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"It is true there is an ebb and flow, but the sea remains the sea.’ You are the sea. Although I experience many ups and downs in my emotions and often feel great shifts and changes in my inner life, you remain the same." Vincent Van Gogh
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Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time |
Luke 13:22–30 |
Friends, our Gospel for today features a question that people have been asking from time immemorial and that they still ask today: “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” Heaven, hell, salvation, damnation, who will be in and who will be out? We have remained fascinated with these questions for a long time. Here’s how I would recommend we approach this issue. The doctrine concerning hell is a corollary of two more fundamental truths—namely, that God is love and that we are free. Love (willing the good of the other) is all that God is. He doesn’t go in and out of love; he doesn’t change his mind; he’s not loving to some and not to others. He is indeed like the sun that shines on the good and bad alike, in the words of Jesus. No act of ours can possibly make him stop loving us. In this regard, he is like the best of parents. However, we are free. We are not God’s marionettes, and hence we can say yes or we can say no to his love. If we turn toward it, we open like a sunflower; if we turn from it, we get burned. Bishop Robert Barron |
Twentieth Week in Ordinary Time |
Matthew 23:1–12 |
Friends, in today’s Gospel, Jesus turns his sharp eye and withering critique on the many ways that religious leaders fall into corruption. What precisely is bothering Jesus? Some religious leaders get their kicks from burdening people, laying the law on them heavily, making demands that are terrible, exulting in their own moral superiority. At the core of Jesus’s program is a willingness to bear other people’s burdens, to help them carry their loads. And this applies to the moral life as well. If we lay the burden of God’s law on people, we must be willing, at the same time, to help them bear it. Another classic problem with religious people and especially religious leaders: They use the law and morality as a means of inflating the ego. The trouble is that this drug wears off rather quickly, and then we want more of it. We need a greater title, more respect, more recognition. What is Jesus’s recommendation for those caught in this dilemma? To be great is to be a servant: lowly, simple, often forgotten. Eschew marks of respect; don’t seek them. Be satisfied with doing your work, whatever it is, on behalf of God’s kingdom. Bishop Robert Barron |
As we read words from scripture, some words can “stop us in our tracks,” some can strongly encourage us. The scriptures for this coming Sunday have both words for us. As Jesus is making his way to Jerusalem someone comes up to him and asks, “Are those to be saved few in number?” When the person asked this question, they certainly must have assumed that the kingdom of God was only for those chosen people rather than for outsiders, non-believers.
Jesus’ answer must have come as a shock—"strive to enter through the narrow gate…many will attempt to enter and not be strong enough.” He declared that entry to the kingdom can never be automatic but is the result of a struggle. It is easy perhaps for one to believe that simply belonging to a Christian civilization means that one is truly a follower of Christ, but a person who lives in a Christian civilization is not necessarily a Christian. They might be enjoying all its benefits, living on what you might call “Christian capital” which others have built up. But we cannot live on borrowed goodness. “We ate and drank in your company; you taught in our streets.” In response Jesus speaks shocking words: “I don’t know where you come from.”
The encouraging words are words of God through Isaiah: “I come to gather nations of every language; they shall come and see my glory.” God has come to gather all of us in. It can be a struggle, but, as our second reading encourages, “Strengthen your drooping hands and your weak knees. Make straight paths for your feet.” Our Collect prayer for this Sunday asks God to grant us to love what God commands and to desire what God promises—so that amid the uncertainties of this world our hearts will be fixed on that place where true gladness is found. And that can be our prayer these days!
Len Kraus, S.J.
