient written history of the site. “Although absolute proof of the location of Jesus’ tomb remains beyond our reach, the archaeological and early literary evidence argues strongly for those who associate it with the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.”

The Nazareth Inscription is an edict from Caesar inscribed on a marble slab that imposes a death penalty in Israel for anyone caught moving bodies from family tombs, specifically “sepulchers tombs” such as the one Jesus was buried in. It is dates to the reign of Claudius (41-54 AD), and appears to be directed at a Jewish audience.   It is not common to see Caeser make such a pronouncement.  It was common for grave robbers to plunder tombs but not take bodies. Scripture says that Jewish leaders spread the lie that Jesus’ disciples had stolen the body to explain the fact that the grave was empty after Jesus rose from the dead.  This report reached the Roman emperor, who would have seen the new Christian sect as a dangerous, anti-Roman move

A different historical interpretation exists. Namely: “The context of the Nazareth Inscription clearly proves that it was written for Jews and not Gentiles and that it was almost certainly issued by Claudius in response to the story of the resurrection of ‘Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews’.”

Each of these discoveries is related to Jesus in some way, either representing a place he visited or people he interacted with, or an event central to his life.  Together they indicate that while scripture is not a history text, it is riveted in history and within the lives of real people.  They are the reason Jesus was here in human history—teaching us humans how to live.  The work of historians and archaeologists is important for many reasons but it is especially helpful in sorting through the predators who emerge over time.  We need people to help us recognize fact from fiction and reality from lies—such as occurred several years ago when a con man claimed to have found the ossuary of the apostle James. Thank God for those who seek truth within this field of study.

Today’s first reading tells us how the Israelites were grumbling against Moses and God for bringing them into a desert where they were starving and upset with their plight.  They felt as if God had abandoned them.  They began to think that God hadn’t saved them from slavery at all, and that they would be better off back in Egypt where they would at least have something to eat.  All of a sudden, however, quail started falling from the sky, and they had “miraculous” food.  Not only that, but in the morning they found a honey-like substance on the ground that was like a dessert. 

Relieved at these wonderful, sustaining gifts from heaven, the people felt that God had saved them once again.  And Moses reminded them to not lose faith in a God who gave them “manna in the desert” which was their “bread of life.”  Scholars tell us that this reference in Exodus pre-figures the coming of a Jesus who would give us the “bread of life”—Himself—in the Eucharist (just as Moses pre-figure the coming of Jesus).  But there’s more.

This past week saw Jesuits around the world celebrate the feast of St. Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Society of Jesus (the religious Order of men who are priests and brothers who put the initials “S.J.” after their name).  Drawing upon Old and New Testament sources, St. Ignatius offered guidance in his religious classic known as “The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius.” 

When watching the U.S. play Puerto Rico in the Olympics this week, I noticed that the head coach was Steve Kerr—a one-time Chicago Bull who played with Michael Jordan.  His first assistant there at the Games was Mark Few—the much-heralded coach of Gonzaga University’s basketball team that competes each year for the college championship.  Seeing him on the TV, I wondered how many people knew that Gonzaga is a Jesuit university (one of the 27 found across the U.S.A.).  I couldn’t help but think of the many times my being a Jesuit meant absolutely nothing to people who learned of the association.

Many moons ago, I had a conference with a Dean at Lake Superior State and hoped that my PhD in Anthropology might win me a role there.  Shortly into the conversation, I realized my visit to the Soo would accomplish nothing.  The woman was unfamiliar with Catholic priests employed at universities and needed to be informed of the longstanding reputation of Jesuits within higher education (at such schools as the University of Detroit, Boston College, Georgetown, and twenty-some others (all regarded as Class A schools, e.g., even the Jesuit school where I taught in West Virginia was identified by a national ranking service as the “Jewel of higher education in West Virginia”).  N.B. Due to economics, that “jewel” no longer exists.

Knowing this interview would go nowhere, I proceeded to educate this academic administrator.  I explained that the U.P. had cities named after Jesuits—such as St. Ignace and Marquette, and that Sault Ste. Marie itself was named by Father Marquette, S.J. (whose grave is in St. Ignace).  I think she may have violated the law when saying “You’re a little old to be seeking university employment aren’t you?”  Whereupon I told her that the average age of people receiving PhD’s in anthropology that year was my exact age!

Saginaw had a Jesuit connection when Henri Nouvel, S.J. celebrated the first Mass in the region—on Ojibway Island (a marker for which remains defaced by someone whose sense of history did not appreciate French priests on the Michigan frontier).  When the diocese blanded the Catholic high schools in Saginaw, Bishop Untener named the new entity “Nouvel”—after the Jesuit who said the first Mass, and because the word “nouvel” in French means “new” (as the high school would be the new institution—in 1985).

Jesuits received national attention during the Trump presidency when the president replaced the chaplain of the House of Representatives.  A Jesuit priest who both the Democratic and Republican House leaders had hired a few years earlier.  The priest had prayed for some issue that Mr. Trump thought should not have been prayed for—so he asked for his removal.  Steven Colbert periodically calls attention to Jesuits when he invites Fr. James Martin, S.J. to be a guest—someone Colbert humorously calls the chaplain of his nightly show.

This past May, Jesuit Greg Boyle, S.J. was awarded in Washington, D.C. the Presidential Medal of Freedom—an honor yearly bestowed on people who have made major contributions to humanity.  Google Greg’s name on YouTube and you can see/hear him present any number of commencement addresses he has given over the years.  His work has been with gangs in south-central LA where he started “Homeboys Industries”—a successful economic enterprise that has brought jobs to the poor and brought gangsters back into society where they make an honest living and raise their families.  I told him “I present people with the same sort of thoughts that you do, Greg . . . . . . only you do it a hundred times better than me.”  Some years back, 60 Minutes covered his work.

