Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

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After Christmas (another afterword)

The readings for the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time — Cycle A — are: Isaiah 49:3, 5–6, 1 Corinthians 1:1–3 and John 1:29–34.

In the Gospel for the solemnity of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, we heard the story of Mary and Joseph searching for Jesus, and his response to them, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”

Luke tells us that “his mother kept all these things in her heart.” This is not the only time that Luke says this about Mary. A few verses earlier (the Gospel for Christmas Mass at Dawn), Luke writes that the shepherds came and “made known the message that had been told them about this child,” and that “Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.”

In 1935, G. K. Chesterton wrote an article for The Illustrated London News which he entitled After Christmas (An Afterword). He wrote, “One of the strangest things about our own topsy-turvy time is that we all hear such a vast amount about Christmas just before it comes and suddenly hear nothing at all about it afterwards … Everybody writes about what a glorious Christmas we are going to have. Nobody, or next to nobody, ever writes about the Christmas we have just had.” And then comes the most important sentence in the article: “I am going to plead for a longer period in which to find out what was really meant by Christmas; and fuller consideration of what we have really found.”

One of the strengths of our American culture is that we accomplish things; we get things done. One of the weaknesses of our culture is that we spend very little time reflecting on the meaning of what we have done, or of what was done or said to us. We tend to think that what is important is what happened and miss the importance of what “what happened” means.

If we took seriously what the Scriptures tell us, we would learn this. We read in Revelation 21:1, “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more;” and in 2 Peter 3:10, “But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a loud noise, and the elements will be dissolved with fire, and the earth and the works that are upon it will be burned up.” In these and other passages, Scripture reminds us that “things” will pass away.

What will be left, then? “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away,” Jesus says in Matthew’s Gospel (24:35). The Greek word here for “words” is logoi. Logos can mean word, but it can also mean “meaning.” Think of how often we say something like, “She is like that because such and such happened to her when she was a child.” Or how often do we note that two people come from the same neighborhood or the same family, and one succeeds in life but the other fails. Events pass away; their meaning is what remains.

The Christmas season has passed away, but what meaning was there in it for us? What did we learn, or could we have learned? Did it change us? How? Could it have changed us if we allowed it? What did Jesus want to do with us, for us, to us, this Christmas? Did we allow Him to do it? What insights came to us as we celebrated Jesus’ birth, as we heard the stories in holy Scripture again? What did we hear in homilies that we should ponder a little longer? Were there any “holy moments,” to use a phrase of Matthew Kelly’s, in the Christmas season? Perhaps we should go back to them and savor them more.

Some people by personality are more reflective than others, and contemplation comes more easily to some than to others, but everyone can learn to think about what happens to them, and the more we think about the meaning of things, the richer our lives will be. Just as if we eat too fast, we miss the full taste and enjoyment of a meal, if we simply “wolf down” the events, songs, Scriptures, conversations, correspondence and homilies of Christmastime and jump back into Ordinary Time, we will miss the richness and lessons of the season. We must let go of the season; it has passed but let us continue to ponder its meaning.

We have mentioned Mary; there is another image we can take from the Christmas story. Two of the creatures of the story — the sheep and the ox — are ruminants, animals that eat rapidly, but then expel harvested forage for further chewing and digesting. Ruminants typically spend one-third or more of their time eating but can spend almost that much time chewing their cud. We can learn a lesson from them: reflecting on what we have heard and learned is a way of garnering all the spiritual nutrition, or meaning, possible.

Whether we use the image of Mary or of the ox and sheep, let us not let Christmas have been just a passing pleasant escape from life, but a season that has changed our lives. Let us respond to Chesterton’s exhortation and take “a longer period in which to find out what was really meant by Christmas; and fuller consideration of what we have really found.”

Let us pray for each other.

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

Baptism of the Lord

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Father Michael Elmlinger

Guest

As we celebrate the end of the Christmas season, we turn our attention to the event that marks the beginning of Jesus’s public ministry: His baptism at the Jordan River by John the Baptist (Matthew 3:13-17). While this gospel is rather brief, it contains so many important realities that help to reveal to the world who Jesus is and what he has come into the world to do. By this baptism, God reveals to John the Baptist that Jesus is indeed his own Son, and that he has come into the world to “fulfill all righteousness.”

That said, this scene can be a little confusing. Why is Jesus being baptized to begin with? What does it mean for Jesus to be baptized to “fulfill all righteousness”? After all, Jesus, being the Son of God, has no sin, and John’s baptism was a baptism of repentance (cf. 3:11), meaning those who were coming to him were doing so to turn their backs on the sins that they had committed. Why would Jesus need to do this when He has not committed any sin? He certainly is tempted throughout His life, but not once does He ever fall into sin. When we keep this in mind, I think that we can all understand and maybe even share in John’s confusion when he says to Jesus, “I need to be baptized by you, but you are coming to me?” (3:14). So what righteousness is Jesus fulfilling by being baptized by John?

The righteousness that Jesus is fulfilling is that He is identifying himself with us, who are sinners. This is an aspect of God’s plan for salvation, for Jesus’s kingly mission. He is to identify Himself with us, become one of us and he is to take on our own sins as a sacrifice to the Father in the Holy Spirit in order to reconcile us to the Father, through the Son, in the Holy Spirit. What Jesus is showing here is His solidarity with sinful Israel, with each of us, who are sinners, by undergoing the same baptism as sinful Israel. This is a foreshadowing of what He is going to do on the Cross. “For our sake [the Father] made [Christ] to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God,” (2 Corinthians 5:21). “Sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh” (Romans 8:3). His very mission as the Messianic King of Israel, anointed by the Holy Spirit and proclaimed by the Father Himself to be His “beloved Son, with whom [He is] well pleased” (3:17) is to identify himself with us in order to reconcile us to the Father.

