Fasting: A Sermon for Ash Wednesday, 26 February 2020

St. Bernard of Clairvaux asks: Is gluttony the only sin in your life? Is your appetite, your stomach, the only thing that causes you to sin? If not, then why fast only from food this Lent? In addition to the stomach, he says: "The eyes must fast from curiosity, the ears must fast from tales, the tongue must fast from gossip, the soul must fast from vice, and the will must fast from its own desire."

• "Let the eye fast from strange sights"—what curiosities do you spend time looking at or reading, which in no way provide any benefit to your life, and which may even detract from your spiritual life by distracting you from what is important?
• "Let the ear, blameably eager to listen, fast from tales and rumors"—do you listen when gossip is shared about the lives of others, or instead express that you don't want to stick your nose into other people's business? What else do you listen to that fills your mind with worldly things and perhaps even fills your heart with anger: how about the news? What do you think would happen if you didn't listen to any news for the duration of Lent: do you fear that the November general elections would come around, and you wouldn't have any idea who to vote for because you didn't get minute-by-minute updates about the debates and primaries in March? Really! We might very profitably fast from listening to the news this Lent.
• "Let the tongue fast from slanders and murmurings"—Let us never speak ill of others, nor even grumble and murmur about our circumstances. Instead, let us turn to God on pour out our troubles to Him in prayer.
• "Let the hand abstain from idle signs and from all toils which are not necessary"—What devices constantly rest in our hands that keep us constantly idle, distracted, entertained, unfocused, and dissipated? Perhaps this Lent we could set aside the phone and the computer mouse and instead our hand could hold a book or a Rosary!
• "Let the soul itself abstain from all evils and from doing its own will"—The root of all these problems is that we're constantly doing what we feel like doing. During Lent, let us abstain from doing our own will, from doing what we feel like (even if the things we feel like doing are not evil!) and instead do those things that we don't feel like doing but which, despite being unpleasant or difficult, are better choices about how to spend our time, and more pleasing to God.

If you're pushing yourself this Lent to grow in holiness, if you're taking up a serious spiritual discipline, here are three tips that might help you to get the most out of the Lenten season:

• First, give yourself permission to change or modify what you're doing for Lent. Sometimes we find that what we've decided to do for Lent is too easy, or sometimes what we've chosen ends up being unrealistic, and we might need to make a change. An example: a few years ago a friend of mine who, like me, likes to start every day with a cup of tea decided to give up tea for Lent. Instead, he started drinking coffee, which he didn't like because of its bitter taste. But after a few weeks … he came to find that he had come to enjoy drinking coffee! So his “Lenten penance” became absurd! If you find that what you decided to do for Lent is not sufficiently penitential, doing just write off this Lent and say, “I'll try again next year”—instead, start doing something else.
• Secondly, and this tempers what I've just said: If you decide to change what you're doing for Lent, always begin this new or modified discipline tomorrow rather than today. We are clever creatures, very able to fool ourselves! In this midst of a difficulty we might be too quick to think what we are trying doing is not possible to carry out for forty days. Or, in a time of temptation we might too easily convince ourselves to “lighten up.” Just imagine someone who has given up chocolate for Lent looking at a bowl of chocolate and suddenly being struck with the “pious” thought, “You know, maybe what God really wants me to do for Lent is spend some time visiting the sick … so I'll plan to do that instead, and let myself eat a piece of chocolate!” The resolution always to wait until tomorrow to change our Lenten practice, while finishing today what we had taken up in the morning, leaves us flexibility but keeps us on an even keel.
• Finally, if you know about yourself that you get discouraged by failures to keep your lenten resolutions, especially if you are in danger of giving up what you had planned to do for Lent, let me suggest that instead of one, specific task or discipline that you can either “succeed” or “fail' at accomplishing each day, you instead broaden your outlook on the spiritual life and take up a “theme” for Lent. So, for example: Let's imagine that someone has decided that “For Lent, I'm going to read three chapters of the Bible every day.” But upon finding that some of the chapters of the Bible are very long, or being frustrated by his lack of understanding, this person becomes discouraged and becomes tempted to give up entirely on their daily goal. Such a person might, instead of making their lenten discipline “Three chapters of the Bible a day,” might instead take “Scripture” as a theme for their Lent. So he might read three chapters of the Bible on one day, or he might attend a Bible study, or listen to a podcast that explains a book of the Bible, or get to church twenty minutes early on Sunday so as to read over the Scripture readings before they are proclaimed at Mass, or might decide to read several times just one verse that “struck” him from yesterday's reading and then think about it for four or five minutes in silence—all of these practices would be “on theme” for a Lent focused on Scripture. Here again, this is an approach that provides us with some flexibility and keeps us from falling into discouragement, but all the while keeps us focused on one area of the spiritual life where we know we most need to grow.

