Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

Luke 9:18-24

What is it we admire about fathers? There are may things we might admire about a man; he may be good at his profession; he may be a lot of fun to be with. We might admire his mind, or his physical abilities, or his talent with fixing cars. But when we ask the question, what makes an admirable father, a good father, a father worth imitating, I think most of us could come up with a list of characteristics. He is a good disciplinarian; he listens to his children; he encourages them when he sees that they are developing in good ways; he gives them enough freedom to find themselves, but not enough to get in serious trouble. And we could always add that he models for his children what it is to be a husband. And of course there is a lot more.

Many years ago I knew a couple who had a daughter who was born with a rare genetic disorder. Mental development in this disorder never gets much past that of a three month old. Physical problems are severe, including progressive difficulty swallowing. Siezures happen. And as time goes on the little control of movement the child has gradually disappears, so that they become totally helpless. Eventually after many long years, these children die in their forties. I think every parent or would-be parent would shudder to find that their child had this problem. I think nowadays because they can diagnose this problem using amniocentesis, most such children are aborted.

But during the time I knew this couple, whose child was now her early twenties, I noticed many things. Obviously both parents were heavily involved with the care of the child. The mother, however, periodically would sink into severe depression and have to be hospitalized. She was on medication and slept a lot as a result. The father encouraged her, always showed that he was there for her, that he was someone she could depend on. You could see that in their relationship. And the father worked the night shift so that after a few hours of sleep he could spend his time with his daughter and relieve his wife. I watched him feed the child through a feeding tube; he changed a lot of diapers. And when the child had a siezure, he was there making sure she did not bite her tongue or hurt herself. And on a nice day he'd be out pushing her along in her wheelchair, making sure she had a chance to enjoy the outdoors. When I moved to this area, I lost track of that couple. I hope God blessed them.

Today Jesus tells us that if you wish to save your life you will lose it; but if you lose your life for his sake, you will save it. This does not mean that Jesus wants us to be martyrs. But I think he is talking about two approaches to life.

One approach is to measure everything according to my standards. My goals, my objectives, they triumph over all the rest. That certainly describes a totally self-centered individual, and we might have an idea in our heads about what that person looks like. But we might be surprised. We've all known people who spend most of their time helping other people, but only on their own terms. We've known leaders of parishes and congregations in other denominations who had to have things just so, and indeed, seemed to be pretty good leaders. But their bottom line was “My way or the highway”. And so there is a type of person who wishes to save his life, but will never be able to deal with things that threaten his ideas about what he has been put on this earth for.

The other approach is illustrated by the father I described. I wonder how many dreams he had when he was young and just starting out. Then, one by one he gave them all up, living for his child and his wife; he gave up his life. And he gave it up for Jesus' sake. I don't know if he was an active church-goer; but he was doing exactly what Jesus advocated: “Whatsoever you do for the least of my brothers, that you do for me.” And in that famous passage from Matthew's gospel, Jesus makes the point that those who did for the least did not even know they were doing it for the Master. I wonder how many people will be saved by giving up their lives for other people? Probably that will count more than great sermons or fasting or saying many prayers.

I think it's interesting that Jesus promises that those who lose their lives for his sake will save them. And Jesus gives to most of his followers marriage, which seems made to help people give up their lives for His sake. That we don't take advantage of this great sacrament is our fault; but when can see that in a good marriage, like the marriage of Mary and Joseph, the husband and wife are always living for each other and for their children. Why else go to work, day after day, probably to a job you don't always love? And why when you' ve had a college education and a taste of working at something you love, give that up to raise your children, to fix the meals, to keep the house up? And why spend money that you could use for an ocean cruise or a new car on the education of your children? In a good marriage, the husband and the wife lose their lives, hopefully for the sake of something greater than themselves.

So to me that's the definition of a great father; someone who willingly gives up his life for his family. And of course it's the definition of a great mother as well. And if they are doing this knowing that they are really doing this for Jesus, then they are saving their lives.

