Union with God and One Another

I am at St. Nicholas church in Valentine, Nebraska this weekend.  All of Nebraska celebrated last Thursday as a holyday of obligation, the feast of the Ascension.  So today we are celebrating the 7th Sunday of Easter.  Here's my homily:

Imagine: at the Last Supper Jesus thought of you and prayed for you.  That's what today's Gospel (John 17: 20-26) tells us.  It says: "Lifting up his eyes to heaven, Jesus prayed, saying: 'Holy Father, I pray not only for them [the apostles], but also for those who will believe in me through their word...'"
And what was Jesus' prayer for us?  "That they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me.  And I have given them the glory you gave me, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may be brought to perfection as one, that the world may know that you sent me, and that you loved them even as you loved me."

These are Jesus' last words to his apostles, his farewell address, before going to his death. Jesus prayed that they and we might be one with him and one with each other.

That makes sense.  If, as the first book of the Bible Genesis says, we are made in the image and likeness of God, then we are made not to be isolated individuals.  Rather, reflecting the loving communion that is the divine nature, we are made for communion.   We are created for union with God and the communion of saints.

And this communion is essential to evangelization, to spreading the good news of God's love.  Jesus said that the world will believe that Christianity is true when it sees Christians in loving union with one another, a union that is grounded in their union with God.

What makes this union possible?  First of all, the Holy Spirit.  The Spirit is the bond of love between the Father and the Son.  This is the mystery of the Holy Trinity which we will celebrate in two weeks.  Next week we will celebrate Pentecost, recalling the day when the Holy Spirit came upon the apostles and the Blessed Virgin Mary gathered in prayer in the upper room.  The Spirit came with great power in the form of tongues of fire.  It was the fire of love that united those who received that outpouring of the Spirit.  Those who saw the effects of the Spirit were amazed to hear the apostles preaching the good news and to understand them, even though they came from diverse countries and spoke and understood diverse languages.

The Spirit brought them together.  The people understood the preaching because the apostles spoke a universal language, the language of love.

Love usually involves feelings, but it is more than an emotion or sentiment.  It is ultimately an act of the will in which one desires the ultimate good of the other person no matter how one feels about him or her.  We see this in the First Reading (Acts 7: 55-60), the story of St. Stephen's martyrdom.

I don't know how Stephen felt about the people who stoned him to death, but I would suspect he didn't like them.  Yet, he loved them.  How do we know this?  Because he prayed for them, saying "Lord, do not hold this sin against them."  He prayed for their salvation, not their condemnation.  He prayed that they would experience God's mercy and be converted.

This was a powerful prayer for their conversion that was joined to Stephen's sacrificial suffering.  And it had a great effect on one of those present--Saul.  Stephen's prayer was a channel for God's mercy to one day reach into Saul's hear.  It led to a conversion.

Do you remember that conversion?  Saul was on the road to Damascus intending to round up Christians and bring them back to Jerusalem in chains to be imprisoned and tried.  He encountered a blinding vision of the risen and ascended Christ on that road.  And what did Jesus say to him?  "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?"  He didn't say, "Why are you persecuting my Church?"  Nor did he say, "Why are you persecuting my followers?"  He asked "Why are you persecuting ME?"  He was confirming a teaching that he gave in a parable that we find in Matthew 25: whatever we do or do not do for or to one another, we do or do not do for or to Christ himself.  Jesus was teaching Saul that we and Jesus are one.  He is the Head and we are the Body.  We are in union with Jesus and one another just as the parts of a physical body form a one flesh union.

And that brings us to the second way that we enter into union with God and one another--through the Holy Eucharist, a mystery that we will be celebrating three weeks from today, after we have celebrated Pentecost and the feast of the Most Holy Trinity.

See how it all fits together, these three feasts?  We have the mystery of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit to whom Jesus was referring when he said in today's Gospel: "Righteous Father, ... I made known to them your name and I will make it known, that the love with which you loved me may be in them and I in them."  The Holy Spirit is, as we said, the love between the Father and the Son. The Spirit reveals to us the mystery of God, Three in One, the Holy Trinity in whose image we are made.  And in addition to the Holy Spirit bringing us into union with God and one another, there is the Holy Eucharist which brings about a one flesh union with Jesus, God-made-flesh, and communion in the Body of Christ, the Church.

Now the challenge is to live this oneness with God and God's other children.  This is what Jesus prayed for at the Last Supper.  There are so many divisions among Christians. There is so much conflict in the world.  The answer to Jesus' prayer begins here, with you, with me.  Like Stephen we are called to pray for our enemies, those who have hurt us.  We are called to let go of resentments and pray that there may be healing in our relationships.  And we are to pray for those people in other parts of the world who hate us and want to see our destruction. We pray for their conversion, that they may come to know the love of God, receive that love, and be brought into union with God and us.  We pray for their ultimate salvation..

This was so important to Jesus that in his final words to his apostles, before going to his suffering and death, he made this his prayer.  It is so important to him that from time to time he sends his own Mother to beg us to pray for the conversion of sinners.  Only when the prayer of Jesus is realized in us, in the Church, and in the world will there be peace.

