Pedaling Uphill

When was the last time you rode a bike? Recently, I got back on my bike for the first time in a long while. Doing so, I remembered a few things. First, how to ride it – thank God. Second, how much I enjoy it. I find riding a bike to be a great experience of freedom – moving under your own power, at just the right speed to take in your surroundings but also to get quickly where you want to go.

I also quickly remembered that riding a bike can also be pretty challenging. When you’re on level ground, the work of propelling yourself can be very relaxing; when you’re going downhill, it’s even exhilarating, since you don’t have to do any work at all! But when the road changes, and the path ahead becomes narrow and steep, what had been fun and refreshing suddenly becomes hard work. Pedaling uphill requires firm resolve – it requires putting in the sweat and effort needed to keep going forward.

I was reminded of this this past week as I reflected upon the Gospel for this Sunday. If you’re like me, you might approach your relationship with God as a kind of spiritual bike ride. Amid the volatilities of the world around us, the ups and downs of our relationships with others, we tend to want to receive from God only things that refresh and invigorate us. We want the spiritual rush that comes from a great moment of prayer, or an uplifting Mass, or an encouraging affirmation of our vocation. Like a biker coasting downhill, we tend to think, “This is great! Full speed ahead!”

Inevitably, though, we hit a bump in the road. I have spent much of the last week meeting and communicating with people who find themselves struggling in some way with their faith right now. Some of them are outraged and frustrated by the reports of the clergy abuse scandals, and the response to them from our Church leaders – a response that many feel is insufficient so far. Other people are confronting other crises: family health emergencies, a lack of clarity about plans for the future, even a general sense of God being distant or absent from their lives. It seems that many of us are struggling at the moment, for one reason or another.

Giovanni Lanfranco, Miracle of the Bread and Fish (c. 1620)

The Gospel today is all about spiritual struggle, and how to respond to it. This reading is the conclusion of the Bread of Life discourse, and I find it to be one of the sadder parts of the Gospel of John. Jesus has laid out clearly that it is God’s will that he become our spiritual nourishment, not in a symbolic sense but by actually consuming his Flesh and Blood as the pledge of eternal life. Sadly, as we hear, these words are just too shocking for many of his listeners. They are left confused and bewildered, and they find that they can’t accept his words. As we heard, they stop following him, and “returned to their former way of life.” How sad those words sound, even to us today.

Some of Jesus’s followers remain. However, they don’t stay because they totally understand Jesus. They too are shocked and confused. But instead they make the decision to stay because they can’t turn away – they have placed their faith in the Lord. They have decided that life with Christ is better than life without him. As Peter says, “We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God. You have the words of eternal life.”

For Peter and the other disciples, this moment in the Gospel marks a change in their relationship to Jesus. Like others, they had been fascinated by his compelling words, attracted to the miracles he worked and the authority that he claimed. It was a thrilling ride – they were coasting on the spiritual bike ride of discipleship, full speed ahead! But they hadn’t learned the other part of discipleship – that Jesus came not to be loved and respected by all, but ultimately to be rejected and put to death. This moment – when many of Jesus’s disciples walk away from him – is a foreshadowing of the near total abandonment that happens at the foot of the Cross, when eleven of the twelve Apostles including Peter flee out of fear.

The Letter to the Hebrews has a great definition for the virtue of faith. Faith, it says, “is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not yet seen.” It is the belief in something – really, Someone – even when we can’t clearly see the precise way ahead. Faith is not completely blind; but it is a virtue of believing in what is just beyond the edge of visible sight. For the Apostles, and for us, our faith is rooted in Jesus, he whose words are “spirit and life”. But our faith will also be tested. Maybe it is a difficult teaching of the Church, maybe it is a personal crisis, maybe it is the scandals in the headlines – whatever it is, something will inevitably will stop us in our tracks and force us to ask ourselves whether we really are convinced in what we believe.

Don’t let that bump in the road scare you! It’s a step in the path to a more mature faith, to a truer and deeper relationship with Christ. Every disciple must learn to say, as Peter says, “we have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.” Discipleship is proven not when we are gliding along an easy path, but rather when our road becomes rocky, narrow, uphill. It’s then that we are faced with a choice: will I follow Jesus only when it is easy? Will I keep pedaling when the road gets hard? The truth is all of us turn away, at times – it’s what we call sin. But the key to discipleship is to listen to the Lord’s voice inviting us to turn back to him, to receive his grace and strength anew so we can continue to follow where he leads.

