Choosing Happiness

This past week my niece and nephew started their school year in Nebraska where my sister’s family lives. My niece is beginning kindergarten, and my nephew who is 3 is in pre-school. My sister sent me a picture from their first day where they each are holding a sign with the name of their teacher, their grade, and what they want to be when they grow up. My niece wants to be a veterinarian; she loves animals. My nephew wants to be a garbage truck driver. He loves all things mechanical, and his favorite part of the week is when the garbage man comes to pick up the trash. And there’s nothing wrong with that job – it’s honest work, and we’re all grateful to those that do it. Whether my nephew will still want to be a garbage truck driver in ten or twenty years, who knows? But for now, it’s what he thinks will make him happy.

We all want to be happy, and we all want to do whatever will make us happy. That may sound like a truism – something so obvious it need not be said. But it’s actually an important truth about human action: whatever we do – whether it’s get out of bed in the morning, go to school or work, strive to be a veterinarian or a garbage truck driver or whatever else – we do so because we think it will make us happy. This is the way God has created us: that, day by day, action by action, choice by choice, we make decisions directed toward our own happiness. And we do so not willy-nilly, but according to our reason. We think it’s better to get an education than to not get one. We think it’s better to find a job that is meaningful, that pays well, than to not have a job. We want to meet someone special and marry and have a family, because we think we will be happier than without them — unless we think God might be asking us to be a priest or a religious, in which case, we will be happier doing that than even having a family. We do all of these things because we want to be happy, and God wants us to be happy too, even more than we do.

James Tissot, Get Thee Behind Me, Satan (c. 1896)

But if that’s the case, then how are we to make sense of the Gospel today? Jesus says that he must go to Jerusalem to suffer and die, and what’s more, his followers also must pick up their cross and follow him. How does the Cross correspond with being happy? Can self-denial, suffering, even death lead us to happiness?

The answer is yes: “For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” Each of us has only one life to live, and so we have to use it well. We don’t want to spend it frivolously searching after momentary or fleeting ways of being happy; no, we want to “save” our life – we want to protect it, make it secure, find a happiness that is true and lasting. But here’s the thing. Even those things that we set our sights on and strive for – success in a job or a career, financial security, even the blessings of love and family – they are fleeting as well. One day they too will pass away. No, there’s nothing earthly that we can take with us.

True happiness, then, must be found in something else – something that stretches beyond this world. I think if we look deeply into our hearts, we also recognize this to be true. How many times have we heard of someone – a celebrity, or even someone we know – who seems to have all that they could want and more, materially speaking, but who is fundamentally unhappy, even desperately so? The truth is that God has created us to be happy, but not for a happiness that can be found in anything earthly, but only in him. As St. Augustine says, God created us so that our hearts are restless until they rest in him. When we seek happiness, when we make our choices day by day to be happy, we should do so aiming not just for the fleeting moments of happiness, not even the blessings of home and family, but aiming for that ultimate goal of a happiness that will not pass away.

That is the happiness that Jesus gives, and it was to give us that happiness that he went to his own death on Calvary. Now perhaps we can see why Jesus rebukes Peter so strongly in the Gospel. Peter is thinking of happiness in the way we often do: as avoidance of suffering and securing one’s own well-being. He can’t understand how something like crucifixion and death could actually lead to happiness. But Jesus sees beyond – he sees the blessed life of heaven, human beings in eternal happiness with God, and he knows that it is only through the Cross that that happiness could be possible. And so, he sets his sights on that, and commands us to do the same. The joys of this world are fine – if they do not distract us or become obstacles to or replacements for the ultimate happiness of heaven. As soon as they do, though, we must say to them, “Get behind me!” and then set our sights again on the life of heaven.

So does God want us to be happy? Yes, most assuredly, even more than we do – but not by the happiness that comes from being a garbage truck driver, or a veterinarian, or any other job; not by the happiness that comes from pleasure or fame, or power, or wealth; not by the joy of having a good education, or a successful career, or even a blessed marriage and a happy family; not in fact by *any* kind of earthly happiness, as great as they may be. No, God desires ultimately to give us the happiness that comes from eternal life – that is, if we will have it, if we will not forsake it by becoming satisfied by or distracted by earthly joys. It is the happiness of the Resurrection alone that we are made for, but to reach it we must accept the mystery of the Cross. That is the deal we accept when we become disciples of Jesus: to use the reasoning that comes from faith to be ready to give up the fleeting joys of life, all of our earthly happiness, if necessary, and even our life itself, in order to secure the life to come.

