VISUAL THEOLOGY

The Baptism of Christ, ca. 1480–1490, Pupil of Veit Stoss, Cracow, Lindenwood with polychromy and gilding (120.6 x 99.6 cm), Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York).  Veit Stoss of Nuremberg was one of the most influential German artists of the Late Gothic era. This work by one of his pupils most likely dates from Stoss's residence in Cracow, where he maintained a thriving workshop for nearly twenty years before returning to Nuremberg in 1496. The composition was adapted from an engraving by Martin Schongauer of the Baptism of Christ. It probably once included the figures of God the Father and the dove of the Holy Spirit shown blessing the event in accordance with scripture: "He saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove to alight upon him; and a voice from heaven was heard saying, 'This is my Son, my Beloved, on whom my favor rests'" (Matthew 3:16–17). John, dressed in his "rough coat of camel hair," anoints Christ with the waters of the River Jordan while an attending angel waits with Christ's robe. The mannered flow of Christ's loincloth echoes the river's swirling current, as do the circular patterns suggested by the arrangement of the figures and their gestures. Originally, this work would have been part of an altarpiece; it is perhaps from a lateral wing composed of a much larger ensemble of scenes. The play of both candlelight and daylight over the relief would have enhanced the richness of the painted and gilded wood surfaces ■

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

In this Sunday’s second reading from St. Paul’s Letter to the Colossians, the Apostle of the gentiles speaks about a mystery, a mystery that has been hidden for ages is now manifested to God’s Holy Ones.  The mystery is this: Christ is in you[1].

Usually when we use the word mystery, we think of a story that has an ending we try to solve before we get to the last page of the book or last five minutes of the movie. When the Church uses the term mystery, it goes much deeper. For the Church a mystery is a truth that is incomprehensible to the reason and knowable only through divine revelation. The Early Church referred to the sacraments as the mysteries. The liturgy of the church is plenty of this kind of terms.

The main events of the action of Jesus Christ in our world is called the Mystery of Faith. At the most solemn time in the Mass, after the Bread and Wine become the Body and Blood of Christ, we are called upon to proclaim the Mystery of Faith, and we respond something similar to: Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.

St. Paul, therefore reminds the Colossians and us that we have received a mystery, the Mystery that Christ is in us. Sadly when it comes to this Mystery many people, and many times we ourselves, are clueless.

Let us be honest: we go about our day, so busily engaged in doing this and that we overlook the purpose for our actions, we overlook the reason for our being, we forget about the presence of Christ. Like Martha in the Gospel we are concerned with doing instead of being.

Martha was busy doing this and that in her valiant efforts to prepare for Jesus. Mary, her sister, was concerned with being, with being with Jesus.

Today, Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary time let us make a firm resolution: let us be focus in on the presence of the Lord right here, right now, in our lives, in your family and others, in the Church, in the world. This is the mystery that St. Paul is speaking about. Jesus Christ is here. When we are  attuned to the presence of the Lord, we will force ourselves to consider if a particular action or inaction  will strengthen or weaken the Divine Presence.

For example, some times people will say, “Well, the Church says this or that, regarding some situation or other, but I disagree.”  Well, it is not a matter of what the Church says, it is a matter of the presence of Christ.  It is not merely a matter that the Church says it is wrong to get drunk, it is a matter of considering what this action is doing to the presence of Jesus in our lives. A wise young priest and very good friend of mine once said to me, “A good way to judge whether an action is moral or not is to ask yourself whether or not you can pray better after the action.” Interesting. And true.  If after a course of action, we find prayer difficult, then we have probably have driven the Lord out of our lives, or at least we have diminished His presence.

We need to pray. We harbor, we treasure the presence of Christ within each of us, within our homes and in our parochial community. We need to make time every day to recognize this presence within us. We need to pray. We need to stop and hear the Lord in the silence. We cannot allow the many concerns of our lives to hide the only thing that matters, the presence of Jesus–His presence within us, His presence in those we love, His presence in those who reach out to us. We cannot allow anything to dull this presence, His Presence.