About seven years ago, our former pope, Pope Benedict said this in an address to young people: “Dear friends, may no adversity paralyze you. Be afraid neither of the world, nor of the future, nor of your weakness. The Lord has allowed you to live in this moment of history so that, by your faith, his name will continue to resound throughout the world.” I think those are good words to keep in mind in these days. Whether it is the scandals of the Church, or some difficulty in our own faith lives, we may find that our spiritual path is a bit challenging at the moment. What we need is a deeper faith – a renewed conviction in our personal decision to follow the Lord wherever he may lead.

Friends, the spiritual path may incline upwards at times. But it was never steeper than on the Hill of Calvary, when it seemed that all was lost. But even that was an invitation to a deeper faith, the ultimate revelation of God’s love for his people. Surely, the One who has conquered death can give us the strength to face the challenges of our present moment if we continue placing our faith in him. May the Eucharist that we give us strength for the journey in front of us, helping us to keep pedaling, uphill at times but always moving forward, toward “that place where true gladness is found.”

Hard Lessons

For some, it comes with grins; for others, groans. No doubt, for everyone, a determined gritting of teeth. A new school year is upon us!

All of us here at St. Thomas Aquinas are very excited to welcome our students, faculty, and staff, both those returning and also all of those who are new to our community. A new year always affords new opportunities and new horizons, and especially here at the University of Arkansas, the ability to learn and encounter new things. New courses, new majors, new dissertations – all of them speak to the very reason why a student comes to college: to learn what is true, what is good, what is beautiful, and then to use that knowledge to better themselves and the world around us.

Of course, all of that assumes there is actually the possibility of learning, that one is actually open to being taught. Even the best of teachers cannot be effective if the student refuses to learn, if a person is closed off completely from having their viewpoint changed. In the Gospel today, Jesus encounters this problem in a direct way. As we have heard the last several weeks, Jesus has been patiently explaining that he is the Bread of Life, given from heaven for the life of the world. Today though we hear that some are skeptical – they question how exactly it can be possible for a man to give his body and blood as food for others. Jesus today becomes even more insistent – his Flesh is “true food” and his Blood “true drink” and that in order to have eternal life, one must eat that Flesh and drink that Blood. As we will hear next week, this is too much; many who had followed him walked away. They were not interested in this bit of learning; they had closed their hearts to what the Lord wanted to teach.

And so it is often for the most important things in our world. Most of us are willing to be challenged in small ways, to learn some new things as long as they are not too difficult. But truths which are truly transformational often require us to change our worldview completely. Even harder, they may force us to change ourselves. Those bits of learning are the most important kind, and yet they are also the ones most difficult to accept.

Golgotha [detail] by Nikolai Ge, 1893.

I mention all of this because I think our Church is very much at one of those moments. Like many of you, I have been distressed beyond words at the reports that came out this week, and indeed in recent weeks, about the scandals in our Church. As disgusted as I feel, I also believe we have been confronted with a hard truth, one that is difficult to accept because it requires us to change our worldview and our behavior. And yet, its importance cannot be turned away from – it is truly crucial that we learn from what we are experiencing. Bishop Taylor has asked us priests to read this statement to you:

[You can read Bishop Anthony Taylor's statement on the Pennsylvania grand jury results here.]

I want to share a few thoughts about what we can do in light of this scandal, but before I do so, I want to say two very important things.

Number 1: the true victims of this tragedy are not priests, or bishops, or even those of us who feel outraged and discouraged. The victims, or rather the survivors, are those who had their innocence, their dignity, and in many cases their faith stolen from them by men who should have protected them. They deserve to be affirmed and aided in whatever way the Church can, and that includes at the official levels as well as from you and me. If you or someone you know has been hurt by someone in the Church, please report it. You’ll find the numbers for the state hotline, as well as for the diocesan victims assistant coordinator, in our vestibule. 