Happy Father's Day to all you guys who are losing your lives to your family. For in doing this you will save your lives.

Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

Luke 7:36 – 8:3

In the first reading, the prophet Nathan confronts King David with the fact that the Lord was exceedingly generous towards him, and yet he committed terrible sins: first, adultery with the wife of one of his loyal soldiers; then murder to cover up the first sin. David admits to his sin, and immediately Nathan assures him that even though there will be consequences, namely, that the sword will not depart from his house, and later, that the child of this union will die, God has already forgiven David's sin. And then we hear Paul assuring us that if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing; in other words, we are not forgiven because of the works we do, but because of faith in Christ Jesus.

And then in what seems to be a turn-around, Jesus tells Simon that because this woman has loved much, her sins are forgiven. Jesus seems to be saying that because of her works, she is forgiven, not because of faith. He even compares the love Simon showed with that of the woman, adding to the idea that the more you do, the more you will be forgiven. To confuse matters further, Jesus dismisses the woman by saying “Your faith has saved you, now go in peace.”

Perhaps one of the biggest controversies in Christianity has to do with how we are justified, or forgiven, or saved – however you want to put it. Even in the New Testament there is controversy; much of the Epistle of James seems to have been written to clarify what Paul wrote in Romans. Paul says this: “If Abraham was justified by God for the things he did, he would have reason to boast; but … the scripture says :Abraham believed God, and because of his faith God accepted him as righteous.” But James says, “How was Abraham put right with God? It was when he offered his son Isaac on the altar... You see then it is by his actions that a person is put right with God, not by faith alone.”

And there are other passages on both sides of the issue: Jesus says we are to have faith in the son of man, but in the Gospel of Matthew those who have done good works even not knowing they have been doing them for the Master are justified.

Controversy over how we are saved caused the Protestant reformation. It's interesting that Martin Luther did everything he could to assure himself of salvation, until he had a near nervous breakdown. Afterward he found evidence in scripture that faith in Jesus is all you need; nothing you can do will change that. And Saint Francis de Sales, a few years later, went through the same kind of crisis, but in his case he responded by by becoming a priest, later a bishop, and spending his life doing good works.

To be fair, the Catholic church always taught that faith was necessary for salvation. There are too many verses in scripture, even in James, that make that point. But the issue is really what is meant by the word “Faith”. In Latin there are two terms, Ascentia and Fiducia. Ascentia means that I believe something – for example, I believe that Jesus lived on the earth 2000 years ago and founded a church. You could probably find a lot of people who aren't Christians who could agree with that statement. But Fiducia implies not only belief but also trust, as in “I believe Jesus is my Lord and Savior.” Implied in Fiducia is action.

There are some Protestants who would insist that all you have to do is acknowledge Jesus as your Lord and Savior and you will be saved. And there are, unfortunately, some Catholics who believe the more rosaries you say, the more masses you attend, the more you avail yourself of the sacrament of Penance, the more likely you will be saved. I remember reading about an exchange between a reporter and a man who was very active in his parish and a daily communicant. The reporter said, “You must really love the Lord!” and the man replied, “I don't know about that, but I'm making sure He'll have no excuse to keep me out of heaven.”

I think, though that the majority of Christians – Catholics, Protestants, Orthodox – would agree that a person who claims to be a Christian who does not act like one is not one, regardless of what he says. So you are all saying, “Well and good, but what does that have to do with me?” And I think that's where we all can learn something from this story from the life of Jesus. I identify with Simon; I try to lead a good life and stay out of trouble and do what I need to do to stay on God's good side. But compared to the woman weeping at Jesus feet, I love little. If Jesus needed a meal I'd be happy to make him a sandwhich, even have him over for supper. She on the other hand is demonstrating her love by giving everything – symbolized by the alabaster flask full of precious ointment – symbolized by using her own hair and tears to wash His feet; symbolized by publically weeping over her sins. She loves much.