When we make the time to be in His presence, when we join Mary of Bethany in just enjoying the Lord in our lives, we will find ourselves walking a road less traveled, a road of serenity in the middle of hectic activity. My brother, my sister, when we choose to nurture the presence of the Lord within us, we, like Mary, will be choosing the better part ■

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[1] Sunday 18th July, 2010, 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time. Readings: Genesis 18:1-10. The just will live in the presence of the Lord—Ps 14(15):2-5. Colossians 1:24-28. Luke 10:38-42.

Libra mis ojos de la muerte;

dales la luz que es su destino.

Yo, como el ciego del camino,

pido un milagro para verte.

Haz de esta piedra de mis manos

una herramienta constructiva;

cura su fiebre posesiva

y ábrela al bien de mis hermanos.

Que yo comprenda, Señor mío,

al que se queja y retrocede;

que el corazón no se me quede

desentendidamente frío.

Guarda mi fe del enemigo

(¡tantos me dicen que estás muerto!)

Tú que conoces el desierto,

dame tu mano y ven conmigo ■

Himno de Vísperas. Liturgia de las Horas.

XV Domingo del Tiempo Ordinario (C)

Que estamos llamados a ser como el Buen Samaritano todos lo sabemos, y que alguna vez hemos estado tirados al borde del camino como aquel fue asaltado, muchos lo hemos experimentado. Este éste domingo –el décimo quinto del Tiempo Ordinario- quizá es buen momento para detenernos a reflexionar de forma breve sobre la actitud de aquellos dos hombres –el sacerdote y el levita- que no se detienen a brindar su ayuda a aquel hombre necesitado.

A través de otros pasajes del evangelio conocemos algunas actitudes de los levitas y los fariseos[1], hombres que –quizá como muchos de nosotros- solían hablar de Dios y de sus cosas como si lo conocieran de toda la vida, como si tomaran café y leyeran el periódico sentados a su lado, sintiéndose absolutamente convencidos de que lo suyo –es decir su criterio y opiniones- era la más pura y absoluta verdad. Los fariseos y levitas que encontramos en el evangelio no era eran malas personas, eran solamente ciegos que guiaban a otros ciegos, personas demasiado únicamente entretenidas en las cosas del espíritu y por lo mismo demasiado lejanos a sus hermanos, ¡ay si hubieran bajado a la arena donde toreaban los demás quizá no se hubieran vuelto tan distantes!

El levita y el sacerdote no prestaron atención a aquel necesitado porque llevaban quizá una vida complicada debido a los cientos de preceptos y prohibiciones de la ley, de ésa ley que conocían tan bien. Personalmente nunca he visto a Dios, pero intuyo que para llegar a Él, e incluso para verlo, no hacen falta cientos y cientos de normas y preceptos –que en muchos casos no son más que causas de escrúpulos, mentalidades infantiles, aires de aristócratas del amor y alegrías de corral- sino un corazón sincero y limpio[2].

Para que la criatura se relacione con su Creador –con Dios- lo más básico son dos cosas: el silencio y dejarse querer; lo demás… viene solo, es decir, cuando el hombre se deja amar por su Creador y se deja llenar por su ternura, el amor –afectivo, real- por los demás, hacia los demás, deviene natural.

Y atención. Aquellos dos hombres que no se detienen ante su hermano herido formaban parte de grupos, grupos que no estaban precisamente abiertos a los demás. La naturaleza del hombre de grupito –sea el grupito que sea- muchas veces está hecha –o determinada- por creer fácilmente en las cosas que les dicen que hay que hacer: “si sigues nuestros criterios te irá bien”. A eso se le llaman mecanicismos, y son algo muy cercano a la superstición, mecanismos que algunos autores han señalado como peligroso para la espiritualidad. Y los mecanismos andan muy lejos del amor, por cierto.

