Brushes with Life

Last week, I received some very sad news. I learned that a family I knew from a previous parish had passed away very suddenly. The parents and the daughter had gone on a family vacation when they were involved in a car accident just a few miles from home. It was the kind of news that first felt unbelievable and then just left me feeling helplessly sad. As I was praying for them, I realized that I’m sure I have driven on the same stretch of road many times myself. I began to recall the various occasions when I’ve been driving in which, if things had happened just a little differently, I would not be standing here speaking to you today.

I mention all of this not to depress you, but because I imagine we each could share a similar story. From time to time we have experiences that we might call a brush with death – whether driving, or in other ways, via illness or accident – a moment when we realize that things could have turned out very differently. And such experiences remind us, sometimes jarringly so, that our lives are fragile, and that tomorrow is not guaranteed for any of us.

Our readings today also address the topic of life and death. In the first reading of the Book of Wisdom, we are assured that death was not a part of God’s plan for human life. It entered our reality instead through sin, through the temptations of the devil and the weakness of human beings. What God wants for his human creatures is what he has always wanted for us: to have life! But why does then does he still permit death? He could, if he chose, simply take it away — he could give all of us immortality. But is merely taking away death a solution to the problem? Is that really dealing with the deeper issue of sin and evil that afflicts the world? If God just made it so that everyone lived forever, would we even want that? What would prevent us from sinning again, from falling back into spiritual death over and over again, forever?

What God needed was a solution to death much deeper than just taking it away. And he found it in sending us his Son, Jesus. Through Him, he created all things and brought them to life, and through him he also shows us his power over death, as we see very clearly in today’s Gospel. Through Jesus, the daughter of Jairus is raised from the dead; through Jesus, the woman in the crowd is healed of her hemorrhage and restored to the fullness of life. To encounter Jesus is to have a brush not with death but with life, with the very Author of Life. And, finally, in his own Death, Jesus achieved what all the other miracles in his life had been leading up toward: he undid the power of death, and opened the way for all persons into new and eternal life. In the Resurrection of Christ, God has at last provided a solution to the sorrow and sin of the world in such a way that life is no longer bound by death or any other earthly power.

George Henry Harlow, The Virtue of Faith (1817)

If God has done all this heavy lifting for us, what does he ask of us? To encounter his Son – to have a brush with his eternal life. Sometimes this might come in prayer, through the powerful consolation of God’s presence when we are feeling weak or of his love when we are feeling wounded. Perhaps it comes to us through the charity of others, a kind word or a helpful hand when we need it most, and our charity toward others when they do. It especially comes in the sacraments: those moments of encounter which are very truly a brush with the Lord’s life. Today’s Gospel reminds us of the importance of approaching every sacrament with faith. When we come forward to receive Holy Communion, we must each time reaffirm our faith in who is actually present; like Jairus, we must receive with great humility and reverence the One who enters under our roof. When we seek the grace of confession (which we should do before receiving Holy Communion if we are conscious of serious sin) then we must recognize in faith that it is truly Christ who is forgiving us – it is he who restores us to life, just as he did the woman in the crowd. We must make sure that we are never like the other members of the crowd, who despite their own needs and desires, failed to truly recognize the power of the One who was in their midst.

Friends, what God wants us for us is what he has always wanted: to have life. In Jesus, he has given us a way to have it to the full – not just earthly life as we know it, but the new and everlasting life of his Son’s Resurrection. It is that life toward which he is drawing us, and for which he permits even the sorrows and tragedies that we face. By faith, we learn to see beyond life’s fragility to recognize … not death, but the Risen Life of Christ, especially our brushes with it in the sacraments. Those sacred encounters are what empower us, sustaining us in the tragic and jarring moments of life, and renewing within us the hope we have for eternal life through his Son. May the gift of faith, renewed each day, bring us one day to full and final union with him.

Hold Fast

Most of us like to be the boss – of ourselves, anyway. We like to think of ourselves as the master of our own domain and captain of our own ship; and, perhaps even more, we don’t like it when we can’t be those things. Whether it is other people telling us what to do, or events and circumstances that constrain our freedom and limit our happiness, we don’t like it when we don’t feel in control about the course of our own lives.

Of course, if we take a step back, we realize how little it is that we do control. Our plans and priorities, our health and our well-being – most aspects of our lives are usually not nearly as assured as we believe them to be. This realization can lead us to great gratitude, if we come to see how all that we have been given is a gift. At other times, though, if some sudden storm appears on the horizon, or we comprehend the smallness of our little ship in the vast ocean of life, the realization that we not in control can lead to angst, and especially fear.