Recently a young woman of my acquaintance, a successful editor in a Catholic publishing house, joined an order of sisters. She sold her car, donated her clothing, closed her facebook account, got rid of her cell phone, and changed her name. That is loving much.

The twelfth step in Alcoholics Anonymous is an interesting one. It says, “Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and to practice these principles in all our affairs.” It is a recognition that real faith implies putting ourselves out, doing something about what we believe, otherwise, it dies.

So this is a good day to ask the question, how much do I love? Like Simon? Or like the woman?”

Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, cycle C

Luke 7:11-17

The Church presents two stories for our contemplation. They are similar in that the son of a widow is raised from the dead. But they are quite different as well. In the first story, Elijah has been living with the widow and her son. You remember? He was fleeing from people who wanted him dead, and when he was resting in this town, he asked the widow to make a little cake for him. She said that she only had enough flour and oil to make a little food for her and her son and then they would die. Elijah promised that the jar of oil would not be empy and the bin of flour would remain full until the famine was over. This story we hear occurs later; the boy stops breathing, the woman blames her sins and Elijah, and Elijah takes the boy to his room and prays that he be restored to life. Even the widow did not see the miracle. And clearly this miracle has to do with rewarding the widow for her charity towards Elijah, and assuring her that her sin is not behind her loss.

But the second story is so different. We have two processions; we have a procession of death, a procession going to the grave. The custom in those days was that the family of the dead person would lead the procession, and in this case, that's the widowbringing her son, followed by the townspeople, to the graveyard, where she will bury all her hopes and dreams as well. The other procession is the one of life. Jesus has been working miracles of healing throughout the area, and has collected quite a following. It seems as though he is using his power to overcome all those limitations, blindness, deafness, being lame, being posessed by demons – that keep people from living life to the fullest. And so the procession of death meets the procession of life.

Jesus cannot allow death to pass, and he takes pity on the widow. Unlike the case of Elijah, Jesus does not know the widow personally. Unlike Elijah begging God for a miracle hidden away in his room, Jesus simply tells the young man to get up. And unlike Elijah's miracle, worked before no eyes other than his, the entire crowd, the procession of life and the procession of death, witness the miracle.

The young man went on, we presume, to grow up, to marry, to raise his own family, and finally to die again, perhaps with many people mourning him. The widow has been spared, but not all those future mourners. Death is inevitable, for Lazarus, for the young girl who was the daughter of the synagogue official, for this person, and for Jesus himself. Only Jesus returns to live forever. So why did Jesus choose to perform this miracle at this time?

The gospel says he had pity on the widow, and I'm sure he did. But what about all the other widows, what about his own mother, who was probably a widow? Why didn't her raise Saint Joseph? Did Jesus raise the son for his own sake? Probably there was something to that. This is a young man, maybe a teenager. He has not lived his life to the full. He was so full of potential, and maybe Jesus sees that and gives him a second chance. But again, why him, and not others?

I think the main reason Jesus worked this miracle when he did and where he did was to show us all that Life overcomes death. This is what we see acted out here, but this is what we know by faith and by Jesus' own resurrection.

I take two things away from this second story. I know many people who seem to have not done what God has meant for them to do. Sometimes it's because they haven't lived long enough, and one would hope that time will help. But there are many people as we all know who because of poverty, drugs, alcohol – or maybe just being born in the wrong part of the world, who will never achieve what God wants for them. And there are many others who, let's face it, have given themselves over to a life of self-indulgence, of greed, of pursuit of wealth or power or pleasure, and have turned their backs on God. And they are not achieving what the father wants for them.

Jesus made it possible for the young man to achieve his potential, and since we are his disciples, and we are called to carry out his work in the world, that should be on our agenda as well. How can we help each other to live full lives, to live as God wants us to live? We can't raise the dead, but we can do something about the living. In a sense, that's the purpose of a parish – a community of people who seek to form the Body of Christ, to help each of us to do our part in this body.

