A Syllabus for Heaven

I am happy to be here celebrating Mass with you today, and it feels great to be back at a university parish. There was a time in my life several years ago when I was basically always on a college campus: I was pastor at St. Thomas Aquinas parish at the U of A in Fayetteville, and during those four years, I was taking graduate classes during the summers at the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC. I remember those years with a lot of fondness, and so I feel at home in coming back today to a university parish.

The second semester is now well underway, and if memory serves, it’s around this point in the calendar when the newness of the schedule is wearing off, the excitement about particular classes is staring to fade, and reality is beginning to sink in about the work that lies ahead. It is also around this time that professors, perhaps after hearing students gripe something unexpected on the first quiz or test, utter that famous phrase: “Well… did you look at the syllabus?”

Ah, yes, the syllabus – that document that professors make a big deal about, but which often goes overlooked by students. Who has time to read those things anyway? But it is true that they contain a lot of important information: what the course will teach, what the professor expects of the students, and especially what will be covered on the final exam.

In our Gospel today, we hear Matthew’s account of the Beatitudes. Ah, yes – the Beatitudes, those pithy sayings of Jesus that every Christian knows by heart but which often go overlooked in practice. Who has time to understand what they really mean anyway? And yet, they are important, or else Jesus would not have begun his Sermon on the Mount with them. They are so important that I think we might say they are something like the syllabus of Christian life. The Beatitudes tell us what this course of following Jesus will teach us, what he as our Teacher expects of us his disciples (the word means “students”), and most importantly, what he will judge us on at the close of our lives.

Let’s take each of those three things in turn. First, the Beatitudes show us what we will learn by following Jesus. To be a disciple of the Lord means to allow ourselves to be taught. And not just taught new information, as if knowing things were all it takes to be a Christian, but instead a whole new way of being. The tired, old ways of the world, in which we grasp and claw to claim whatever we can for ourselves, in competition with everyone else and even with God for what we think we are owed, in order to try to create just a bit of peace or security before our short lives are over – that approach no longer serves. Instead, we are taught to hope for something greater: a share in the kingdom of heaven – and by the gift of grace, we are made able to share in it even now, albeit in a limited way. The Beatitudes remind us that there is a reality beyond the here and now, but that we can begin to live for it right here and now.

Sermon on the Mount (1437) by Fra Angelico

They also tell us what Jesus expects of us. If we are going to live for the higher reality of the kingdom to come, then we need to see ourselves as fundamentally oriented toward something different than what the world offers. That’s why to be a Christian means to be a countersign to the world, and even to how our fallen natures sometimes incline us to be. So that we are not confused about exactly how, the Beatitudes spell it out for us: to seek to be poor, rather than rich; to be meek, instead of proud; to be merciful, not grudging or vengeful; to be clean of heart, unpolluted with the corruption of worldly passions; to pursue peace, in place of what divides. And doing all of this, we will encounter resistance, even persecution and slander. The Beatitudes tell us as much. But rather than be sorrowful or lose hope when such things happen, Jesus tells us to rejoice, in spite of our sufferings, *because* of our sufferings, for they are signs that we are on the right path in following him.

Finally, the Beatitudes describe the coming reality of the kingdom of God. And so, it is fair to say, I think, that we have in them a little preview – call it a study guide – of what Jesus will look at when we stand before him at the close of our lives. In the personal judgment that happens at our deaths, and again at the final judgment at the end of all things, we believe that the Lord will evaluate our lives and see whether we have truly learned what he taught us and whether we have put it, by his grace, into practice. For any student, the thought of any final exam probably brings at least a little trepidation, but for the Christian disciple, this is a good thing because it means we can remember to attend to what we need to do now in order to reach the kingdom to come. The Beatitudes in this way make for a great examination of conscience, one to continuously come back to, and one to pray with, so that we may ask Jesus the Good Teacher to instruct us anew.

Friends, I hope this coming semester and all the semesters you have here on campus are good ones. Remember that the Lord calls us to follow him in university life as much as anywhere else. In the ups and downs of our Christian discipleship, let it not be said that we don’t know what the Lord wants from us. Just as students have a syllabus, so too we have the Beatitudes: to guide us, to give us hope when we are discouraged, to challenge us when we become too comfortable, to pray with and ponder now so that we will be ready for that final evaluation when we meet the Lord face to face.

May the graces of this Eucharist help us live out the Beatitudes here and now, and by them be ready for the kingdom to come.