Cuando los mecanicismos –por lo demás a veces inútiles e innecesarios al fin propuesto- se ven coronados por el éxito, quien los vive o quien ha hecho de ellos su forma de vida tiende a repetirlos y a volverse mecanicista perdiendo así el contacto real con los demás y asociando su conducta con el premio, creyendo que en cualquier circunstancia basta con repetir ésos mecanicismos para obtenerlo (el premio); premio que nunca puede conseguirse al margen de ese tipo de conducta.  Y¡sorpresa! el premio no es la vida eterna, necesariamente, lo que se puede buscar es un estar bien consigo mismo, un fruto apostólico que se desea, una virtud que se quiere alcanzar, un milagro,[3] y entonces lo que empezó siendo noble e incluso sublime, con la falta del amor que da Dios –que no el puro cumplimiento de la ley- todo termina volviéndose vacío y sin contenido. Corruptio optima, pessima est.

Todos tenemos un poco de levita, de sacerdote, de asaltado y desde luego de Buen Samaritano. El que es malo no lo es siempre ni e lo es con todos. Se trata –mediante la lucha de todos los días- de ir siendo más buen samaritano y menos levita.

Hace no mucho tiempo vi una película en la que se cruzan varias historias de personas anónimas, en un mundo más anónimo, difícil, en la sopa donde vivimos todos[4]. Biografías que te atrapan y sobrecogen. ¿Qué es lo que hace que te quedes un buen rato sentado viendo los créditos y preguntándote quién te acaba de dar una buena ración de bofetadas durante hora y media? Una película que te agarra y se estruja a ver si reaccionas. Y es que allí todos son, simultáneamente, héroes y villanos, santidad y miseria, grandeza y pequeñez, luz y sombra, amor y egoísmo, valentía y humillación cobarde. Cada historia, cada persona, muestra lo mejor y lo peor de ellos mismos… y caes en la cuenta de que cualquiera de nosotros somos eso mismo: cualquiera de nosotros puede ser uno de ellos. No es fácil escapar a lo mejor de nosotros, y a lo peor, todos los días. No somos más que lo que somos: una mezcla de cosas buenas y malas, de azar y providencia… no somos gran cosa, esa es la verdad, pero si uno se acepta, probablemente, la vida es más bella. La belleza, ¿quién lo dijo?, salvará el mundo.

Sabemos que el mar es un pasmo, y la música que le acompaña, que la selva es lujuria y que la noche puede acariciar. Sabemos que la risa de un niño perfuma la vida, que si uno tiene la suerte de haber sido amado, y el amor le besa, uno se queda temblando para siempre. Sabemos eso, y también que en casa a veces falta una mesa, que alguien tose cerca de nosotros su noche más triste, que hay un concierto de perros sueltos en algún lugar. Y sabemos que Dios es un Poeta que crea el Verso –el Logos- que abraza a todo el mundo, que le acoge, le venda y le cura. Dios escribe Padrenuestros donde se habla de ofensores y ofendidos, de librarnos del mal, de pan, de no dejarnos caer en la tentación. Un Poeta que sabe mucho de quienes somos, de qué pasta estamos hechos.

Para muchos la fuerza de sus hábitos ha llegado a ser tan grande, es tan potente su fuerza de gravedad, que asisten como  espectadores encadenados a la comedia que se desarrolla en ellos…vemos con repugnancia todos los hilos que nos mueven, pero somos incapaces de romperlos. Esta clarividencia, sin embargo, no es fatal, triste, sin salida. Es el primer paso para empezar a ser un buen samaritano que se sabe lleno de amor de Dios y justo por eso con la fuerza suficiente para detenerse y ayudar ■

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[1] Cfr Mt 15, 1-20; 21, 28-32; Mc 12, 38-40; 7, 21-23.

[2] Cfr Mt 5, 8.

[3] El tema de los mecanicismos y el hacer la norma por la norma roza muchas veces en la superstición y a veces parece incluso vudú. Es sabido que el vudú piensa que la posesión de un mechón de cabello, unos recortes de uña, le otorga un poder ilimitado sobre esa persona, incluso provocar la muerte.