But if we are not in control, who is? God, of course, as our first reading tells us today. The Lord speaks to Job from the midst of the storm cloud, assuring him that he is the one who has set the limits of the earth and sea. If those forces of nature that appear chaotic to us – the storm and the sea – are actually within God’s grasp, controlled by him, then surely the events of our own lives are too. While this may offer some assurance, it also leads to the question of why God allows us the storms of life at all. Surely, if he loved us, he would save us from what is harmful? Yes – unless the storms themselves are not the greatest harm that might befall us. In that case, God might allow the storms to prevent something even more harmful.

Rembrandt van Rijn, The Storm on the Sea of Galilee (1633)

Today’s Gospel seems to indicate this. Jesus chides the disciples for their fear in the storm not because they have no reason to be afraid, but because they have an even greater reason not to be: his own presence with them in the boat. What really threatens us, it seems, is not the upheaval and turbulence of the storms of life, but our own illusion of self-reliance. When we think we are completely in control of our own selves, we leave no space for God. Therefore, as painful and frightening as they can be, the storms of life can also be a gift because they can help us realize anew that God is in control and not us. In the end, everything is in his hands, and whether we happen to be in tranquil waters or stormy seas at a given moment is less important than ensuring his presence is with us, in our boat, that we are holding fast to him and not anything else.

Friends, we all like the idea of being our own master, the captain of our own ship. But in reality, it is far better to let the Lord take charge: to learn, as St. Paul says, to live not for ourselves but for him who died and rose for us. May the love of Christ be what we hold fast to in all things, so that whatever the course of our journey in this life, he may guide us into the safe harbor of the life to come.

Courage for the Moment

One of the basic teachings of our Christian faith is that God can use bad for good. God is all good, and so he never wills bad things or evil occurrences directly or principally. But sometimes he does permit them for a greater purpose – for a greater good that he brings forth from the bad.

Even if that makes sense theoretically, it can be hard to see it in the real world. This week, though, we saw an example of it here in Stuttgart. The torrential rain caused flooding, damaging homes and businesses and ruining crops. That’s really bad, obviously, and we might wonder why God permitted this bad thing to happen. While only he knows the answer in full, we can understand in part by looking at the good he has brought out in people responding to the bad. Various groups and individuals in the Stuttgart community mobilized to help those who were stranded, to shore up homes and businesses and churches that were in danger, to buy and deliver food and other essential items to those who were in need, to begin repair and assistance efforts of those that were affected, and more. Now, you might say, “Well, Father, that’s just the right thing to do,” to which I would respond, “You’re right!” Those efforts that I described are examples of courage and charity, two virtues that have the tendency to unite people and which would not be present in the world unless good people had to respond to bad things. I have no doubt that in the coming weeks, those good efforts will be extended, and with courage and charity our community will continue to respond to the bad with the good.

Stuttgart residents help a person in need. (Photo credit: Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, Thomas Metthes)

It is too simplistic to say that God allowed the flooding for the purpose of making us better: more courageous, more charitable, etc. But when we face adversity – a flood or whatever else – he does offer us an opportunity to become those things – to become holier, to receive his grace needed for that moment and grow in the virtues that will help us to respond well. In today’s second reading, St. Paul describes his own courage in a time of trial. He has been laboring with the Corinthian community for some time, and his spirit is tired. In a very real sense, he is ready to die: he wants “to leave the body and go home to the Lord.” But he also knows that this is not for him to decide, and so he strives to be courageous, to receive the grace needed for the present moment to do what he must do. Paul knows that one day he will be judged, called to account by God for what he did or did not do with the grace and time given to him.

Isn’t this helpful also for us? We also need courage to meet the trials that come our way, to do what is necessary in the moment. True courage is not being unafraid, having no fear at all, like one might see in a comic or an action movie. True courage is doing what is necessary and right even in the midst of fear. Christian courage finds its strength ultimately in God, in a hope rooted in the Lord. Both the prophet Ezekiel and Jesus himself tell us today that God is at work in building a kingdom; his action guides the course of things and so also guides the purpose of our lives too.

This week, along with the other priests of our diocese, I was on retreat at Subiaco Abbey in western Arkansas. Each afternoon, we had some free time, and I went for several long walks in and around the monastic grounds. As I did, I observed the different activities that the monks do as part of their labors. Some were tending gardens, others were caring for the cattle, others were working in the shop fixing equipment of different kinds. It occurred to me that they probably do not always know what everyone else does, or why, or how it is important to the life of the community. Maybe only the abbot knows how all of their different activities fit together – how the good of the community is being built up through the activity of each one. But rather than worrying about the fact that they don’t understand everything, the monks just focus on their work in the present moment, trusting that it is part of a larger plan of everything working toward the good of all.