Verbum Domini

As you know, a few weeks ago the Church mourned the death of Pope Benedict XVI, who was Bishop of Rome from 2005 until 2013. Some of that time span also happened to be when I lived in Rome studying theology, and perhaps partly for that reason, I have always had a special affinity for Benedict XVI. Not that I didn't love and appreciate St. John Paul II before him, or Pope Francis now, but there was something about the thought of Benedict that always resonated with me.

One of the big events that happened soon after I got to Rome in 2008 was the Synod on the Word of God – a meeting of bishops from around the world to discuss how Catholics should approach the Bible. The other seminarians and I, as students of theology, were delighted that it was Pope Benedict who had called such a meeting, and we read with great interest his reflection on Scripture that followed that synod. In Verbum Domini, or “The Word of the Lord,” he reiterated a theme that had long been part of his theology, from his early days as a seminary professor all the way through his papacy and even beyond: that in Sacred Scripture we encounter the living Word of God.

The 20th century saw a lot of innovations in the study of Scripture, many of which were good. We learned more about how the texts of the Bible were composed, about their different literary forms, and about the historical and cultural backgrounds of their authors and their audiences. For all the positives of this new knowledge, one of the disadvantages was that many people – even many Christians – began to see the Bible as just another human text. It lost, for them, its sacredness and its value as a guide for our lives. Pope Benedict, throughout his career, resisted this impulse. While appreciating the new insights that modern scholarship had given us, he also reminded Christians that the Biblical texts were written from the vantage point of faith. Their human authors wanted to communicate to us in their writings something essential about God and our relationship with him. Even more importantly, God himself also speaks in Scripture: through the inspired words of the human author, we hear God’s word – what he wants to communicate to us for our salvation.

Today, we celebrate the Sunday of the Word of God, a chance to reflect upon the value of Sacred Scripture for our faith. It was Pope Francis who called on the Church to do this each year on the Third Sunday of Ordinary Time, but I’m sure it’s an endeavor that his predecessor Benedict agreed with. In the Bible, God speaks to us – and his Word is as living and effective now as it was when it was first written down. In Scripture, he really has something to say to our lives, right here and now, if only we will open ourselves to his Word.

How do we do that? Allow me to share a few recommendations that might help you in reading the Bible.

• First, don’t be intimidated. It’s true that some parts of Scripture are hard to understand, but sometimes we can use that as an excuse to never even try. There can be a lot of spiritual fruit gained from just diving in, especially in those books that are more straightforward like the Gospels or the Acts of the Apostles or the Psalms. Even if you don’t understand every word, your faith will be deepened and expanded in important ways.

• Second, if you find something challenging or confusing, consult what the Church teaches about it. We believe that the Scriptures, the written Word of God, has been entrusted to the community of faith to be interpreted and safeguarded, so it is in and through what our Church teaches that we understand what Scripture really means. One of the best resources for this is the Catechism, the compendium of the teachings of our faith, but there are other great Catholic resources out there, too – books, study courses, podcasts, apps, and more. They can help you to break open Scripture and understand it in accord with our Catholic faith.

• Third, don’t forget that the most important way we encounter Scripture is here, in the liturgy. Pope Benedict, in that document I mentioned earlier, Verbum Domini, said that “the liturgy is the privileged place for the proclamation, the hearing, and the celebration of the word of God.” Each time we come to Mass, we encounter God’s living Word, and specifically those parts of it that the Church has given us to reflect upon and be nourished by, both in the readings and in the prayers of the Mass. Try to read the readings for Mass at least a couple times during the week before Sunday comes around. See what jumps out at you, what intrigues you, what connections you make with other things that you have heard in previous weeks, and I guarantee your experience at Mass will be the richer because of it.

Friends, in today’s Gospel, we hear the words of the Lord Jesus, calling his listeners to repentance and beginning to call the disciples to follow him. In the reading of our Bibles and the listening of Sacred Scripture in the liturgy, we also hear the “Verbum Domini,” the Word of the Lord speaking to us, inviting us to a more faithful discipleship. Let’s renew today our commitment to encountering the Lord in his written Word, and to letting that Word enliven our prayer and worship, especially here at Mass. May the Sacrament of the Lord’s Body and Blood that we will soon receive help us to hear his living Word and give us the grace to respond.

He Who Takes Away Sins

It is nice to be with you for Mass today. I especially am glad to be here to let your pastor return for a visit to his home country.

