Generosity's Reward

Do you know the saying, “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”? I don’t know if that is true of all men, but I think it’s definitely true of priests. Recently, I saw a joke on Facebook: “What word could be used to describe all priests?” I thought to myself: “Oh, ‘holy,’ ‘wise,’ ‘a funny-and-insightful-preacher’…” But no, the answer was ‘hungry.’ It’s true that we priests love to eat, as many of us attest by our waistlines.

In today’s first reading, we hear the story of another man who loved a good meal – not a priest, in this case, but a prophet. The prophet Elisha, it seems, loved a good meal and he knew where he could get it, too: at the house of the couple who lived in Shunem. In today’s passage, we hear that apparently he came over so often the Shunemites decided to furnish a little apartment for him, so that when he visited he could spend the night.

That’s taking hospitality to a different level. I’ve been over to people’s houses for dinner lots of times, but I don’t think anyone has ever invited me to spend the night. Understandably so! It’s one thing to welcome someone to share your table, but to invite them to stay the night is a different thing. But that’s just what the Shunemite couple does. Why? Because they sensed the presence of God in him, and were attracted by that. They saw Elisha’s staying with them as a blessing, and a way in which – in a sense – they welcomed God into their home. And as we heard, Elisha was grateful for their kindness, so much so that he promised her God would bless her with a son.

Jan Pynas, Elisha and the Shunemite Woman (c. 1620)

It’s a nice story, but it’s also an important one because it tells us something about how God acts in our lives. When we open our hearts in generosity to another, we diminish just a little bit the withering self-focus that comes from our own egos. And in doing so, we open ourselves to God and what he might wish to do with us. That’s why the Scriptures tell us, again and again, about the importance of welcoming the stranger, of showing hospitality to the uninvited guest, and of inclining our hearts to those who ask something of us. And not just in our individual lives and homes, but also more broadly in our society, in every aspect of the community. The generosity in itself is good, but it’s also about something more – about seeing in the other the possibility of the presence of God.

In the Gospel today, Jesus says to the apostles that they too will be welcomed into people’s homes – not necessarily to have dinner, but to share the Gospel. The apostles will be sent forth to preach the Lord’s Good News, and when they do so, others will sense God’s presence within them. As we heard last week, some will reject them, and even persecute and kill them. But others will open their doors – and even more, open their hearts, open every aspect of their lives, in order to become disciples. And when they do so, they will be rewarded by Christ himself – both the apostles and the disciples: “whoever receives you, receives me, and whoever receives me receives the One who sent me” and “he will surely not lose his reward.”

The readings today invite us to consider how we bring the Lord’s presence to others, according to our own lives and circumstances. After all, like the apostles, by virtue of our baptism we too have been “sent” into the world, entrusted with the message of the Good News. It’s crucial then that our words and actions are consistent with that identity – that there be nothing in our own lives and characters which is a hindrance to bringing the presence of Christ to others. There are few things these days that are a bigger turn off than those who say one thing but do another, who profess themselves to be good Christians but don’t live like it. As Christ’s representatives in the world, we must constantly make sure we are never giving anyone cause to dismiss what we come to bring, to tune out our message, and so fail to receive Jesus himself.

These readings also encourage us to be open to where the Lord desires to come to us, especially in unexpected ways. The generosity and hospitality of the Shunemite woman was rewarded in an amazing way, by the birth of a son. What might the Lord desire to do for us, or in us, if we open our hearts to him? Let’s be careful not to close the door on him, and especially on those in whom he might be found: the poor, the marginalized, the outcast, the relative who irks us, the acquaintance who gets on our nerves, and anyone else who might be coming to mind right this minute. It might be that, just like Elisha, that person could be a source of grace for us and the beginning of something wonderfully new.

Friends, by means of hospitality, and generosity of heart, the Lord often desires to make himself known. And this is never more true than here – in the Mass. By opening ourselves to the Divine Guest who comes to us in the liturgy, God’s presence fills our hearts anew, so that we can go forth to bring that presence to others and so contribute to the sanctification of the world. “Whoever receives you receives me and whoever receives me receives the One who sent me… he will surely not lose his reward.”

A Love to Cast Out Fear

This week, the coronavirus finally reached our town. We knew it was coming, and we had a few cases before now, but this was the first cluster of cases that seemed to garner widespread attention. No doubt there will be more cases to come; that’s the nature of this pandemic. While individuals and businesses take proper precautions, and respond appropriately when necessary, it’s hard not to feel just a little bit more on edge to know the pandemic is so close.