A Spiritual View of Anorexia Nervosa

When I was given a copy of the book "Little Girl Crying" by Belinda Rose I was intimidated.  Not by the subject: anorexia nervosa and how the author came to complete healing through prayer.  I was intimidated by its length.  I wondered how I could squeeze in the time for this large book in the midst of my busy life.  I can honestly report that finding time was not a problem.  This book reads like a thriller but instead of "who done it?" the question in this fast-paced account of the causes and the struggle of anorexia is "how will she ever come out of it?"  In the course of 450 pages I came to a better understanding of anorexia and more.  Let me highlight three other lessons that can be learned by reading "Little Girl Crying."

First, the struggle with anorexia nervosa is a paradigm for all human struggle.  Deep down, in every human being, there is a hunger, a hunger to be loved, a longing to know that one is lovable.  Human loves can satisfy that hunger for a while but they do not ultimately fulfill us, for, as St. Augustine wrote: "You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you."  We are made with a hunger for an infinite love that no finite, human love can satisfy.  Only God's love can because God is an infinite love by nature.  Until the author discovered this truth through contemplative prayer she continued a self-destructive cycle of binge eating and purging, always convinced that she was fat and unlovable even at 70 lbs.! Whatever one does or does not do to fill the hunger for God will fail unless God is the object of one's desire. 

Secondly, I was reminded of another book, "Legacy of the Heart: The Spiritual Advantages of a Painful Childhood" by Wayne Muller.  As a drought forces the roots of a tree to go deeper or the tree will die, so the struggles of childhood can lead one to sink deeper roots.  Deeper into what?  One's relationship with God, certainly, but also into one's relationships with others.  Belinda Rose's struggles ultimately led her into deeper relationships with her three sons, her mother, and others who struggled with psychological illnesses.  From deep pain can come, with God's saving grace, greater compassion and more joy, so much so that Rose can say, like many in 12 Step Recovery Programs, she is ultimately grateful for how her disease led her to these deeper relationships. 

Thirdly, one of the key elements of healing is forgiveness.  Past hurts can leave one bitter.  But bitter unforgiveness and resentment are the fuel that drives the engine of addictions and anorexia.  When it is not dealt with, emotional hurt festers and grows, morphing into an anger which, for those who feel vulnerable and helpless, is turned in on itself.  It's been said that resentment is like drinking from a bottle of poison and hoping that the person who hurt us will die.  As she began to deal with the painful memories that stoked her disease, Rose developed empathy.  A key moment came when she began to understand what led her father to hurt her as he had done.  She learned the truth that "hurt people hurt people."  She prayed and forgave and healed.  In time she learned to imitate Jesus in his redemptive suffering.  Jesus--totally innocent--was hurt and abused.  He suffered terribly but offered his suffering as a powerful prayer to the Father and saved the world.  Rose learned to use her sufferings for others as Jesus did. 

I highly recommend "Little Girl Crying" in order to understand anorexia nervosa and so much more.  Its lessons are universal, for hurt and the need for healing--both individually and globally--are universal. 

Your Choice: Gehenna or To Be With Jesus Forever?

In the Gospel at Mass today (26th Sunday, Ordinary Time, Cycle B) from the 9th chapter of Mark, Jesus mentions "Gehenna" three times.  What's this "Gehenna?"  It's an actual place.  Before the Israelites arrived in the Promised Land, other peoples had used this valley outside of Jerusalem as a place to offer child sacrifices to their idols.  The Jews considered it such an unholy and unclean place that it was good for only one thing--burning garbage.

Jesus used "Gehenna" 11 times in the Gospels as an image for hell. 

Hell is not something you hear about much.  It does show up as an expression of anger or hatred.  We use it to condemn our enemies or someone who has done a particularly heinous crime: "I hope they rot in hell!" 

For many it's hard to reconcile hell with a good, all-powerful, and infinitely loving God.  How could God send anyone to hell?

God doesn't.  People choose it. 

The "Catechism of the Catholic Church" says that the "state of definitive self-exclusion from communion with God and the blessed is called 'hell'" (#1033). 

And Pope St. John Paul II said that hell "is not a punishment imposed externally by God" because "God is the infinitely good and merciful Father" who "can only desire the salvation of the beings He created" (General Audience, July 28, 1999).  God can only will or want our good.  But God cannot force that ultimate good of heaven upon us.  Love must be free.  God cannot force people into heaven.  They must freely choose to go.  And if they choose not to go, then there must be another option for them. 

There are some things that are simply incompatible with heaven.  There is no room for the jealousy that we see Joshua exhibiting in our first reading (Numbers 11: 25-29).  Nor is there room for the injustice and greed that James talks about in the second reading (James 5: 1-6).  There is no room for sin in heaven. 

