Second Sunday of Advent

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Father Suraj Abraham

Guest

A farmer once walked through his field after a wildfire had swept across the land. Everything was black and lifeless. He stood there in silence, heartbroken at the loss. But a few weeks later, as he walked the same path, he noticed tiny green shoots pushing up through the charred soil. Surprised, he knelt down and whispered, “Fire doesn’t destroy the promise of life; it prepares the ground for new things.”

On this second Sunday of Advent, this is exactly the kind of hope the prophet Isaiah offers us (Isaiah 11:1–10). Israel, too, felt like a burnt and barren field, cut down, exhausted, discouraged. Yet the Lord promises: “A shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse.” (Is 11:1) From what looked dead, God brings forth the Messiah.

The early Church loved this image. St. Jerome wrote, “From a root that seemed without life, Christ springs forth with divine power.” The season of Advent invites us to believe that God can bring new life from the “burned fields” of our own hearts and situations.

St. Paul (Rom 15:4–9), tells us where such hope is strengthened: In the Scriptures; “Whatever was written … was written for our instruction, that we might have hope.” (Rom 15:4) The Catechism explains Paul: “The Holy Spirit gives a spiritual understanding of the Word of God to those who read or hear it, according to the dispositions of their hearts, so that they can live out the meaning of what they hear, contemplate and do in the celebration.” (CCC 1101)

Advent is therefore not only a season of waiting; it is a season of listening and allowing the Word to wash over us and renew our hearts. Advent is not just a countdown to Christmas; it is a school where God teaches us hope, unity and encouragement.

Then in the Gospel (Matt 3:1–12), John the Baptist stands before us not as a harsh figure, but as a friend of the Bridegroom, who wants us truly ready for Christ. His message is honest and freeing: “Repent! Make straight the paths.”

Repentance is not shame, it is healing. Not punishment, but an invitation. The Catechism says: “It is by faith in the Gospel and by Baptism that one renounces evil and gains salvation, that is, the forgiveness of all sins and the gift of new life.” (CCC 1427) John points us to Jesus, who baptizes “with the Holy Spirit and fire,” the fire of love that purifies and renews our hearts. John wants our hearts cleared, ready and open, so that Christ may plant something new within us.

Dear friends, may this Advent help us recognize the “green shoots” God is already raising in our lives. And may the Lord, who brings life out of ashes, prepare our hearts to welcome His Son with renewed hope and joy. Let us “Bear fruit worthy of repentance.”

Father Suraj Abraham, CMI, is Parochial Vicar at Blessed Sacrament Parish, Ft. Mitchell.

The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

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Father Phillip DeVous

Guest

“Almighty ever-living God, whose will is to restore all things in your beloved Son, the King of the universe … that the whole creation, set from slavery, may render your majesty service and ceaselessly proclaim your praise.”

These words of our opening collect for the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, unequivocally state that it is the will of God to restore all things in Christ, that creation is to be set free from slavery, and that the purpose of the entirety of creation is to render the majesty of God service and ceaselessly proclaim praise to God. This, of course, is true, however we must grasp that this statement of truth is also poses some deeply personal questions to us: Do we want to be restored in Jesus Christ? Do we want to be set free from slavery? Do we even want to see how it is we might be enslaved in various ways by the forces of the world, the flesh and devil?

It is quite easier than we think to become apathetic about the holiness of one’s life. Saying Christ is King may fall easily from our lips, but it is much harder to acknowledge that kingship with the ardor of our lives. It is easy to go the way of the world, but quite difficult to live in confrontation with the dictatorship of the worldly, which comes about as the consequence of rejecting Jesus Christ as King. The temptation is always to be more social than truthful, negotiating for our comforts within the confines of the worldly dictatorship, rather than accepting Jesus Christ as the Lord and King of our lives.

To live under the kingship of Christ is to be the target of the world’s animus. It is important to grapple with the depth of world’s hatred of those who belong to Christ. The theologian, Cardinal Jean Daniélou, describes it well:

“If I keep faith with Christ, I must incur the world’s reproach, it is impossible for me to be on good terms with the world . . . ‘The world’ [here] means the whole collection of those human tendencies that go against the Spirit of Christ, vanity, pride, hardness of heart, concupiscence; of which Christ himself said, ‘I am not praying for the world.’ [John 17:9] A Christian cannot agree with the spirit of this world, because there is a direct incompatibility between it and the spirit of Christ. So, it is natural for the Christian to be thoroughly disliked; his whole behavior is a living reproach. He has no love for the world’s ideals; this in itself is an intolerable position, because it amounts to a judgement and sentence passed upon the world. Therefore, the world hates him.”