Number 2: remember that the Lord is teaching us something here. Please don’t misunderstand me! In no way did God cause this scandal; he is as outraged as you and me. Nonetheless, I firmly believe that God will use this catastrophe as a difficult teaching moment, if you will – one that will rouse us from the drowsiness and dysfunction that has crept into our Church. This cancer of abuse and coverup is a foreign object, an invading presence in the Body of Christ, and as with any wound, what is needed is purification – something that will be painful but necessary in order to allow for true healing.

With those important things said – what do we do in response? First, allow yourself to feel whatever you are feeling right now. Some of you are furious, as I am. Others of you are disheartened and overwhelmed, and I sympathize with that as well. Whatever you feel is okay – but don’t let it rob you of your faith. The easy thing now to do would be to turn away, like the crowds who could not accept Jesus’s teaching. Instead, we must accept what the Lord wishes to teach us, hard as it may be. I think the Lord wants to form us into a purer, holier Church. This scandal is a reminder to all of us who are priests that we can never be satisfied with anything less than radical holiness in ourselves. The Lord Jesus demands nothing less from us, and you deserve nothing less. But if this scandal teaches us anything it is that it not just the clergy whom the Church needs now, but good and holy lay people as well – we need you to help build the Church to be all that God wants it to be. This has to start within before it can move without.

Second, consider what acts of self-sacrifice or penance you might be able to offer in reparation for the sins of the Church. Am I asking us to embrace penitence, even suffering, for sins we didn’t actually commit? Yep. That may seem unfair, and it is. But it is also deeply Christian, because it is what Jesus himself did on the Cross. Small sacrifices – such as going without your morning coffee, or giving up meat for a day, or refraining from social media for the evening – each of these and more can be a small way of saying, “Lord, have mercy on your People, on your Church, of whom I am a part.” They can also allow us to orient our hearts and minds toward prayer, which is action as well – the spiritual action of asking the Lord to act. If there’s nothing else we can do at this time, we can all lift up a prayer asking for the Lord to renew his Church.

Third, keep your eyes on Jesus. Individual priests and bishops may fall, but the Lord never betrays us. It is not going to be easy to be Catholic for a while, and you may well face insult or rejection for your faith from others. If that happens, remember that every suffering, especially an unjust one, is an opportunity to be joined to the Cross of Jesus, the most difficult teaching moment of all time. The Lord will not abandon us in this hour of trial. Rather, he’s feeding us with his own Flesh and Blood to give us the spiritual strength we need to renew the Church in this age.

Friends, welcome back! School is back in session here at the University – and so too in our Church we are learning hard lessons at the moment. As challenging as it is, we can't turn away from the difficult thing which the Lord wants so earnestly to teach us. It was the failure of some of our leaders to learn that lesson that has led to where we are today: to lives that have been damaged and a Church that is weakened. To begin to heal, we need more justice, more transparency, more accountability – but we also need more prayer, more poverty, more humility, more conversion. The lesson of this catastrophe is not just that we must demand change, but that we must change ourselves, so that we can more fully and more faithfully be the People of God in the world. 

May this Eucharistic banquet, in which our Lord becomes “true Food and true Drink,” nourish us in this time of trial and open our hearts to all that he wishes to teach us.

Spiritually "Hangry"

Human beings have physical limitations. For example, we know that each of us needs about eight hours of sleep each night to refresh and restore us. We need at least two liters of water for the same reason. When our limits are reached, we have to be replenished or else we wear down pretty quickly.

We know this to be true perhaps especially in regard to hunger. Do you know the meaning of the word “hangry”? If you spend some time around little kids, you will learn its meaning very quickly. Because they are smaller, children have less ability to cope with hunger than adults do. As a result, when they get hungry, they often get upset; they are “hangry” – hungry, and angry about it. This doesn’t happen only with children though – any person who reaches their physical limits, and needs sustenance, may find that their hunger leads to being exasperated, irritable, and worn down.