The last several months have provided lots of reasons to be concerned and even afraid. There is the coronavirus itself, of course, and all that goes along with it: the hardships of quarantine and social isolation, the devastating effects to the economy, and the suspension of public Masses and worship services. There were the severe storms around Easter that led to widespread power outages and property damage. More recently, we have been alarmed to see both structural racism and police brutality as well as resulting civil unrest and violence. I’m sure we could add many more things to the list, especially things from our own personal lives that give us cause for fear and uncertainty. There is no shortage of things to worry about!

Perhaps it is very providential then that our Gospel today begins as pointedly as it does. “Fear no one,” Jesus says to the apostles. That sounds like a tall order, and maybe unrealistic – I mean, does Jesus know all the things we are dealing with right now? Well – yes, in fact, as he goes on to explain. He tells how God the Father has accounted for all things, from the sparrows that fly in the sky to counting the hairs on our heads, and he has ordered all things in the mystery of his Divine Providence – the arrangement of all the events according to his ultimate purpose. And eventually, Jesus says, that purpose or plan will be revealed to all, in eternity: “Nothing is concealed that will not be revealed, nor secret that will not be known.” What is important then is not understanding, but faith – faith in the Lord, and fidelity to what he has commanded us.

Illustration of two red birds and a white flower (1892) by Imao Keinen

In this Gospel passage, Jesus is speaking to the Twelve apostles particularly about what they will suffer in his name: persecution, rejection, even arrest, torture, and death. Those sound like some pretty fearful things, to be sure! But in the context of eternal life – and an eternal plan by which God has ordered all things to the ultimate good of those who love him, as St. Paul says – then even those fearsome things can be accepted, endured, even suffered willingly and joyfully in faith. In our own circumstances, we can do what those saints and martyrs did in history – embrace the present moment, find the voice of God speaking to us in the midst of our trial, and believe that despite our present suffering, somehow God in his great wisdom and love has provided for this moment *for our good* – and provided us for this moment. Our previous pontiff, Pope Benedict XVI, once said: “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.”

This past Friday, we celebrated the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, one of the great feasts of our Church and I think especially important for our present time. The Feast of the Sacred Heart is a testament of the love of God for us, a love made known in the human heart of Jesus. The love of Christ’s Heart is triumphant, but it is also a love that empties itself, that pours itself out for others – first, in the Lord’s Incarnation, most clearly in his Crucifixion and Death, and then eternally at the Father’s right hand, where it seeks always to reconcile sinners with God. In other words, in the Sacred Heart of Jesus, we see that Love is not incompatible with suffering – indeed, true love is purified and strengthened in suffering.

José de Paéz, The Sacred Heart of Jesus with St. Ignatius Loyola and St. Aloysius Gonzaga (c. 1770)

The Love of the Sacred Heart is a model for our own form of loving. Even if we recognize the love of Christ will always exceed our own, we must strive to love in that same self-emptying, sacrificial way. That’s why the love of a Christian is often best expressed and shared in the context of suffering: whether that is enduring joyfully and prayerfully hardships that come upon us unexpectedly; or re-prioritizing what is most important, especially when money or other resources are tight; or sacrificing our own comfort or well-being to care for those who are within our ability to help; or enduring the scorn of others in order to stand up for our Christian values, or to not shirk from what our Catholic faith calls us to do. In these ways, and in many more, we have the opportunity not just to renew our faith in the providential plan of the Father, but to give witness to it in the love of the Son, a love that does not shy away from suffering, but embraces it as part of the mystery of redemption.

Friends, all of this can be summarized by that wonderful passage from the 1st Letter of John: “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear” (1 Jn 4:18a). As we face the various things of the present time, whether the coronavirus or any of the other things which make us worried or afraid, let’s be careful not to let our fears overcome us. Indeed, let’s do better than that. Let's strive to “cast out” our fears, by renewing our belief in the ever-present love of God and by reaffirming our commitment to revealing that love in our own lives – to "speak it in the light" and "proclaim it on the housetops." Our trials and our sufferings and even our fears (4:18b) provide us with the opportunity to be further perfected in love (4:18b) – that is, to be more closely conformed to the sacrificial but triumphant love of Christ. May the saints, our brothers and sisters in heaven, assist us with their prayers so that after our trials have ended, we may join them in glory.

True Food

A number of years ago, I read the autobiography of Fr. Walter Ciszek. Do you know that name? I think Fr. Ciszek’s life is one of the more inspiring stories of 20th century Catholicism. The son of Polish immigrants to Pennsylvania, he joined the Jesuits as a young man because of his desire to be a missionary in Russia. After being ordained, he was sent to Poland and then to Russia to minister in secret to the Catholics there. Shortly after the outbreak of World War II, he was arrested and convicted of spying for the Vatican. He spent five years in jail, and then another fifteen years doing hard labor in Siberia.