Professor and author Peter Kreeft, who teaches at Boston College, has a shocking remark about this.  In his book "Heaven: The Heart's Deepest Longing," he says that "God does not forgive sins."  Then he goes on to explain that God "forgives sinners and destroys sins" (186).  That makes sense.  God loves sinners and hates sin.  God sees how much sin damages our relationship with him and with one another.  It hurts and damages our very selves and leads to all kinds of misery.  So God wants to free people of their sins and throw them into the garbage dump of the cosmos--hell. 

I grew up fearing God, that God would send me to hell.  I thought that if I were running to church for Saturday afternoon confession in order to get rid of a moral sin and got hit by a car I would hit the greasy shoot to hell. 

I have a different idea now.  It seems more and more clear that death is a process rather than a moment.  We see this from near death experiences in which people have, for all practical purposes, died; their brain waves have stopped as well as their hearts.  And they somehow return to tell stories of an experience of a life beyond this life. 

I believe that no matter who we are and what we believe we all meet Jesus face to face as we die.  And he asks us one question: "Do you want to be with me forever?"  We might hesitate, feeling shame and unworthiness for our sins.  But Jesus presses on, asking us again, "Yes, I know, but do you want to be with me forever?"  Or we might ask if we can be with him on our terms, holding on to something that has no place in heaven.  Jesus will tell us we can't bring that in; we have to let go.

This is so important to Jesus that in today's Gospel he tells us that if we're holding on to something sinful, it would be better to cut off our hand so that it and the sin we cling to do not prevent us from entering his Kingdom.  Or if we hold on to sin with our eyes, we should pluck them out because that sin does not belong in heaven.  It's garbage that needs to be thrown away.

We might wonder: how could anyone say "no" to Jesus' invitation?  I think of how people can hold on to bitter resentments.  I can imagine people answering "yes" but then, as they cross the threshold of heaven they see someone who has hurt them terribly or an enemy.  "What's he doing here?"  Jesus answers: "He admitted he had done wrong and asked for my forgiveness and I forgave him."  And the response could be: "Well, you may have forgiven him for what he did to me but I will never forgive him. I would rather rot in hell than to spend one minute much less eternity with him." 

We are here on earth for one thing: to learn how to live in heaven.  In heaven there is no selfishness, no lustful using other people for one's pleasure.  There is no greed and injustice, no envy or deceit.  There is no racism and hatred.  There is no unforgiveness. 

We have to let go of those things here.  We need to throw out the garbage, lest we end up clinging to it in the cosmic garbage dump that Jesus called Gehenna.  We don't want anything to stand in the way of answering immediately and whole-heartedly "YES!" when Jesus asks us "Do you want to be with me forever." 

Not Fair, but Generously Merciful

Today is the last night of a parish mission that I am leading at St. Justin Martyr Church in the St. Louis area. The following is a summary of my homily from last Sunday, the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A.


When I was growing up we played "Hide and Seek."  Everyone is familiar with how that goes. If you are "it" you have to close your eyes while the others all run and hide. Then you seek them and tag them before they can reach "goal" which we pronounced "gool."  If you put your hands over your eyes but then spread your fingers to see where people went to hide you might hear back "No fair peeking." 


Children have an innate sense of fairness. If a teacher plays favorites or treats the girls better than the boys they will complain that the teacher isn't being fair. And vice versa.  Children don't learn fairness, though they often have to be reminded. A victim of unfairness knows immediately that something isn't right.  This sense of fairness seems to be part of one's conscience--an innate sense of right and wrong.


That being said, most of us hear today's Gospel (Matthew 20: 1-16a) with the parable of the workers who labor for various numbers of hours in a vineyard yet get the same pay and we react, "That's not fair!"  That's especially not fair if we consider that perhaps the reason why the workers who were hired at five weren't there at the crack of dawn because they were sleeping in.  Should such laziness be rewarded?


Remember: the parables of Jesus were designed to shock people--his listeners then and all of us now--into thought and action.


What was Jesus trying to teach us with this parable? What did he want us to think and to know?

Our first reading (Isaiah 55: 6-9) gives us a clue. Through the prophet, God, "who is generous in forgiving," tells us "my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways." 


The parable Jesus told was a description of "the kingdom of heaven."  Every human being is created for heaven--for union with God and the communion of saints. But from the beginning we have rejected God's desire and plan.  Yet God persisted.  As the landowner in the parable is "generous" so is God.  To save us from our sins and the alienation and destruction they cause, the Son of God took flesh, suffered, and died.  He took upon himself the penalty of our sins.  Then he rose from the dead and shared the reward of his obedient love with disobedient humanity.


We did not earn it.  He did not deserve it.  This was totally unfair, but it was totally merciful.


This is our faith. It's what we celebrate every time we gather for the Eucharist.


But remember, parables are designed to not only shock us into thought but also into action.  What is the action Jesus hoped to achieve with this story?

That we would be as generous and merciful as our Landowner God is.  That we would desire and then pray and work for the salvation of all.  That we would want everyone in heaven as much as God does.

That's difficult. We all have people that we don't like.  We have enemies and the thought of being with them for eternity in heaven sounds more like hell!