Now that you have a feel for some of my experience in dealing with the topic of Jesuits, it’s important that you know about the spirituality that Ignatius imparted to the Order he founded and the people who have adopted SJ spirituality into their lives.  Lay people today work at retreat houses where they guide people through this saint’s teachings.

One counsel Ignatius gave to generations of Christians is that they “Find, or discover, God in all things.”  This is what Moses and his fellow Israelites did when they saw the quail and honey-dew.  Besides grumbling about their problems (as we do), they looked at their experience and discovered or found God providing them with what they needed (in freeing them from Egypt and sustaining them on their journey to a land that had been “promised” to them by God).

The spirituality associated with this counsel further reminds us that we can grumble like the Israelites OR we can find God in all things—in some way or other.  Importantly, we can do so not just when we’re happy and well-fed and everything is going our way.  No!  When Jesus was born and we learned his name would be “Emmanuel,” we were told that this name meant “God is with us.”  And this means that God is with us not just in good times—but in good times and bad, in sickness and health, to death and beyond.  Harsh experiences can even force us to find God—in our effort to carry on.

Ignatius came upon this perspective when he was a young, playboy sort of nobleman at the court.  An adventurer, he relished bringing back the spoils of war and winning the admiration of the ladies.  However, when his leg was shattered by a cannonball, he was forever disabled—unable to walk as well as he once did.  His days of impressing superficial people had come to an end.  He was in a state of what he termed “desolation.” 

During his recovery, he asked the medical staff if they would bring him some romance novels to read.  They told him that all they had was a “Life of Christ” and a “Lives of the Saints” book.  Not what he wanted, he nonetheless read them and noticed how mood swings took place during this period of convalescence.  Namely, when he read about saints doing great things for people in different lands, he’d find himself fantasizing about doing something similar.  His spirit picked up and he experienced what he called “consolation.”

He noticed that when he fantasized himself accomplishing good things for people, he’d feel upbeat.  When he fantasized about living as he had before the cannonball injury, he experienced upbeat thoughts that would only last a short while—and then he’d go into a state of desolation.  This experience revealed to him that serving God’s people would be the road for him to travel.  Previously, he might raise his sword and proclaim: “For the greater glory of the king and for our greater glory.”  Now, however, he would proclaim “For the greater glory of God!”  This statement became the calling card of Jesuits.  All their efforts would be to promote the greater glory of God (in Latin, the phrase reads: Ad Maioren Dei Gloriam—often noted on the cornerstone of buildings as “AMDG”).

Go to a Jesuit college or high school, and you may well find the institution presenting a “Magis Award” to someone in its ranks who has gone the extra mile in helping what Ignatius referred to as “the Kingdom” (of Christ on earth).  Magis is a Latin word that means “the more.”  It refers to God calling you and me to always realize we can improve our efforts to live the Gospel.  I was reminded of this concept when hearing a line from singer Jackson Browne’s song that said: “Wherever I am, I’m a day away from where I want to be.”

You and I often enough think to ourselves that we’ve done our fair share of assisting some institution (family, community, world, activity, organization, etc.).  Or we think to ourselves that we know the score on some issue or other—and no one will change our minds on the matter.  We look at our lives and say “I’m retired.  Let others do what they can.”  Or we’re confined to the home and have little mobility.  We are resigned to having no role.

The concept of “the magis” stops us in our tracks, and tells us that our vision is not God’s vision.  As long as we exist, we are being called to be Christ-like in SOME way we apparently don’t see or acknowledge.  Ignatius calls us to seek the magis in whatever we are doing.

The “General” of the Jesuits (his title since Ignatius modeled the Order on a military regimen) when I entered was a Spaniard named Pedro Arrupe, S.J.  He might be canonized one day—so admired was he in leading the Jesuits.  He survived the A-bomb at Hiroshima and ministered to the wounded.  A concept he urged Jesuits to embrace was that all our institutions and ministries should aim to produce “Men and women for others.” 

You will help my ministry at John XXIII parish by continuing to be a man or woman for others.  You and I are called to find God in all things so that we can pursue the magis that God is calling us to perform (whatever our circumstances). We do our best in order to give glory to God—not ourselves.

 How might God be calling you to serve the Kingdom?

This past week, a crowd of 50 thousand Catholics attended the Eucharistic Renewal Conference in Indianapolis.  Appropriately, the Sunday’s gospel gave us a special “take” on Eucharist that tends to get obscured when hearing the institution narrative at each Mass (i.e., “Jesus took the bread, blest it . . . saying ‘Take this’” and “He took the chalice . . .”).  John’s gospel has no such “last supper” scene.  But John’s gospel this weekend is just as solidly Eucharistic as the other accounts.

Instead of the Last Supper’s ritual context, John gives us the story of 5000 hungry men gathered on a hill at the time of Passover.   John’s account echoes the first reading that told of how 20 men were miraculously fed when it seemed there wasn’t enough food to go around.  John’s crowd, however, was much larger—and Jesus saw to it that they were fed.

While we’re accustomed to hearing the words of consecration at Mass, this scene from John’s Gospel reminds us that the Eucharist is intended to feed us outside liturgical contexts as well.  We can gather anywhere and confess that we need to rely on nourishment that can come to us in social interaction (as when the crowd of 5 thousand experienced Him in a secular gathering).

Did you notice where this event took place?  Our old friend, the mountain once again signaled to us that something special was to take place!  God was about to make an appearance in some miraculous way.  John’s account no doubt reminded people of what we read in 2 Kings when others were miraculously fed.  Only this time, the crowd was much larger—and Jesus eclipsed the Old Testament’s wondrous event.

John didn’t need to report the Eucharist’s institution narrative that told how and when Jesus gave us the sacrament (i.e., “On the night before he died, he took bread . . . “).  John didn’t need to repeat what the other evangelists said because he referred to people “reclining” (a clear association with the early Christian custom of “reclining” at their Eucharistic gatherings). 

