Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

First Reading, Ecclesiastes 1:2; 2:21-23

Qoheleth is the Hebrew name for Ecclesiastes. The name has many meanings: One who conveys an assembly, member of an assembly, official speaker in an assembly, head of an assembly of wise men, preacher, debater, and the great collector of sayings. The author is unknown although up until the nineteenth century it was believed to have been written by Solomon because Qoheleth is referred to in this book as King David's son. There are social conditions mentioned in this book which are contrary to what is known about the Israelites in Solomon's day, therefore, Solomon's authorship is unlikely. The date of this book is fixed somewhere around the close of the third century B.C. The word "Vanity" is translated as "a breath" or "a vapor" and "Vanity of vanities" is the Hebrew way of saying "the merest breath". In order to comprehend the meaning of this Reading, it's important to note that at the time of this writing, the idea of an afterlife was not widely accepted or taught in the Hebrew creed. The theology of the time was that the infinitely good God rewarded obedience to His laws with temporal goods and punished disobedience by denying or taking away temporal riches. This theology is perplexing to Ecclesiastes or Qoheleth and is the general theme of the entire book. The rewarding of temporal gifts which reflect the teachings of that particular time in history led Qoheleth to believe that wealth, riches and the pleasures of this life were an inadequate reward for obedience to the Mosaic Law. In the grand scheme of things the author felt that humanity's labor, the accumulation of wealth and living for the pleasures of this life, only to have it all come to a screeching halt because of death was unfulfilling and disappointing.

Second Reading, Colossians 3:1-5, 9-11

Saint Paul is referring to that mystical death and rising to a new life which occurs at Baptism when he writes, "If you were raised with Christ". At Mass during the Eucharistic Prayer the priest says: "Sursum corda -- Lift up your hearts". Saint Paul assures us that we are called to that constant lifting up of our hearts to our Lord, keeping our thoughts on what is above and not what is on earth until that day when we the members are joined with our Head in eternal glory. Review once again the parts that Paul refers to as earthly: immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire and greed. We are not strangers to any of these things. We are either guilty of these things ourselves or at least are unfortunate witnesses of such things in our culture. In our present existence, we're all labeled in one way or another: Black, white, Hispanic, Republican, Democrat, Catholic, Protestant, Jew, Muslim, conservative, liberal, moderate, blue-collar, white-collar, and the list goes on and on. While these labels may help to identify who we are, humanity's brokenness also makes them a source of division and prejudice. Saint Paul exhorts us to put these things to death and focus on the new self, which is being renewed and transformed. In the end, when all is said and done, all of us will have only one label that really matters: "A child of God". And surely it is more beneficial for us to make that the only label that really matters now.

Gospel, Luke 12:13-21

There are possibly two meanings to being "rich in what matters to God". Most certainly it can be applied to storing up treasure in heaven, living one's life focused on eternal riches. It could also be referring to how the riches or material goods of this life are handled. In other words, are the abundances of this life hoarded because of greed or are they distributed to help those who are less fortunate? Saint Ambrose says that the hands of the poor, the houses of widows, are storehouses that endure forever. In this Gospel, Jesus uses a parable which is a reminder that all the material wealth possessed in this life cannot add a single minute to our lives. Jesus has the answer to Qoheleth's concerns in the First Reading: Yes there is indeed much more to life than the material rewards obtained; and there is without a doubt an afterlife. The message in the Gospel since beginning this "Journey Narrative" several weeks ago is to stay focused on heaven. If heaven is to be our focus, then surely this life has inflicted all of us from time-to-time with attention deficit disorder. It's that old battle of flesh versus spirit. The flesh has a distinct advantage because it can behold its desires with the physical senses. What the spirit desires is intangible and can seem elusive. Exercising the spirit requires a certain denying of the senses. For heaven to be our focus and desire, the physical senses cannot be permitted to dictate policy. When we deny ourselves the influence of the senses, the eyes of faith see with confidence, for example, that what we behold is not bread -- it is Jesus. What we behold is not wine -- it is Jesus. This is why prayer is so important. At prayer, the affairs of the spirit are in charge while the flesh takes on a role of a disruptor by means of distractions. But through perseverance, the spirit grows in love for the Lord; and this growth renders the flesh less obtrusive. Consider what happens whenever you go to the cinema to watch a movie. You have to sit through all the previews of other films before you get to the feature film. Whether the previews are good or bad, in reality your thoughts and desires are focused on the feature film. Heaven and eternal life is our feature film. While it is necessary to experience the previews of this life, it is much easier to bear its pains while also not being dependent upon its rewards when one's ultimate desire is the beatific vision.