It is difficult and perhaps impossible to be as merciful as God is merciful. Yet we are called to be such and the power to be merciful is a divine power that is given to us in the Eucharist.  There we receive the Heart of Jesus when we receive his Body and Blood.  There our hearts are transformed to be more like the generously merciful Heart of our Savior.

Prayer for Enemies

We often think that in the “good old days” of the early Church there were no conflicts and disagreements. Wrong!  The saints whom we celebrated on August 13 show that strong divisions were part of the early Church. St. Hippolytus was a theologian whose liturgical prayers became the basis of Eucharistic Prayer II in the Roman Missal.  He considered Pope Callistus “soft” on heresy and had himself declared pope, the first “anti-pope” in history.  He continued to oppose Callistus’ successors, Popes Urban I and Pontian. During a persecution in the year 235 Hippolytus and Pontian were both exiled to the mines of Sardinia where they died from the mistreatment they received and hence are considered martyrs or witnesses to the faith.  Tradition has it that Pontian abdicated so that the Church would not be without a shepherd while he was in exile and that the two were reconciled before they died.

How should we deal with conflicts? Jesus gives instructions in Matthew 18: 15-20. He says that if a brother or sister in Christ sins against you, you should first discuss the matter with that person. If you do not receive a hearing, then bring one or two witnesses with you and confront the person. This is similar to what we call an “intervention” today. If the person still refuses to listen and to accept responsibility, then you are to “tell the Church”—go to a higher authority within the Christian community.  And if that doesn’t work, then Jesus says “treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector.” 

This sounds pretty negative.  But remember how Jesus treated tax collectors and Gentiles like the Roman Centurion? He called a tax collector to follow him and he brought mercy and healing to another one, Zacchaeus. He healed the Centurion’s servant and commended that Roman’s great faith.  Jesus loved tax collectors and Gentiles.  Ultimately, he died for them.

Perhaps the way to interpret these words of Jesus is in light of the entire Gospel message which includes the challenge to love our enemies and to pray for them.

Jesus is Mercy Incarnate. The Good News he brought is that God loves us very much. The Son of God suffered, died, and rose not only to bring mercy but to give us the power to forgive as well.  Conflicts are not new but the power to forgive is ever-new and ever-present through Jesus present in the Sacraments.

How should we treat those with whom we are in conflict? Even if the conflict continues, we should "will" their good and pray for them, for their conversion and salvation.

Mercy and Sacrifice

There is a story that the disciples of Jesus were criticized by the Pharisees for breaking the sabbath when they picked heads of grain and ate them as they walked through a field (see Matthew 12: 1-8, Mark 2: 23-28, Luke 6: 1-5). Jesus defends them by pointing to similar situations in Israel’s history. He also declares that as “Son of Man”—a title that appears in the book of the prophet Daniel (2: 13-14) and that indicates divine kingship—he is Lord of the sabbath. 

In Mark’s version of this story, Jesus declares that the “sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath.” The sabbath was instituted by God for the sake of justice: so that the human person could give God the worship that is God’s due. It was instituted by God for the sake of human dignity: so that human beings could have the rest and leisure they require and which imitates God whom Genesis said rested on the seventh day after all the work of creation (2: 3).

Matthew has Jesus quoting a verse from the prophet Hosea: “I desire mercy, not sacrifice (Hosea 6: 6). What is translated here as “mercy” is also the word “love.”  God wants love and mercy and not the empty sacrificial rituals that Hosea inveighed against.  This is the “sacrifice” that God does not want. However, there is another “sacrifice” that is essential to love and mercy.  It is the sacrifice of self, the denial of self-interest, the rejection of retaliation.

The greatest sign of mercy and love is the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. He died not for the righteous but for sinners (Romans 5: 8). He died begging pardon for those who tortured and killed him and even made excuses for them (Luke 23: 34).

July 19 is the anniversary of Fr. Lawrence Jenco’s death in 1996. Fr. Jenco was a Servite priest who was the regional director of Catholic Relief Services in Lebanon in 1985. He was kidnapped and spent the next 564 days in captivity as a hostage. He was blindfolded most of the time and transported from place to place in a secret compartment under trucks where he was almost asphyxiated by the noxious diesel fumes. He was beaten. After his release he wrote a book—“Bound to Forgive”—and he began the first chapter with these words of Jesus as recorded by Luke: “But I say to those who listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you” (6: 27-28). This holy priest forgave his captors and tormenters and even asked their forgiveness for the times that he himself had harbored hatred and thoughts of revenge in his heart. (I wrote about this in another blog entry here.)

What gave Fr. Jenco the ability to forgive in this way? The Eucharist. He heard the Word of God and allowed it to enter his heart to transform it from a heart hardened by a righteous anger that had become bitter hatred to a heart of mercy and love. He received the Word of God-Made-Flesh in Holy Communion and allowed the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus to transform his heart. 

Past, current, and, no doubt, future events reveal a world desperately in need of conversion, of mercy and love. That will require sacrifice, a sacrificial mercy that begins here, with my heart and yours. Heart of Jesus, make our hearts like yours!

Forgiveness

The daily Mass readings during Lent are special because the first reading and the Gospel are designed to complement each other. 