[4] Crash (Alto impacto o Vidas cruzadas en algunos países de Hispanoamérica. Película estadounidense dirigida por Paul Haggis estrenada en Estados Unidos el 6 de mayo de 2005. Protagonizada Sandra Bullock, Matt Dillon, Don Cheadle, Brendan Fraser, Ryan Phillippe, Terrence Howard o Thandie Newton. Resultó ganadora de tres Premios Óscar en la edición de 2005, incluyendo el Óscar a la mejor película, Óscar al mejor guión original y Óscar al mejor montaje. 

Ilustración: El Buen Samaritano, Marko Iván Rupnik, S.I, capilla Redemptoris Mater, Ciudad del Vaticano. 

VISUAL THEOLOGY

Plaque with Saint John the Evangelist, early 9th century; Early Medieval Carolingian; Made in Aachen, Elephant ivory (18.3 x 9.5 cm), The Cloisters Collection, 1977, Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York). During the reign of Charlemagne in the ninth century, many Carolingian artists looked to the art and culture of the past in creating new works. This ivory plaque shows the evangelist John displaying the gospel he wrote. The book is inscribed with the gospel's first line: In principio erat verbum (In the beginning was the word). John, and the eagle that is his symbol, sit under an elaborate arch, inspired by the architecture of classical antiquity. John also wears a classical pallium and mantle. On the border of the ivory plaque appears an inscription in Latin. It is based on a line from the Carmen Paschale, a poem by the fifth-century writer Sedulius ■

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

In what is probably the best known parable in the gospels, the Good Samaritan, we are presented with a young man who is looking to serve God. He knows that we need to love God with our whole minds, hearts and souls, and love our neighbor as ourselves, but he wants to cover all bases and asks, who is my neighbor? and Jesus presents two Temple ministers, a Levite and a priest. They know that if they touch someone who the law said would be defiled in any way, they could not perform their service in the Temple. Yes: they had the written law, but they did not have the law of God in their hearts. So they walked pass the injured man on the side of the road[1].

On the contrary, the Good Samaritan did not base his actions on the written law. He based his actions on the Law within his heart, the Law of Love. The Samaritan’s were a mixed people, part Jewish and part pagan. The Jews called them half breeds and looked down on them for selling out to the pagans, however the Good Samaritan knew the Law better than the priest and the Levite. He did what a person who loves God would naturally do: care with love for someone who was hurting.

Love [you know] our society speaks so much about love that the Christian concept of love rigth now is very devaluated. Way back, there was a movie called Love Story that claimed: “Love is never having to say you are sorry.” Big mistake! Love is always saying you are sorry. Married people are always forgiving and accepting the others forgiveness. We love God, but we are continually going to confession. We seek and receive forgiveness because we know that we are loved.

Obviously, love is far deeper than the natural draw of two people towards each other. Nor is love lust. We are not animals [I mean] we can control our physical desires. What a horrible indictment of our young people when parents feel they need to put their daughters on birth control because neither they nor their boyfriends will be able to control themselves. This is really degrading to both kids. It also does not show a whole lot of faith in their parenting.

Few weeks ago his holiness Benedict XVI, wrote: «Love is not fulfilling oneself through the use of another. Love is giving oneself to another, for the good of the other, and receiving the other as a gift». That’s an extremely powerful statement. Often a person will say to another, “I need you to complete me. I need you to fulfill me.” Some people throw this into their wedding ceremony. Perhaps a husband and wife may say this to each other. Here’s a shocker: this is not correct. We need each other to draw closer to God, but it is God, not the other person who completes our being, who fulfills our purpose for living. Allow me to repeat this idea: it is God, not the other person who completes our being, who fulfills our purpose for living That is the reason why we do not need to marry to grow in love. The object of all real love is God. Some people are not called to marriage. Some are called to the single life. But all are called to love God, all we need is love!

My brother, my sister, the law of God is written in our hearts. We don’t need written rules to govern every aspect of our lives. We don’t need a law that says that as Christians we can’t pass by injured travelers. In the parable, even a Samaritan, knew that. We reach out to others because through them we are reaching out to God.