Just as the Last Supper accounts are associated with the season of Passover, so John states that the feeding of the multitude took place during Passover!  He is reporting the same reality, but it is taking place outdoors—not restricted to apostles only, but in the midst of 5000 men.  In this instance, the Eucharistic assembly is on a mountainside.  It draws people together where they are fed by the Master.  The same theological idea is thus presented to us in two different ways. 

Some might not like hearing scripture note that “men” were gathered, and that no reference is made to the presence of women.  Not referring to women is not translated in a broader way because the first century reality of gatherings would see men alone gather in numbers this large.  Mixing of the sexes did not occur in Israelite tribal society.  This tribal custom of men in one place and women in another was not unique to New Testament times.

Cultures globally have all sorts of behavioral rules about men and women mixing or not mixing in public or private.  For example, many groups have women’s quarters and men’s quarters—husbands and wives NOT bedding down together as is the custom in our American world.

I was reminded of teaching at Pine Ridge.  We’d have a high school dance, and girls would sit along the wall on one side of the gym and guys on the other side.  It’s just the way social life occurred—people dancing in the center if they wished to do so, and a few boys/girls talking—but a division quite visible.

A boy in the crowd is said to have carried with him a couple of fish.  This reference to fish is not just some arbitrary food that could have just as well been hot dogs (had they existed back then).  Rather, the Greek word for fish is “icthus” and that word was an acronym for early Christians.  Namely, “fish” (in Greek letters) stood for “Jesus Christ Son of God Savior.”  So the story about feeding an enormous population (the world?) with bread and fish is a lesson in Eucharistic theology.  The bread and fish (preserved in wine) symbolize the presence of the risen Lord in the breaking of bread Christian sacrament.  And the Eucharist is for Christians a new Passover meal, a new Moses saving the people, and a new Lamb of God.  If all this didn’t ring a bell for you, maybe you noticed how the story says that Jesus “took the bread, broke it, and passed it to all present.”  Sound familiar?  You hear those words at every Mass.

Hmm.  What more might be found in these verses?  Aha! 12 wicker baskets of bread fragments were left over.  Might that conjure up thoughts of the 12 tribes of Israel being fed by this Messiah?  And not only them, but others, too—since so much was left over.  Even enough to feed 12 new apostles perhaps?  You get the point.  This story is more than just a miraculous picnic meal in a mountain meadow.

On a nuts and bolts level, one need not connect all the dots of the above when they might simply benefit from this often told lesson.  Perhaps the presence of Jesus and the apostles was enough to inspire the boy, and others, to pull out what they carried with them—and share their food with others.  After all, the point of the Eucharist is for us to share our time, talent, and treasure with others.  Perhaps that’s the incident’s key message.

Or might the story’s point be addressing an aspect of our lives that raised its head in the time of Jesus, and in our own time.  That is, last week reminded us of the compassion Jesus felt toward those who were “like sheep without a shepherd.”  And this week, he again has pity on the people and wants to feed them.

The more we read about how Jesus dealt with people, the more we can detect His type of speech if it is uttered by politicians or spoken in the workplace.  We can hear someone make a speech or talk to someone—and right away be detect if the person is speaking as Jesus would have spoken.  We know if someone speaks in the same tone of voice, and if the content of what they say echoes the Master. 

The story about loaves and fishes feeding 5000 does NOT report  Jesus saying to the crowd: “You should have planned ahead.  Don’t come begging from me.”  And we don’t hear him say “God helps those who help themselves.”  Scripture can both teach us how to communicate with others and also WARN US not to be seduced by voices that do not sound like something Jesus would say.

I don’t know what ground was covered in this past week’s Eucharistic Congress, but the topic brought to mind something that Mother Theresa had hanging in her room.  This is what it said:

“A Holy Hour before the Eucharist is important only if it leads us to a “holy hour” with those in need or those who will never be a human success.  Our Eucharist is incomplete if it does not make us respect and serve the poor and anyone in need. In receiving the communion of the poor, we discover our own poverty.”  As the spiritual writer, Louis Evely, wrote: “That man is you.” 

Today’s gospel tells of Jesus and the apostles needing rest after working with the people.  They sought a “deserted place” where they could relax, recover, and then return to their ministry.  I was reminded of what Catholic tradition has called a “retreat.”  This term refers to one taking time off from their regular schedule and spending time reflecting on their life and asking God for guidance and insight. 

When one enters the Society of Jesus, or Jesuits (the religious Order to which I belong), they make what’s known as a “30-day retreat.”  Based on what’s known as “the spiritual exercises of Saint Ignatius,” this period offers reflections for one to ponder and draw spiritual strength (just as one does physical “exercises” to acquire physical strength).  At the end of their training period, Jesuits make another 30-day retreat—having made 8-day retreats each year.  For some years, lay people have made the spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius, and even work at retreat houses where they direct anyone who wishes to make a retreat.

Some years back, corporations began to refer to their sales seminars as “retreats.”  Over time, businesses now speak of employees going on “retreats”—meaning the employees are being taught how to make more profits for the corporation.  Religion has no connection to this use of the word “retreat.”  The term has been hijacked from the vocabulary of Catholic spirituality. 

More importantly, today’s gospel reminds us of an important element of Christian identity—a trait that makes our identity as Christians a difficult one to live.  We’re told that Jesus looked at the “vast crowds” (that’s you and I) and felt compassion toward them.  He sees them as “sheep without a shepherd.” 

I’ve often been in a congregation, looked around at the people with me, and seen young, old, happy, and sad faces directed toward the altar.  My face is one of those people.  Each of us is seen by a God who lovingly beholds us and who knows what lies behind the faces we wear on any given day.  The “real presence” of God is at the Eucharist, and the God we seek is not there to belittle us, but to help us with whatever we hold within our silence.  Today’s gospel passage reminds us of Jesus having pity on us, and reaching out to us who have so many needs.