That the world hates the Christian, because it first hates Jesus Christ, can be clearly seen in the Gospel: “the rulers sneered at Jesus … soldiers jeered at him … one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus.”

The rulers, the soldiers and the criminals in the crucifixion scene represent a Christological constellation of divine revelation: the scope of worldly powers opposed to the kingship of Christ. The rulers represent the forces of cynical political power, then and now, which understands power to be self-justifying by those who wield it. The soldiers represent the forces of egoism-those who get what they want by various forms of violence, believing that might makes right. Finally, the criminal gives voice to the force of sin and transgression which believes it can revile Jesus Christ without consequence.

We see here the comprehensive rejection of the Kingship of Jesus Christ, which Jesus exercises not through political power or violence or lawlessness-the ways of the world-but in humility, sacrifice and self-giving. The dictatorship of the worldly, with its cynicism, violence and free-form transgression is contrasted to the Kingdom of Christ, which is a “kingdom of truth and life, a kingdom of holiness and grace, a kingdom of justice, love and peace.”

The proclamation of Christ’s kingship and kingdom places before us the stark choice to be slave to the dictatorship of the worldly or to be sanctified citizen of the Kingdom of God. Though assailed and tempted by the various forces of the world, luring us down the paths of cynical power, egoistic violence and transgression, we make an act of profound trust in the Eucharistic Lord, knowing in my Holy Communion with Him, the Father has “delivered us from the power of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.”

Fr. Phillip W. DeVous is the pastor of St. Charles Borromeo Parish in Flemingsburg and St. Rose of Lima Parish, May’s Lick.

Thirty-third Sunday of Ordinary Time

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Father Steven Bankemper

Guest

The readings of this 33rd Sunday in year C of the Church’s liturgical year are shadowed by the idea of endings: the “Day of the Lord” in the first reading, the “end times” in the second, and the destruction of the Jerusalem temple in the Gospel. One thing that is interesting about all three of these readings is that there is nothing anyone can do about these endings, and the speakers – Malachi, Paul and Jesus – offer no solutions or remedies for them. There is, quite simply, nothing anyone can do to avoid or stop the Day of the Lord, the end times, or the difficulties of living an authentic Christian life, including the seeming destruction of even those things we have held most dear to us in the Church.

To say that there is nothing one can do to stop or avoid these things, however, is not to say that there is nothing we can or should do when they happen. In fact, the speakers in all three readings give clear advice, and their messages are remarkably similar. Malachi prophecies that while the Day of the Lord will be destruction for “all the proud and all evildoers,” for those who fear God’s name the day will bring the rising of “the sun of justice with its healing rays.” In the Old Testament, to “fear God’s name” means to show deep reverence, awe, and respect for God. It is not fear of punishment, but a profound recognition of God’s power, holiness and sovereignty, which motivates a person to live in a way that is pleasing to Him. Paul, responding, in the opinion of many biblical scholars, to the attitude that some in the church of Thessalonica had, that since the end times were near or already upon them, they no longer had to work, exhorts them not to live in idleness, but to imitate him, Paul, who when he was with them worked “night and day.” In the line that follows what we hear at Mass, Paul urges them: “Brethren, do not be weary in well-doing.” And in today’s Gospel, Jesus’ advice to his disciples is not to prepare for coming persecutions, but simply to persevere in faith and trust.

The Church echoes these sentiments in the prayers of the Mass today, especially the Collect. In this prayer that “collects” and sums up the opening rites of the Mass, the Church prays that God may grant us the “constant gladness of being devoted to you,” for “it is full and lasting happiness to serve with constancy the author of all that is good.”

As we face our own troubles in both the world and the Church, let us remember the words we hear today and strive not to let ourselves be worried or shaken. Let us stay close to God, living a life devoted to God, persevering in serving him through Jesus, in the strength the Holy Spirit gives us. Let us strive to remain constant in our devotion to God and trust Him to guide us in what to say and do.

And let us help each other to do this.

Father Stephen Bankemper is pastor, St. Catherine of Siena Parish, Ft. Thomas, Ky.