As you might imagine, Fr. Ciszek had to endure many sufferings both in the prison and the gulag. One of the worst of them was constant hunger. However, Fr. Ciszek and his fellow prisoners soon learned that hunger can sometimes lead one astray. He tells a story about how one day he and another prisoner each ate a whole bowl of egg soup, despite the fact that it looked and smelled suspicious. They regretted it — the soup had spoiled, and it soon made them very sick. As Fr. Ciszek says, “A man has to be careful what he eats, hunger or no.”

In the Gospel today, Jesus describes a meal that no doubt appeared unappetizing to the minds of his listeners. He says that his Flesh is true Food and his Blood is true Drink. We shouldn’t overly spiritualize his words – from the Greek words being used, it’s clear Jesus isn’t talking symbolically but rather about actual eating and drinking. Thus, the confusion from his listeners: “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” And yet, as Jesus says, those who do not eat his Body and drink his Blood have no life within them.

Luca Giordano, The Communion of the Apostles (c. 1700)

As Catholics, we understand these words to be a clear reference to the Eucharist, the Living Bread because it is the Lord’s very Body and Blood made present at every Mass. Our passage through this world is often fraught with dangers and difficulties, and it is tempting at times to look for sustenance among the things of this life – pleasure, power, prestige, and possessions. But those things aren’t truly life-giving. As Fr. Ciszek learned about spoiled soup, our hunger can sometimes lead us astray. The things of this world – which at times can seem so tempting to feed upon – will lead only to sickness and, ultimately, spiritual death.

That’s why Jesus desires to feed us with himself – to give us spiritual sustenance for this life that can also lead us to eternal life. Just as God sustained the Israelites in the desert with manna, so too the Lord sustains us in our sojourn through this life with the Eucharist. Not only does he nourish us, but he strengthens us for the trials of our journey. The Eucharist is our participation in the Cross of Christ; as St. Paul says to the Corinthians: “as often as you eat this Bread, and drink this Cup, you proclaim the Lord’s Death until he comes” (1 Cor 11:26). The Eucharist helps us not to fall into the tempting traps of this world, but to place our hope in the Lord’s Death and Resurrection, enduring whatever trials of the present moment that we face.

Fr. Walter Ciszek, at the time he was sent to a Siberian gulag

Fr. Walter Ciszek learned that lesson too. During much of his imprisonment, he had no ability to celebrate the Mass, since bread and wine were unavailable to him. Instead, he prayed the prayers of the Mass by memory, and offered the Holy Rosary three times a day. When he was sent to the gulag, he was able to minister to the sick and the dying, hearing their confessions and speaking to them words of comfort. Although he could not offer the Mass, he remained united to it, finding strength in the Lord to endure his trials and sufferings. Finally, after many years, he met another priest among a group of Catholic prisoners who invited him to join them for Mass. He says, “They made the Mass wine out of raisins they had stolen on the docks, the altar breads from flour ‘appropriated’ in the kitchen. My chalice that morning was a whiskey glass, the paten to hold the host was a gold disc from a pocket watch. But my joy at being able to celebrate Mass again cannot be described.” Many years later, after he had been released and returned to the United States, Fr. Ciszek said, “Sometimes I think that those who have never been deprived of the opportunity to hear or say Mass do not really appreciate what a treasure the Mass is.”

Friends, may that never be said of us! Our experience of the last few months has hopefully taught all of us how much we should value the Mass and depend upon the Eucharist offered here. Because we know this gift can be taken away, we must be aware of our hunger and be careful of what we eat – not just physically, but spiritually. Let’s make sure we prefer to be sustained by the Lord’s Living Bread and not by the false attractions of this life. Whatever struggles or trials we face, the Eucharist strengthens us to endure them with faith and hope. May we always be worthy to participate in this Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar, and ever find there a preview of the joys of the life to come.

Deepest Truths

It is unfortunate that conversations from the heart seem to be increasingly rare these days. Perhaps it is because we communicate so often online or over the phone. Perhaps we are more guarded than previous generations, only exchanging pleasantries or chatting about passing realities because those feel safer. Even when we do have more serious conversations, they tend to be debates about the news or current affairs, or the like. Rarely do we share something deeply personal – about the deepest truths of ourselves.