I’m reminded of another gospel incident—that told of Jesus calling us Christians to love one another.  We might too quickly think that we do care for others and are not a “bad” person.  But are we really loving or compassionate toward others?  Or are we loving and compassionate mostly toward our spouse, children, siblings, and extended family members?  We might think of ourselves as being a pretty good person in relating to our family and friends, but Jesus reminds us that “even the scribes and Pharisees” behave that way.  The gospel calls us to expand our circle to include more than just family and friends.

Extending this reflection further, think of studies that focus on the interplay of mothers loving their babies and babies loving their mothers.  Is their experience a choice, or a chemical action within our physiology?  After all, studies show that “oxytocin” (known as the “love chemical”) rises within both a mother and her baby when relating to one another.  Similarly, the family dog has this same increase ALONG WITH its owner when greeting one another after a period of separation.  The presence of oxytocin within us generates feelings of “love” toward another (child or dog).

Similarly, when one says “it was love at first sight” when they met a girlfriend or boyfriend—MIGHT relate to what are known as “pheromones” within the two people.  Studies suggest that we have a chemistry that sensitizes us to a certain chemical that attracts us to a certain person (or people).  This is somewhat parallel to a female dog in heat attracting males from miles around.  We don’t consciously inhale a person’s “scent,” but for some reason find one person more attractive than another—and we are drawn to that person.  This pheromonal activity is more subtle than an erotic response to someone.  You are attracted to someone UNCONSCIOUSLY.  Thus, inquiring minds wonder to what extent we are controlled by chemistry or by choices we make via “free will” or “cultural conditioning.?”

I watched a video that showed an African water buffalo repeatedly probing the ground with its horns trying to move something.  Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was trying to help a tortoise “get back on its feet.” After several uplifts of its head and horns, the buffalo was able to flip the tortoise aright.  It stepped back and just looked at the tortoise be on its way in another direction.  What on earth was at play here?  What prompted that water buffalo to help a tortoise that was struggling?

A goat put its head through fence posts, and couldn’t pull its head back out.  Being stuck this way, it needed help.  Along comes a goose who walks over to the goat and clamps its beak on the goat’s neck—trying to pull it back through the fence.  A woman came and told the goose she’d help, and the goose stepped back a couple of paces to watch.  The woman was successful and both she and the goose wandered away.  What on earth was at play here?  What prompted that goose to try and help that goat?

I read somewhere that dogs lick a cut as a form of medical assistance and that some chemical might be at play that aids in the recovery of a cut.  Show your scratch to a dog, and it will begin to lick it—not because it likes to lick wounds, but because it possibly “heals” wounds in this fashion.  If a dog sees that you have a wound of some kind—prepare to be “doctored.”

It seems that water buffaloes, geese, and dogs can be compassionate toward others—even those who are not their own kind.

When it comes to behavior within the animal world (remember we are in the animal kingdom), I’m reminded of people eating caterpillars, cats, and insects of all kinds when 99.9% of Americans would not eat any of these creatures.  A biologist friend of mine would invite students and faculty to join him whenever he collected cicadas to fry.  Not many people joined him, but those who did—thought they were tasty.  Just a few decades back, few Americans wanted or even knew about sushi.  Today it’s found in all grocery stores. Eating raw fish?  No way—yes way!

Hmm.  Are our behaviors totally “nature” or totally “nurture?”  Maybe some are learned and some genetic, or maybe some are a little of both?

I think of tribal groups around the world (your own ethnic background is included).  All have a name for themselves which translates to something akin to “people” (e.g., mountain, river, rice people, etc.).  All tribes also refer to people from other groups as something else—generally some sort of cut-down (e.g., big bellies, snakes, etc.).  The Nuer tribe in Sudan (Africa) thinks the worst name you could call another of your group is “Dinka” (the name of a neighboring tribe).  If you and I saw a Nuer standing next to a Dinka, we’d say something like “Those are two black guys standing over there.”).  But to a Nuer, those Dinka are 2^nd class citizens.  In short, as a Nuer grows up, they learn that Dinka are “low lifes.”  Biologically, however, the Nuer and Dinka have the same DNA.

A nun taught a class of kindergarteners that people from Central and South America were fleeing to the U.S. because of poverty, war, drugs, and death in their homeland—and that they sought new life here in America (the same story that applied to our ancestors).  After she told the children about these people, she asked: “How many of you think we should help these people find a new home here?”  All hands were raised.

This anecdote is not an advertisement for some partisan border policy. It’s instead a reflection on how the gospel calls us to treat all life forms with compassion.  As you know, people argue about immigration issues until they’re blue in the face—and have trouble getting consensus on anything.  Our concern here is a more fundamental one.  Namely, if Jesus tells us to love one another, we have to ask ourselves “Am I loving people outside my family circle?”  If Jesus says that we are all brothers and sisters in Christ, his reference is to us being related to all people in the world.  And “loving” one another isn’t a romantic thing, but rather a conscious commitment to helping others any way we can. “Compassion” is the energizing value that moves us to act on behalf of the common good.  We thus “love” (assist, aid, care about, defend, make safe, etc.) all within the human family.  We DON’T retreat into clannishness or an “us versus them” way of life.

This posture is where the rubber meets the road in our identity as Christians.  It’s no easy identity to maintain—which is why we have to gather as often as we can at the table of the Lord.  We have trouble being a brother or sister in Christ to others.  But just because it’s tough to act this way—doesn’t mean we throw in the towel and just become brutish beasts pushing people aside in service only to ourselves.

The kindergartners showed an inbuilt response of compassion.  These young ones had not yet been tainted by “adult” prejudices against other people.  The children were like the water buffalo, the goose, and dog-doctors.  We adults have become far more selective in choosing to help others in need.  The tortoise and the goat sure appreciated the help they received.

The gospel showed that Jesus had compassion for “the vast crowd” of people who sought his help.  When addressing that crowd—symbolic of us—he could just as well have told them: “Learn from the water buffalo, the goose, licking dogs, and little children.”