Thirty-second Sunday of Ordinary Time

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Father Michael Elmlinger

Guest

The past couple of months have been rather unique for our liturgical calendar, as we have had a few Sundays in Ordinary Time that have been taken over by major feast days. In September, we had the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross. Just last Sunday, we celebrated All Souls Day, and now this Sunday, we celebrate another important Feast rather than the Sunday in Ordinary Time: the Feast of the Dedication of St. John Lateran Basilica. But what is so special about the Lateran Basilica? Why is it so important that it takes over a Sunday in Ordinary Time?

It may come as a surprise to some people that the cathedral of Rome in fact is not St. Peter’s Basilica. It is certainly one of the most important churches in the Catholic Church, but it is not the cathedral of the Diocese of Rome. The actual cathedral of the Diocese of Rome is in fact St. John Lateran Basilica.

If we recall just this past May when Robert Cardinal Prevost was elected Pope Leo XIV, we may recall that not long after his installation Mass at Vatican City, he had another major celebration: his possession of the cathedral of Rome, St. John Lateran Basilica. Now, since this is the cathedral of the Diocese of Rome, that also means that the Lateran Basilica is also the cathedral of the universal Church as well, the Mother Church of all churches. In other words, it is the cathedral of the entire world, of the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church. So this day, this feast of the dedication of the Lateran Basilica, is a day where most especially we celebrate the unity of the Church of Christ.

In his homily for when he took possession of the Lateran Basilica, Pope Leo called for the Church to be “a sign of unity and community, leaven for a reconciled world.” Indeed, this is one of the very marks of the Church, that the Church is one, specifically one under Our Lord Jesus Christ. He is the source of our unity, as all that we do leads to Him and from Him, especially in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar: the Eucharist.

Indeed, it was during the night of the Last Supper when Christ instituted the Eucharist that he prayed his high priestly prayer, “that they may be one, as We are One.” (John 17:21) As St. Paul says, “The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of one bread.” (1 Cor 10:16-17) One of the most beautiful expressions of the unity that is found within the Church is how throughout the entire world, though there is great diversity within the Church, the same Eucharist is celebrated.

I say this especially from my own personal experience, as I am currently living in Canada for further studies. There are times when I get homesick, where I miss my family and friends from the Diocese of Covington, as there were when I was in seminary. One of the ways that I feel strongly connected to my homeland is through the Eucharist, through the celebration of the Mass. Even though there are slight discrepancies between how Canada and the United States celebrate the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, nevertheless, the celebration as a whole remains the same. This brings a sense of comfort, a sense of belonging, a sense that we are truly at home within the liturgy, especially the Mass, even in the midst of a foreign land.

This is one of the things that the Lord wants to give us through his Church: this sense of belonging, of being at home with him and through him. One of the ways that He does this is through the very sacrament of his Body and Blood, the One Bread of Life. In a world that at times can be greatly individualistic, we have a wondrous gift from the Lord that brings us into one with Him and with one another. Every time that Eucharist is celebrated and we receive the Body and Blood of Our Lord, our bond of communion with one another and with him is strengthened ever more, so that indeed we may be one, as he, the Father, and the Holy Spirit are one.

Father Michael Elmlinger is a priest of the Diocese of Covington, Ky. Father Elmlinger is currently studying Canon Law at the University of St. Paul, Ottawa, Canada.

Thirty-first Sunday of Ordinary Time

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Father Dan Schomaker

Guest

St. Benedict instructs, “keep death before your eyes always.” On the annual priests’ retreat a few years ago, the Retreat Master asked a very poignant question: “Do you pray for your death?” I’m going to make an assumption that most of us tend to avoid thinking about death, especially our own. It is not a particularly joyful subject to the modern mind. What is it that we are so afraid of? The unknown? Are we focused on what is lost or on what is gained?

Jesus makes a promise to his disciples — to us! And Jesus always keeps his promises: “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be.” (John 14: 2-3)

When I was in my early 30s, I decided to purchase the casket for my funeral. I did this for the practical reasons: I knew what I wanted and didn’t want to leave the decision to anyone else — and, in the hope that I would live a long life, it would be cheaper versus when I’m in my 80s or 90s (or so I assume). I’ve also chosen the prayers and readings and music that I want at my funeral. In a way, this is keeping death before my eyes … kind of.

The Retreat Master, however, was not encouraging us to do the practical planning, as good as that is. He was encouraging us to pray and talk to God about the type of death we would have.