Today's first reading (Isaiah 55: 10-11) says that the word of God waters souls just like the rain and snow water the earth. The word of God bears fruit. In the Gospel (Matthew 6: 7-15) Jesus shares a word from God and teaches his disciples and us how to pray. The prayer he taught--the Our Father--has nourished Christians for centuries.

After teaching that prayer, Jesus goes on to show how essential forgiveness is for a good relationship with God. Not just God's forgiveness of us, but our forgiveness of others.  This word of Jesus often falls on hard hearts like rain drops on concrete. God wants to nourish us with that word and soften our hearts but we need to receive it.

One of the most striking examples of someone who received that word and allowed it to change his life is Fr. Lawrence Jenko. Fr. Jenko was a Servite priest who was kidnapped in early 1985 in Lebanon where he was the director of Catholic Relief Services.  He spent the next 18 months in captivity.

A year before his death in 1996, his book "Bound to Forgive: The Pilgrimage to Reconciliation of a Beirut Hostage" was published.  The following story of forgiveness comes from the first pages of Chapter 1:

Toward the end of my captivity one of my guards, a man named Sayeed who had at times brutalized me, sat down on my mat with me. He had recently started calling me 'Abouna,' an Arabic name meaning 'dear father.' At first I was Jenco, then Lawrence, then Abouna, indicating by the choice of names and tone of voice that a change of heart was taking place. He asked me if I remembered the first six months of my captivity. I responded 'Yes, Sayeed. I remember all the pain and suffering you caused me and my brothers.' Then he asked 'Abouna, do you forgive me?'

These quietly spoken words overwhelmed me. As I sat blindfolded, unable to see the man who had been my enemy, I understood I was called to forgive, to let go of revenge, retaliation, and vindictiveness.

And I was challenged to forgive him unconditionally. I could not forgive him on the condition that he change his behavior to conform to my wishes or values. I had no control over his response. I understood I was to say yes.

How difficult this must have been!  Yet, what follows must have been even more difficult.  Fr. Jenco continued:

I said: 'Sayeed, there were times I hated you. I was filled with anger and revenge for what you did to me and my brothers. But Jesus said on the mountain top that I was not to hate you. I was to love you. Sayeed, I need to ask God's forgiveness and yours.'

Fr. Jenco realized that he was called not only to forgive his captor but to ask for his forgiveness as well. The same seeds of hatred that led Sayeed to brutalize Fr. Jenco were in his own heart.  But the word of Jesus upon which he had meditated for so many years had softened his heart and nourished it. The word removed Fr. Jenco's own hatred and violent thoughts. He confessed his own guilt, his own need for forgiveness. 

I believe that something else gave Fr. Jenco the strength to do this. In the Eucharist, the word of God is not only heard but takes flesh. Over the years Fr. Jenco had been transformed by the One he had received in Holy Communion. His heart had been transformed to be more like the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus. 

Thus the word of God comes to us not only when the Scriptures are proclaimed at Mass or meditated upon in our prayer. The word changes bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ so that  the Word of God can take flesh and give himself to us.  With every word of Scripture and every Mass in which we participate, the Word of God--Jesus--transforms us so that we can love and forgive as he did when he prayed and died for those who crucified him. 

Can Sincere Contrition be Imperfect?

When I'm around Milwaukee on the First Friday of each month, I'm often invited to speak at the All-Night Vigil which moves around the archdiocese to different parishes. The theme for last night's vigil was the Sacrament of Reconciliation and I spoke about "Sincere Contrition and Resolve." 

When I was growing up I was taught that there are five elements to a good confession: 1)examination of conscience; 2) confession of sins; 3) sincere contrition; 4) resolve or firm purpose of amendment; 5) performing the given penance.

What does "sincere contrition" mean?  We sometimes speak about "perfect" and "imperfect" contrition. Perfect contrition means that we are sorry for our sins and go to confession because we know that our sins have disturbed our relationship with God and have actually hurt God. We tend to think of God being so infinitely transcendent that He cannot be touched much less hurt by us. Yet, when you love, you hurt for the one you love when that one is hurt.  You share the hurt of the beloved. We are beloved to God, so much so that God became one of us, lived our life, shared our suffering and even death, and then rose--all to save us from our sins which hurt us and which risk ultimate alienation from God and others.  Perfect contrition involves being sorry for our sins because we realize how much we are loved by God and how God does not deserve to be ignored and rejected.

Imperfect contrition is when we are sorry for our sins but our focus is not on God but ourselves. We are sorry because of how miserable our sins have left us or because we are afraid of where our sins could lead--to that ultimate rejection of God, God's plan, our goal of heaven.

