Being Evangelical

    Last Friday, for the first time ever, I watched an episode of Pokemon, the animated television series.  Please God, I will never watch another episode so long as I live.  But I was willing to sit through twenty-two minutes of screechingly dubbed Japanese animation because Pokemon is inexplicably dear to my Seventh-Grade English students.  And I promised them that if they would finish reading The Odyssey with me, I would watch an episode of Pokemon with them.
    In short, I was willing to do something I hated, and they were willing to do something they hated in order to share something we each loved.  Frankly, I’m not sure what was accomplished, but it impressed me that my students so cherished a television show that they were willing to endure hours of suffering at the hands of Homer in order to share it with me.  And this, I think, is a clue to the mystery at the heart of today’s gospel: when we find something we love, our first instinct as social creatures is to share it.
    “You’ve got to see this movie!” we say.
    “You’ve got to read this story!”
    “You’ve got to hear this song!”
    “You’ve got to!”
    Funny, though.  We’re aggressive enough when we’re talking about pop-culture.  Why then are we suddenly so shy when it comes to sharing our faith? 
    Throughout the history of the Church, countless Christians have suffered for the sake of spreading the gospel, from Saint Paul who was beheaded in Rome, to Saint Jean de Brébeuf, who was boiled, branded, and eviscerated by the Iroquois, to Saint Paul Miki, who was crucified in Japan.  Last year alone, twenty-two Catholic missionaries died for the sake of the gospel.
    And yet…as modern, educated citizens of a secular democratic nation, doesn’t the whole concept of evangelization strike us as vaguely…condescending?  Does the message not smack of arrogance—or worse yet, intolerance?  As one popular agnostic polemicist recently wrote, “I [don’t] want to be a missionary or an apostle... I [don’t] want to be an imperialistic colonizing Westerner, bringing the good news to a nation of Godforsaken heathen hordes.”  Well…you put it that way, and all of a sudden I do begin to doubt my so-called “missionary zeal.”
    Just this last Friday, a long-time friend mine described his approach to religion as “live and let live” which struck me as rather unimaginative, but now seems strangely appealing.  “Live and let live” means that no one has to be wrong.
    Still, I don’t quite see the sense in going to church on Sunday if that’s all your faith adds up to.  I believe in letting people live, of course.  But is it fair or loving to let someone live in ignorance or darkness or illness or cruelty?  And it makes even less sense when you think of Jesus Himself who said, “Go out and make disciples of all the nations.”  And to be sure, he practiced what he preached.  “Let us go on to the nearby villages,” he told Simon this morning, “that I may preach there also. For this very purpose have I come.”  Jesus seemed to think his message was worth spreading—that people weren’t really living till they heard it…and if we are to be followers of Jesus, then we are obliged to help him spread it—to live and help live.
    “An obligation has been imposed on me,” wrote Saint Paul, “and woe to me if I do not preach it!”  Or in the daunting words of Saint John Chrysostom, “There is nothing colder than a Christian who has no concern for the salvation of others.”
    So we have a most solemn obligation spread the Good News.  “Everyone is searching for you,” said Saint Simon to Jesus.
    Everyone.
    The World hungers and thirsts for him.  And the fantastically good news—good with a capitol “G”—is that Jesus is searching for them too.
    “The Church exists for nothing else but to draw men into Christ, to make them little Christs,” wrote C.S.Lewis, and “if we are not doing that, then all the cathedrals, clergy, missions, sermons, even the Bible itself, is simply a waste of time. God became Man for no other purpose.”
    Everyone is looking for Him.   Whether they know it or not, they’re looking for him.  So…to the weak let us become weak, to win over the weak.  Let us become all things to all, to save at least some.  All this let us do for the sake of the gospel,
so that we too may have a share in it.

In the name of the Father…

A Reflection by Priory Senior, John Russell

A monk should desire eternal life with all spiritual longing and keep the day of his death always before his eyes.