The second thing I take away is how rare it is that through a miracle a person is raised from the dead. Besides the Resurrection of Jesus, a very different event than these resuscitations, There are a total of five instances in the New Testament – three by Jesus, one by Peter, and one by Paul when someone was raised from the dead. In the Old Testament I could only find two instances, one by Elijah and another by his disciple, Elisha. That's it. That seems to tell us that when we die, it is God's will that it be at that time and place. That is somewhat reassuring, I guess. Someone once speculated that we die at a time when God sees that our chances of salvation are as high as they can get; and that makes sense if you believe in a merciful God. He calls us when he sees that we have achieved what He wants us to achieve, or perhaps when he sees that nothing further can be expected.

This week we lost Father Vern DeCoteau, one of my instructors in the diaconate program, and a wonderful inspiring priest. He is mourned, he will be missed, but would anyone want Jesus to come along and raise him from the dead? If we believe what our faith tells us, he has reached the goal of his life, and we can only hope that we will have a blessed death as well.

Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ

Luke 9:11-17

When I was in grade school, I always wondered why my two grandmothers went to Communion so infrequently. My German grandmother was very prayerful, and would get to Mass whenever she could; she would say the rosary every day and had other devotions. My Scotch-Irish grandmother was I guess, spiritual but not religious, as they say today. She was married to a man who was raised a Mormon, but didn't practice any religion. She would come to Mass on Sunday and sit in the back of the church and say a rosary while the priest said the Mass in Latin. I think I saw her receive communion two or three times a year, usually on Easter and Christmas.

When you get into the history of the practice of the reception of the Eucharist, it's interesting. In the early days of the Church, all of those who participated in the liturgy would receive. Fragments of the consecrated bread would be brought to those too sick to come. It was truly considered Spiritual food. Later, the church began to insist that a person who was a sinner could not partake of the Eucharist. Initially sins like apostasy and adultery and murder were what characterized a sinner. However, as time went on and as the sacrament of penance evolved, long lists of sins and appropriate penances were made to help priests. More and more “mortal” sins appeared. Missing the Sunday liturgy; insulting a priest; making a bad confession by not disclosing all your sins, even the minor ones; being distracted during mass – Along with this evolution of the understanding of sin came the Jansenist movement which held that only a few souls would make it to heaven, an idea that actually had a lot to do with the origins of Protestantism.

My grandmothers were influenced by this history. To them, receiving Holy Communion was a special privilege requiring a lot of preparation. It was, after all, during their young adulthood that Pius X urged the frequent reception of Communion and making it available to children once they reached the age of reason. But the damage had been done to my grandmothers.

The reaction to the idea that only those without sin could receive was the rise of the veneration of the Eucharist just as we do in Benediction and in Holy Hours before the Blessed Sacrament.

The Feast of Corpus Christi, that is, the Body of Christ, was the product of the veneration of the Eucharist in this context. It was a special time to recall that Jesus was keeping his promise to us that he would be with us always, to the end of the world. It was a re-affirmation of the truth that the Bread and Wine become the Real Sacramental presence of Jesus. And in the days of infrequent communion it served as a substitute, perhaps; people would sit in the presence of the Eucharist and pray to the Lord. My grandmothers had no doubt at all in their minds that Jesus was physically present.

Today we are almost back to those days of the early church. Very few people would avoid receiving the Eucharist because they feel too sinful. We don't have the sense any more. And it seems as though very few of us sense the real presence either. Holy Communion is casual. People receive and then walk out the door before Mass is even over. And polls of American Catholics suggest that almost half of those who go to Mass think the Eucharist is just a symbol.