Friends, I hope I am not teaching you anything new. But the Gospel today gives us a chance to be reminded, as we need to be at times, about exactly what we have undertaken. Each time we come to participate at this Eucharistic table, we gain new strength from this Sacrament in seeking the blessed life of heaven, in not becoming distracted by the fleeting joys but rather embracing the Cross wherever it is found. The Lord Jesus himself helps us to shoulder it, so that day by day, action by action, choice by choice, we may strive for the lasting happiness of the kingdom where he awaits us.

Peter's Primacy

In any organization, it is critically important to have good leadership. The success of the group – whether a business, a club, a non-profit – often stands or falls based upon the choices made by the one in charge. If you have a good leader, your organization is likely to succeed; if you don’t, it may not even survive.

In the Gospel today, Jesus entrusts the leadership of his Church to the apostle Peter. It might seem to be, either then or now, a surprising choice. The Gospels tell us that Peter had a lot of admirable qualities, some of which we see in this passage: he was bold and decisive; he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind; he had a deep love for Jesus and a trust in his relationship with him. And yet, we also see in the Gospels that Peter was flawed. Just two weeks ago, we heard how Peter started to walk on the water, but doubt and fear crept in and he began to sink. We know that, during Jesus’s Passion, Peter not only abandons the Lord but even denies knowing him at all. And if this week’s Gospel is something of a high point for Peter, we’ll see just next week that he still doesn’t completely get it, when Jesus tells him, “Get behind me, Satan.”

If Peter is so obviously imperfect, then why did Jesus entrust the leadership of his Church to him? Because for all of his flaws, there was something special about him, as we see in today’s Gospel. Jesus puts his finger on it: “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.” What was revealed to Peter? The true identity of Jesus – as “the Christ, the Son of the living God” – something that he arrived at no by his own powers of logical deduction but because he received a grace, an insight from God himself. Jesus recognizes that special grace, and makes it the basis for establishing his Church upon this Peter “the Rock”.

Pietro Perugino, The Delivery of the Keys (c. 1482) [detail], Sistine Chapel, Rome

This passage is at the heart of the Catholic belief in what we call the primacy of Peter. We believe that Jesus gave all of the apostles the mission of preaching the Gospel and shepherding the Church, but to Peter and to his successors he gave the unique privilege of having a certain supremacy over the whole body of believers, the universal Church. In other words, we look to this passage as the basis for our belief in the special authority of the Bishop of Rome – the Roman pontiff, the pope – from Peter as the first, all the way to Francis as the 266th and current pope. Even today, we refer to the pope in Rome as Peter, because just like the apostle long ago, the pope is still the universal pastor of the whole Church and the source of its unity.

So, today’s Gospel tells us something important about Peter, and about those who succeed him as the Bishop of Rome. But it also tells us something just as important, and maybe even more so, about Jesus himself. He says, “Upon this Rock, I will build my Church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.” In other words, Jesus promises that his Church will not fail – it will not be conquered by the forces of spiritual darkness, and it will not fail in its mission to defeat those forces. As Catholics, we believe that the Catholic Church is that Church of Christ that he founded, built upon the Rock of Peter and his confession of faith, not because of Peter’s worthiness but because of the divine grace that he received. And having founded it, Jesus promises to be faithful to his Church, to see that it continues, that it never goes astray, and that it is always faithful to its mission of the salvation of souls by God’s grace.