            —Chapter 4: The Tools of Good Works

There is a legend, written by the Persian poet Attar of Nishapur, of a great Eastern king who gathers a conference of wise men to produce something for him. He says that he wants something that will give him hope when he is in despair. After discussing it, the wise men commission a jeweler to make a ring inscribed with the words ‘nothing endures’ – a phrase we usually render in English as ‘this too shall pass’ – and they then deliver it to the king. The king is pleased. He pays the wise men, but, happy with their work, he looks at the ring, and realizes that it is a curse as much as it is a blessing. It may make him happy when he is sad, but it also has the reverse effect. And so the first mood ring was invented.

I’d like to believe that this Eastern monarch’s ring looked similar to another ring, one the juniors received just last Friday. And even without the humbling inscription, the message is the same. It is only for so long that the Priory crest will point inward. Sometimes that will make you happy, and, others, sad. But whatever it makes you, remember that time is not cruel. Because time is not money and it is not stagnant. It’s two things: changing, and of the essence. It is in this transitory time and place that we have the opportunity to grow mentally and spiritually. And that is really the beauty of time – we’re not the same person we were or are going to be, but with even one moment we’ve been given we can improve.

Many of you will wear more rings over the course of your life. High School, possibly college, engagement, wedding… and every time you look at those rings, know that you’re proving our old friend Attar wrong. These are bonds that can never be broken. We can never go back and undo those vows, unmake those choices. Yes, those moments can’t endure, but we do and time does. And, if I can shamelessly steal from a speech I recently heard, this group of people here is like the body of Christ. They’re quickly rising up and out of here and they will never come back in the same way again. But it is the fact that we were here that makes all the difference.

Mother Theresa once said “Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.”

Let us begin.

Christus surrexit

            When I was in college, I took a friend with me to mass one Sunday morning, and when we entered the church, he took one look at the crucifix and groaned “Awe, man.  It is too early in the morning for that.”  Which insulted me at first, until I realized that, without faith, all one sees in a crucifix is a man being tortured to death.  But Christians spend their lives meditating on the holy cross…because it isn’t just an instrument of torture.  If it were merely that, then we the followers of Christ would truly be the most miserable of all creatures.  No, the cross is not merely the tree upon which our savior died.  Through the lens of the resurrection, we perceive that the cross itself, the crown of thorns, the whips and scourges and nails are Christ’s trophies of victory.  In his resurrection, Jesus has become the Lord of the Kingdom of the Living, and has revealed himself as the Author of Life—the center, cornerstone, alpha and omega of God’s new plan for humanity.  And so we sing Alleluia, which means “Praise God!” or, if you prefer to sound more evangelical, “Praise the Lord!”

Early in the 5^th Century, Saint John Chrysostom delivered a sermon on Easter Sunday.  So wonderful was this sermon, that, in the Eastern Catholic Church, it has been read every year for the last sixteen hundred years on Easter Sunday at the start of the Divine Liturgy.

        If there are any pious people here today who love God, let them enjoy this splendid and radiant Feast. If any of them have been wise servants, let them blissfully enter into the joy of their Lord. If any of them have worked hard at fasting, let them now receive their reward. If any have toiled from the very first hour, let them now receive their just wage.

               But if any people showed up late for this feast.  If anyone came at the third hour…well…let them join in the Feast.  In fact, if anyone waited until the sixth hour…they should not be afraid, for they will not be deprived of anything. But…if any of them procrastinated and dallied until the eleventh hour, they shouldn’t worry. For the Master loves to grant honors and will receive the last just as the first. He gives rest to the one who came at the eleventh hour, just as He does to the one who toiled from the first.  To the one He gives; on the other, He showers gifts. He accepts good works, but he also accepts good intentions. He honors labors and praises resolutions.

               And so, let everyone enter into the joy of their Lord, and let the first as well as the last receive the reward. Let the rich and the poor celebrate together. Let the hard workers and the lazy workers honor this Day.  Let those who fasted rejoice on this day…and those who did not fast…oh, let them rejoice too. The Table is overflowing with food; let all be satisfied. The Calf is fattened; let no one go away hungry. Let everyone enjoy the Cup of Faith. Let everyone receive the richness of Grace. Let none grieve at their poverty, for the Kingdom that belongs to all people has been revealed. Let none weep for their sins, for forgiveness shines forth from the Tomb. Let no one fear Death, for the Savior's death has set us free.