Praying: How and Why

The following is taken from a chapter of ‘Crossing the Threshold of Hope’ by Pope John Paul II. His Holiness not only teaches us about prayer but also reminds us who we are, what our vocation is. This reminder of our identity and our responsibility can seem a bit frightening for those who are serious about the spiritual life.

Question: I would like to take the liberty to ask you to share with us, at least in part, the secret of your heart. Given the conviction that within you – as within every Pope – lives the mystery which is believed in faith, the following question automatically arises: How can you bear such a weight, which, in human terms, is almost unbearable? No man on earth, not even the highest religious leaders, has a comparable responsibility. No one is placed in such a close relationship with God.

Your Holiness, how does one address Jesus? How does one have a dialogue, in prayer, with Christ, who gave Peter the ‘keys to the Kingdom of Heaven’ (which have reached you through the apostolic succession), giving him the power to ‘bind and loose’ all?

Response: Your question concerns prayer; you are asking the Pope how he prays. And I thank you. Perhaps it is worth starting with Saint Paul’s Letter to the Romans. The apostle comes to the heart of the matter when he writes: ‘The Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit Himself intercedes with inexpressible groanings’ (cf. Romans 8:26).

What is prayer? It is commonly held to be a conversation. In a conversation there are always an ‘I’ and a ‘thou’ or ‘you’. In this case the ‘Thou’ is with a capital T. If at first the ‘I’ seems to be the most important element in prayer, prayer teaches that the situation is actually different. The ‘Thou’ is more important, because our prayer begins with God. In his Letter to the Romans, Saint Paul teaches precisely this. According to the apostle, prayer reflects all created reality; it is in a certain sense a cosmic function.

Man is the priest of all creation; he speaks in its name, but only insofar as he is guided by the Spirit. In order to understand profoundly the meaning of prayer, one should meditate for a long time on the following passage from the Letter to the Romans: ‘For creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God; for creation was made subject to futility, not of its own accord but because of the one who subjected it, in hope that creation itself would be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that all creation is groaning in labour pains even until now; and not only that, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, we also groan within ourselves as we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved’ (Romans 8:19-24). And here again we come across the apostle’s words: ‘The Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit Himself intercedes with inexpressible groanings’ (cf. Romans 8:26).

In prayer, then, the true protagonist is God. The protagonist is Christ, who constantly frees creation from slavery to corruption and leads it toward liberty, for the glory of the children of God. The protagonist is the Holy Spirit, who ‘comes to the aid of our weakness’. We begin to pray, believing that it is our own initiative that compels us to do so. Instead, we learn that it is always God’s initiative within us, just as Saint Paul has written. This initiative restores in us our true humanity; it restores in us our unique dignity. Yes, we are brought into the higher dignity of the children of God, the children of God who are the hope of all creation.

One can and must pray in many different ways, as the Bible teaches through a multitude of examples. The Book of Psalms is irreplaceable. We must pray with ‘inexpressible groanings’ in order to enter into rhythm with the Spirit’s own entreaties. To obtain forgiveness one must implore, becoming part of the loud cries of Christ the Redeemer (cf. Hebrews 5:7). Through all of this one must proclaim glory. Prayer is always an opus gloriæ (a work, a labour, of glory). Man is the priest of all creation. Christ conferred upon him this dignity and vocation. Creation completes its opus gloriæ both by being what it is and by its duty to become what should be.