What will it look like? What will be my attitude? Will it be a holy death? Will it be filled with grace? Will I accept it as a gift? Will I die as a witness to the faith? Will my death be a model for others? Am I willing to say: “Thy will be done.” Will I be angry if it doesn’t happen the way I want? How do I approach the reality of dying?

Remember, if you want to go to heaven, you have to die! It’s the only way. Oh, and you can’t escape it!

In this month of November as we pray in a special way for the faithful departed, that they may rest in the eternal peace and joy of God, let us also reflect on our own death, making it part of our daily prayer. In this way, we will be prepared for death whenever it comes. We are never guaranteed our next breath.

For the one who knows the Lord, there is nothing to be afraid of — death is just the journey into the fullness of life and love — God, surrounded by the angels and saints awaits us! Therefore, let us always be prepared to meet the Lord!

Father Daniel Schomaker is pastor, Blessed Sacrament Parish, Ft. Mitchell and director, Office of Worship and Liturgy for the Diocese of Covington, Ky.

Thirtieth Sunday of Ordinary Time

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Father Phillip W. DeVous

Guest

One rarely hears much anymore about the “New Atheists”, or from other professional atheists in the public square. Given the relative silence of this previously influential contingent, it would be lovely to think they were successfully rebutted by the arguments for faith in Jesus Christ and defeated by the evidence supplied by lives of faith. While such arguments are not absent and such lives are present among us, I sense that atheism has largely triumphed, at least, socially, as the lingua franca of cultural life. In other words, their ideas were successful, and public opinion simply absorbed their notions as the default norm.

This gives us an opportunity to properly examine the true nature of atheism. Contrary to the common understanding, atheism is not simply a rejection of belief in God or the idea of God. Upon closer examination, one can see that atheism is a form of idolatry, of self-sufficiency, and a radical belief in oneself and in one’s own power to make oneself “good.” We see this phenomenon illustrated in the figure of the Pharisee when he prays, ostensibly to God, but really to himself: “O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity — greedy, dishonest, adulterous — or even like this tax collector.”

This is what one strain of atheistic idolatry looks like—praying to a god we have made in our own image and likeness. As the late Pope Benedict XVI noted in his deeply insightful book, Jesus of Nazareth:

“At the heart of all temptations . . . is the act of pushing God aside because we perceive him as secondary, if not actually superfluous and annoying in comparison with all the apparently far more urgent matters that fill our lives. Constructing a world by our own lights, without reference to God, building on our own foundation; refusing to acknowledge the reality of anything beyond the political and material, while setting God aside as an illusion — that is the temptation that threatens us in many varied forms.”

Jesus is beckoning us to recognize the reality that even believers can be tempted to the corruption of atheistic-idolatry, even as they call on the name of the Lord in prayer and worship. We treat God as secondary, ourselves as first. We construct a god that suits our purposes and we end up worshiping the false gods of politics and material pursuits, which is to say, worshiping ourselves under various guises. In our age where materialism is regnant in every sphere of life, and deeply influences our understanding of the human person, this temptation is ever-present.

What then is the remedy to this powerful and often subtle temptation? Radical humility and an awareness of our poverty of spirit. As the Holy Gospel teaches, “for whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”  Humility does not come easily to us, as self-will and a refusal to acknowledge our relationship of dependence on God and others is a consequence of original sin, intensified by our personal sins. That is why we pray in the opening collect of the Holy Mass, “make us love what You command.” Left to our own devices, living according to our lights, we tend to “love” only what we want. If our wants are untutored by Gospel truth and untouched by grace, we end up in a state of unbelief and idolatry.

When we allow the Holy Spirit to reveal to us our poverty of spirit, our dearth of understanding about what truly matters, and what makes us whole as humans, we may well experience a profound sense of being brokenhearted. This is a natural consequence of recognizing where in our lives we have worshipped that which is unworthy, believed that which is false, and been made less than we are meant to be. This recognition, though painful, is the path to the highest good! As the psalmist proclaims, “the Lord is close to the brokenhearted; and those who are crushed in spirit he saves.”

This is the posture of radical humility that conquers the atheism which is really the idolatry of self and our state of possession by desires untutored by truth and untouched by grace. In faith, trusting that the Lord will rescue us from every evil, we turn to the Lord who is alive to us in the Holy Sacraments, praying, “perfect in us what lies within them, that what we now celebrate in signs we one day possess in truth.”

Father Phillip W. DeVous is the pastor of St. Charles Borromeo, Flemingsburg, and St. Rose of Lima, May’s Lick.