Can imperfect contrition be sincere? Yes. The prodigal son is a good example of this.  In the parable that Jesus told [which can be found in Luke 15 and which is today's Gospel], it's clear to us that the loving father did not deserve to be treated the way his younger son treated him, asking for the inheritance that should come to him at the time of his father's death.  Later, when the son has lost everything and is starving, what motivates him to return to his father?  We wouldn't call this "perfect  contrition." He's motivated by his hunger pains.  Pain tells us that something is wrong and in this case the son "woke up" to the reality that life away from his loving father is horrible.  And so he returns and is joyfully received by his father who runs to meet him as soon as he catches sight of him on the road back.  Why does the father run to him and receive him back? Because he does not care about himself but his son. This is true love. Where the son's decision to return is motivated by the self-interest of getting out of his painful situation, the father's decision to embrace him is motivated by pure love. Imperfect contrition meets perfect love and is overwhelmed by it.  We can imagine the son, not even able to finish his prepared speech before his father tells the servants to prepare for a party, coming to even greater sorrow and a more perfect contrition as he experiences such love.

But what about "sincere contrition?"  This is related not so much to what motivates the contrition as the resolve one makes.  Sincere contrition and resolve go together.  Sincere contrition does not say "I'm sorry" while at the same time making plans to sin again.

We know we are weak and will have to battle the same temptations and probably confess the same sins again. Does that mean our contrition is not sincere? No. The devil would have us think that because we find ourselves falling into the same habits of sin our contrition or sorrow is not sincere. As long as we confess our sins asking for God's help to avoid our sinful habits in the future we are being sincere. We know we are weak and that's why we ask for God's grace to avoid our sins. 

It's good to strive for perfect contrition but God accepts us as we are, just as the father accepted the wayward son motivated by hunger rather than sorrow.  Seeing the joy he brought to his father must have softened the sin-hardened heart of the son. It must have made it easier for him to be faithful and, if he should slip in the future, have more perfect contrition. So it is with us as well. Our contrition may not be perfect, but when we see the joy we bring God by giving Him the opportunity to forgive our sins and heal us in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, it can be more and more motivated by love rather than by self-interest.

St. Stephen and Forgiveness

I've been praying the Divine Office of the Church or Breviary since I was a Jesuit scholastic in formation.  My parents bought me a copy of it as a graduation present when I finished my Masters in English at St. Louis University.  I've never grown tired of it, nor have I found it repetitious.  In fact, there are certain readings to which I look forward every year.  Today's Second Reading in the Office of Readings is one of these.  It comes from St. Fulgentius of Ruspe, a North African bishop who died around the year 530.  His sermon on this feast of St. Stephen speaks of love and forgiveness.

St. Stephen's martyrdom is described in Acts of the Apostles chapter 6.  As he was being stoned to death, people "were piling their cloaks at the feet of a young man named Saul."  The account goes on: "As Stephen was being stoned he could be heard praying, 'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.' He fell to his knees and cried in a loud voice, 'Lord, do not hold this sin against them.' And with that he died. Saul, for his part concurred in the act of killing."

In his death Stephen clearly imitates his Master, Jesus.  He surrenders his soul into the hands of Jesus and prays for those who are killing him.  One answer to his prayers is Saul to whom Jesus appeared and who, as a result, experienced a complete change.  We can imagine Stephen, from heaven, continuing to pray for Saul throughout his life.  Prayer, united to love that desires the good of one's enemy and to forgiveness that opens a way for God's mercy to enter into the heart of one's persecutor, is the greatest force the world has ever known. 

Here are excerpts from St. Fulgentius' sermon that have moved me over the years:

"The love that brought Christ from heaven to earth raised Stephen from earth to heaven. Love was Stephen's weapon by which he gained every battle.... His love of God kept him from yielding to the ferocious mob; his love for his neighbor made him pray for those who were stoning him. Love inspired him to reprove those who erred, to make them amend; love led him to pray for those who stoned him, to save them from punishment.  Strengthened by the power of his love, he overcame the raging cruelty of Saul and won his persecutor on earth as his companion in heaven.  In his holy and tireless love he longed to gain by prayer those whom he could not convert by admonition.

"Now at last, Paul rejoices with Stephen, with Stephen he delights in the glory of Christ, with Stephen he exults, with Stephen he reigns. Stephen went first, slain by the stones thrown by Paul, but Paul followed after, helped by the prayer of Stephen. This, surely, is the true life, my brothers, a life in which Paul feels no shame because of Stephen's death, and Stephen delights in Paul's companionship, for love fills them both with joy."

More on Forgiveness

Confession time: I received a thoughtful comment from "Do Not Be Anxious" who follows this blog and after writing my own comment in reply, I could not figure out how to post it. I've posted comments before but for some reason couldn't do so with this one and didn't have the time to play around with it. So, I decided to create another post responding to the comment.

"Do Not Be Anxious" wrote: "I subscribed to Touchstone magazine for a year, and the first issue had an article explaining how you could not forgive someone unless he asked for forgiveness --- ala the sacrament of Penance. I wrote a comment that Matthew 5 and 18 call us to reconcile with others, whether we have sinned against them (5) or they against us (18) --- and they have the same obligation. However, in 18 it says that if they do not seek forgiveness, we are to shake the dust from our shoes and move on. But, as I commented, nowhere does it say in the bible that we cannot forgive someone, even if they do not seek forgiveness. I've had many discussions about this, forgiving others even if they do not seek forgiveness. It seems to be an open question in Catholic teachings, never specifically addressed. Perhaps it gets down to a definition of forgiveness: is it a two-person thing, a reconciliation between people which requires both to participate (as confession implies) or is it merely a cleansing of one's feelings?"