If the Eucharist is what the Church says it is, we have to get back to the right sort of balance. We need to show by our physical behavior as well as our mental prayer that we truly believe Jesus is present in the Blessed Sacrament. Sometimes that means we have to deliberately place ourselves in His presence even when Mass is not going on. Jesus waits to hear us and speak with us and while it's true that we could do this in our own homes, there is something special about coming into his physical presence. All of us who have families know that there is something special when we get together with a loved one; email, text messages and skyping don't really fill the gap. This is exactly why the Roman Catholic Church has venerated the Eucharist for so long. How can we really cultivate a personal relationship with Our Lord long distance, as it were?

But the other side of the coin is necessary as well. We are urged to receive the Eucharist as often as possible – but as Saint Paul tells us, we are to receive it worthily. What does that mean? Well, we should be in what we used to call a “state of grace”. That means that we are conscious of our sins and review our spiritual progress with our confessor every now and then. But it also means that we approach the Eucharist recalling what is happening – we are being fed the Body and Blood of Jesus. It means that our whole being comes to the Eucharistic table with reverence, not just our minds. We indicate by our postures and gestures that we are approaching God himself, in the person of Jesus. We prepare for communion by at least a few moments of reflection. And after receiving we spend at least a few minutes focusing entirely on the Lord who is now within us.

We Roman Catholics are so fortunate. Unlike other Eucharistic churches, we usually can receive communion every day. And in those other Churches the Lord is physically present only during the Sunday liturgy; there is no practice of reserving the eucharist, or having the opportunity for silent adoration.

So on this feast of Corpus Christi let us resolve to increase our devotion.

Trinity Sunday, cycle C, 2016

John 16:12-15

During the 11^th century some bishops proposed to Pope Alexander that a special feast be set aside to honor the Blessed Trinity. Pope Alexander replied that he was against this idea because it would mean that priests and bishops would try to explain the Trinity, and that would always lead to heresy. About one hundred years later Pope John the twenty-second did proclaim the feast we celebrate today. Pope Alexander's worries came true. If you have a little time and a computer, go to You Tube and enter “Saint Patrick's bad analogies”. It's very clever; Saint Patrick meets two Irish peasants and tries to explain the Trinity; with each attempt, they point out that he's just made another heretical statement. It's a good introduction to the problems we face.

There is the heresy of partialism like comparing the Trinity to a shamrock. There's the heresy of modalism, if you compare the Trinity to how a woman can be a wife, a mother, and a daughter all at the same time. There's the heresy of Tritheism, if you say that the Father creates, the Son redeems, and the Holy Spirit sanctifies. And don't forget Adoptionism, when you see the Father as in some way superior to the Son or the Spirit.

And one of the greatest theologians, Saint Gregory Nanzanzien, explained the Trinity in this way: “No sooner do I conceive of the One than I am illumined by the splendour of the Three; no sooner do I distinguish Three than I am carried back into the One. When I think of any of the Three, I think of him as the whole, and my eyes are filled, and the greater part of what I am thinking escapes me. I cannot grasp the greatness of that One so as to attribute a greater greatness to the rest. When I contemplate the Three together, I see but one torch, and cannot divide or measure out the undivided light."

But if you think I am going to explain the Trinity to you today, you are mistaken. All I can do is tell you what it is not. There are long books from the time of the early Church fathers to now which delve into the Trinity, but bring us no closer to understanding it. Saint Augustine was thinking about the Trinity when he met a child who told him that his mind could never understand what he was trying to grasp.

Who do you think knows the most about the Trinity? Thomas Aquinas? Pope John Paul II? I think it must have been Mary. No other human being has had such an intimate relationship with God.

In Mary the Trinity is evident, experienced, remembered, and desired. Every story we have about her shows this, and the only one who could be the source of those stories is Mary.

The Father tells her that she is to be the Mother of the Savior and she joyfully consents. The Spirit overshadows her and the child Jesus I conceived in her womb. She is called “Highly favored daughter” by the angel who speaks for the Father; she is espoused by the Holy Spirit who brings about her pregnancy; and she is mother to the Son who takes on flesh in her womb.

At the birth of Jesus, the Son, the Glory of the Father is revealed to the shepherds, and the Holy Spirit guides the Magi to him.