Twenty-ninth Sunday of Ordinary Time

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Father Stephen Bankemper

Guest

The Gospel for this weekend, the story of the corrupt judge and the persistent widow, is well known and often cited, but I have always thought that the story in the first reading, the story of Joshua battling Amalek and Moses praying on the hill above him, deserves to be better known, because it is a good picture of what the Church’s life — and more particularly, parish life — should be.

Moses tells Joshua to engage Amalek in battle. Why Joshua and not Moses? To lead in battle is not Moses’ role. It is Joshua’s and the other Israelite warriors’ task to engage their enemies in battle. Just so, it is not the primary role of the pastor to engage in the Church’s duties and activities in the world. That belongs primarily to the lay faithful of the Church. This principle has been explained in many ways by many different spiritual writers and teachers, but I will cite just two examples.

Lumen Gentium (“Dogmatic Constitution on the Church”), one of the documents that came out of the Second Vatican Council, after describing the nature of the Church in general, next discusses the nature and purpose of the hierarchy (clergy), and then has an entire section dedicated to the laity (Chapter IV, “The Laity”). Among all the things written about the laity is this general comment: “But by reason of their special vocation it belongs to the laity to seek the kingdom of God by engaging in temporal affairs and directing them according to God’s will. They live in the world, that is, they are engaged in each and every work and business of the earth … There they are called by God that, being led by the spirit to the Gospel, they may contribute to the sanctification of the world, as from within like leaven …” (Par 31b)

A second example comes from John Paul II’s Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation, Christifideles Laici (“The Lay Members of Christ’s Faithful People”). From the very first sentence of the document John Paul illustrates the role of the laity by using the parable from Matthew’s Gospel of the workers in the vineyard: “The lay members of Christ’s Faithful People … are those who form that part of the People of God which might be likened to the laborers in the vineyard mentioned in Matthew’s Gospel …” (Introduction) Lay people “as well are personally called by the Lord from whom they receive a mission on behalf of the Church and the world.” (Par 2d)

Who supports them in their mission? The clergy. Moses does not stand on the battlefield, but climbs a hill from where he entreats the Lord on the warriors’ behalf. The citations describing the priest’s ministry to the laity are too numerous to even mention, so perhaps we should simply look at the nature of priestly ministry, described broadly by noting that the priest, as an extension of the local ordinary (bishop), participates in Jesus’ ministry of Priest, Prophet and King; the One Who sanctifies His people (for their own benefit, but also that “they may contribute to the sanctification of the world”, the quote from above), the One Who teaches and speaks God’s word to them and the One Who shepherds and guides them. I include under “Priest,” one who sanctifies, praying for my people. In fact, I spend more time praying for my parishioners than I do any other one thing, except perhaps homily preparation.

Moses, however, gets tired. His hands fall. He needs the support of Aaron and Hur to

continue his prayer. So, too, the priest gets tired, discouraged, disillusioned, scandalized, doubts himself, is subject to attacks by the Enemy, is tempted in many ways. Some months ago a YouTube video caught the attention of the Catholic people. It was purported to be a message from Pope Leo in reaction to the suicide of a priest. It very quickly became known that it was not, in fact, from the Holy Father, and it quickly died, but the message was nonetheless accurate. The priest needs support in his ministry, not for his own sake, but so that he can continue in his ministry and be effective. Without Aaron and Hur, Moses would not have been able to continue his intercession, and the battle would have been lost. Without support, the priest, too, will eventually fail in his ministry. Not all of that support needs to come from his people — there is his prayer and devotional life, the Eucharist, and the grace of the sacrament of ordination, for examples — but the human support he receives from his people is vital.

Go back and read this story again in this context. Let us pray for each other, so that we each may persevere in our respective vocations and ministries. Let us care for each other. Let us help each other. Let us love each other.

Father Stephen Bankemper is pastor, St. Catherine of Siena Parish, Ft. Thomas, Ky.

Twenty-eighth Sunday of Ordinary Time

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Father Michael Elmlinger

Guest

For those of you who do not know me, I am a huge Notre Dame college football fan, so it should not come as a surprise that almost every year during the season, there is one movie that comes to mind: “Rudy.” There is one particular scene that I was recently reminded of. It is the scene where Rudy feels like he is losing all hope of getting into Notre Dame, and he is sitting in the Basilica of the Sacred Heart when Father Cavanaugh notices him. During the conversation, Rudy says, “Maybe I haven’t prayed enough … If I’ve done everything I can, can you help me?” Father Cavanaugh responds to him with a very simple statement, “Son, in 35 years of religious studies, I have come up with only two hard, incontrovertible facts: there is a God, and I’m not Him.”