In a certain sense science and technology also contribute to this goal. But at the same time, since they are human works, they can lead away from this goal. In our civilisation in particular there is a risk, making it difficult for civilisation to be one of life and love. Missing is precisely the opus gloriæ, which is the fundamental destiny of every creature, and above all of man, who was created in order to become, in Christ, the priest, prophet, and king of all earthly creatures.

Much has been written about prayer, and further, prayer has been widely experienced in the history of humankind, especially in the history of Israel and Christianity. Man achieves the fullness of prayer not when he expresses himself, but when he let’s God be most fully present in prayer. The history of mystical prayer in the East and West attests to this: Saint Francis, Saint Teresa of Avila, Saint John of the Cross, Saint Ignatius of Loyola, and, in the East, for example, Saint Serafim of Sarov and many others.

Be Simple as Doves

God would not be infinite Goodness and Wisdom if, seeking and even demanding our love, He had not at the same time made it possible for us to enter into this intimacy with Himself. The means He has provided, and of which we can be absolutely certain, to enter into immediate contact with Him, are the theological virtues and the gifts which accompany them.

By faith we adhere to the truth of the divine life offered to us. By charity this life becomes ours. By hope we are certain, with the help of grace, to live this life more and more, and finally to possess it forever in eternity.

This is the essence of all true and real prayer. Instead of frittering away our time of prayer on various points; instead of philosophizing about God, multiplying acts of the intellect, of the will and the imagination, in order to conjure up ‘pictures’ of what we are thinking about, how simpler it is to go to God directly in our hearts. Seek Him in simplicity of heart ~ Wisdom 1:1. It is Our Lord Himself Who gives us the invitation. Be simple as doves ~ Saint Matthew 10:16. Man is a complex being, but it would be a pity if he introduced his complications into his relations with God. God, on the contrary, is simplicity itself. The more complicated we are, therefore, the farther we stray from Him; the simpler we are, on the other hand, the closer we come to Him.

We have seen that God, our Father, is present in us. When a child wants to talk to his father he does not make use of a manual of etiquette or a code of manners: he speaks in a simple and unaffected way, without formality; and we must do the same with our heavenly Father. He Himself said: Unless you become as little children, you shall not enter into the Kingdom of heaven ~ Saint Matthew 18:3. A mother never grows tired of hearing her little one say: ‘Mother, I love you’. It is the same with God. The more childlike our prayer, the more it is pleasing to Him. After all it was He Who chose for Himself the name of Father. It is the Holy Spirit Who cries in us: Abba, Pater ~ Galatians 4:6. It is the Holy Spirit also Who places on our lips the inspired words of Scripture and of other liturgical texts.

Our prayer, then, must be quite simple – as simple as possible. All we have to do is to place ourselves on our knees, and with complete sincerity make our acts of faith, hope and love. There is no method of prayer more certain, more elevated, and more salutary than this.

~ Dom Jean-Baptiste Porion ~

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

First Reading, Genesis 18:20-32
"The outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah" is one that calls to heaven for vengeance. Obviously the Lord does not really need to go down to Sodom and Gomorrah to see if their actions correspond to the cries for vengeance. God is all-knowing and all-seeing. It is done this way so that this exchange between Abraham and the Lord could occur. This is a test for Abraham who has been called by God to be a father of nations. We're all tested many times in this life. God allows these temptations not because He needs to see how we will respond -- He already knows how we will respond. It's more for our own benefit -- an opportunity for us to be able to see for ourselves how we will respond. It is these tests and temptations that help us to grow in the spiritual life. Because of our fallen nature, however, pride and ego could get in the way and delude the mind and heart into believing that the pinnacle of spiritual growth has been reached or that there really is no need to grow more spiritually. A secular society such as our own might suggest that spirituality has little to do with real life, day-to-day activity. But when considering the needs of the human body, for example, it doesn't make sense, nor is it healthy, to focus on quenching thirst but ignoring hunger. Likewise, the human make-up of flesh and spirit for overall health requires that consideration is given to both. The tests in life not only shed light on what areas need growth but also gives aid to the struggles with humility. Abraham who is to be a father of nations was able see for himself that he will be a concerned and loving father of nations, one who reaches out and cares for the safety of both the innocent and the guilty. Abraham does not ask the Lord to spare all the innocent and wipe out the guilty. Instead, he asks for the entire city to be spared even if only ten innocent people are to be found. This points towards Christ's salvific act in which He willingly handed over His innocence to the guilty. God's affirmation to Abraham's request shows Abraham and us that we have been called to serve a merciful God. For many of us, Abraham's line of questioning might be annoying. It would seem more appropriate if he had asked God to spare the city for the sake of ten innocent people right from the start. It does demonstrate, however, how patient our Lord is with human weakness and our own imperfect prayers. This Reading depicting God's mercy offers a level of comfort when attempting to comprehend the love He has for each and every one of us; and Jesus, the Word of God Incarnate, beyond a shadow of a doubt would still have come to offer Himself as a living Sacrifice even if only one of us were in need of His saving grace.