The “hangry” theme – that is, hunger leading to aggravation – is central to our readings today. In the first reading, the prophet Elijah is being hounded by the queen Jezebel. He is tired and worn down from the pursuit, so much so that he is ready to give up and die. An angel appears to him and recognizes that at the root of his despondency is hunger. And thus, he provides food miraculously, and Elijah is encouraged to “take and eat” so that he will have strength for the journey that lies ahead. In the Gospel of John, we hear the continuation of the Bread of Life discourse that we have heard the last few Sundays. Some people in the crowd are grumbling, wondering how exactly Jesus can say that he is the “bread that came down from heaven.” The Lord recognizes that their “murmuring” is the result of hunger. They are grumbling because they are not listening with ears of faith; as we heard last week, they just want another free meal, as when Jesus fed the multitude by multiplying the loaves. But he Lord wants to provide a deeper sustenance.

If physical hunger can lead us to becoming “hangry”, then no doubt spiritual hunger can do the same. In fact, whenever we find ourselves troubled, exasperated, or irritated in any way, it’s worth asking what is the cause of our anger – for what, so to speak, are we “hangry”? Often, I think we will find that at the root of our aggravation is the fact that we have reached some kind of limit. Perhaps we are in need of physical refreshment, but more often perhaps we are spiritually worn down, running low on those spiritual virtues – faith, hope, and love, especially – which sustain us and strengthen us for our journey.

Sometimes, anger is warranted. When we suffer injustice – when we recognize sin and disfunction among us, we rightly feel a sense of outrage and a zeal for justice. Perhaps like many of you, I have felt quite a bit of this kind of anger in recent weeks, as I have followed the reports of new Church scandals in our country and around the world. At the root of this anger is disappointment, exasperation, scandal – but also a kind of hunger, a deep desire for truth and transparency and integrity.

I will probably say more about these scandals in coming weeks, not least because they are not disappearing from the headlines any time soon. But as much as I find myself “hangry” at the moment – hungry for reform and renewal, angry at the abuses and betrayal – I found the words of today’s second reading very helpful. St. Paul encourages the Ephesian community to not give in to “bitterness, fury, anger, shouting, and reviling… all malice” for these are not of the Holy Spirit. I don’t think he means here the kind of righteous anger that is a response to injustice; Paul himself got angry at times with his different communities because of the hardness of their hearts. What he does mean is that we should always be on guard against pettiness, resentment, and meanness. Even when we find ourselves righteously angry – that is, when we hunger for justice and truth – we should be careful to not let those emotions turn into despondency and malice. Anger must never lead to hardened bitterness, empty fury, spite, despair. Those emotions are a sign that our righteous indignation has probably turned into something unrighteous, for like the Ephesians, we have failed to remember the presence of the Holy Spirit active among us. 

Luca Signorelli, Communion of the Apostles (1512)

Despite our best efforts, all of us though will at times find ourselves weighed down by just those feelings. When we do, the Eucharist is a great remedy. The temptation to becoming “hangry,” by whatever has led us to spiritual limits, is a sign that our hunger needs the true sustenance that is the presence of the Lord Jesus. Did you notice the reason why St. Paul encouraged the Ephesians to be forgiving and merciful? “Because God has forgiven you in Christ”, he says. Each time we receive the Eucharist, we are reminded that we have received, and continue to receive, mercy and forgiveness freely from the Lord – not because we have earned it in any way, but because it is God’s gracious gift. That gift of mercy is the fruit of the Cross of Christ, and when we receive the Eucharist, we receive into our very bodies the redeeming presence of Jesus’s self-offering to the Father on behalf of us. That is no small thing. Every time we come to the altar to receive this Blessed Sacrament, we should search our own hearts to see if that kind of radical mercy, radical humility is also present within us.

Friends, take a moment today to think about what might be making you “hangry” – not physically but spiritually. Maybe like me you are frustrated by the problems within the Body of Christ; maybe it is something else entirely. Whatever it is, Jesus said, “Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.” We believe he is true to his word, and so we await the day that satisfaction comes. Until then, we must be attentive to not becoming worn down beyond our limits, letting our faith and charity be depleted that we are overcome by exhaustion and exasperation. If you find yourself at your spiritual limits, pray for a deeper awareness of the Lord’s sustaining love, and then receive what the Lord wants to give you at this Mass – “take and eat” that nourishment our heavenly Father provides to us his children, when the Lord himself satisfies the hunger of hearts. May this Eucharist today heal of us all that might tempt us to unrighteous anger and malice, give us the strength to work for justice, and remind us always to seek to forgive as he has forgiven us.