               The One Whom Death imprisoned has extinguished Death. The One Who descended into Hell made Hell his prisoner.  He caused it anguish when it tasted His Flesh. When Isaiah foresaw this, he exclaimed: "Hell was all distressed by encountering You in the underworld." It was distressed because it was abolished. It was distressed because it was mocked. It was distressed because it was slain. It was distressed because it was overthrown. It was distressed because it was chained. It seized a Body but discovered…God! It grabbed hold of the Earthly but encountered…the Heavenly! It seized the Visible but was conquered by the Invisible. O Death, where is your sting? O Hell, where is your victory? Christ is risen, and you are abolished! Christ is risen, and the demons are cast down! Christ is risen, and the angels rejoice! Christ is risen, and Life now reigns! Christ is risen, and the Tomb is emptied of the dead! For in rising from the dead, Christ became the First-Fruits of those who have fallen asleep. To Him be glory and power for ever and ever! Amen. Alleluia!

More Humility Homework Assignments

Below are more brilliant homework assignments suggested by Sister Mary Michael of the Sister Servants of the Eternal Word.  Many thanks.  (And if you think of any others, feel free to add them in the comments and I'll put them in the book!)

1) Let someone tell you a story you already know.


2) Just say  “thank you” the next time anyone tells you anything you already know.

3) Accept an offer of help the next time you don’t need it.


4) Refrain from having the last word in your next conversation (even if it’s friendly!)


5) Don’t make excuses the next time you are reprimanded.


6) Let someone do a job that you can do faster.


7) If you see something not done ‘your way,’ leave it be if it works.


8) Park at the end of the parking lot. If you don’t drive, park your bike at the end of the rack. If you don’t bike, find a slower route to walk.


9) Walk behind a really slow person. (But not like a stalker. The point is to no bowl them over.)
10) Join in a game that you’re not good at.


11) Keep your next complaint to yourself.


12) The next time someone annoys you, don’t tell anyone.


13) The next time you have an exciting story, only tell one person.


14) Volunteer to clean a toilet.


15) Go to a store and hold the door open for a stream of people.


16) Apologize for something you didn’t do. (There will be opportunities.)


17) Clean up someone else’s mess. Bonus points if it’s on the floor.


18) Keep your next opinion to yourself.


19) Offer a legitimate praise about someone that you don’t like very much.


20) Volunteer to do a job for someone you don’t like very much.


21) Don’t take credit the next time someone praises the actions of an unknown person.


22) Initiate a conversation with a really boring person.


23) Offer to serve someone else before you serve yourself.


24) Give up your seat for someone else. It can be anywhere – Mass, a movie theatre, a talk, public transportation.


25) Don’t disagree with someone the next time you have a different opinion.

26) Spend a conversation not talking about yourself.


27) Let someone else be in charge.


28) Serve yourself the crunchy heel of the bread, or some other corner or crummy looking food on the table. (We all know we go for the glorious middle piece of lasagna!)


29) Offer to clear someone else’s dishes off the table when they are done.


30) If you’ve ever gotten any not so great clothes from your family, wear them once.


31) The next time a friend or family member suggests a really boring activity, do it with them.


32) Smile at someone who doesn’t look like they’re going to smile back.


33) The next time you’re laughed at, laugh with them.


34) Spend an entire day without correcting anyone.


35) Spend an afternoon with an elderly person. Extreme bonus points if it’s at a nursing home. Hanging out with your cool grandma doesn’t count, and I automatically deduct points.


36) Let yourself be interrupted in a conversation, and don’t finish what you were going to say unless someone else asks.


37) Laugh at a boring joke.


38) Don’t laugh at your own joke.

HUMILITY HOMEWORK

Seven practical exercises to boost your humility!