Prophet Amos was going about his business when he realized that things around him were just not going as they should.  Israelites were not listening to the wisdom handed down to them, and a religious leader named Amariah was chief among those who were not living as God had called them to live.  Nonetheless, Amariah went after Amos and tried to shut him up.  But Amos simply said that he had no intention of being a prophet—just a man making a living like everyone else.

But he had seen enough.  Leaders like Amariah had sold their souls to the wealthy and were ignoring those in need.  These “autocrats” were running everything and in the process were ignoring those who struggled to make a living.  N.B., To be an “autocrat” means to be a ruler who has absolute power (like Putin of Russia and a trend among some in the U.S. who have been pushing to give power to the office of president—without the “checks and balances” of the legislative and judicial branches of government.  Today’s political landscape has produced the political vision known as the “2025 Project” (a document promoted by an extremely wealthy class of autocrats clothed in the patriotic name “The Heritage Foundation”).

Amariah and Amos represent opposing ethical perspectives that have existed throughout history—siding with the comfortable and wealthy OR siding with the middle and poor classes of citizens.  Christians are called to imitate Amos—not Amariah.

When elections take place, we often hear people say that Americans vote their pocketbooks—basing their vote on what party they THINK will serve their bank accounts.  Social scientists have observed that people often vote AGAINST their self-interest when THINKING a certain person or party represents their pocketbook better than another candidate or party.  Americans are also said to NOT consider “foreign policy” their big attention-getter.  People of goodwill espouse positions on both sides of the divide.

Our Old Testament reading this week reminds us that the competing positions of Amariah and Amos are still alive and well in America.  The call of Jesus to see all people as our brothers and sisters means that “foreign policy” is a secular way of referring to how we are relating to our relatives.  Economic policy is a matter of concern for all Christians.  We are called to take care of less successful people.  We are not called to preserve our wealth, or anything, at the expense of other people.  That’s why greed is a capital sin—a powerful movement within the human mind that stirs an interior spirit that is not the Holy Spirit.

Today’s gospel addresses our financial well-being from a totally different angle.  Namely, we learn that Jesus told his disciples not to take food with them, not bring a change of clothing, and carry no money.  Jesus told them to rely on the kindness of people they’d meet along the way.  Down through the years, his counsel has been taken by many to mean that we Christians should not only live as men and women of modest means, but that it is some sort of spiritual ideal to be destitute and not have any of “the nicer things of life.

This understanding led to the founding of monasteries and people trying to live on alms in exchange for their prayers.  Living the simple life and not flaunting one’s wealth is certainly a part of Christian identity, but this passage is not calling Christians to impose on the generosity of others.  Positively, our Christian witness to living as people of modest means is a challenge to an American culture that fosters what is known as “conspicuous consumption.”  Notice how people fill up their attics and garages, and then have to rent storage space for what goods they’ve accumulated over the years.

Do you or I REALLY need another (fill in the blank)?  Can our funds for low and high-price knick-knacks be better directed at something that helps other people?

In the time of Jesus, and in that part of the world, a premier virtue that is well known in scripture is “hospitality.”  In today’s gospel, Jesus is simply giving his disciples some pragmatic advice.  If this passage had him speaking in today’s language, we’d hear him say: “Hey guys, be sure not to take money or food or a suitcase of belongings with you.  There’s too good a chance that you be mugged, beat up, and robbed.  So just travel light.”

THAT is his simple message in today’s gospel.  He’s not offering a spiritual strategy of living that is to be taught for all ages.  He knew that hospitality is expected in that region of the world, and his guys needed to rely on that cultural behavior.  Whereas we automatically assist relatives who pass our way, hospitality is different.  It is still a Christian virtue that calls us to welcome the stranger.  In the time of Jesus, it was an expected behavior that would serve his disciples when they were traveling.

On this Sunday, the 14^th of July, France is celebrating what it calls “Bastille Day.”  The Bastille was an infamous prison that saw many French people suffer within it—under the leadership of the monarchy and wealthy “autocrats.”  The people rebelled, sent many to the guillotine, and eventually set up that country’s form of democracy.  Today in France, people are happy that they are not ruled by a tyrant who is “owned” by big business and industry.  Happy Bastille Day, France.  It was a French nun and priest who revealed the devotion our parish honors when being called “Sacred Heart.”

This date is also the feast of Kateri Tekakwitha, once well-known as “the lily of the Mohawks.”  Her people were part of a confederacy known to history books as the “Iroquois” but who were a people who called themselves the “Hoe-dee-nuh-show-nee.”  Other tribes within this group were the Cayuga, Oneida, Tuscarora, Seneca, and Onondaga (the same name as the Michigan town outside of Lansing).  They occupied northern New York and southern Quebec.

Kateri’s family was wiped out by smallpox and she was disabled in walking.  Her facial scars from the pox made her self-conscious.  Over time, she got close to the Jesuit priests and became a devout Catholic along with other women of her people.  Upon her death at 23, witnesses claimed that her face lost its marks and became clear—something those present considered miraculous as her final words were “Jesus, I love you.”  Since her death, people visited her burial site, and she was remembered over time as someone who merited sainthood.

That honor came to Kateri on October 12, 2012 when she was canonized by Pope Benedict.  Globally, people are quick to see things or believe things that don’t exist—like the face of Jesus or Mary appearing on a pancake, and then seeing the pancake as a sacred object.  Because we humans are quick to ascribe sainthood to our mothers, grandmothers, and other family members, the Church has been more demanding when acknowledging a claim to saintliness.  Hence a miracle or two are needed as “evidence” of God’s hand at work in the person’s life.