In whatever we decide to do for Lent, even though our particular fasts and disciplines may be hidden from each other, let us remember that we are all in this together, that we are all trying to grow in holiness during this lenten season, and so let us encourage one another and pray for one another throughout these forty days.

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Homily for the 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B, 14 October 2018

I pleaded, and the spirit of wisdom came to me.
I preferred her to scepter and throne,
and deemed riches nothing in comparison with her.

What is wisdom? What is this thing that is so great that it is better than having power or riches? Here are three descriptions of wisdom in the Bible:

The book of Proverbs (9:10) says that: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” The book of Sirach (21:11) adds: “wisdom is the fulfillment of the fear of the Lord.” And holy Job, seeking to find God in the midst of his suffering, concludes in the 28th chapter of the book that bears his name: “Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom.”

Wisdom is not the same thing as knowledge. It is something that has to do with our relationship with the Lord. Praise God that wisdom is not knowledge! Wisdom is accessible to everyone, not just to scholars who have mastered calculus or physics or chemistry or ancient languages.

Wisdom is something that we can all obtain by prayer, reflection, and meditation. Heavenly Wisdom is most easily obtained by mediation on the Holy Scriptures which, again, are accessible to everyone. St. Gregory the Great said about the Bible:

"The divine speech stirs up the clever with its mysteries, but provides consolation to the simple with its plain meaning.Scripture is like a river, broad and deep: shallow enough for the lamb to wade, deep enough for the elephant to swim." [Moralia in Job, Ep. IV]

The love of wisdom that we hear about in today's Old Testament reading is something that we can all experience by reading the Holy Scriptures, no matter our age, no matter our education.

Beyond health and comeliness I loved her,
and I chose to have her rather than the light,
because the splendor of her never yields to sleep.

I love this image: Long after the sun has gone down, when everyone else has gone to bed, there is still a candle burning in one window, in the house of the person who is seeking wisdom, who continues to read the holy Scriptures late into the night. Even “beyond health!” Once the love of wisdom takes hold a person, even the “good sense” that would tell a person: “go to bed, get some sleep” yields to the overwhelming desire to continue to bask in the presence of the deep things of God.

The reason that the person who loves wisdom acts in this way is because, in another phrase of St. Gregory: "the more we partake [...] the more we hunger." [Homily 36 on the Gospels] Unlike a person hungry for food, who is satisfied by eating or who even feels sick after overeating, the person who hungers for wisdom and who decides to take the Bible down from the bookshelf (often despite the fact that he or she doesn't much feel like reading), that person not only experiences satisfaction, but also finds within his or her heart an even greater desire than before, a desire that prompts one to continue reading: another verse, another chapter … and that prompts one then to pray about what one has read, first for a minute, then for an hour…. Until, without realizing it, you suddenly find yourself in the almost ridiculous position spoken of in the Scripture: "Beyond health and comeliness I loved her, and I chose to have her rather than the light, because the splendor of her never yields to sleep."

Why is this? Why does the pursuit of wisdom in the reading of the Holy Scripture give rise in us to this hidden desire that we never knew we had? St. Paul taught us in our second reading: "The word of God is living and effective, sharper than any two-edged sword, penetrating even between soul and spirit, joints and marrow, and able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart." The word of God cuts right to the heart of those most meaningful experiences that have made you who you are. Because the word of God is not a dead letter but is "living and effective," reading the Scriptures is different than reading other books.