When Jesus becomes separated from them at the age of twelve, they find him in the House of the Father, the great temple in Jerusalem, where the learned rabbis are aware of the Spirit within him – how else could he have such wisdom?

At Cana a young couple enter into a solemn contract in the presence of God, and Mary persuades Jesus to bring about the miracle changing water into wine, through the Spirit.

We find one other story where Mary and her relatives worry that Jesus might have gone off the rails, and they come to bring him home. But Jesus through the Spirit claims all those who listen to him as family, just as the Father has claimed him as Beloved Son.

And Mary is never a proud mother in all of these events; at the Annunciation she is skeptical: “ How can this be, for I have not known a man?”. At the birth of Jesus she is exhausted from labor and frightened from being so far from home. When Jesus is found in the temple she is frantic and like any mother, ready to scold her son: “How could you do this to your father and I?”. At Cana she is insistent and nagging: “Do whatever he tells you”, she tells the waiters, knowing that this will put pressure on her son. And when she and her relatives try to bring Jesus home, she feels rejection, as Jesus insists that his family are those who hear his words and do the will of the father, not just those who have a biologic connection.

The stories of Mary told to Matthew and Luke and John bring into focus the interaction of the Trinity which first entered into her life, with world-changing consequences, and now enters into every Christian. She was the first into whom the Spirit entered, at the command of the Father, to bring forth the God-man Jesus. And that is the pattern all through the history of Christianity: The Father asks you and I to conceive Christ in ourselves, and with our consent, the Holy Spirit brings this miracle about.

The late Peter Gomes who was the chaplain of Harvard said this: “we aren’t here to own anything, but to receive everything; not to finish anything, but to participate in something. And if it seems unfair not to see the fruits of our labor, it is likewise an undeserved privilege that we get to labor at all.” This is Mary. History suggests that she joined the community of Saint John, somewhere in Turkey. By the time of her death, what did she really know? She knew that there were people who followed her son; she probably knew that this little group didn't know where they were going or what to expect. All she knew is that she had been a part of something which she did not understand. And she thanked God for what he had done for her. And maybe, because she was human, she might have asked whether he could have accomplished his purposes with less violence and pain and suffering for the Son she brought into the world. But in the end Mary trusted the great power, the great love, that had entered her life; trusted without understanding, just as you and I must do.

Pentecost, 2016

John 20:19-23

Listen to Saint Basil the Great: “From the Spirit comes foreknowledge of the future, understanding of the mysteries of the faith, insight into the hidden meaning of Scripture, and other special gifts. Through the Spirit we become citizens of heaven, we enter into eternal happiness, and abide in God. Through the Spirit we acquire a likeness to God, indeed, we attain what is beyond our most sublime aspirations – we become God.”

Jesus promised this Spirit to His Church and his people; the early Christians relied on the Spirit to guide them. We are told by Saint Paul that the Spirit gives each of us a gift for the building up of the Church. Every time we receive a Sacrament we partake of Jesus' spirit, especially in Baptism and Confirmation. It would seem that the Spirit would be obvious to each of us. And yet, when we think about the Spirit, sometimes we have in our minds the image of people speaking in tongues – Holy Rollers, perhaps – and being Catholics, we tend to resist that kind of spirituality. And so with all those wondrous promises about the Spirit, we kind of blunder through life not even aware that the Spirit is constantly giving Himself to us.