The lawyer’s question may not have been sincere. He may have been more concerned with testing Jesus then with finding a true answer. But we are genuine when we ask his question: What is it that we need to do to inherit eternal life? Or, more directly, how can we love God? Our Lord gives us the answer: we need to look within ourselves and reach out to God’s Presence wherever our hearts find Him ■

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[1] Sunday 11th July, 2010,  15th Sunday in Ordinary Time. Readings: Deuteronomy 30:10-14. Turn to the Lord in your need, and you will live—Ps 68(69):14, 17, 30-31, 33-34, 36-37. Colossians 1:15-20. Luke 10:25-37 [St Benedict].

Ilustration: Folio 7v from the Rossano Gospels, the Good Samaritan.

Así: te necesito

de carne y hueso.

Te atisba el alma en el ciclón de estrellas,

tumulto y sinfonía de los cielos;

y, a zaga del arcano de la vida,

perfora el caos y sojuzga el tiempo,

y da contigo, Padre de las causas,

Motor primero.

Más el frío conturba en los abismos,

y en los días de Dios amaga el vértigo.

¡Y un fuego vivo necesita el alma

y un asidero!

Hombre quisiste hacerme, no desnuda

inmaterialidad de pensamiento.

Soy una encarnación diminutiva;

el arte, resplandor que toma cuerpo:

la palabra es la carne de la idea:

¡Encarnación es todo el universo!

¡Y el que puso esta ley en nuestra nada

hizo carne su verbo!

Así: tangible, humano,

fraterno.

Ungir tus pies, que buscan mi camino,

sentir tus manos en mis ojos ciegos,

hundirme, como Juan, en tu regazo,

y, -Judas sin traición- darte mi beso.

Carne soy, y de carne te quiero.

¡Caridad que viniste a mi indigencia,

qué bien sabes hablar en mi dialecto!

Así, sufriente, corporal, amigo,

¡Cómo te entiendo!

¡Dulce locura de misericordia:

los dos de carne y hueso!

Gloria al Padre, y al Hijo, y al Espíritu Santo. Amén ■ 

de la Liturgia de las Horas

XIV Domingo del Tiempo Ordinario (c)

El Señor pide a aquello setenta y dos que pasen por los pueblos y lugares contagiando paz[1]. Tarea nada fácil, pues sólo quien la posee en su corazón puede comunicarla de verdad a los demás. Las vacaciones son, sin duda, momento privilegiado para reconstruir esa paz interior, a veces, tan maltratada por el día a día. Las vacaciones de verano son un buen momento para experimentar el silencio. Tal vez sea bueno olvidarse por unos días de la televisión y la red. Nuestro espíritu lo agradecerá. Mejor todavía si sabemos encontrar algún rincón tranquilo (la sombra de un bosque, la orilla de un río, la paz de una ermita...) para estar a solas con Dios, sin prisas. El silencio nos revelará muchas cosas. Descubriremos nuestra agitación interior y nuestras tensiones. Sentiremos la necesidad de vivir de otra manera. El silencio es siempre fuerza transformadora y fuente de paz.

Hemos también de sentir nuestro cuerpo, ese cuerpo nuestro que es templo del Espíritu Santo[2]. La mayor parte del tiempo vivimos olvidados absolutamente del cuerpo, crispado y tenso por las mil preocupaciones de cada día o lo que es peor, castigándolo como si fuera el peor de los enemigos.

Las vacaciones son un momento estupendo para hacer la experiencia nueva –al menos durante unos días- de sentir nuestro cuerpo, respirar conscientemente y con calma, tomar conciencia de las diversas sensaciones, sentarnos de manera relajada, pasear sintiendo nuestro caminar. Descubriremos con más fuerza la alegría de sentirnos vivos y de poder vivir ésa vida para Dios. Tendemos a acumular en nuestro interior las experiencias negativas, sin detenernos ante lo bueno y bello de la vida.