Because the Lord Jesus Christ is Himself the Word of God, reading the word of God contained in Holy Scripture causes you to encounter the One for Whom and through Whom you were created, to encounter the One Who loves your soul and Who understands you better than you could ever understand yourself. For this reason, the conversation we have with God, Who is "able to discern reflections and thoughts of [our] heart"—that is, the prayer, the conversation we have with Him while reading the Bible—this conversation excites us, because we begin to feel that our deepest questions about life are answered by the presence of the Lord Jesus Who speaks to us in the Scriptures.

The reading about Wisdom that we heard today from the Book of Wisdom concludes in this way:

Yet all good things together came to me in her company,
and countless riches at her hands.

In today's Gospel the rich man “went away sad, for he had many possessions.” He decided not to follow Jesus because he loved the things he owned. But St. Peter and the other disciples who, as Peter noted, had “given up everything” to follow Jesus, were promised by the Lord that

there is no one who has given up house or brothers or sisters
or mother or father or children or lands,
for my sake and for the sake of the gospel,
who will not receive a hundred times more, now, in this present age.

If someone were to ask me why I follow the Lord Jesus, I would not talk about Heaven. Meditation on the Holy Scriptures and the resulting encounter with the Living God have given me, now, in this present age, a hundred times more happiness than has been obtained by anyone devoted to the acquisition of money and the preservation of a comfortable routine.

Even though our Lord warns us that those who "receive a hundred times more now in this present age: houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and lands" will obtain all these things only "with persecutions," yet even the persecutions that inevitably come to anyone who upholds the teachings of Christ are to be preferred to the meaninglessness and nihilism that overtake those who seek their happiness from the things of this earth.

And besides all this, our Lord promises us also "eternal life in the age to come."

How then ought we to live? We can either seek wisdom, or distract ourselves with the things of this world which will never satisfy our deepest longings. Do we want only what is offered us by the world, or do we desire the hundredfold in this life promised us by the Lord? If, therefore, our desires are not too weak, let us resolve to read the Holy Scriptures, speak to God about what we have read, and so follow our Lord’s call to seek Wisdom.

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Bible Translations

My judgment on the project of modern translations of the Bible is that of John Senior: "For cultural purposes, there are only two English Bibles: for the Protestants the King James Version and for Catholics the Douay-Rheims. Both are literary masterpieces as none other even remotely is. Since spiritual mysteries can only be communicated through poetry, whatever more modern versions may gain in accuracy is nothing compared to what is lost."

So as not to merely set my own position against a straw man, I will quote what is probably the best concise defense of vernacular translation ever given, the introduction written by C.S. Lewis to the work "Letters to Young Churches: A Translation of the New Testament Epistles" by J. B. Phillips (1947). Lewis argues: "The truth is that if we are to have translation at all we must have periodical re-translation. There is no such thing as translating a book into another language once and for all, for a language is a changing thing. If your son is to have clothes it is no good buying him a suit once and for all: he will grow out of it and have to be re-clothed." The meaning of certain English words has certainly changed since the early seventeenth or late sixteenth century. Reading the King James Version or Douay-Rheims unaided is a challenging task even for the relatively well-educated. But the lesson I draw from the 20th century is that the multiplicity of Bible translations, each trying desperately to pass itself off as "the best" English translation (or, whose Publishers propose it so in order to line their pockets with filthy lucre), has produced great division amongst faithful readers of Holy Scripture, and wholly unnecessary arguments between them about which translation to use. Let us stick to the old standards for communal reading, and use modern English translations only for private devotions or aid in study.

Msgr. Ronald Knox (whose 1949 translation of Holy Writ has inexplicably become popular in recent years with Catholics who wish to set themselves apart from their Protestant friends) explored with a little more specificity Lewis' notion that "we must have periodical re-translation". In his essay "Thoughts on Bible Translation," Knox opined, "anybody who tries to do a new translation of the Bible in these days should aim at producing something which will not, in fifty or a hundred years’ time, be 'dated.' In a word, what you want is neither sixteenth-century English nor twentieth-century English, but timeless English. Whether you can get it, is another question."