Kateri’s miracle came when a little boy named Jake Finkbonner cut his lip when playing.  An infection set in, and within a short time the family was told his condition was touch and go.  Blest with a relic of Kateri, Jake was healed, an investigation ensued, and the Church recognized a miracle as having taken place.  Now 24 years old, Jake is a college graduate and practicing Catholic.  He claims to have visited heaven while recovering and said that Jesus told him that he couldn’t stay there—but instead had to go home and live out his vocation.

When all of this unfolded, I saw it as another example of “Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.”  The miraculous healing had not occurred in Europe or Africa but instead took place within a family of American Indian descent.  Moreover, the young boy’s “issue” disfigured his face (as had occurred with Kateri).  Other elements further reinforced this motif of aligning with something out of the ordinary.

Should you care to Google his story, here’s an article from a diocesan newspaper published in 2023.:

https://nwcatholic.org/news/nathan-whalen-b6c48bcc-daf2-4f89-83ed-e8f645f27479/kent-parish-s-parade-float-highlights-its-historic-chapel

This week’s readings bring to mind the role of “prophet” in both scripture and our lives.  The word is used in everyday conversation.  It refers to one who can predict what will take place in the future.  That is, one seems to know what is going to occur at some future date.  This meaning, however, is not how the word is used as a theological term.  Within that realm, it refers to one who, in some way, tells the community what God wants people to do NOW!  In scripture, the content of prophetic voices often upsets people and the people want to kill the prophet.  What’s being said is the truth, but many do not want to hear the truth for some reason.  Maybe this experience is how a saying came about: “The truth hurts.”

In today’s first reading from Ezekiel, we hear him indict the people for being “stiff-necked” and hard-hearted.  He scolds them for not attending to their ethical responsibilities generation after generation.  They had been given laws to live by and leaders to show them how to live, but they ignored this heavenly help—and went their own way.  I couldn’t help but think that Ezekiel could speak to us just as well (which, in fact, he is doing today in scripture).  I was reminded of a 19th-century Jesuit priest who regularly traveled among Indian tribes between St. Louis and the Oregon coast.

Pierre De Smet, S.J. would go on horseback and travel alone among the tribes—visiting with them, teaching them Christianity, baptizing hundreds, and winning the respect and admiration of diverse Native groups.  He reported in his diary that the people traveling west had no concern for the landscape.  He said they left trash everywhere along the way.  Sounding like a 21st-century ecologist, De Smet expressed chagrin that so many had so little respect for Mother Earth’s beauty.

If ever there were a “prophet” in Christian history, it was Paul.  Along with the gospels, his letters (“epistles”) make up most of the New Testament.  They report his experiences in Mediterranean cities, and Corinth was one of those cities that posed a strong challenge.  There he encountered “false apostles.”  These were men whose gift for speaking to crowds could “transform Satan himself into an angel of light.”  These men passed themselves off as insightful and trustworthy, but Paul knew them for what they were—deceivers of the people.  Unfortunately, they were tough opponents, and Paul felt weak when admitting he had a “thorn in the flesh” that made his efforts all the more difficult.

However, Paul said that even his weakness could serve God, and countless generations have followed his example.  In admitting our weakness, we can call upon God all the more for the grace to discover our strength—and apply it to the circumstances that might bring about the changes we want to see take place.  Paul never stated what, exactly, his “thorn” was.  It can be a metaphor that each of us can identify within ourselves.  Namely, each of us struggles with lifting our varied crosses.  But those crosses are not the last word!  Like Paul, we are called to be prophets—even though we have these challenges.  Like Paul, our being a prophet can still take place even though we have one or another metaphorical “thorn.”  Each of us, in some way, can help people identify God’s voice in their lives.

Homilies are supposed to associate scripture’s meaning with contemporary issues, and the presidential debate connects with the topic of “prophet” since candidates were supposed to present their sense of what is “good for America.”  God is the author of “good,” so we should have witnessed a debate that provided us with a vision of the “good” that these men would bring to the country.  Presumably, they would have “prophetic” voices calling us to affirm their vision.  Instead, we hear commentators talk endlessly about whether or not candidates for political offices should not be allowed to run if they are over a certain age.

I think of my good Jesuit friend who died this past December at age 95.  We spoke every 3 or 4 weeks since my coming here.  Jim was a man whose memory was far better than mine and his analytical skill was a gift I wish I had.  At age 95, he had a mind I wish I had—years ago, and not just now.  In short, it has been my experience to see elders who may be sharp-witted and elders who are not—just as there are younger people who are in both categories.  One’s age does not guarantee anything.

This reminded me of yet another topic bandied about in the news—a candidate’s religious practice.  Biden has been a lifelong practicing Catholic and friend of Pope Francis.  Just as when Kennedy was running for office and hoped to win the “Catholic vote,” so do some hope Biden will win that same voting block.  However, Trump has never had a religious practice and so hopes to win the secular block of voters.  One candidate’s “voice” might appeal to one group and their opponent’s voice to another group—so maybe this angle is a “wash” when it comes to enlisting voters.

My sense of the presidential debate was that neither candidate brought people to their feet with applause.  And no, I’m not promoting Robert Kennedy, Jr. as some kind of preferred alternative.  I had a great conversation several years ago with his sister, and she’s the sort of person who’d fit quite well in our parish.  She and the rest of her family are making every effort to see that no one votes for her brother (not because of their history with assassinations but because of his positions on important issues).  The family is not in his political camp and is concerned about his state of mind.

“Debate” has special meaning for me.  As a junior in high school, I was teamed up with a fellow student, and we debated 2 senior girls the topic: “Is teenage conformity good or bad?”  This event was a big one for us high school kids.  The student body assembled in the gymnasium, and the 4 of us addressed the topic for an hour on Detroit radio.  My brother tape-recorded the debate, and I have that recording on a cassette.  When I look at that cassette, I am reminded of my performance that day.  It taught me that I have little, if any, ability to think on my feet and debate a topic—even a topic that I fully understand and support.