¿Por qué no dedicar unos días a vivir más despacio, observando las cosas pequeñas y saboreando agradecidos tantos placeres sencillos que ofrece el vivir diario? Quedaremos sorprendidos de todo lo que se nos regala de manera constante.

Hemos de aprender a mirar. Casi siempre corremos de un lado a otro sin captar apenas la vida que llena el cosmos y sin abrirnos al misterio que nos envuelve, ¡qué rápido perdimos la capacidad de asombro! Es bueno tomarse tiempo para aprender a mirar el entorno más despacio. No se trata de afinar los sentidos, sino de captar la vida que palpita dentro de las personas, los seres y las cosas, y escuchar su eco en nosotros.

Las vacaciones son también un momento estupendo para sanar los recuerdos dolorosos, para recuperar la paz, para curar las heridas que nos hacen sufrir interiormente. Es un verdadero arte vivir plenamente el momento presente, aquí y ahora, y hemos de aprenderlo desde la fe: el pasado pertenece a la misericordia de Dios; el futuro queda confiado a Su bondad y Su providencia.

El cristiano no necesita ni del miedo ni de cientos de criterios para formar su criterio; el cristiano no necesita de normas como semáforos, señales de tráfico, que les aseguren si van bien o mal. Cierto que nada hay más inestable que las opiniones, los entusiasmos y los ideales del espíritu. En general nuestras pasiones carnales, nuestros hábitos físicos, son más sólidos que las sombras que pueblan el mundo de nuestra razón. Sin embargo viviremos la fidelidad, y el amor, cuando ambos estén enraizados en nuestro cuerpo, y con un amor sano amemos y cuidamos de él, de nuestro cuerpo. Lo más inconstante en nosotros es el yo, siempre hambriento, con su orgullo, su curiosidad, su sed insaciable de nuevos ídolos. Se es más fiel no cuando se piensa mejor, sino cuando se siente más profundamente. Y sentir, lo que se dice sentir, se siente con el cuerpo y, a partir de él, esa sensibilidad conecta con la del espíritu, el espíritu que tendrá siempre el auxilio de la gracia de Dios. Por eso lo verdaderamente espiritual tiene más afinidades y está más en sintonía con lo sensible que con lo intelectual, y se graba más fácilmente en una emoción corporal auténtica –limpia, honesta- que en una opinión intelectual, o en un criterio que sólo se fija por vía de razonamientos tan insípidos como una cuchara.

La vida del cristiano no es ni lo puro material o terreno, ni tampoco únicamente vivir una vida cumpliendo acciones elevadas del espíritu. Es necesario un balance entre estos dos puntos pues desde un estado de autosuficiencia, de engreimiento, de acritud, de exclusividad de alma elegida, tarde o temprano se termina en la mentira, en la decadencia y en la falsedad farisaica. Más vale arruinarse con alma de santo, que hacer obras de santo con alma ruin. La santidad no es estirada ni altiva, sino que se inclina con amor sobre cualquier necesitado, no sólo sobre los importantes o los grandes del mundo.

Un consejo para éstos días de vacaciones: ver detenidamente La Pasión –mucho mejor si antes echamos un ojo a las páginas del Evangelio- y aplicarnos cada la historia de Dios que tomó la forma de un esclavo ■

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[1] Cfr Lc 10, 1-12, 17-20

[2] ¿No saben que sus cuerpos son templos del Espíritu Santo que habita en ustedes y que han recibido de Dios? Por lo tanto, ustedes no se pertenecen, si no que han sido comprados, ¡Y a qué precio! Glorifiquen entonces a Dios en sus cuerpos (1 Co 6, 19-20). 