The English language changes, and therefore no translation will ever accomplish definitively the task of making plain the meaning of the ancient languages. Can one reach back through the millennia and bring into the present moment the sense of words written in those languages that once proclaimed the crucified Christ as King of the Jews? If one tries to do so, one must periodically revise one's work, simply because the 'present moment' is present for only a moment.

Given this, I would propose that we revisit the image given by Lewis: "If your son is to have clothes it is no good buying him a suit once and for all: he will grow out of it and have to be re-clothed." Maybe our search for the "best" English translation is not a search for the one that meets the needs of the here and now. Maybe the "definitive" English translation is a piece of clothing that can be one unchanging size and yet fit for its purpose, and even handed down through the generations: not a suit, but a baptismal garment. The Douay-Rheims is the gown worn by your infant grandfather, which if God be so good you might live to see outfit your great-grandson. It is everyone's beginning, the first dress in which one is clothed, and out of which one grows only after maturation. That is to say, once one has been awed by the majesty of the Word as presented in all its ancient splendor, perhaps one might be moved to explore the details of the Scripture, reading multiple translations so as to better arrive at the sense of this or that passage. But for many, entering into the wider exploration of these details is something they will leave to others of a more academic persuasion. The many will be content with this simple baptismal garment, content indeed to remain like little children as Our Lord commanded, fulfilling by their prayerful meditation on the venerable version of Scripture the admonition they received at their baptism: "Take this robe and keep it spotless until you arrive at the judgment seat of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you may be rewarded with everlasting life."

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Homily for the 19th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C, 11 August 2019

"For in secret the holy children of the good were offering sacrifice and putting into effect with one accord the divine institution."
Words from today's reading from the Book of Wisdom.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

My dear people,

Last week our Bishop, His Excellency the Most Reverend Salvatore Matano, wrote a letter to you, the faithful of the Diocese, which can be found as an insert in this week's bulletin. The letter concerns the fact that, some years ago, there were priests who hurt people, who hurt children, very badly. This week, a new law goes into effect allowing people who have been hurt to approach a court of law to seek redress for the wrongs that they suffered when they were young. We will very likely be hearing in the news a number of painful stories concerning the Church. I want to try to understand these horrors by examining the Gospel.

The Lord Jesus told a parable about some good and faithful servants who "vigilantly" await the return of Christ. St. Peter asked Him, "Lord, is this parable meant for us or for everyone?" Peter was asking whether this applied in a special way to those who follow Jesus very closely.

Christ's answer is disturbing. He says that in addition to the "faithful and prudent servants" who will do what Jesus wants, there will also be servants who "beat the menservants and the maidservants, [who] eat and drink and get drunk." Jesus says that when He returns at the end of time, He "will punish [those] servant[s] severely and assign [them] a place with the unfaithful."

What must St. Peter have thought, when he heard Jesus say this? When he asked, "Lord, is this parable meant for us?", what must Peter have thought of the answer: "That servant who knew his master’s will but did not [...] act in accord with his will, shall be beaten severely"?

Even before Jesus died on the Cross, He foresaw that some who would call themselves his servants would wickedly hurt people and leave them wounded. As we are confronted again with the fact that there have been terrible sinners in the Church, even within the priesthood, I think it is important for us to remember that Jesus chose to die to redeem mankind, even despite the fact that He foresaw those in his Church who would live unworthily of that redemption.

The Apostles themselves confronted this fact about the Church. St. Paul said to the leaders of the Church in Ephesus, "[T]he Holy Spirit has made you bishops to care for the church of God which he obtained with the blood of his own Son. I know that after my departure fierce wolves will come in among you, not sparing the flock; and from among your own selves will arise men speaking perverse things, to draw away the disciples after them." (Acts 20:28–30)

If Jesus died for his Church even knowing that there would be sinful priests; if Saints Peter & Paul went forth and preached the Gospel despite knowing that there would be sinful bishops, just as there had been a Betrayer among the Twelve Disciples; I believe that we, too, can confidently hold the Catholic faith, even when we hear about members and ministers of the Church who are sinners.

But what can we do, when we are faced with the difficult truth of sin in the Church and in the clergy?