Several years ago, I was asked to speak at DePaul University in Chicago.  I was happy to do so and made travel plans.  However, when I learned that there would be two others in attendance who might represent perspectives in conflict with my own, I knew this would not be a good experience. I did not think a debate forum would be appropriate and bowed out of the event.  I had zero confidence in arguing points with any person face-to-face. When I bowed out of the occasion, my exit did not endear me to the DePaul organizers.

Prophetic voices take place on much smaller stages in life.  Candidates for political office live in their world, university folk in theirs, and we ”ordinary folk” appear onstage and live—in our homes and gardens and churches.  Where is there a need for prophetic voices in these unimposing venues?  Here’s one.

Each year on July 4^th, there is a “hot dog eating contest” sponsored by Nathan’s Hot Dogs of New York.  The event attracted 35,000 people and is an international commercial designed to sell Nathan’s hot dogs.  People in attendance have a good time and bring business to Coney Island (where it is held).  This year’s winning male ate 58 hot dogs and the winning female ate 51.  Elsewhere, 100 million people are starving in different countries around the world.

We in the U.S. can normalize the massive waste of food at this event because we have “normalized” destructive behaviors. Centuries ago, our ancestors in the Roman Coliseum had a good time watching a different kind of dining.  They watched lions tear apart Christian men, women, and children—all in the name of enjoying a nice afternoon of entertainment.  These behaviors are joined by many others that have become commonplace—such as being entertained by having wild bears, lions, tigers, and other sensate beings put in close proximity to one another so that they fight to the death—all for the entertainment of wealthy individuals with no conscience to reign in their blood-lust.

Were you to speak with any of these people who are involved with hot dog gluttony, the Coliseum massacres, or animal torture—what would your “prophetic voice” be for them?  Do you ever see other behaviors in America that have become “normalized” and that have dulled the sense of people toward one another or the creation we share with all life forms?  “Civility” (aka “Christian charity”) has taken a back seat to name-calling and posters on cars and front lawns broadcasting the slang “F” word referring to political leaders.  These are affronts to Christian behavior that even Christians employ.

I’m reminded of contemporary Poland having laws against such things as people intentionally destroying a bird’s nest that has young within it.  We can learn from Poland to respect life’s diversity.  A prophetic voice needs to be heard in all realms of life.

The Supreme Court shocked 99% of the legal profession and most Americans when it recently ruled that an American president cannot be charged with crimes when doing “official” business.  From grade school on, Americans have been taught that no one is above the law—but this Court upended history and made this tragic ruling.  I’m reminded of hearing years ago the following argument.  A man who was running for public office was said to be “blind” to the challenges of the common person in America.  A representative of the candidate replied: “Who better to lead the blind than another blind person?”

In this instance, scripture was twisted upside down to endorse the candidate.  The answer to the question—in case you didn’t know—was that “Whoever leads the blind sure better NOT be blind!”  But the spin-meister for the candidate was passing off a deficiency as a virtue—trying to confuse listeners into associating the candidate with compassion and knowledge (which the candidate did not have).  Even the devil can quote scripture.

Also in this week’s news is the story of someone who was SUPPOSED to speak with a prophetic voice doing the exact opposite.  Archbishop Vigano was EXCOMMUNICATED from the Church.  He had been the Vatican representative to the U.S.—a plum job for clergy wanting positions of high status.  The Archbishop was found guilty of creating schism in the Church by trying to lead a revolt against the implementation of Vatican II and the leadership of Pope Francis.  He thought the Vatican Council was a major mistake perpetrated by Pope Saint John XXIII.

This Archbishop has tried to influence other clergy and laypeople to think as he did.  He argued that Vatican II was fraudulent—just as some have thought that our 2020 election was fraudulent.  In both cases, their claims were without merit, but both cases still have their supporters.  Sadly, the Archbishop’s issues have not persuaded him to be more conciliatory.  He continues to call the Pope by his birth name (Bergoglio) and is defiant in his effort to exercise authority.  He likely thinks he is speaking a prophetic voice, but his issues are not easy to associate with what Jesus would presumably say.

And this is the challenge of our being a prophetic voice.  We are challenged to discern if what we say is what God would want us to say—or are we simply expressing our opinion on one or another matter?  Clergy from all denominations and religious communities struggle with (or avoid) the call to be prophetic—for fear of alienating their congregations, or seeing their collection baskets gather dust.  Laypeople likewise struggle when realizing their family members or friends will carry a grudge or ignore them for offering Gospel-based thinking.

Paul seems to have become adept at dealing with people who gave him a rough time (almost killing him on occasion).  He somehow managed to speak prophetic words to people who eventually had a “conversion experience” and who began to see life issues through the lens of the Gospel.  Through the graces acquired in his practice of the faith, he was able to cope with the “thorns” that challenged his efforts.  May our practice of the faith help us do the same.

How on earth can the story of a woman suffering from hemorrhages for 12 years be related to our lives?  No problem!  How so?  Did you notice that the scene was described as overflowing with people—a rock-concern-like crowd following Jesus?  The woman thinks to herself that if only she touched the cloak of Jesus, her condition might improve.  She touches him, and Jesus feels her touch—and asks the disciples “Who touched me?”  They, of course, don’t know who he’s referring to because all sorts of people are brushing up against him and them.  But Jesus notices her—and speaks to her.

Imagine looking at a photo—of Jesus in a large crowd speaking face to face with an individual—and now put your face on that individual.  Such is the message of this incident.  You and I are not lost in the crowd of 7 billion people who inhabit the earth.  You are special, and you have a special role within the community.  Your presence is felt by the Lord, and his message to her is one of welcome—saying that her ritual impurity that alienated her from Temple presence and the community—is non-existent.  He is welcoming her back, or integrating her into the community.

And so it is with each of us.  We have our “impurities” that aren’t the same as those besetting the woman and her bleeding condition.  But each of us feels alienation from others—either self-imposed or imposed upon us.  As ever, our identity is supposed to reflect what Jesus taught—and so a part of our Gospel presence is that we extend hospitality and be a person who welcomes others into community.  This is our calling as Christians.