There’s a lot more that could be said about these topics, such as what papal infallibility is, and what we believe about other Christians who don’t recognize the pope. But what is important for the moment is to be aware of the danger of the view, so common today even among Catholics, that the Catholic Church is just an earthly thing – just another human organization, with an agenda to accomplish like any other group, and with leaders who are to be doubted and distrusted. Sadly, we know of the many examples of Church leaders, clergy and lay, who have abused their authority and betrayed the trust given to them; and we know sometimes there are areas where the Church can and should be clearer and bolder and more prophetic in preaching the Gospel. BUT (and this is an important “BUT”), while there is always room for growth, we should never doubt the veracity of Jesus’s words in the Gospel today. We should never hesitate in believing the promise of his faithfulness to the Church. In the balance of things, the Catholic Church is trustworthy and speaks with moral authority not because of the worthiness of her human leaders, even the pope, but because she is guided by the Lord himself. The Church succeeds, and indeed survives, because of Jesus, the Son of the living God. He is its Head, and it is he who has promised that he will never let his Body fail.

For that reason, we need to have a special attentiveness to what our Church professes and teaches above all else, especially in an era where there are so many voices competing for our attention and our loyalty. Nowhere else do we find the fullness of the truth of Christ, and no other group – no state, no political party, no movement, no body except the Church – teaches with Jesus’s own authority. Perhaps we might ask ourselves a few questions today in light of this Gospel: Do I understand my faith in Jesus to be rooted in the act of faith that Peter made? Do I trust in what the Catholic Church teaches, and do I believe it myself, because of Jesus’s promise to it? Do I pray for the pope, who as the Successor of St. Peter deserves my special love and devotion, not because of his own worthiness but because of the office that he holds?

Pope Francis in Korea, 2014. Photo by Korean Culture and Information Service (korea.net)

Friends, in the end, there is a bit of Peter in all of us, flawed but faithful. Thanks be to God for the graces of his Church – such as the Eucharist, which we will celebrate in just a few moments – by which the Lord continues to perfect and purify us. Like Peter, may we too renew our confession of faith today in Jesus as “the Christ, the Son of the living God.” And together with Pope Francis, the Successor of St. Peter – and indeed all of those in union with him, all of our Catholic brethren throughout the world – may we renewed in our belief that just as the Lord was faithful to Peter, so too he will be faithful to us.

Great Faith

At first glance, today’s Gospel seems puzzling. We are accustomed to Jesus being comforting, inspiring, sometimes challenging, or a host of other things. But in this Gospel, he seems cold and indifferent, even cruel. I think our Gospel writer, St. Matthew, wants us to feel a certain compassion for this Canaanite woman and for her desire for Jesus to heal her daughter who is plagued by a demon. And the fact that he seemingly doesn’t want to, and only does help her after several requests, can be shocking for us. Why is Jesus acting the way he is?

Well, there’s some important background info here that can be easily missed. The first important thing to notice is the context and the location. Right before this story, Jesus was debating issues of religious purity with the scribes and Pharisees, those groups considered at the time to be exemplary Jews. But Jesus calls them “hypocrites” and says that their faith is only surface-level – not truly penetrating to the heart. Now he moves from there into the foreign regions of Tyre and Sidon, districts that were heavily populated with non-Jews, like the Canaanite woman who comes up to him. Why would Jesus move into a pagan territory? We will see in just a moment.

The second important thing to notice is the presence of the disciples. Jesus’s initial attitude to the woman is less about her and more about them. As we see, they are dismissive of her, and want Jesus to send her away. Jews of that time treated non-Jews with suspicion, as outsiders – as foreigners devoted to false gods and not members of Israel’s covenant with the true God. According to their understanding, the Messiah that they awaited was going to vindicate the Jewish nation and show all the non-Jews just how misguided they had been.

Holding these things in mind – the story’s setting, context, and the presence of the disciples – now we can approach the story again. The Canaanite woman, a foreigner and a non-Jew, asks Jesus to work a miracle for her daughter. He responds at first in the way those around him would expect the Messiah to act: by treating the non-Jewish person as beneath him. He declines to help her. She is not a member of the house of Israel, and thus is not worthy of his attention. But the woman is persistent and she keeps asking. Why? Because she has faith – here, in the Canaanite woman, this foreigner and non-Jew, there is a faith much deeper and more authentic than anything of the scribes and Pharisees.