At the end of July I made a retreat with the Benedictines Monks of Perpetual Adoration in County Meath, Ireland. This monastery was founded in 2012 and, basing their prayers on the writings of a 17th century nun, Servant of God Catherine Mectilde de Bar, these monks pray in a special way in reparation for the sins of priests.

Mother Mectilde, commenting on the passage of Scripture where the prophet Jeremiah sees great abominations happening inside the Temple, says:

Who, alas, […] does not know that, alongside of priests who are fervent and truly divine, there are priests who are lukewarm and indifferent, priests who are wicked […]? And so, the Church, in calling [us] to reparation, begs us not to forget the outrages made against the glory of her Divine Spouse by His own ministers. Yours it is […] to expiate the sins of the Sanctuary; yours it is to bear the weight of the sins of the priesthood. Let us enter into these intentions of the Church, and united in spirit with what remains on earth of fervent Christians, and of priests pressed by the charity of Jesus Christ, let us strive to repair the[se] outrages.

The Benedictine monks whom I met seek to make reparation for the sins of priests through prayer. One of the prayers from this community uses ordinary rosary beads to say simple prayers for priests. On the large bead, one recites the prayer:

"Eternal Father, I offer Thee the Precious Blood of Thy Beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lamb without blemish or spot / In reparation for my sins, and for the sins of all Thy priests."

And then on the ten smaller beads one says:

"By Thy Precious Blood O Jesus, / Purify and Sanctify Thy Priests."

… "By Thy Precious Blood O Jesus, / Purify and Sanctify Thy Priests."

Perhaps we can pray prayers of reparation like these. The word "reparation" means "to repair." We can ask God to repair the damage done to souls and to the Church by the sins of priests. It is important that we use the Sacrament of Confession to confess our own sins, also, lest we too cause harm to others by falling into grave sin.

One of the most disturbing things about living in this moment of history is how widespread these sins have been shown to be. Fifteen years ago when I was becoming Catholic, many people believed that Catholic priests were the only class of people who had betrayed and hurt children. Many people thought that there must have been something uniquely horrific about the seminaries where priests were trained, or something about the nature of celibacy that gave rise to these sins. But the New York State Child Victims Act that goes into effect this week has brought forth stories of people who had been hurt, not only by priests, but by doctors and nurses, by public school teachers, gymnastics coaches, boy scout troop leaders; and many, many other people whom everyone used simply to assume could be trusted, without question.

We therefore are confronted with the stark reality of sin. What can we do, when we are faced with the difficult truth of sin in the world, and within our own souls? In the book of Wisdom we read, "[I]n secret the holy children of the good were offering sacrifice." We can offer sacrifice in reparation. We can ask God, in prayer, to repair the damage done to souls. We can sacrifice our pride by admitting our own sinfulness in the Sacrament of Confession. And we can unite our prayers to the Sacrifice of Christ on the Cross by coming to pray before the Blessed Sacrament, and especially by coming each and every Sunday and Holy Day of Obligation to the Holy Sacrifice the Mass, where the great act of reparation and reconciliation, the pouring out of Christ's Blood, is renewed in this sacred ritual, where the Resurrected Christ Who has defeated the power of Sin and Death is present, Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity in the Sacred Host.

Let us pray especially in this week that God may be pleased to give his Church the gifts of unity and peace.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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God Wishes Us to Speak to Him: First Sunday of Lent, 2019 (Year C)

This sermon is an abbreviation of the first chapter of "The Way to Converse Always and Familiarly with God" by St. Alphonsus Liguori. The chapter is entitled: "God Wishes Us to Speak to Him."

Jesus "was led by the Spirit into the desert for forty days"

Next year on the first Sunday of Lent I’ll say a word about the three temptations Christ confronts in the desert, but this year for Lent I want to focus on prayer. Christ our Lord was led into the desert where He spent forty days. In the forty days of Lent, we have an opportunity to find a deserted place—a quiet church, a corner of the house where no one will bother us—and "pray to our Father in secret."