I don't think you have to be a mystic or a monk to experience the Spirit. You and I, are, after all, beings who experience everything through our senses. We have the five physical senses and the four mental senses – the ability to know, memory, emotion and imagination. Even if we have mystical experiences, they need to be translated into sensory information if we are to experience them at all. And that's where I think we become confused. Have you ever had an impulse to do something, something unusual, outside of your normal pattern, which if done might have resulted in something good? That's one way the Spirit works. Have you ever had a moment when someone popped into your mind, someone you hadn't thought about in years? That's another way the Spirit works. Have you ever had a moment when you felt like you were part of something much bigger than yourself? Maybe on top of a mountain, or sitting beside a seashore, or holding a newborn infant? That's the Spirit; one of his gifts is joy, and Jesus wants our joy to be complete. Jesus told us that the Spirit would teach us everything and remind us of all that He taught his apostles. Sometimes when you are in prayer or reading scripture, an insight will come, or a prompting. That's the Holy Spirit. He doesn't reveal our whole future to us, but he is always working in the present moment.

Now, you say, doesn't modern psychology tell us about the unconscious? Don't certain sensory stimuli trigger the recall of memories that were buried deep in our brains? We all know that we do things and fail to do things for reasons which aren't always clear to us. And just as we have impulses to do good things, we also have them to do evil things. And sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. Is the Spirit whispering in one ear and the devil in the other? Not really. Jesus told us that his followers would have power over Satan, and he could not harm us where it really counts. I think we get an inkling of what's going on when we read the story of Adam and Eve. We blame the serpent for the sin of our first parents, but all he did was suggest to Eve that in forbidding them to eat of a particular fruit, God was keeping them from becoming like Him. When Eve looked at the fruit, it says that she saw that it really looked delicious; she listened to her own voice rather than God's.

There are no coincidences for a Christian. And Jesus gives us the Spirit so that we can tell good from evil. And the Spirit is always interacting with us – always. Our task is to recognize the Spirit and become more sensitive to His presence.

Pick up any Life of a Saint and you will see where that sensitivity gets you. There are many examples, but Mother Angelica comes to mind. At a very early age she began listening to the Spirit, and more important, acting on what she believed the Spirit was telling her to do. With great confidence, she would step out; and if she was on the wrong track it would become apparent quickly, Because the Spirit protects us from error. Likewise, if she was on the right track, the Spirit would confirm that. And as time went on she learned to tell the difference between the voice of the Spirit and her own wishful thinking. The biggest problem we have is that most of the time we don't act on the impulses given to us by the Spirit, so we don't learn to tell the difference between His voice and the voices of others or of ourselves. But it's within your reach and mine to be on intimate terms with this third person of the Blessed Trinity.

When I was young a common belief was that we human beings only used about five percent of our brains. It turns out that that isn't really true; But I think we could say something like that about many Christians; we have this wonderful gift from God, the Holy Spirit, who is a person, who interacts with us, whose mission is to make us saints, who wants to give us joy, who has given each of us gifts to give each other.

So on this Feast of Pentecost, think about these things. Jesus promised to give you and I the Spirit He told us what the Spirit could do in us and through us and for us. The early Christians and the Saints all showed us that the Spirit is active in the lives of his people – even up to today. And there isn't any reason you and I can't have what Jesus promised. So pray that the Spirit help you hear Him better; and then do what the great Saints did, what the First Christians did, and look for the Spirit in your daily lives, and when you think you hear Him, act on what He is telling you; and count on the promise that he will show you if you are wrong and confirm your action if you are right. And always remember that when you experience joy, the Spirit is there.

Seventh Sunday of Easter, cycle C

John 17:20-26

As you undoubtedly know, we are going to probably have to choose between Donald Trump and Hilary Clinton for our next president. Nine months ago, every respectable political commentator predicted that Trump wouldn't last all that long and the Republicans would nominate Jeb Bush or maybe Marco Rubio. Nine months ago they said Hilary would win the Democratic primary in a walk, and Bernie Sanders was just a flash in the pan. It's rare when there is so much agreement about something that was totally wrong.

The columnist David Brooks wrote last week that he thought he was wrong because over the years he had increasingly associated with people like him – affluent, educated, and moderately liberal. He began to think that what was only a small part of the country resembled the whole. He thought he and others like him had to get outside their ghettos and re-discover the rest of the country if they were going to be able to make any sense out of politics.