Jesus, being Jesus, has known this all along. But by seemingly rebuffing her request at first, he has helped the woman herself to realize the depth of her own faith. She didn’t just get what she wanted at first request; she has come to a deeper, truer understanding of her own acknowledgment of him as “Lord” and “Son of David,” a term that meant her belief in him as Messiah. And Jesus has also shown to his disciples that such true faith can be found even outside the house of Israel. In other words, he has come as the Savior not just for the Jews but for all persons, and that in him all can become God’s sons and daughters. He’s pointing out to his disciples that true faith is not found in exterior religiosity, like the scribes and Pharisees think, but in the deep desires of the heart and in a persistent trust that those desires will be answered.

Christ and the Canaanite Woman (c. 1600) by Ludovico Carracci

How does this story help us? Probably in many ways, but let’s focus on the two things to which I’ve drawn our attention today. First, it’s always helpful to understand Jesus better and understand better what he’s doing. As I said, this story is often misunderstood, as if Jesus were being racist or sexist or just a jerk. But those interpretations are fundamentally contrary to what we believe about him as Son of God, so we have to be on guard against them. Scripture often has multiple layers of meaning, and we need to resist facile interpretations, especially ones that would seem to be contrary of the spirit of Christianity. We need to interpret Scripture, in other words, but we don’t do so on our own. As Catholics, we have the benefit to see what our Church teaches and has taught for two millennia, guided by the wisdom of the Holy Spirit.

The second benefit of this story is to help us see faith in action. Sometimes we can think that the life of faith is mostly about identity, like it’s enough to belong to the right group, to give some external indications of belief, and that’s sufficient for God. But today’s Gospel shows us the importance of not treating our faith like membership in a country club, or else we run the risk of being like the Pharisees and scribes, more concerned with exteriors than interiors, and so becoming hypocrites in the process. True faith often shows up in unexpected places, at unexpected times, and from unexpected people. Who could have imagined, for example, that in this story it’s not the scribes and Pharisees who are exemplars of true and deep faith, but rather the foreign woman who has a possessed daughter? In the same way, we need to constantly be searching our own hearts to make sure that our faith is authentic – that it isn’t just a superficial thing, something we do for an hour on Sunday, but something that truly reaches the level of our hearts and leads us to conversion. Faith requires an openness to being changed: a change of preconceptions, as the disciples experienced; a change of heart, as the Pharisees and scribes were called to, but failed; or even a change of identity, as the Canaanite woman experienced. We don’t know what happened to her after this story, but it is safe to say that her relationship to God, and her faith in Jesus would have been forever changed.

Friends, as we prepare to receive the Holy Eucharist, it may be that, just as he did for the Canaanite woman long ago, Jesus desires to elicit from us a renewed and deepened act of faith today. Like her, we can come to him with our needs and desires, and we can echo her words: “Have pity on me, Lord, Son of David!” Sometimes it requires great patience and perseverance, but with great faith, the Lord never leaves our prayer unanswered.

The Presence that Calms the Storm

There is an old expression you may know: “May you live in interesting times.” The saying is ironic. We usually pray to live in peace, free from trial or uncertainty, and so to wish “interesting” times upon someone else is to wish ill fortune upon them. Truth be told, though, anxieties and disturbances are usually par for the course in this world, whether in our time or any other. We may think we live in especially “interesting” times, but that’s only because we are familiar with our own troubles and not those of another day.

Our readings today remind us of this. Each of them are set in a context of turmoil and upheaval.

• The prophet Elijah is in the desert because he has fled there; the evil queen Jezebel wants to put him to death after he has defeated the false prophets of her idol Baal. Elijah is afraid he is failing at his mission of bringing Israel back to worship of the true God, and so it is in the desert that the Lord seeks to strengthen him with his presence.

• St. Paul, in the second reading, confesses that he is in “great sorrow and anguish” because he has been largely rejected by his own people, the Israelites, who have not been converted to Christ. While he takes comfort in his ministry to the Gentiles, the non-Jews, he also feels profound sadness to be separated and divided from the people of his own blood.