My response: I would make a distinction between "forgiveness" and "reconciliation." I think every Christian is called to be ready to forgive. We are called to be like Jesus who prayed for those crucifying him and who therefore weren't seeking his forgiveness. He asked the Father to forgive them. We must have a heart like the Heart of Jesus that is always ready to forgive rather than condemn. When Jesus tells Peter to forgive 77 times--a symbolic number representing "always"--he wasn't asking Peter to do something that he was not ready to do himself.

But, as "Do Not Be Anxious" points out, while we must always be ready to forgive, that forgiveness may not be accepted. And until it is accepted, reconciliation has not happened. I may say to people who have hurt me, "I forgive you," and they, denying that they did anything to me, may reject my offer of forgiveness. I have forgiven but it has not been accepted and reconciliation has not occured. That person who rejects my forgiveness continues to be "bound" by denial and by the sin against me. This could be one way of looking at Matthew 18: 18 "Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven." Our binding is simply allowing the person to hold on to the denial and sin that they have chosen instead of our forgiveness.

If someone does not seek or accept our offer of forgiveness, we can, as "Do Not Be Anxious" points out, follow Matthew 18: 15-17. We can bring others and the Church with us. If they refuse even in the face of this, Jesus says: "treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector." That isn't quite shaking the dust from our feet, an image that is used in other places with regards to the apostles' preaching being rejected by a particular town. I've always found this line ambiguous because while the good Jew of Jesus' time--the Pharisee--would reject the tax collectors as sinners and would view the Gentiles as doomed--Jesus reaches out to them. Are we, in treating them like Gentiles and tax collectors, to continue reaching out to them with love and forgiveness? I think we could say that in doing so we would be following Jesus' example.

But I think there comes a time when, while we might be always ready to forgive, it doesn't help the process of reconciliation to keep confronting people who deny they've done wrong with their sin. Then it's best to pray quietly and constantly for them. This prayer keeps our hearts from becoming resentful.

"Do Not Be Anxious" also wrote: "Perhaps it also comes down to a question of the benefits of forgiveness. Does God benefit by my seeking forgiveness --- He is God, what can he gain? I can understand that I might gain something in a renewed relationship with someone if we reconcile together, but what do I gain if I unilaterally forgive him? Does he gain anything?"

What does God gain from our forgiveness? God desires reconciliation and peace for his children. We are helping to realize God's plan for humanity when we are ready to forgive and praying for it. Our prayers, we have to believe, can play a role in the conversion of the person who has hurt us. If heaven rejoices over one sinner who repents (see Luke 15), it must also be true that God rejoices over his children who have not let resentment take root in their hearts. God rejoices in his children whose hearts have become more like the Heart of his Son. Our desire to forgive, even when it is rejected, gives joy to God. Even if reconciliation does not occur, I gain because I have not allowed my heart to become hardened, and the offending party gains--my prayers and my love, even though they are at that particular time rejected.

"Do Not Be Anxious" ended the comment with: "Much to be thought on, on this thing called forgiveness." So very true. Thank you for the opportunity to continue the reflection.

Forgiveness

These are challenging times and today's Mass readings are challenging. It's the 10th anniversary of what has come to be known simply as "9-11" and the readings are all about forgiveness.

The First Reading (Sirach 27: 30 - 28: 7) begins: "Wrath and anger are hateful things." They may be "hateful" but they are common. In the reconciliation room or confessional I hear sins of anger confessed frequently. Yet, is anger really a sin? Jesus got angry. Jesus, the sinless one, the all-holy Son of God, became so angry that he made a whip to drive animals out of the temple and turned over the tables of money-changers, scattering their coins. Anger itself isn't a sin. What we do with it can be. In fact, anger, as we see with Jesus, is the appropriate response to something that is wrong, to an injustice, to evil. We ought to get angry at some of the situations in our world.

Anger becomes sinful when we nurse it into bitterness and resentment, when we allow it to make our hearts hard, cold, and unforgiving. The best definition of resentment that I've heard is this: "Resentment is like taking a bottle of poison, drinking it, and hoping that the other person dies." Resentment really doesn't hurt the person who hurts us. It hurts and poisons us. It leads to alienation from other people and from God.

This is why some other words from Sirach are very important to hear: "Remember your last days, set enmity aside; remember death and decay, and cease from sin!" We don't have forever. Actually, we don't have forever in this world to let go of resentments, but we will have forever in the next life to be poisoned and forever alienated from God. Thus we must let go of resentments and forgive now.