Memorial of Saint Pius X, Pope |
Matthew 22:1–14 |
Friends, today’s Gospel likens the kingdom of heaven to a king who gave a wedding feast for his son. Notice that the father (God the Father) is giving a banquet for his son (God the Son), whose bride is the Church. Jesus is the marriage of divinity and humanity—and we his followers are invited to join in the joy of this union. Bishop Robert Barron |
Twentieth Week in Ordinary Time |
Matthew 19:23–30 |
Friends, in today’s Gospel, the Lord explains why it’s hard for a rich person to enter the kingdom of heaven. Don’t think in terms of some specific measurement of wealth. Think in terms of a frame of mind. A rich person is convinced that joy will come from filling up the ego. So Peter asks: “We have given up everything and followed you. What will there be for us?” And Jesus replies, “Everyone who has given up houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands for the sake of my name will receive a hundred times more, and will inherit eternal life.” It’s so important to note that this is not a sort of capitalist calculation: Just make a good investment and you’ll get a spectacular return; you’ll have all the houses and money you want. Once you let go of the world in a spirit of detachment, once you remove the things of this world from your grasp and see them without distortion, you will really have them. They will appear as they are, as God intended them. They will no longer be objects for your manipulation or possession but beautiful realities in themselves. Bishop Robert Barron |
Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time |
Matthew 19:13–15 |
Friends, in our Gospel for today, Jesus proposes that the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who are like children. Why? For starters, children don’t know how to dissemble, how to be one way and act another. They are what they are; they act in accordance with their deepest nature. “Kids say the darndest things” because they don’t know how to hide the truth of their reactions. In this, they are like stars or flowers or animals, things that are what they are, unambiguously, uncomplicatedly. They are in accord with God’s deepest intentions for them. To say it another way, they haven’t yet learned how to look at themselves. Why can a child immerse himself so eagerly and thoroughly in what he is doing? Why can he find joy in the simplest thing, like pushing a train around a track or watching a video over and over or kicking a ball around? Because he can lose himself; because he is not looking at himself, not conscious of other people’s reactions, expectations, and approval. Mind you, this childlikeness has nothing to do with being unsophisticated, unaccomplished, or childish. Thomas Aquinas was one of the most accomplished men to ever live, the greatest intellectual in the history of the Church, and one of the subtlest minds in the history of the West. Yet the terms that were used over and over to describe him were “childlike” and “innocent.” Childlikeness has to do with that rootedness in what God wants us to be. Thomas was born to be a theologian and a writer, and nothing would get him off of that beam: neither the critiques of his enemies, nor the blandishments of his religious superiors, nor the temptations to become a bishop. He was and remained who God wanted him to be, and thus he was like a great mountain or a flower or, indeed, a child. Bishop Robert Barron |
“The Assumption reminds us that Mary’s life, like that of every Christian, is a journey of following, following Jesus, a journey that has a very precise destination, a future already marked out: the definitive victory over sin and death and full communion with God ...” – Pope Benedict XVI |
Today, the Church celebrates the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The Feast of the Assumption commemorates the Blessed Virgin Mary being taken up, body and soul, into the glory of Heaven after her earthly life. The feast day is a Holy Day of Obligation in the Church’s liturgical year.
Pope Pius XII defined the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary as a dogma of the Church in 1950. He explained that he wasn’t manifesting a new doctrine but rather fulfilling his divine commission to “faithfully propose the revelation delivered through the Apostles.” The Church teaches that the dogma of the Assumption was at least implicitly present in Scripture and Apostolic Tradition and therefore is a legitimate sign of the “protection of the Spirit of Truth.”
We encourage you to read our special page dedicated to the Solemnity of the Assumption, where we answer questions such as:
EWTN https://missions.ewtn.com/ |
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Nineteenth Week in Ordinary Time |
Matthew 18:1–5, 10, 12–14 |
Friends, one feature of today’s Gospel passage is the craziness of the shepherd: “If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them goes astray, will he not leave the ninety-nine in the hills and go in search of the stray?” Well, the implied answer is “No.” Who would take that great a risk, putting the ninety-nine in danger to find the one? It’s just bad economics. Why would God fret over one little soul? Why would he bother? Well, it’s his nature. It’s what he does. As Catherine of Siena put it, he is pazzo d’amore (crazy in love). God is as crazy for you as if you were the only one in the world. Bishop Robert Barron |
Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time |
Luke 12:32–48 (or 12:35–40) |
Friends, in today’s Gospel, Jesus urges us to be ready for his Second Coming. It reminds me of John the Baptist preparing us: “Make straight the way of the Lord.” He is saying that his job is to prepare for the mighty coming of the Lord. A change is coming, a revolution is on the way, a disaster (the destruction of the old) is about to happen. Prepare the way of the Lord. And what is the manner of preparation? It is a baptism of repentance. Baptism—an immersion in water—reminded first-century Jews of the Exodus, passing through the Red Sea, leaving the ways of slavery behind. And repentance (metanoia)—going beyond the mind that you have. How our minds are conditioned by the fallen world! How our expectations are shaped, stunted by what has gone before. The world of Tiberius and Pilate and Herod and Caiaphas has shaped our imagination. It’s time, John is saying, for a new mind, a new set of eyes, a new kind of expectation. God is about to act! Be ready! Bishop Robert Barron |
Looking at the “signs of the times” these days, one might conclude that they are times of great disillusionment, doubt, and frustration for many in our country and in our world. Hope seems to have fled the lives of a many around us. In such times, faith takes on a special significance. Our readings from scripture this Sunday point us in the direction of faith—in times such as these.
A dear Jesuit friend and companion of mine, John Kavanaugh, S.J., once had the opportunity to be with Mother Teresa of Calcutta. He asked her to pray for him—that he might have clarity. She said no. She said he should instead pray for trust.
Sometimes our deepest desires and our deepest frustrations or disappointments can reveal to us the place where we most need to trust. They reveal a vision, a longing for what we believe God wants for us, and for all—especially for those suffering the most.