• And in the Gospel the disciples are in a boat on the Sea of Galilee, caught in a fierce wind that tosses them about. In a larger sense, at this point in the Gospels, they are also in something of a spiritual storm as well. They have heard about the death of John the Baptist, news which certainly would have been devastating for them and also frightening, perhaps leading them to question whether Jesus was headed toward the same fate. And perhaps they also were beginning to understand what their discipleship of Jesus entailed, a radical service toward the poor and the needy, just as Jesus had commanded them to give the crowds something to eat.

But while the backdrop for each of these readings is a particular problem, some disturbance that threatens, in each of them we also find a manifestation of the power and presence of God. Elijah is consoled by the favor of God’s presence, found not in the dramatic phenomena of nature – a strong wind, an earthquake, fire – but rather in the quiet whispering sound that is somehow stronger than all of them. Paul is saddened by his estrangement from his own race, but he finds hope in the fact that God’s faithfulness to his Chosen People can never be revoked. And the disciples witness once again Jesus’s power over the forces of nature, as he calms the wind and rescues Peter from sinking into the sea. In each story then, we see how it is God who is truly in charge, even if his presence is not clearly visible at first. 

It is a simple point but an important one, perhaps especially so for us in the present day. Because while every moment of history has had its various problems, it seems especially easy today to get caught up in the superficial and attention-grabbing and to get stuck there. Modern technology can be a blessing insofar as it helps us to stay connected and to stay informed, but for just that reason it also presents a danger: to be stressed and anxious about every problem, every concern, every injustice. Often we think that our increased awareness means we are being more attentive to what’s happening, either to ourselves or others, but the problem lies in that the deeper awareness doesn’t lead us to a deeper faith or increased prayer, but rather to grumbling and to fear and to losing our peace. That can happen to all of us at times. When it does, we should stop ourselves and look immediately for God’s presence. Sometimes, though, if we are not well-grounded spiritually, then we just get caught up in the next problem or concern. The whole thing becomes a kind of spiritual sickness, a cycle of malaise of anxiety that is difficult to break free of.

Ivan Aivazovsky, Walking on Water (1888)

Fortunately, just as he calmed the winds and the waves, Jesus is mightier than this kind of storm also. If we find ourselves in this kind of cycle, we need to seek out his presence and his power in prayer. Can I recommend a good way of doing this? Focus upon your reverence toward the Eucharist. As Catholics, we never need to wonder where God is in the midst of the storm – he is Present here, in his Body and his Blood. At times, though, we can grow lax in truly expressing that faith in our actions: by reverently genuflecting upon entering or exiting the church, acknowledging Who is Present here; by receiving the Eucharist reverently – whether on the hand or on the tongue – remembering Whom we receive; by reverently praying afterward, thanking God for the Gift of himself that he has given us. These actions, and more, assist us in not becoming sloppy in our worship and not taking it for granted, since it can be taken away, as we experienced just a few months ago. In our worship, especially in the Eucharist, we find the spiritual center to hold on to in the midst of whatever difficulties we face.

Let me just say a word also to those who have not yet returned to Mass. Obviously, we are in the midst of a pandemic, and we have to be prudent about the decision to come to Mass right now, especially for those who are in a vulnerable group. At the same time, let’s make sure we are also honestly examining our own hearts each week about our decision. The dispensation from our normal obligation of coming to Sunday Mass can be misused if we find ourselves living our lives more or less as normal *except* in that regard. If we treat the other activities and events of our lives as worthy of our time and effort, but *not* the reverent worship of the God, then that may tell us a lot about what priorities our hearts are truly focused upon. Don't misunderstand me – we have to be sensible in the present circumstances, and it's not my place to judge any single person or family's decisions. But we also need to be honest with ourselves so that we aren’t potentially making excuses for being willing to venture out everywhere other than to Mass.

Friends, in these “interesting” times in which we live, the winds and waves of life might toss our boats about, but we can always take refuge wherever the Lord is present, especially here in his temple. Each time we come to Mass, we are like Elijah, finding God not in the dramatic events outside but in the whispering comfort of his Presence here. And when we approach this altar, as we will do in a few moments, the One to whom we pray beckons us, as he beckoned Peter: ““Come… it is I; do not be afraid.”

"Give Them Some Food Yourselves"

Friday nights, at the seminary, were the best. The kitchen always served pizza, and the lounge was open after dinner with beer and snacks. Everyone enjoyed unwinding after a stressful week.