However, it is just that type of deep and honest dialogue that we find in our readings today. In the Book of Exodus, Moses speaks to God on Mount Sinai. The leader of the Israelites had returned to seek forgiveness for the people’s idolatry of the golden calf and to receive again the Law – the Ten Commandments – on the stone tablets. For good reason, Moses might have thought God would be angry and vengeful at the people’s betrayal, but instead God assures him that he “is a merciful and gracious God, and rich in kindness and fidelity.” Moreover, God shares with Moses something deeply personal – his own name, “LORD” as it is rendered in English, the same name he shared with him in the burning bush. Having received this insight into just who God is, Moses invites God to accompany the people, as they journey from Sinai closer to the Promised Land.

Moses on Mount Sinai (c. 1900) by Jean-Léon Gérôme

In the Gospel, we jump ahead 1500 years. Here too there is a dialogue and encounter, and Jesus shares with Nicodemus something deeply personal – that the gracious and merciful God, whom Moses met on Sinai, has indeed accompanied his people in a new and radical way: by sending his only Son into the world. Why? To save the world, as he says. That is, God wants all people to come to know him and how rich in kindness and fidelity he is. At the core of his being, God is Love, and by sending his Son Jesus into the world, God desires that every person come to know him as Love and to enter into that Love. Today we celebrate the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity, recognizing that in Christ, God has revealed the deepest truth of himself: that he is a communion of Love – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – and into this relationship of eternal, redeeming love, we have been invited.

The dogma of the Most Holy Trinity is the fundamental mystery of all of reality: that in the one God there are three Divine Persons, each of whom is fully and equally God. Our belief in this mystery may seem very abstract. But just as our human relationships thrive – and in a certain sense, only thrive – when we share the deepest truths of our hearts, and when we receive the same from others, whether friends or relatives or spouses, so too our relationship with God is made stronger and more sincere when we know him as he truly is.

And just as important as the dogma itself is the reason why God has revealed it to us. The idea of “God” can often feel very remote, very unconnected to our daily life. Even when we do think of God, it’s easy to think of him in terms that are overly simplistic or cartoonish – an old man with a long white beard, sitting on a cloud. But in the Trinity, we are shown that God is nothing other than relationship – a dialogue, you might say, in which Love is given and received and returned eternally between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This is crucially important because if Love is the identity of God, and God is the foundation of all that exists, then it means that everything which exists is an expression and a communication also of love. All of creation – all the stars and galaxies in the heavens, everything on earth, and most especially you and me, and every human being – is rooted in the existence of Love, the eternal Love that is the nature of God.

Perhaps you might say, “Father, that all sounds very nice, but how does that relate to the problems I’m currently having, or the things I see out in the world that are so troubling, or the struggles my loved one is currently going through that I feel helpless about?” Well, because to every one of those questions, and more, the Christian revelation of the Holy Trinity is a kind of answer – in the communication of Love that is the essence of God, we find the response to every longing of our heart. Our problems, whether individual or societal, are real, and they demand real dialogue and discernment to work toward solutions. But the Christian understands that these problems – like all of the realities of this life – are also passing away. They are temporary and fleeting because in the final analysis the only thing that will remain is the Love of God – a Love that is personal and self-revealing and extended as a gift and invitation to us.

Corrado Giaquinto, The Most Holy Trinity and the Sacred Heart of Jesus (1754)

Therefore, as Christians, we have the unique privilege and responsibility to always speak to others this deep truth about Love – not just "love" in the abstract, but the Love of God revealed in the Holy Trinity. We need more deep and honest conversations about what that Love means, practically, in our daily life – conversations between pastors and people, but also between spouses, between parents and children, between people at home but also in workplaces, in other arenas of society, in every discussion about justice and the common good and what life is all about. God has revealed to us the deepest truth about reality – the deepest truth about himself – and so in a certain sense, that must always be the message that we communicate also to others. If we as Christians fail to speak to the foundational truth of Love, who will?

Friends, this week, spend some time reflecting on the Trinity, as you understand it. If the mystery of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit seems too challenging, then reflect upon how God has revealed himself to you as the Lord of Love – rich in kindness and fidelity, who sent his Son for your salvation. That's something that every one of us should always be in touch with. And just as that deepest of truths has been shared with us, we must also consider how and where and to whom we are now called to go and share it with others – perhaps in words, perhaps by example, but always by communicating from the heart. 

The Lord who journeyed with his people in the desert, and who came to save us, continues to accompany us, especially in the Holy Eucharist that now we prepare to receive. May this Sacrament of Charity help us to understand and address all of the passing realities of this life, good and bad, in the light of that deepest and truest reality, the Trinity of Love, One God in Three Persons.