The reason that I bring up this scene is because one of the things Father Cavanaugh is saying here to Rudy is the same as our readings this weekend: faith is not magic. It is not a matter of saying some prayers that will force God to wave his hand to cure us of whatever ailment we are dealing with. Having this kind of relationship with the Lord is not an authentic relationship; rather, it is one of superficiality or even quid-pro-quo.

Faith, instead, is about a relationship of intimacy, of trust and obedience. We are to be obedient to Him in whatever He commands us to do, because we trust in him. That obedience is meant to lead to thanksgiving.

For the sake of brevity, I am not going to retell the story of Naaman, the Syrian commander who was cured of leprosy. I do encourage everyone to read the full story themselves in 2 Kings 5, because it will help in understanding the point I want to make. I want to focus on Naaman’s reaction to Elisha telling him to go to the Jordan River and bathe seven times. Naaman is incredulous and disappointed. He thought that Elisha would simply wave his hand and cure him of his leprosy.

Not only that, but the Jordan River is hardly the best river in the land. In fact, Naaman has to be reminded that he has no other choice but to do what Elisha commands him. He had to learn this truth that relationship with God is not meant to be a magic show. It is meant to be a relationship of trust in all that he commands him to do. After deciding to listen to what Elisha tells him, Naaman goes to the Jordan and is healed of his leprosy, and the only thing that he can think to do is to see that the God of Israel is the true God and to give thanks to him.

The 10 lepers who are healed by Jesus experience the same thing. It is interesting how this time, Jesus does not heal the lepers first, like he did earlier in the Gospel in Luke 5:12-16, before sending them to the priest. Rather, he is sending them first, which likely may have been confusing, if not frustrating, for these lepers. As lepers, they were to isolate themselves from the rest of society until they were actually cured (cf. Leviticus 13:46).

What Christ is doing here is calling them to the same act of humility and trust that Elisha called Naaman, trusting that what they have been told is true, regardless of whether they may agree with it or not. That trust turns what would have been a simple display of magic into an opportunity to grow in a real relationship with the Lord, rather than a superficial relationship. It is a relationship that is built on trust, on obedience to the word that the Lord has spoken to them, and that trust and obedience is meant to lead to only one other response: thanksgiving (from the Greek, eucharisteo).

This is what an authentic relationship with the Lord looks like. It is not one of superficiality, where all it consists of is saying the “right words” to have the Lord wave his magic hand over whatever happens to ail us that day. Rather, it is an intimate relationship built on trusting in what it is that he tells us to do, even if it may not make sense.

When we are willing to truly listen to the voice of the Lord calling out to us, then are we able to be truly transformed by Him and cleansed by him of the leprosy of sin, and there is only one response worthy of this wondrous gift: “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his mercy endures forever.” (Psalm 118:29)

Father Michael Elmlinger is a priest of the Diocese of Covington, Ky. Father Elmlinger is currently studying Canon Law at the University of St. Paul, Ottawa, Canada.

Twenty-seventh Sunday of Ordinary Time

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Father Dan Schomaker

Guest

In the Gospel for this weekend, the apostles ask the Lord to: “Increase our faith.” I think, along with many others, that there is a great misunderstanding in today’s culture about what faith is and what it is not. Let’s start with the negative. Faith is not a blind belief, it is not a superstition, a credulity, naivete, gullibility nor is it an irrationality.

What it is, as defined by the Letter to the Hebrews, is: “…the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen.”

If we break down that definition, we see that the use of our human reason and intellect is integral and necessary for faith. “Realization” is the awareness through thought, study, contemplation, examination, etc. that something is real. “Evidence” is the proof of that thought, study, examination, etc. Synonyms include clear, apparent and obvious.

So, faith can be the obvious proof of invisible realities that have become known in the mind through the use of human reason and experienced in the heart because of a longing for that which is hoped. In the case of God, that hope is Heaven!

St. Thomas Aquinas provides the Church with five (5) proofs of God’s existence. I’ll share just one: The Unmoved Mover. He would argue that all of creation is in some form of motion or change. Nothing can move itself; it is always acted upon by an outside force. He argues that there cannot be an infinite chain of movers – those outside forces which cause the motion or change. There must be an initial mover who is unmoved. This unmoved mover we Christians call God. As a thought process, this invisible reality becomes clear to the mind through the use of reason!