Everyone, that is, except me, and three other seminarians. Because for my first two years at the seminary in Rome, we spent our Friday evenings working with the local St. Vincent de Paul Society. We loaded up a van with sandwiches, fruit, big pots of pasta, and hot tea, and then went out to the streets of Rome to feed the homeless. It was hard work and stressful. The people we served, mostly men, often had mental issues or were suffering from drug addiction or alcoholism. Many of them were immigrants, young men who had come to Italy from the Middle East or Asia to look for work. Often they asked us why we did what we did; they couldn’t understand why we ventured out each week to give them food. We told them it was because we were Christians – we served them because we served Jesus. It was rare that we talked much about Jesus to them; usually there was just time enough to give them the food, ask them how they were, and then be off to the next location. But we understood, as they came to understand, that our service was done out of love – for their souls as much as for their bodies.

In the Gospel today, Jesus multiplies the loaves and the fishes to feed the crowds. Having fed them by his teachings, he now nourishes them physically. The implication is clear: in Christ, God satisfies the deepest longings of human life, both body and soul. Whenever we feel starving, dry, or lifeless, we can come to Christ to be nourished and renewed. In his Son, God has provided a banquet of love for all people, if they will come to partake.

However, notice *how* he feeds the crowds. He doesn’t just make food appear out of thin air. No, he first commands the disciples to give the crowds something to eat. They are caught off guard, as he knew they would be: what do they have that can possibly feed so many? But nonetheless the command is clear, and the disciples try their best to fulfill it. They gather up their meager offering, five loaves and two fish, and bringing them to Jesus, they see how he takes what is insufficient and makes it overabundant. And then he gives back to them, and they in turn give the crowd of thousands enough to eat, so much indeed that there is something left over.

James Tissot, The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes (c. 1886)

Jesus still works this way today, in and through his Church. As his disciples, we are commanded by him to feed the starving multitudes – to feed them with spiritual truth, and to feed the bodies that are starving as well. We love them because in them, Jesus himself is found, and because by loving them we lead them to him. By ourselves, our efforts are insufficient, no doubt. The physical needs we see around us can be daunting: poverty, homelessness, food scarcity, poor education, lack of health care – the list goes on and on. And the spiritual needs, at times, are even more overwhelming: lack of hope, discouragement, resistance to faith, depression and neglect. In the face of such great needs, it can be tempting to throw up our hands and say, “What can we possibly we do?”

But Jesus asks us to focus less on the results and more on our efforts. The disciples in the Gospel gathered what they had, handed it over to him, and let him take care of the rest. So too the Church labors to contribute to the care of those who are in need, physically and spiritually, in countless ways. You may know that the Catholic Church in the United States is the largest non-government provider of both education and health care, literally serving millions who are in need. Even here at Holy Rosary, our parish supports our school, our local food bank, and the ministerial alliance, and other causes by which we contribute to the well-being of those in our community who are in need. We can be proud of these efforts, even as we recognize there is more that we can do. But we also have to understand their importance for us, for each person and each family, how they reflect our own fidelity to what Jesus commands us. If our Christian charity is just about writing a check, and sending it in, are we really fulfilling what he commands? Might there be something more that we could do? Maybe it means looking at what we give to the parish, or to other charities operating in our town or in our diocese, and consider increasing our contribution. Maybe it is by supporting those who are serving by our prayers or by learning more about what is being done in our name. Maybe it is merely being attentive to those in our own social circles, family or friends or coworkers, whom we could help by having a concern for their physical or spiritual well-being.

Friends, in some way or another, Jesus calls each of us today to attend to those who are in need. Perhaps it is especially tempting in a pandemic, when we see so much suffering, to think that there are just too many needs for us to have any real impact. But Jesus commands that we not give into discouragement, but instead that we look to what we ourselves can give, meager as it may seem at times, trusting that it will be made sufficient by the power of Jesus. And when, as it happens at times, we are the ones who are in need? Then we also know where to turn: to the Lord, and to his Church, to find in the support, the encouragement, and the grace of the community of faith the hand of the Lord feeding us, answering all our needs.