The first thing it is necessary to realize about prayer is how much God wants us to speak to Him! Sometimes people make the mistake of thinking that speaking to God with confidence, like one would speak to a friend, is irreverent—They ask with a misplaced humility: Who am I to talk to God? Why would God want to listen to me? Holy Job in the Old Testament was awestruck when he thought about the fact that God shows us his love, and wants us to speak to Him: "What is man,” Job exclaims, "that You should make so much of him, or why do You set your Heart upon him?"

The friends of God in the Bible and all the saints throughout history teach us that, yes, you ought to revere God in humility—especially when you remember your unthankfulness, and the outrages you’ve been guilty of—yet this should not stop you from treating God with the most tender love, and great confidence.

God is Infinite Majesty; but at the same time he is Infinite Goodness, Infinite Love.

Even though God is so much greater than you, He delights that you should talk to him with that same confidence, that freedom and tenderness, which children use towards their mothers.

God loves you as much as if He had no love for anyone except you only. Christ said to his Apostles that He would shed his Blood "for you and for many," but even if He had known that you would have been the only person in all of history to accept his love—He still would have been born and suffered and died and conquered death, all just to share his love with you alone!

St. Alphonsus Liguori, a bishop and Doctor of the Church, encourages us to think about God’s love for us, and to tell God how we feel when we think about his love for us:

"Say to Him often: O my Lord! Why do You love me? what good do You see in me? Have You forgotten the pains I have caused You? But since You have treated me so lovingly—and instead of casting me into Hell, have granted me so many favors—whom can I desire to love from this day forward ... but You, my God, my all?"

St. Alphonsus continues:

"In order to strengthen your confidence in God, frequently call to mind his loving treatment of you, and the gracious ways he has saved you from the disorders of your life, and your attachments to this world, in order to draw you to his holy love." And be afraid of this one thing: "fear … to have too little confidence in God! God is displeased with a want of trust on the part of souls that heartily love Him. If, then, you desire to please his loving heart: talk with Him, from now on, with the greatest confidence and tenderness you can possibly have."

St. Paul, thinking about God’s love, wonders how we could ever think that God would ever refuse us anything good. Paul says in his letter to the Romans: God "did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all: will he not also give us all things with Him?"

Don’t only pray to God during Mass, or only just before going to bed, or only before meals, or only before starting the day. Get used to speaking with God often, alone, familiarly, with confidence and love, as you would to the dearest friend you have, who loves you best.

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Sermon for the Easter Vigil, 2018

This sermon was taken, almost in its entirety, from "The Liturgical Year" by Dom Prosper Guéranger, abbot of Solesmes.

Holy Saturday has well nigh run its course, and the dawn of Easter is approaching.

In the underworld, the Soul of our crucified Lord is about to give the glad word of departure to the myriads of long-imprisoned holy souls, who cluster 'round Him in adoring love. Death is still holding his silent sway over the sepulchre where the Body of Jesus rests. Since the day when Death gained his first victim, Abel, he has swept off countless generations; but never has he held in his grasp a prey so noble as the One who now lies in the tomb near Calvary. Never has the terrible sentence of God, pronounced against our first parents, “YOU SHALL SURELY DIE,” received such a fulfillment as this; but, never has Death received such a defeat as the one that it is about to suffer. It is true, the power of God has, at times, brought back the dead to life: the son of the widow of Naim, for instance, and Lazarus, were reclaimed from the bondage of this tyrant Death; but he regained his sway over them all. But the Victim of Calvary is to conquer him for ever, for this is He of whom it is written in the prophecy: ‘O death! I will be your death!’ [Osee, xiii, 14]. Yet a few brief moments and the battle will be begun, and life shall vanquish death.

Jesus had said to the Jews: ‘A wicked generation seeks a sign; no sign shall be given it, but that of Jonah the prophet.’ [St. Matth. xii, 39]. Three days in the tomb—the afternoon and night of Friday, the whole of Saturday, and the first few hours of the Sunday—these are enough: enough to satisfy divine justice; enough to certify the death of the Crucified, and make His triumph glorious.