If we desire to have an increase in faith like the apostles, then we have to start using our minds and our reason as we seek belief. St. Augustine would say: “do not seek to understand that you may believe, but seek to believe that you may understand.”  Belief must come first!

Let’s give ourselves over to the faith of the Church, the faith into which we were all baptized… one that is pure and perfect. Then we can watch an exposition of growth, just like the tiny mustard seed becomes the greatest of bushes.

Father Daniel Schomaker is pastor, Blessed Sacrament Parish, Ft. Mitchell and director, Office of Worship and Liturgy for the Diocese of Covington, Ky.

Twenty-sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time

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Father Phillip DeVous

Guest

“Woe to those the complacent in Zion!” For us to grasp just how thoroughly the Prophet Amos is calling us to task with his proclamation, it is imperative to understand the essence of the prophetic “woe.”

A woe is an anguished cry or lament by those mourning the dead, the future prospect of death, or cataclysm. Prophets pronounce woes as warnings about God’s judgment on sinful cities or nations. They also serve as urgent appeals for repentance from sin.

One of the primary ways we become complacent in our pursuit of holiness is to presume we are good enough; to presume that mercy will just “work” no matter my disposition. Zion, the biblical Jerusalem, finds its fullest expression and fulfillment in the Church, the Body of Christ. In the Church there dwells the fullness of grace of salvation.

Despite the extraordinary reality of Christ dwelling among us, it is easy to fall prey to a kind of presumption that makes us spiritually complacent and neglectful, causing us to slouch towards the prophetic “woe” being pronounced upon us.

How does such spiritual complacency about something as important as our eternal destiny in the Trinitarian God come about? Very often, distracted by the relentless tempo of the unexamined life, we treat the Church like a mere system for good works and emotional uplift, not the place of encounter and communion with the Holy of Holies, the Trinitarian God. When the Church is understood in this manner, the Holy Sacraments get reduced to something like mere signs of aspiration and affirmation, personal goodness, and/or community togetherness, not the means of our repentance, conversion, and sanctification.

When the Church, the Gospel message, and the Holy Sacraments are rendered as a ceremonial system of “moral therapeutic deism,” a phrase coined by the sociologists Christian Smith and Melissa Sundquist Denton, we have entered the realm of complacent idolatry. There are five basic tenets (really senses) of moral therapeutic deism (MTD); senses that hollow out an authentic spiritual life in Christ.

  1. A God exists who created and orders the world and watches over human life on earth.
  2. God wants people to be good, nice and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.
  3. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.
  4. God does not need to be particularly involved in one’s life except when God is needed to resolve a problem.
  5. Good people go to heaven when they die.

It would be entirely correct to describe the tenets of MTD as “my way, my truth, and my life” vs. Jesus, the way, the truth, and the life. It is obvious the tenets of the worldly ideology of MTD, with a sprinkling of the spiritual, are rather generic, resisting any definition or direction. Everyone is left to pick whatever meaning one wishes — the notions they find most affirming.

The prophet Amos was trying to stir people from a complacency, which assumed a false sense of spiritual security among the people, despite the evildoing that thrived in their midst, within them and among them. It was the prophet’s task then, and the Church’s now, to exhort us to the higher and harder path, as St. Paul teaches us, to “pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience and gentleness. Compete well for the faith. Lay hold to eternal life, to which you were called…”

To lay hold of the eternal life, to which we are called, a question confronts us: Do we experience urgency in the need to repent from sin?

In praying the Michaelmas Novena in my parishes, we have been reminded that it is primarily through unexamined, unrepentant and unconfessed sin that the Satanic rebellion takes root in us, hardening our hearts to the truth, love and presence of Jesus Christ. This lulls us into complacency and makes us vulnerable to spiritual evils.

The greatest of all spiritual evils, of course, is a hardness of heart, which leads us down the path towards the spiritual cataclysm of rejecting Jesus Christ. The way to ensure we are not spiritually complacent is to make a searching examination of conscience and a devout, thorough Confession. It is through our Holy Communion with Jesus, ever more perfected by the regular reception of his Divine Mercy that “we keep the commandment without stain or reproach until the appearance of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Father Phillip W. DeVous is the pastor of St. Charles Parish, Flemingsburg and St. Rose of Lima Parish, Mayslick, Ky.