VISUAL THEOLOGY

Christ Presenting The Keys to Saint Peter and The Law to Paul, , 1150–1200; Ivory 5 15/16 x 3 3/8 in. (15.1 x 8.5 cm) The Cloisters Collection, 1979, Metropolitan Museum of Art (New York). The theme of Christ handing the keys of heaven to St. Peter and the law to St. Paul, which originated in fourth-century Rome, refers to the establishment of the Church as stated in Matthew 16:18: "I also tell you that you are Peter and on this rock I will build my church." The parable highlights the importance of SS. Peter and Paul and, by extension, that of St. Peter's successors, the bishops of Rome. In this powerful interpretation, a domed structure replaces the rock on which Christ is more frequently depicted. The dramatic expressions, the fluid, clinging drapery, and the openwork carving are characteristic of German Romanesque ivory carving. The inscription, including the date 1200, is later ■

Independence Day 2010

We pray, Thee O Almighty and Eternal God! Who through Jesus Christ hast revealed Thy glory to all nations, to preserve the works of Thy mercy, that Thy Church, being spread through the whole world, may continue with unchanging faith in the confession of Thy Name.

We pray Thee, who alone art good and holy, to endow with heavenly knowledge, sincere zeal, and sanctity of life, our chief bishop, Pope n., the Vicar of Our Lord Jesus Christ, in the government of his Church; our own bishop, n., all other bishops, prelates, and pastors of the Church; and especially those who are appointed to exercise amongst us the functions of the holy ministry, and conduct Thy people into the ways of salvation.

We pray Thee O God of might, wisdom, and justice! Through whom authority is rightly administered, laws are enacted, and judgment decreed, assist with Thy Holy Spirit of counsel and fortitude the President of these United States, that his administration may be conducted in righteousness, and be eminently useful to Thy people over whom he presides; by encouraging due respect for virtue and religion; by a faithful execution of the laws in justice and mercy; and by restraining vice and immorality. Let the light of Thy divine wisdom direct the deliberations of Congress, and shine forth in all the proceedings and laws framed for our rule and government, so that they may tend to the preservation of peace, the promotion of national happiness, the increase of industry, sobriety, and useful knowledge; and may perpetuate to us the blessing of equal liberty.

We pray for his excellency, the governor of this state , for the members of the assembly, for all judges, magistrates, and other officers who are appointed to guard our political welfare, that they may be enabled, by Thy powerful protection, to discharge the duties of their respective stations with honesty and ability

We recommend likewise, to Thy unbounded mercy, all our brethren and fellow citizens throughout the United States, that they may be blessed in the knowledge and sanctified in the observance of Thy most holy law; that they may be preserved in union, and in that peace which the world cannot give; and after enjoying the blessings of this life, be admitted to those which are eternal.

Finally, we pray to Thee, O Lord of mercy, to remember the souls of Thy servants departed who are gone before us with the sign of faith and repose in the sleep of peace; the souls of our parents, relatives, and friends; of those who, when living, were members of this congregation, and particularly of such as are lately deceased; of all benefactors who, by their donations or legacies to this Church, witnessed their zeal for the decency of divine worship and proved their claim to our grateful and charitable remembrance. To these, O Lord, and to all that rest in Christ, grant, we beseech Thee, a place of refreshment, light, and everlasting peace, through the same Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Savior. Amen ■ Archbishop John Carroll November 10, 1791. 

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

This Sunday the prophet Isaiah uses the image of a baby nursing. Babies need the best food they can have, the food their mothers’ provide. The readings for our Liturgy begin with an image that is somewhat embarrassing in modern American society but perfectly natural in most other settings. That is the image of Jerusalem as being a mother nursing her child. In the earthly language of ancient Palestine, the image emphasizes that Jerusalem’s breasts are large, filled with milk. We are told to drink fully of the milk of her comfort and nurse with delight at her abundant breasts[1].

When I read this section of Isaiah, I remembered one of the saddest pictures I have ever seen. It was a picture of a mother and baby in Somalia during one of the horrible famines that plague that section of the world. The mother could not consume enough food for her breasts to produce milk for her baby. She sat there, her eyes glazed over with a suffering beyond imagination.  She sat and watched her infant crying and dying of starvation. That dying baby, that’s us without the Lord. That starving child is us when we are not consuming the Word of God.

Isaiah exhorts us, Nurse and be strong. You have a source of all the nourishment you need. Jerusalem provides the food this nourishment. From Jerusalem comes the Word of God, the Word of God in Scripture, the Word of God that has become flesh, Jesus Christ.