‘No one takes away my life from Me: I lay it down of Myself: I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again.’ [St. John, x, 18].  This is what Our Lord said before His Passion: now is the hour for the fulfillment of His words, and Death shall feel their whole force. As the first rays of dawn break across the horizon, the Soul of Jesus immediately darts from the prison of the netherworld, followed by the whole multitude of the holy souls that are around Him. In the twinkling of an eye, it reaches and enters the tomb, and reunites itself with that Body, which, three days before, it had quitted amidst an agony of suffering. The sacred Body returns to life, raises itself up, and throws aside the winding-sheet, the spices, and the bands. The bruises have disappeared, the Blood has been brought back to the veins; and from the wounds in his hands and in his side, from these hands and feet that had been pierced with nails, there shines forth a dazzling light that fills the cave.

The holy Angels had once clustered 'round the stable and adored the Babe of Bethlehem; they are now gathered around the tomb, adoring the conqueror of death. They take the shrouds and, reverently, folding them up, place them on the slab, whereon the Body had been laid by Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus.

O death! where is now thy sting? Sin had made us your slaves; your victory was complete; and now, behold! You yourself are defeated! Jesus, whom you exultingly held under your law, has set Himself free; and we, after you have domineered over us for a time, we too shall be free from your grasp. The tomb you make for us, will become to us the source of a new life, for He that now conquers you is “the First-born among the dead” and to-day is the Passover, the deliverance, for Jesus and for us, his brethren. He has led the way; we shall follow; and the day will come, when you, the enemy that destroys all things, shall yourself be destroyed by immortality. Your defeat dates from this moment of Jesus’ resurrection, and so, with St. Paul, we say to you: “O death! where is thy victory? O death! where is thy sting?”

And so, with great rejoicing, we now bless the font from which we share in the power of Christ's resurrection.

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Homily: The Body is not for Immorality

Two weeks ago, on the feast of the Holy Family, we discussed marriage and family life, and some of the wonderful blessings that God bestows on the world through his gift of human sexuality. Today, St. Paul reminds us that along with that gift comes a responsibility to use it well.

"The body is not for immorality, but for the Lord," he says. Elsewhere in the same chapter he writes: "neither the immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor the effeminate [molles], nor those who lie with men [ἀρσενοκοῖται / masculorum concubitores], nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor robbers will inherit the kingdom of God."

The New Testament proposes an incredibly high standard for sexual morality, and relates it to whether or not one will enter the kingdom of Heaven. And what St. Paul says here is not even as provocative as what Jesus said in the Gospel of Matthew when he taught that anyone who even looks at another person with lust is guilty of the sin of adultery: "Every one who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart."

Seeing that God wants us to live this way, we would be right to ask the question: WHY?

The Church's answer to this question is that God calls us to live the moral life for the sake of our own happiness; and for the purpose of human flourishing, of becoming greater than we presently are. Departing from the Church's teaching on the moral law makes people sad, angry, and bitter.

Fifty years ago, in 1968, Pope Paul VI predicted that society would become sad, angry, and bitter as a result of the abandonment of the moral law, beginning with the world's embrace of a contraceptive mentality. In his prophetic encyclical Humanae vitae, he wrote:

"Responsible individuals will quickly see the truth of the Church's teaching if they consider what consequences will follow from the methods of contraception and the reasons given for the use of contraception. They should first consider how easy it will be [for many] to justify behavior leading to marital infidelity or to a gradual weakening in the discipline of morals. [...] Indeed, it is to be feared that husbands who become accustomed to contraceptive practices will lose respect for their wives. They may come to disregard their wife's psychological and physical equilibrium and use their wives as instruments for serving their own desires."

"As instruments for serving their own desires." Pope Paul VI predicted that if people treated God's gift of sexuality not as a means for bringing new life into the world, but merely as a way to find pleasure, men would treat women, certainly not as equals, and sometimes not even as people, but simply as "instruments for serving their own desires."