Second Reading, Colossians 2:12-14
Saint Paul's message here is one of forgiveness. He stresses that Christ brought us to life with Him, forgiving us of the transgressions that rendered us dead. "Obliterating the bond against us" -- the Latin translates to mean: "Blotting out the handwriting of the decree which was against us". "Handwriting" is meant to express a contract or law that legally binds us to something. Paul is probably referring to the Mosaic Law which was unable to remove transgressions. He also could be referring to the eternal death that humanity was sentenced to by the fall of Adam. Whichever meaning applies here, the point is that Christ was able to take away its clutches from us by "nailing it to the Cross".

Gospel, Luke 11:1-13
Saint Luke's version of the "Our Father" is shorter than we're accustomed to praying at Mass. For liturgical purposes Saint Matthew's version is used. All of us have been granted the privilege to call God "Father". The world's standards may judge humanity as individuals; that is, one's worth and effectiveness being greater than someone else's, but we're all equal in the gift of heavenly nobility. Saint John Chrysostom points out that "Our Father, Who art in heaven" is not meant to insinuate that heaven is the only place He can be found. Jesus wants us to pray this way to keep our minds fixed on heaven. Jesus is not saying that this prayer is the only prayer we literally need to pray, but there are intimations that all other prayers should be identifiable with the "Our Father". That is to say, for example, if praying for a specific need, then it must be exactly that -- a real need and not something that could be considered a luxury. This way, it is harmonious with "give us this day our daily bread". The Greek text translates as "our daily bread" which supports the meaning of the necessities for this life. The Latin, however, translates as "super-substantial bread" which could refer to the needs of this life but also seems to point to the Eucharist. In the "Hail Mary" we ask our Blessed Mother to "pray for us sinners" -- all sinners. This conforms to "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us". In our prayer to our Lady we add, "now and at the hour of our death". Here, we are praying for the Queen of heaven's own perseverance in prayer. We are children of God. Jesus says that we must become like little children (cf. Matthew 18:3). If you've ever raised a child then you already know that no one is more persevering about getting what they want than a child. "Hallowed be Thy Name" is a reflection of how we conduct ourselves in this life. Does our life reflect the holiness of almighty God or is it one of luke-warmness and indifference? In a homily on the "Our Father", Saint John Chrysostom said: "Those who desire to arrive at the Kingdom of heaven must endeavour so to order their life and conversation, as if they were already conversing in heaven." The parable Jesus uses in this Gospel is found only in Saint Luke's Gospel. Christ first teaches His disciples how to pray and then with the use of this parable, shows them the efficacy of prayer. Jesus impresses upon us the need to persevere in prayer. Our Lord would not want us to make requests if He wasn't prepared to give. In all truthfulness He is more ready to give than we are to receive. Saint Cyril explains that after our Savior teaches this form of prayer, He already knows we would recite it with remissness and negligence, and then after not being heard, we would become slothful. In order to avoid this indolence in prayer, it is more advantageous to be persistent in prayer. There's also the need to understand that God's time is not always our time. God intends to grant our earnest petitions but only at a time when it is most beneficial to us. You simply don't set before a child a jar of cookies right before dinner. Our own summation that God perhaps doesn't see our needs as pressing usually causes impatience and then finally leads to a tendency to give up. Fortunately, in all of these moments of human weakness God is patient and merciful with us.