1.     Deliberately lose the next argument to get into.

2.     Ask someone you've offended for their blessing.

3.     Skip your next witty comment.

4.     Make a serious attempt to understand an opinion you find objectionable.

5.     Do something secretly nice for someone you detest.

6.     Thank God for the next person who insults you.

7.     The next time you're in a long line for something, wait until you're one spot from the front...then move to the back of the line.

(I don't recommend doing them all at once...)

Interviewed About BenedicTEEN on EWTN

Total chaos...but fun!

PRO-LIFERS AND PRO-LIFE: A TALK GIVEN TO THE FRIENDS OF 'BIRTHRIGHT'

Birthright is an organization that helps expectant mothers bring their children to term and care for them afterwards.

    I want to begin by telling you something that will make you uncomfortable.  Well, I hope it will make you uncomfortable.  It makes me uncomfortable.  And, as they say, misery loves company.
    At the Saint Louis Priory School, I teach a class in Apologetics, which is the art of defending Catholic doctrine.  Last week, one of my students (a child who, I have come to suspect, was created by God for the sole purpose of making me miserable) this student declared in the presence of the entire class, “The best argument against Catholicism–in fact, the best reason to not be a Catholic at all…is Catholics.” 
    I came about this close to telling him “And the best argument for euthanizing teenagers…is you” but stopped myself halfway through that sentence when I realized that he was right.  My Catholic faith may be the single most beautiful thing I have ever known, but I am a singularly unworthy advocate.  (I recognize that this sounds like false humility.  It is.  Which merely proves my point.)
    So here’s the part that’s going to make you uncomfortable; to steal words from my most annoying student: “The best argument against the pro-life movement…is pro-lifers.”   Now I don’t mean to imply that the people in this room are any better or worse than anyone else.   In fact, from where I stand, and judging by the kind of work you do, you seem like a pretty decent folk.  But your
cause is so noble, none of you could possibly match up to it. Nonetheless you must try.  And you must fail (For who can realistically expect to be more successful in their ministry that Jesus was in his?)
    So.
    You are stuck with an impossibly beautiful vocation that you can never live up to.  In the expectant mother, you serve Jesus Himself.  But it would be sheer folly to believe that Jesus is lucky to have you.
    Nonetheless, you are called.   Therefore you serve.   And you serve on the righteous side of a struggle for the very heart of our civilization.   (I don’t think I’m being overdramatic.   If human life is not the heart of our civilization, then I don’t know what it is.)  And I’ll repeat:  you will fail.   You have been tried and found lacking.
    But here’s the good news: there’s a loophole!   It will not surprise you to hear that I believe this loophole is humility (after all, I literally wrote the book on humility.)  On both sides of every abortion discussion I have ever heard, the one virtue conspicuous missing has been humility.  In practical terms, here’s what I mean:  We cannot fall into the trap—Satan’s trap—of believing that we are holier than the people with whom we disagree.  We cannot fall into the trap—Satan’s trap—of believing that we are smarter…or kinder…or cleverer than our brothers and sisters at Planned Parenthood.  We cannot fall into the trap—Satan’s trap—of believing that God loves us more.  We cannot fall into the trap—Satan’s trap—of believing that their motives are selfish or sadistic or stupid (for who among us can honestly claim to have pure motives?)  If we are to win hearts, we must approach these people—our brothers and sisters—with humility.  We must treat them like friends.  No, we must show them that they are our friends.
    In this great battle for the heart of our civilization, there is no room for self-righteous indignation—no room even for righteous indignation. In the words of Saint Paul, we must be “patient and kind, bearing all things, believing all things, hoping all things, and enduring all things.”  What does Saint Paul mean by “believing all things”?  Allow me to suggest that I think it means we should believe in our friends on the other side of this conflict—believe in our hearts that they want what is right—that, like us, they seek God and seek the good.  We must believe this.  We must assume it.  Don’t get me wrong.   I am utterly convinced that they are mistaken.  Tragically mistaken.  But only God is in a position to judge their motives, their hearts.
    So here is a Lenten homework assignment:  This upcoming week, I want you to research one pro-choice argument and make a serious, sympathetic attempt to understand it.  (Notice, by the way, that I said sympathetic, not necessarily open-minded.  Abortion is evil, I am convinced of that, and I don't want you to be ‘open’ to evil.  But I do want you to try to understand it.  And not just for the sake of shooting it down, but for the sake of understanding our friends on the other side of this conflict.  I want you to try to find something worthy, something admirable, something true in that argument.
    Now maybe this is something you have already figured out.  Maybe this is something you already do.  But for me, it is novel and difficult.  Nonethrless, it’s what I expect them to do, isn’t it? I want them to listen to me with an open heart.   I want them to give me the benefit of the doubt.  I want them to leave behind their prejudices and presuppositions about my motives; but I can hardly ask them for such openness if my own heart is closed against them.
    I realize I am asking a difficult thing.  I am asking you to listen with a sympathetic heart to an opinion that you find deplorable.  Well, tough.   There’s a reason I have no social life.   And besides that, you literally asked for it. 