In 1995 the Federal Building in Oklahoma City was bombed. Today, in the plaza where the building stood, there are 168 concrete chairs representing the people whose lives were snuffed out that day. Timothy McVeigh was apprehended, tried, convicted, and sentenced to death. In prison, awaiting his execution, he was visited by a Catholic priest, Fr. Charles Smith, who came to lead him to remorse and reconciliation. McVeigh was a baptized Catholic but had not been practicing the faith. The first visit did not go well. In a Catholic News Service story, Fr. Smith is quoted as saying: "I went to him and he threw his feces on me and called me all types of names and said, 'You can't be a priest because I've never seen a you-know-what as a priest.'" You see, Fr. Smith is African-American. McVeigh, poisoned by his racism and bitterness, rejected Fr. Smith. But Fr. Smith persisted and in time McVeigh sought God's mercy in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. On June 11, 2001, Fr. Smith and Timothy McVeigh walked together down the corridor to the execution room where McVeigh was given a lethal injection.

It was reported that the reaction on the part of some people who had lost family members was: "That was too easy! He should have suffered more!" Having nursed their anger into a bitterness, McVeigh's death was not enough. They wanted his suffering.

Imagine for a moment those people passing from this life to the next and seeing Timothy McVeigh, who had sought mercy from God, forgiven and with the Lord in heaven. It's conceivable that having held on to their resentment for years they would say: "What's he doing here? How could you have forgiven him? You may have forgiven him but I will never forgive him for what he did to my family!" And conceivably they would choose to be separated from God rather than to forgive.

How do we forgive? It isn't easy and it's not once-and-for-all. We don't "forgive and forget" unless we have amnesia. Painful memories do not go away. They come back to haunt us and tempt us. Perhaps this is why in the Gospel (Matthew 18: 21-35) Jesus tells Peter he must forgive 77 times. On any given day the painful memory may return and the temptation to allow it to become a resentment might come back innumerable times. Each time we are challenged to forgive. Forgiveness, like love, is not a feeling but a decision, an act of the will. When the painful memory of how we've been hurt returns, we must forgive and pray for the ones who hurt us. We pray for their conversion and for their ultimate good. We don't want an ongoing resentment to keep us from the Communion of Saints in heaven.

Where do we get the power to forgive? From Jesus. From the Eucharist where Jesus speaks to us and gives his Heart to us so that we might be transformed and empowered to do what he did. At every Mass we remember the death and resurrection of Jesus in a miraculous way that actually makes these saving events present to us right now. The past event--Calvary--is made present and we hear Jesus once again pray: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."

Nine years ago I was working at the Jesuit Retreat House in Lake Elmo, Minnesota. I had just finished talking about the events of September 11, 2001, and a man followed me into a tiny individual conference room. He introduced himself as Vince Fahnlander and said that he was Tom Burnett's college roommate. I couldn't quite remember who Tom Burnett was but I surmised he had some connection with 9-11. Vince explained that Tom was on the plane that crashed into the field in Pennsylvania. After graduation Tom moved to California and got a job with a medical technology firm and Vince stayed in Minnesota. They lost contact with each other.

When Vince heard that there was going to be a memorial service for Tom at his home parish in Bloomington, Minnesota, he went. He almost thought that he was at the wrong place because the man whom the priest described didn't sound like the Tom Burnett he knew. Tom had quit practicing the faith in college and the priest described a man who went to Mass every day.

After the service Vince went up to Deena, Tom's widow, introduced himself and asked about what had happened in the intervening years. Deena explained that Tom had always been a hard worker and when he stopped coming home for lunch in 1997, she figured he was putting in extra hours at work. Six months before his death he revealed to her that he had been going to a 12:10 PM Mass every day instead of driving the short distance home for lunch.

In an article that Vince sent me, Deena explained: "He told me that he felt God was telling him he was going to do something. Something big. But he didn't understand what it was." Feeling God calling him to something, Tom thought that if he prayed more he would find the answer. Deena continued: "He knew that what he was going to do would impact a lot of people. And he knew one other thing: It had something to do with the White House."

Just imagine this average guy, much like you or I, having an intuition that God had a plan for him. That God was calling him to something else. He senses, as he prays, that this call has something to do with the White House and he thinks: "What does my life have to do with the White House?! I have any plans or desires to go into politics!"

On September 11, 2001, thousands of feet above the earth, Tom Burnett knew what his life had to do with the White House. He knew where the plane that had been hijacked was heading and he and others on that plane decided that at all costs they had to prevent a greater tragedy from happening. They acted and the plane crashed into a field in Pennsylvania.

Where did Tom get the insight and courage to do what he did? I believe it was the Eucharist where every day he experienced a sacrifice that saved the world. There he found the strength that would one day help him to sacrifice himself.

Tom Burnett and the others are called heroes. We may feel that we are not heroes, but each of us is called to love heroically. We do that when we sacrifice ourselves for others--for spouse and for family, for our city and for our country, for our Church. The power to love in a sacrificial way comes from the Eucharist. The power to sacrifice our hurts and resentments, forgiving and praying for our enemies, comes from the Eucharist. In Holy Communion Jesus gives us himself, his Body and Blood, his Pierced Heart. In the Eucharist our hearts become more and more like the Heart of Jesus who did not pray for vengeance on his enemies but for their forgiveness.