Raised by God's Fire

God is a brazier of love. Prayer brings us near to Him, and in coming near to Him we are caught by His fire. The soul is raised by the action of this fire, which is a kind of spiritual breath that spiritualizes and carries it away. The soul frees itself from all that weighs it down, keeping it attached to this wearisome earth. The Psalmist compares this breath to incense: Let my prayer be directed as incense in Your sight ~ Psalm 140:2. Now incense is a symbol universally known and exceptionally rich. But from all the substances that fire penetrates under the form of flame or heat, there follows a movement by which it spreads, causing it to increase by communicating itself to all that surrounds it.

The movement of the soul that prays has something special about it. It goes out from itself and yet remains in itself. It passes from its natural state to its supernatural state; from itself in itself to itself in God. At first glance, these expressions may seem strange. The mystery is not in the realities but in our understanding of them. Our mind is not used to these realities; we have to become accustomed to them.

Our soul is a dwelling with many apartments. In the first, it is there with the body: that is to say, with all the body's sensitiveness. It sees when the eye sees, hears when the ear hears. It moves with the muscles; it remembers, imagines and appreciates distances, when we take part in all the activities which are the common ground of its action with the body. In the second, the soul is alone and acts alone. The body is there -- it is always there -- but it no longer acts, it has no part in the soul's action. The soul alone thinks and loves. The body with its senses prepares the matter and elements, the conditions of this spiritual activity, but it has no part in producing it. That room is closed: the soul is there alone, and dwells there alone.

In that spiritual dwelling there is a part still more remote. It is the dwelling-place of Being, Who communicates Himself and makes us to ‘be’. We are so accustomed to live turned outwards; we hardly ever open the door of that chamber, and scarcely give it a glance; many die without ever suspecting its existence. Men ask: Where is God? God is there -- in the depths of their being, and He is there communicating being to them. They are not ‘Him Who is’ and Who gives being to all other things. They receive being; they receive a part of being which does not depend upon themselves. They receive it for a certain time, and under certain forms. And from His ‘beyond’ God gives them existence. They exist only by His power, and are only what He enables them to be. He is at the source of all they do and, no matter how much they may desire to continue those activities, they cannot do so if He is not there. To understand this, we have to think a great deal, and reflection -- perhaps the highest form human act can take -- has given place to exterior action and to local movement, both of which are common to animals and matter.

The soul that prays enters into this upper room. It places itself in the presence of that Being Who gives Himself and enters into communication with Him. To ‘communicate’ means to have something in common, and by this common element to be made one. We touch, we speak, we open out to one another. Without this ‘something’ we remain at a distance; we do not ‘communicate’. God is Love. We enter into communication with Him when we love, and in the measure of our love. The soul that loves and that has been introduced by Love into that dwelling-place where Love abides, can speak to Him. Prayer is that colloquy. God will not resist that love which asks. He has promised to do the will of those who do His will: He will do the will of them that fear Him ~ Psalm 144:19.

It is to love that is due these divine communications which have drawn from those happy recipients the most amazing exclamations. ‘Lord, stay, I beg you, the torrent of Your love: I can bear no more’. The soul, submerged and ravished, has fainted under the weight of these great waters, and has asked to be allowed to take breath for an instant, in order the better to renew its welcome. The anchorite in the desert, when he prayed, had to forbear extending his arms, so as not to be rapt in his prayer. Saint Mary the Egyptian, Saint Francis of Assisi, were raised up from the ground and remained upheld by a power greater than the weight of their body.

~ Dom Augustin Guillerand ~

Being Equipped for Mass

The following reflection is from Saint Jean-Marie Vianney. These are wonderful words to reflect upon in preparation for the holy Sacrifice of the Mass. These saintly words teach us about postures, what our interior and exterior disposition should be, and this reflection also teaches us about where we really are during Mass – which is – Calvary.

The best way of hearing Mass is to unite ourselves with the priest in all he says, and to follow all his actions.