There are many times in our lives that we all cry out, “I am hungry. I am drained.  I am spiritually weak.” What do we say to our children when they are hungry? We say, “Eat something.” “I am hungry,” we complain. Then eat, the first reading tells us. “Read scripture, let the Word of God work on you.”, “But I don’t know where to start,” we cry. We have bibles. We have the Eucharist. We have everything we need. But we don’t take advantage of God’s gifts. A good place to start is to read the Sunday readings to prepare for the Eucharist. There are three readings, start on Monday and read the first reading, the second on Tuesday, the Gospel on Wednesday and then start again Thursday with the first reading. On Sunday read all three. Just ask yourself, “What is this reading saying to me”[2].

In today’s Gospel, the seventy-two who had been sent out to proclaim the kingdom return exuberant. You can feel their excitement in the reading. They had such wonderful experiences that they couldn’t wait to tell the Lord all about them. Everybody was talking at once. Jesus himself joined right in, I saw Satan falling like lightning from the sky. Who were these seventy-two? We don’t know even one their names. And there is a reason for that. They are us. We are the seventy-two. We are the ones who have nursed on the Word of God and become strong. We are the ones who have become so strong that other’s experience the Word of God within us. The Kingdom is proclaimed. Evil is destroyed. The devil falls from the sky.

And we are overwhelmed with joy.

But this joy, this joy is radically different from any other concept of joy we may have. This joy is different in a most shocking way. St. Paul speaks about this joy in today’s reading from Galatians. His joy, his strength, his boast is our joy, our strength our boast. His joy and our joy are in the Cross of the Lord Jesus Christ. And this is not merely a memory of an event that took place two thousand years ago, that is too simple, too convenient. His joy and our joy are in our sharing the Cross of the Lord. St. Paul says, I bear the marks of Jesus on my body. This can’t be relegated to a discussion on whether or not he received the stigmata. That’s too easy, too convenient. No, he and we are afflicted with the result of following Jesus Christ.

So, we avoid that party where there are not a Christian environment, Teens and Adults, and that causes pain from those who mock us for not going, and we gladly bear these pains in union with the Cross. And we happily give up what we want to care for another’s needs. Just about every one of you parents are doing this. You happily gave up that boat, that beach townhouse, that top of the line car that you wanted because   your children need a college education. Still, it smarts, but you happily make the sacrifice and bear the marks of the Lord on your body.

And so, we dare to make the decision to be holy, to be separate for the Lord, and people say to us, “Get real.” The girls at work, the guys on the business trip, the kids at school, the neighbors, the relatives, all mock us for wanting to be holy. They say, “Get real; everybody is doing this and that. It is the way the world is. Join it.” And we respond, “I am real. I am united to the one true reality, Jesus Christ. He means more to me than anything. His Holiness and His Presence are well worth, infinitely worth, what it costs, your scorn. I gladly bear the marks of the Lord on my body.”

The readings say to us today, Drink abundantly from the breasts of Jerusalem. Witness the action of God in your lives.  Relish in the Power of the Lord working through you, and boast, boast in your sharing in the Cross of Christ.”

O Lord, I want to be holy, just like you. I want to go where you lead me to. With reckless abandon to the truth, I want to fall deeper in love with you[3] ■

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[1] Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Readings for Mass: First Reading: Isaiah 66:10-14, Responsorial Psalm: Psalms 66:1-3, 4-5, 6-7, 16, 20, Second Reading: Galatians 6:14-18, Gospel: Luke 10:1-12, 17-20 or 10:1-9.

[2] Another daily practice we can have is reading a few verses every day of the Gospel for this year’s Sunday cycle, the Gospel of Luke. Or, perhaps, focus on the Gospel of John, the Gospel that makes an appearance throughout the church year during all three cycles.  Whatever we do, we need to nurse.  We need to get the food we need from Jerusalem’s abundant breasts, the Word of God.

[3] Matt Maher, Just Like You © Spirit and Song, used by permission CCLI#2368115