    So that’s the uncomfortable part.  I thought I’d end with something a little more upbeat, so that if I scandalized anyone, maybe they would be distracted and forget what I said.  I’d like to tell you a true story about a friend of mine—one of the many mothers who, thanks to people like you, know how to choose life.  Your witness, your prayers, your rallies, and let’s be honest, your money has empowered women like her to face the devil down.
    (My apologies if you’ve heard this story before.  I only have one pro-life talk.  I have several on humility but as of last  Friday, Ignatius press owns the rights to them.)
    My friend is married with three kids.  Exactly thirteen years ago, and sixteen weeks pregnant, her water broke.  Ultrasound revealed that the amniotic sac had completely ruptured, that there was no more fluid around the baby.  She was told that she would go into labor within the next forty-eight hours, and that there looked to be amniotic bands within the womb. These pieces of tissue would begin to wrap around the baby's limbs and amputate them. She was sent home after a two-day hospital stay with instructions to return weekly to have an ultrasound so that they’d know when the baby was dead.  Weeks passed and still she had not gone into labor. At this point the doctors became adamant that she should—in the chillingly antiseptic language of the business—“terminating the pregnancy.” The diagnosis was that the baby was severely mentally and physically handicapped.  A second doctor informed her that there was a less than 1% chance of the baby's survival. She also said that the baby had severe club feet and would be born without lungs.  The doctor said to her, and I quote, "You have a moral duty to finish what God has started."  Five different doctors told her to "terminate" the pregnancy. They told her that this child was a threat to her life. What's more, they assured her that the child was already mentally and physically worthless. Even if it could be brought to term, they assured her, it would die in her arms. Even if it could survive delivery, it would be crippled and profoundly retarded.  "Have an abortion." they told her. One doctor even set up an appointment for her against her wishes. "Do it now," this doctor said, taking her by the arm, "Put a period at the end of this sentence."
    When my friend broke the news to her husband, this is what he said: "How lucky for this child that she would be born into a family which could love her for who she is! What better family than ours to raise a disabled child?"  I told my friend, if your husband leaves the toilet seat up for the rest of his life, let it go, because he has earned it.

Mary

    For two months, my friend lived with the knowledge that she would, at best, bear a child who would die in her arms.  She decided to name the child Mary.  In the meantime, she prayed, her husband prayed, and Rachel, Mary’s older sister, she prayed too.  She didn’t entirely understand what was going on, but she knew her sister was in trouble, and I wonder sometimes if perhaps it was the profound innocence of her prayers that reached into the great well of God’s grace and extracted a miracle.  In the 25th week of her pregnancy another ultrasound revealed something extraordinary.  "We need to call the Pope,” said the doctor.  "Not only has the amniotic sack re-sealed itself, but all the fluid has returned." He called in all the interns, all the nurses, the assistants, random people standing the hallway... The amniotic bands had disappeared. The baby was in perfect health.
    By now, you’ve probably guessed that I’m talking about my sister.   Mary is my niece.  She is an honor student at John Paul Second Institute.   Last week, she turned thirteen.   On her behalf, and on behalf of my family, I’d like to thank you for your witness and your prayers.  Surely hers is not the only life you’ve saved.  May almighty God bless you all, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.