Be like penitents pierced with the keenest sorrow for their sins, and take for your model the publican in the temple. The Gospel says that he stood at the bottom of the temple, with his eyes on the ground, not daring to look at the altar, striking his breast, and saying to God, Lord, be merciful to me a sinner.

He stood at the bottom of the temple, in the least conspicuous place, thinking himself unworthy to enter. He was very different, then, from those nominal Christians who are never in a good enough place.

He kept his eyes on the ground, so ashamed was he at the sight of his sins. He did not behave like those Christians who enter our churches with a proud, arrogant air and a kind of contempt for God’s presence, and who seem to approach Him like people who have nothing on their conscience that can humble them before their Creator.

Be like ministers who offer Jesus Christ to God His Father and make Him the Sacrifice of all they are.

What progress he makes during the three hours that he finds himself in the company of his dying Saviour! First, he opens the eyes of his soul to recognize his Deliverer; then fastened to the cross, and having nothing that remains free but his heart and tongue, he offers both to Jesus Christ. He consecrates his heart to Him by faith and hope, and humbly asks of Him a place in Paradise; and he consecrates his tongue to Him by proclaiming His innocence and holiness: ‘It is just that we should suffer’, he says to his companion, ‘but as for Him, He is innocent’. He makes himself Christ’s panegyrist at a time when others think only of outraging Him, and so great is his charity that he does all he can to convert the other.

Consider yourselves as those who are to participate in Christ’s adorable Body and precious Blood, and be inspired with the sentiments of the Centurion in order to communicate spiritually and sacramentally.

The Centurion’s example is so admirable, that the Church seems to take pleasure in putting it before our eyes each day at holy Mass. Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldst enter under my roof, said that humble officer, but speak only the word and my servant shall be healed. Oh, if the good God saw in us this same humility and realisation of our nothingness, with what gladness, with what abundance of graces would He come into our hearts; what strength and courage would He give us to overcome the enemy of our salvation!

The Way of Faith

What follows is from the Preface of a book written by a Carthusian monk which is out of print. The Preface was written from Saint Hugh’s Charterhouse at Parkminster, in the year 1964, on the feast of the Compassion of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Remaining true to the Carthusian way of anonymity, all the writer of the Preface tells us about the author of the book is that he was a Carthusian monk who spent years ‘in charge of old lay-brothers’. Here’s an excerpt of the Preface.

There are miracles and miracles, down to this very day; and all answer to real prayer is, after all, a miracle in a sense, since it is none other than the supernatural coming down into this very natural world; a continuation – may we not say – of the Incarnation itself. There is no reason why prayer should be answered, or that the poor anxious souls of this world, involved, whether they will or not, in the battle that is continually going on ‘in high places’, should have their Memorare heard. But when it is heard, and they are comforted and helped on their way, then we term it at least a kind of a miracle, for which we can only very humbly say, Deo gratias!

Let no one think that life in a Charterhouse consists of returning to cell after three hours spent in choir on a cold winter’s night, to find our Lady waiting with the holy Child in her arms. The Carthusian way of life, like life in any monastery – for men or women – is sterner stuff than that! Indeed, as time goes on and the monk begins to feel age creeping on him, it may be that the life becomes purely one of faith, and all thought of miracles in the sense of visions and such like has long since departed from his memory – or his hope! It is doubtful if he would believe them if he saw them: the way of faith is surer.

Yet the writer of these lines has witnessed many near-miracles, shall we say, of an intellectual order, during years spent in charge of old lay-brothers, grown very close to God in the course of their long and faithful service. One instance alone must suffice. An old French lay-brother lay dying. For many a long month he had been able to do nothing but sit immobilized in a chair, saying his Rosary – Rosary after Rosary: he could do no more. On this day, in the event to be his last on earth, normally unable to move, he was seen to sit up, utterly alert. Then he said, speaking to someone he seemed to see at the end of his bed: ‘Qui êtes vous, Madame? . . . Who are you, Madam’? Then he himself was heard to answer: ‘Je suis Marie, ta Mère . . . I am Mary, your Mother’. The words were heard, but nothing was seen. Imagination? Perhaps. But, if so, a very good kind of imagination on the part of a dying man, for which he might well be envied.