Image courtesy of countrymonks.org

Image courtesy of countrymonks.org

Friends, that is a wise approach for us to take in our lives, too. We may not always understand why a certain or trial adversity is allowed to happen; we may not always be able to see how each event fits into the broader whole. But God sees, and knows, and is guiding all of those things toward a greater end: the building up of his kingdom. What he asks of us is to attend to what is needed in this moment, to be courageous in what he has given us to do right now. Like St. Paul, or like the monks of Subiaco, may we use well the time and grace that he gives to us so that, with an eye toward our own judgment one day, we may aspire to please God in all that we do.

Cleansed by Blood

Hand sanitizer, cleaning wipes, face masks. For the last 15 months or so, we have become accustomed to seeing these things everywhere, and using them in order to protect ourselves during the pandemic. Even now, although restrictions are loosening and many people are vaccinated against the virus, many of us still find ourselves continuing to use these things – putting on a mask when you go into a store, using hand sanitizer frequently. Whether it’s a desire to practice good hygiene, or just mere habit, these things aren’t going to disappear any time soon.

Today’s readings speak of something else that cleanses and protects: blood. That sounds strange to us, but in the Bible and in the ancient world generally, blood was a kind of spiritual sanitizer, a cleansing agent that restored the soul. In the first reading, Moses orders the sacrifice of young bulls and then sprinkles the blood on the people, as a sign of their acceptance of the covenant with God. In the second reading, we hear the connection between this act– which was ritually repeated each year by the high priest as a sign of the Jewish people’s sorrow for their sin and the renewal of their devotion to God – and the sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross. The author of the Letter to the Hebrews makes the point that, while the offering of bulls and the sprinkling of blood was merely symbolic, the blood of Christ really saves. “How much more,” he says, “will the blood of Christ… cleanse our consciences from dead works to worship the living God.” Human beings now have been made clean not by the blood of bulls but by the blood of Jesus. In the Cross, we now have, as Jesus said in his own words at the Supper on the night before, a new and eternal covenant with God.

This is basic Christian doctrine, a belief that we share with all of our brothers and sisters in Christ. As Catholics, however, this belief has also a deeper and more immediate meaning for us: the blood of Christ, and the covenant we have with God by his blood, is a reality that we recognize and receive every time we gather in worship. Today we celebrate the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, our belief as Catholics that should be in the forefront of our minds every time we come to church: that in every Eucharist, what appears to us as merely bread and wine is in fact, the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ. Why is that the case? Why do we believe that? Because it is the Lord’s Blood which restores us to right relationship with God. At every Mass, the one eternal sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross is made present anew through sacramental signs. When we partake in this new covenant, we receive not the blood of bulls on our heads but the Lord’s own Blood on our lips, into our bodies, like the disciples did at the Last Supper. And like them, we are cleansed, and made to participate anew in the true worship of the living God.

Strasbourg Cathedral, 12th-13th cent.

A few years ago, a survey was published that found that most Catholics in the United States don’t actually hold this belief. According to this study, only about 3 out of 10 Catholics in the US know and believe the Catholic teaching about the Eucharist: that the bread and wine at Mass are truly and completely changed into Jesus’s Body and Blood. The rest – the other 7 out of 10 Catholics – either were confused about what Catholic teaching is, or didn’t believe it. If those statistics are true, they are deeply disturbing, and deeply saddening. The Church’s doctrine of the Eucharist is *the* doctrine that makes us who we are as Catholics. It is not just an optional theory, a belief that we can take or leave as we wish; it is the very heart of our faith identity.

What’s more, it is a belief that can form who we are – that, if we really believe it, can change everything about our understanding of ourselves and our relationship with God. Each Sunday, every time we come to Mass, if we truly hold in our minds and believe in our hearts that we are participating in the re-presenting of Jesus’s sacrifice on the Cross – that what we are receiving his very Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity – then it can’t help but strengthen and form how we live our faith in a deeper way. By the Eucharist, we can come to see our struggles as not just challenges that we face alone, but crosses that we endure through the power of Christ. Each time we come to Mass, the challenges and situations that weigh upon us can become offerings that we raise together with the Son to the Father. Everything about our life will be transformed as we begin to live out of the Eucharistic belief that the very life of Jesus is flowing sacramentally through us.

Friends, on this great solemnity, I pray that we never become so accustomed to the Eucharist that we approach it out of mere habit. Let’s make sure that, in our community at least, each of us individually and all of us collectively always recognize Who is truly and Really Present here in sacramental signs. What we do at Mass, Who we receive, is no mere symbol; it is the very Reality of Christ’s work of salvation, what he did long ago and still does now: the offering of his Blood to cleanse and protect us, his Body to renew and strengthen us. As we prepare to celebrate this Mystery anew in a few moments, may we always realize the truth of the Sacrament of the Altar and approach to receive him only with great humility, great faith, and great love.