When Jesus prays for unity in the gospel today, we usually think to ourselves that he is talking about all the divisions in Christianity, a scandal to many. But while I feel good when someone from another denomination becomes a Catholic, I am not ecstatic; I have met so many people who are members of other denominations who are better Christians than I am. I can't help but admire other Christian bodies who continue to give rise to saintly people. And while there were violent conflicts between different groups of Christians down through the ages, right from the beginning, I think that the degree of strife between Christian denominations is probably at its lowest point, and the amount of ecumenical cooperation has hit an all time high. In ways that truly matter, Christianity today is more united than in the past. And of course it would be odd if Jesus, who was talking to twelve Jewish guys who had no concept of the fact that they were going to form a new religion, was referring to divisions that were still about a thousand to fifteen hundred years off.

But maybe Jesus is talking about a different kind of unity. Most of us are like David Brooks. We have a comfort zone. Many years ago my wife and I had a brief vacation in Jamaica. Most of the people there are descended from African slaves. We stayed in a place where we were the only caucasians. We ate in the dining area with our fellow guests. I didn't feel uncomfortable. But one day we stopped in at a beachfront hotel – a Hilton, I think. We went through a gate into the garden-like courtyard. We stepped into the lobby of the hotel – and saw that everyone, from the guests to the bellhops, was caucasian. It was only when it fell away that I noticed I had been vaguely uncomfortable before. I tell this story simply to illustrate that all of us have a comfort zone, and we are biologically programmed, I think, to stay in that zone. It takes a lot of effort to leave.

And yet that is what Jesus demonstrated in his own life. He left the little town he grew up in, for starters. In those days where most people never ventured more than a few miles from where they were born, Jesus wandered all over Palestine, confronting people in the big city, people in Samaria, people who worshiped the gods of Rome. Jesus conversed with lepers and beggars and people with chronic illnesses. And the early Christians tried, with varying degrees of success, to imitate him. The Jerusalem community had some difficulty integrating the Greek-speaking Jews with those who spoke Hebrew, but they did. Later, some adjustments had to be made so that the Gentiles would not be made to feel like second class citizens by not following Jewish laws. And later we hear Paul say, “In Christ Jesus there is no male nor female, Jew nor Greek, slave or freeman.” The rapid growth of the Church was due in part to the fact that anyone and everyone was treated like a member of the family.

There were several moments in Christian history when the growth of the Church was explosive. When I was young we were at the tail end of one of those periods. I went to the Catholic University of America and my classes were filled with young men and women who were members of religious orders. We were all thrilled to hear about famous movie actors and sports figures who converted to Catholicism. Missionaries were going all over the world – the Maryknolls were an order that grew right in our own soil, and had missions all over the world, the seed which they planted is still bearing fruit. But now the order is just a shadow of what it once was.

It seems as though whenever the Church grows, it's because people are willing to leave their comfort zone, willing to leave people like themselves and become part of other societies, other social groups. And when the church falters and stops growing, it's because we fall back into those little ghettos where everyone looks like myself. If you go around many of our communities in Western Massachusetts, you find churches which are no longer in use – the Irish church, the polish church, the Italian church – all built by people who couldn't stand the thought of leaving their comfort zone. And now no one uses those churches.

Do you and I listen to the prayer of Jesus, that all may be one? Do you and I know the names of anyone who sleeps under the memorial bridge at night? Or some of the Somali refugees who have moved into our towns? Or even our fellow Catholics from Puerto Rico or Viet Nam? Or are we content to let our communities never come into contact with each other because to do otherwise makes us feel uncomfortable.

I think this is the unity Jesus wants for all of us – that we recognize that we are all children of the same father, brothers and sisters of the same Jesus, temples of the same Holy Spirit. And if we live with that in mind, if to us it doesn't make a difference whether you are Jew or Greek, Male or Female, Slave or free, then people will once again say, “See how those Christians love one another!” and want we have, and want to become one with us.