On this topic of our vocation, the Diocese had its quarterly meeting of priests, and once again concluded the meeting with 3 of the clergy telling their vocation story.  Bishop Gruss and his brother bishops are trying their best to encourage vocations, and we experienced his outreach on this topic when he visited us and presided at a “holy hour” prayer service.

In light of today’s gospel passage and the theme of vocation, I will report some elements of my experience enroute to being a Jesuit.  Telling our story has been encouraged in the hope that our people in the pews might receive some seeds of thought that take root in their heart on this topic of “vocation.”  After all, each person here today—if they take their faith seriously—is here because they are asking God to help them further clarify the role they are to place as people of the Way.

Vocation is not just a word associated with priests, brothers, and nuns, but is a word associated with our core identity.  If you think that you’ve lived your life and have fulfilled your purpose in life—you’re wrong!!!  You and I are not finished discovering what God calls us to be, to say, and to do—until we’re called to eternity.  As the image of last week’s gospel pictures us—we’re all in this together—like passengers in a boat on sometimes turbulent waters.

The priests who told of their vocation presented different experiences they had which moved them to pursue the priesthood.  Our own TJ Fleming wonderfully told of his never regretting his response to God’s call.  Another priest told of how instrumental his parents were in fostering his vocation, I smiled in recalling my parents having little influence other than to affirm whatever “good” path I ever pondered—priesthood just being one such good path.

Overall, the priestly biographies tell of God speaking to each person individually—just like the woman in the crowd.  She had her problems, and so do each of us.  But God still calls us—into community as a vital presence supporting others.

When I think of “moments” in life that were influential, I think of many.  Seeing films like “Joan of Arc,” “Bells of St. Mary’s,” “The Keys of the Kingdom,” “Barabbas,” and others were seeds of inspiration to a young kid who became me.  Mom giving me the book “St. Francis of the Seven Seas” was also influential.  I got it on my Confirmation day in the 4^th grade.  It was the life of St. Francis Xavier, an early Jesuit and patron saint of Missionaries.  In high school, I read a book about life in the Jesuit Order titled “I’ll Die Laughing.”  This book humanized the images of “priest” and religion that were often spiritually intimidating.  These Jesuits seemed to have a “riot” when not functioning formally in their many roles.

It’s not holy-holy experiences that alone motivate us to discover what God wants us to do.  Sometimes painful experiences move us to search for what Ignatius calls “the more” that might satisfy our hunger.  Priests at my parish growing up were not always inspirational.  They were sometimes not people I cared to be near.  Others were good–like one who was assigned to my high school for his first priestly assignment—a man who would one day be Bishop Ken Untener.

A challenge experienced by many when considering priesthood was the idea of “falling in love.”  How could I lose my heart to someone and serve in a Church that forbade a married clergy (since the 12^th century)?  And just when I had to make up my mind about entering the Jesuits, a darling girl captured my heart senior year.  How could I leave her warm presence for the cold atmosphere of a Jesuit novitiate (place where “novices” begin training)?

Today’s gospel referred to “fear and trembling,” and those words described my body and soul on entrance day.  I joined 21 other guys—none of whom I knew—and admitted to them in a group “sharing” session that “I don’t know how long I’ll be here because I don’t know if God wants me here or not.”  No sooner did I say that than a second-year novice said “Mike, try to be more positive and avoid negative statements.”  Strike one!

Initially feeling out of place, I overcame the fear and trembling and ended up being the only one to remain in the Order out of those 22 who entered that day.  Befriending a second-year novice, we shared our backgrounds with one another, played ball, did studies, and had a fine friendship until the day he informed me that he was leaving the Order.  At the time, I thought I’d never see him again, but circumstances unfolded such that he married that darling girl who owned my heart senior year.  I must have painted such a good portrait of her—that he was not averse to seeking a relationship.  They married one another, produced fine kids, and the 3 of us remain warm friends.

I think back to the emotional hit of leaving her behind and thinking of her every day in novitiate—and just laugh and roll my eyes.  All that needless emotional output!!  Jesus said to the woman “Your faith has saved you”—and so it was with me.  Staying on track despite the challenge—eventually produced the best results for both them and me.

As a sophomore in high school, I was reprimanded by a nun who asked me to make up for my mistakes by attending a Legion of Mary meeting.  This group was not a “cool” crowd, and I was the only boy in attendance.  They prayed the rosary and reported what service work they had done since the last meeting.  At the meeting’s end, the nun said “You’re coming to next week’s meeting, Michael, aren’t you?”  What was I to say?

As I’ve reported in the past, “God writes straight in crooked lines.”  I was asked to teach summer bible school at an inner city parish in Detroit—and once again I didn’t know how to say “No thanks.”  Teaching first and second-grade Black kids was a joy.  I love them, and I turned out to be a White guy they could appreciate.  I did that for 3 summers, and I think the roots of my role as a teacher were sewn at that time.

My membership in the Legion of Mary ended on a humorous note.  I was asked to a public school prom by a girl I met at a party.  She asked if I’d be her prom date, and I agreed.  After the prom, we accompanied another couple who became amorous—me in the back seat with my date.  Feeling uncomfortable in the back seat conversing while the other couple did not converse, I told my date that I had to get up early the next morning because I had to go downtown to attend a Legion of Mary meeting.  I never saw these 3 people again.  2 months later, I entered the Jesuits.

When I visited with 3 former Jesuits with whom I was in studies, I thought of what great guys they were during my early years in the Order.  They’re still great guys today—making their contribution to the world via other vocations.  I stayed and they left.  As with every life, mine had challenges.  But whatever might be considered worthwhile accomplishments—were attributable to asking God for the same guidance that each one here at Mass asks of God. May we be open to laboring in new landscapes in which to live our vocation.