And boy, have the chickens come home to roost on that one. Our country has recently begun to have a long-overdue conversation about how wrong it is for anyone to treat another person as an "instrument for serving their own desires." At the Golden Globes last week, Oprah made a grand speech about the #MeToo movement, and everyone has banded together to proclaim that is always, absolutely necessary that each person in a relationship must give their CONSENT to what passes between them; they must CHOOSE any behavior in which they might engage. This contains a wonderful underlying assumption: YOU CAN CHOOSE! You need not make decisions based solely on what you feel! You can choose whether to follow your base instincts, OR—if you see that a choice would not make you happy, or see that it would hurt another person, or that it would be contrary to God's law—you can choose to rise above your passions and make your choice according to the rational consideration of whether it is the right thing to do or not.

Now, Pope Paul VI in Humanae vitae was speaking specifically about contraception, but his basic message applies broadly. One of the things I love about the Catholic moral system is its internal consistency. Everything has reference to everything else, and nothing is arbitrary.

One element of a moral system with internal consistency is that it all stands or falls together. Humanae vitae says that "each and every marriage act (quilibet matrimonii usus) must remain ordered towards (per se destinatus) the transmission of life." That is the teaching of the Church: human sexuality must always be aimed at bringing about new life. That is why every method of contraception, or anything that would frustrate the sexual act from being able to generate new life, is a sin. That is why pornography and masturbation are both sins. That is why the Church can not recognize a "marriage" between two people of the same sex: because their love for each other can not, in that way, culminate in an act that generates new life.

(If I can be allowed to insert a side-bar here about homosexuality: I've met gay Catholics pretty much everywhere I've been, and I have to say that I number some of my gay Catholic friends among the most faithful Catholics that I know. The rest of us are constantly encouraged by the Church in our vocations, either the discernment and living out of marriage, or the life of celibacy in priesthood or consecrated life. But those who have courageously chosen to embrace celibacy because of their homosexuality have frequently encountered from their fellow Catholics and from their priests either outright hatred, or, at best, a well-meaning but weak-hearted refusal to really have an honest conversation about how their particular circumstances can be shepherded by the teachings of the Church to foster their growth in holiness and their more perfect following of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. And yet despite this lack of encouragement, they remain loyal to the Scriptures and to the Church. I know of few examples more inspiring than theirs.)

When Pope John Paul II came to America in 1995, he challenged us with this question:

"Can the Biblical wisdom which played such a formative part in the very founding of your country be excluded from [the] debate [about morals]? Would not doing so mean that America’s founding documents no longer have any defining content? [...] Surely it is important for America that the moral truths which make freedom possible should be passed on to each new generation. Every generation of Americans needs to know that freedom consists not in doing what we like, but in having the right to do what we ought."

And this is the question: WHAT OUGHT WE TO DO?

Should I act selfishly? Or should I find some source of meaning or purpose outside of myself, greater than myself?

When Saint Paul says that those who engage in various kinds of immorality "will not inherit the kingdom of God," some people ask, "Would God really send someone to Hell" for x, or y, or z? I say, that's God's business. Let Him worry about whom He will command be delivered from eternal damnation. It doesn't do a lot of good to wonder about, or even particularly to worry about, the eternal salvation of anyone else, because the only person whose eternal salvation you can directly affect is your own.

And so again, many people then ask the question, "Would God really send me to Hell” for this or that or the other thing? But I think that's the wrong way of approaching the issue.

Living the moral life as proposed by the Church is difficult. Sometimes extremely difficult. It requires courage, and virtue, and a willingness to suffer. But it's worth it.

In the Gospels, in that same chapter where Jesus teaches about even lust being adultery, He says that "Whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do so will be called least in the Kingdom of Heaven. But whoever obeys and teaches these commandments will be called greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven." If someone wants to adopt the attitude: "Could I make it to Heaven without fully committing to Christ's teachings?"—if you want to settle for less, I can't stop you. But as for me, I want to be numbered among the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven! Or even if I fail, which I probably will, I want to be able to look God in the face when I die and be able to tell Him that I tried. That, to me, is what the moral life is about. Christ proposes to us, through the Church, a way of living that is incredibly difficult, and radical, and which will probably cause some of our family and friends to look down on us as someone who's living in a way that is unhealthy and just downright weird.

But those who follow Christ, God will make great. So aim high!

My dear people, let us journey together to Heaven.

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