Jesus, in the world of his day, seemed unable to change any of the “big issues” that we might have expected him to address. He put his trust in God, prayed as a “beloved son,” did not let disillusionment defeat him. Amid the prospect of impending destruction and death he was transfigured and glorified, that we might know that faith and love—and hope—are the pathway to the fullness of life we yearn for.
The Letter to the Hebrews refers to being surrounded by a cloud of witnesses, and we can be grateful to be surrounded by that cloud on our journey!
Len Kraus, S.J.
Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord |
Luke 9:28b–36 |
Friends, today’s Gospel recounts the story of the Transfiguration. Here, the glorified Jesus represents the fulfillment of the Old Testament revelation, symbolized by Moses, representing the Law, and Elijah, representing the prophets. Let’s look at the two basic divisions. God gave the Torah, the Law, to his people, in order that they might become a priestly people, a holy nation, a people set apart, in the hopes that they would then function as a sort of magnet to the rest of the world. But the Law didn’t take. From the very beginning, the people turned away from its dictates and became as bad as the nations around them. And then the prophets. Over and again we hear the call to be faithful to the Torah, to follow the ways of the Lord. The prophets turn on Israel itself repeatedly, reminding her of her sinfulness. And then came Jesus, God and man. Jesus did what no hero of Judaism had ever done: fulfilled the Law, remained utterly obedient to the demands of the Father, even to the point of laying down his life. He brought the Torah and the prophets thereby to fulfillment. Bishop Robert Barron |
Eighteenth Week in Ordinary Time |
Matthew 14:22–36 |
Friends, our Gospel today is the story of Jesus walking on the water. Water is, throughout the Scriptures, a symbol of danger. At the very beginning, the Spirit of the Lord hovered over the surface of the waters. This signals God’s lordship over all of the powers of disorder. The boat, with Peter and the other disciples, is evocative of the Church. It moves through the waters, as the Church will move through time. Storms—chaos, corruption, stupidity, danger, persecution—will inevitably arise. Now, during the fourth watch of the night, which is to say the darkest time of the night, Jesus comes walking on the sea. This is meant to be an affirmation of his divinity: just as the Spirit of God hovered over the waters at the beginning, so Jesus hovers over them now. So he says to his terrified disciples: “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” But even more than that: You can participate in my power. “Peter got out of the boat and began to walk on the water toward Jesus.” This is the story of all the saints. Bishop Robert Barron |
Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time |
Luke 12:13–21 |
Friends, today in our Gospel, Jesus tells of a rich man who has been so successful that he doesn’t have enough space to store his harvest. So he tears down his barns and builds bigger ones. But that very night, he dies—and all of it comes to naught. “Thus will it be for all who store up treasure for themselves but are not rich in what matters to God.” No matter how good, how beautiful a state of affairs is here below, it is destined to pass into nonbeing. That sunset that I enjoyed last night—that radiantly beautiful display—is now forever gone. It lasted only a while. That beautiful person—attractive, young, full of life, creative, joyful—will eventually age, get sick, break down, and die. An image that always comes to mind when I think of these things is the gorgeous firework that bursts open like a giant flower and then, in the twinkling of an eye, is gone forever. Everything is haunted by nonbeing. Everything, finally, is a bubble. But this is not meant to depress us; it is meant to redirect our attention precisely to the things that are “above,” to the eternity of God. Bishop Robert Barron |
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“Teacher, tell my brother to share the inheritance with me!”
Sound familiar? Many of us have either experienced such a “family problem” or know someone who has. The stories are always sad ones. Our scripture readings this Sunday address one of the elements of our human condition: our search for security and happiness—and the wisdom needed to achieve true joy.
We do have needs—and wants. It is part our human nature to seek security, but we can be overtaken by what our wisdom reading from Ecclesiastes calls vanity of vanities, the foolishness of greed: “Even at night my mind is not at rest.”
When someone in the crowd confronts Jesus with the question about the dispute over an inheritance, He refuses to intervene and instead tells a parable about someone who is filled with greed and is lost in his desire for gaining more and more possessions. The unthinking man (this is the gospel word in Greek for “fool”) is going to surrender it all when he departs this world. The words of Jesus ring out: “Become rich in what matters to God.”
Gratitude replaces greed, and our readings this week offer us an opportunity to ponder what it means to be “rich in the sight of God.” (We can imagine Simeon in the Temple as he gratefully holds the baby Jesus in his arms: “I have enough—I have you, Lord.” )
Our celebration of the feast of St. Ignatius this week might be a good reminder that our goal is to find God in every thing—and everyone.
“Give me only your love and your grace, this is enough for me!”
Len Kraus, S.J.