I often fill in for priests around the state, but during the week my full-time job since last summer has been working at the diocesan offices in Little Rock. One of the things I do there is work with our diocesan newspaper, Arkansas Catholic, as its theological consultant. Mostly that means I provide information or give an interview on various topics, but this past week, I had the chance to write a short reflection for an upcoming issue. It was about the legacy of St. Francis de Sales, and if you don’t know that name, I won’t go into too much detail here; you can read the article in the paper next week. Suffice to say, he was a wise pastor, a patient teacher, and a compassionate confessor – everything you want in a priest.

Reading about the life of St. Francis de Sales was inspiring, but it also made me very much aware of my own flaws and shortcomings as a priest. It’s hard to measure up to a literal saint, but reflecting on his life I can see more clearly how I *should* be. Perhaps you’ve experienced something similar in your own life – a friend that you wish you could be more like, or a coworker who can easily do all the things you can’t do, or even someone in your family who possesses the very gifts and characteristics that you most desire.

When it comes to the ways that we would like to improve, we might tend to think most often about those qualities that relate to our day to day. But we should also think about the spiritual dimension of our lives as well – about our identities as Christian believers and Christian witnesses in the world. In our psalm today, the psalmist says, “Here am I, Lord; I come to do your will.” When God formed us in the womb, he created each of us with a purpose, with a particular plan to discover and fulfill in our lives. And by virtue of our baptism, that purpose finds its deepest meaning in the person of Jesus Christ and in the family of faith which is the mystical Body of Christ, which we call the Church.

This past Monday we celebrated the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord – a feast that reminds us of these things, and that we normally celebrate on a Sunday. This year, it got bumped to a Monday for reasons that relate to the calendar that I won’t elaborate. But while we didn’t celebrate that feast day together this year, our liturgy today is still connected to those themes. We are reminded in these early days of Ordinary Time of a few important things: first, that each of our lives has been changed through the sacramental encounter we have with Jesus, beginning with our baptism; second, that through our encounter with Christ, we have been made holy and we are called to further holiness through a relationship with God and his Church; and third, that as part of that relationship, something is asked of each of us. Like the prophet Isaiah discovered in our first reading, the Lord has charged us to carry out his will, to be not only his servants but his beloved children, entrusted with helping bring his light to others.

And perhaps, as we begin a new year and a new season in the Church, we need to first honestly admit that often we forget these things and fall short of that higher purpose God has given us. We need to confess that we give into sinful temptations and tendencies, and we don’t always form ourselves and our families to follow the teachings of the Lord and of his Church, and we don’t give the best example to others of what it means to live a life of authentic faith. It is good to own up to our flaws and shortcomings as Christians, not for the purpose of feeling down and depressed, but instead to see how the Lord invites us to begin again.

Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, Saint John the Baptist Pointing to Christ (c. 1655)

In today’s Gospel, we are reminded again of the way in which Jesus comes to encounter us. When John the Baptist saw him in the desert, he said “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” John the Baptist was a pretty holy guy – Jesus says elsewhere that, of those naturally born, no one was greater – but perhaps John was thinking in that moment, “Here comes Jesus, the One who takes away all my sins and failings, all the ways that I have failed to follow God’s will and not answered his call.” That’s the way that Jesus always first encounters us – to make us aware of our sins and shortcomings, and then to take them away, so that we can begin again, so that we can start anew.

Maybe this homily has brought to mind some of the ways that you want to start anew, just like I did when I was reading about St. Francis de Sales. But whether it’s in our family, or in our work, in our responsibilities, or our vocations, or the daily challenges and struggles that arise, we can be tempted to perfectionism – to think that it isn’t even worth trying unless we’re sure we won’t make a mistake. Pope Francis recently said, “Don't be afraid to make mistakes. We do not have to wait until we are perfect and have come a long way following Jesus to witness to him; no, our proclamation begins today, there where we live.” In other words, what’s important is that we make a new effort today, and with the Lord’s help another one tomorrow, and then each day onward until we find that we have, despite our sins and failings, accomplished the plan of God for our lives, just like St. John the Baptist, and St. Francis de Sales, and all of the saints who have gone before us in faith.

Friends, perhaps each of us can take the words of the psalmist as a point of reflection for today. Perhaps we can also say, “Here am I, Lord; I come to do your will.” Let’s reflect upon where we need to encounter Jesus, to come before him and to let him come to us. In just a few moments, we will behold him, not as John the Baptist did but instead under sacramental signs. Together we can ask him to take away not just the sin of the world but our sins, and so help us to have the courage to begin anew today in striving for holiness. May the grace of this Sacrament help each of us to do all that the Lord asks of us.