By doing so, the Father has given us a wondrous gift: to become his adopted children through the Son and in the Holy Spirit. At our baptism, whenever it may have been, we are joined to the Paschal Mystery of Christ, where our old selves die in the waters of baptism, and we are reborn as the beloved sons and daughters of the Father. This is all accomplished for us by the fact that Christ was and is willing to identify Himself with us, by the fact that He, though never having committed sin, becomes the Paschal Lamb, Who was slain (cf. Revelation 5:12). This is the very reason that he was born into the world: to die, so that we might live. As Pope Benedict XVI says in Jesus of Nazareth, “Jesus loaded the burden of all mankind’s guilt upon his shoulders; he bore it down into the depths of the Jordan. He inaugurated his public activity by stepping into the place of sinners. His inaugural gesture is an anticipation of the Cross.” By this wondrous gift, the Father has given us all the opportunity to hear the same words that he proclaimed to Jesus: “You are my beloved son. You are my beloved daughter. With you, I am well pleased.”

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.

Fourth Sunday of Advent

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Father Stephen Bankemper

Guest

“Pour forth, we beseech you, O Lord,

your grace into our hearts,

that we, to whom the Incarnation of Christ your Son

was made known by the message of an Angel,

may by his Passion and Cross

be brought to the glory of his Resurrection.”

Those who pray the Angelus with any regularity will recognize the Collect of the Mass this weekend as its closing prayer. One of the interesting things about this prayer is the way it connects us to Holy Week, interesting in part because there is no parallel prayer in Holy Week that refers so specifically to Jesus’ birth. The reason for this is probably historical – the Church had been remembering Jesus’ Passion, Death, and Resurrection for three or so centuries before she began formally to celebrate his birth — but it also makes theological sense. Jesus took our human nature to himself and was born for a specific reason, to accomplish something, and that something was accomplished on the cross, in the grave, and by his Resurrection and Ascension. Read the prayer without the reference to the Incarnation: Pour forth, we beseech you, O Lord,/ your grace into our hearts,/ that we may by his Passion and Cross/ be brought to the glory of his Resurrection. For those who know the prayer, this version is certainly diminished, but if one did not know something was left out, one could think that it was a perfectly good prayer for the beginning of Holy Week.

The connection between Christ’s birth and death has been noted by many. Some of the Church’s great homilists have remarked on it. A few of our Christmas carols, especially in the tradition of the spiritual, sing of the baby who “was born to die.” The artists who created most of the stained-glass windows in our own Cathedral make the connection in a subtle but unmistakable way. In the Eucharistic Chapel there is a window that depicts the Passover. One of the family holds the platter carrying the Passover lamb, lying on its side with its legs bound. A woman looks down on it, seeming to pray silently. Likewise, in the Nativity window (south side of the nave), we notice a lamb in similar pose, feet bound together. Mary may at first seem to be gazing upon Jesus in the manger, but as we look with more attention, we see that she is actually gazing, hands folded in prayer, upon the lamb. This baby Jesus will be our sacrificial lamb.

Does this remembrance of Jesus’ death lessen our enjoyment of Christmas? If Christmas is Santa Claus and reindeer, perhaps, although it is more likely simply to be ignored. But for those who desire to celebrate the fullness of the Incarnation and birth of our Lord, remembering why he was born makes the most sense of the story. Christ’s birth is not a stand-alone event but is the beginning of something.

Another interesting thing about this prayer is the plea for God to pour his grace into our hearts. It suggests to us that Christmas is not something we fit into our lives, rather, God’s grace pulls us into Christmas. The story of Christ’s life is the world into which we are invited to enter. Beginning with our baptism and continuing through the various sacraments and observances of succeeding liturgical years, God’s grace draws us into his story. Christmas without this kind of observance may be pleasant, but allowing ourselves to be drawn more deeply into Christ’s life is transforming. Remember that in this Collect we are praying to be “brought” somewhere.

May your celebration of the birth of Jesus the Christ bring you joy now, and also forever.

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

Third Sunday of Advent

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Father Michael Elmlinger

Guest

As a kid, I always found the rose candle of the Advent wreath to be the most interesting. It was always a sign that Christmas was so close, building the anticipation. I never understood the meaning of the color rose at the time, but even then, it still gave that sense of anticipation and joy that December 25 was just around the corner.

That is exactly what rose is meant to represent on the Advent wreath. What is interesting about the color rose is that it uses the same dyes as violet (red and blue), but it tones down the blue and focuses more on the red in the product, bringing out the rose color, which essentially means that it is a toned-down version of violet, but violet nonetheless.

What this is meant to represent for us on this Gaudete Sunday is the very fact that the Advent season (short as it is) is drawing to a close, building up that joy that we feel on Christmas Day as we draw closer to it. However, it also shows that the season is still not over, that there is still time to prepare our hearts for the coming of the Lord. It is similar to how early in the morning, just before the sun is about to break the horizon, it gives off a rose color into the sky sometimes, indicating the night is nearly over, but not quite yet.

In our second reading this weekend from the Letter of James, the Apostle tells us, “You too must be patient. Make your hearts firm, because the coming of the Lord is at hand” (5:8). During the hustle and bustle of the Advent season, we get this simple exhortation from the cousin of Jesus to take a step back, to recognize the present time that we are in, the time of waiting and preparation.

Christmas Day is indeed close upon us, one of the holiest days of the year, where we celebrate the mystery of the Incarnation of Our Lord Jesus Christ, our God becoming Man. However, that day is not here yet, and because it is not here yet, we are to still take this time to make our hearts firm.

What is interesting about this command is that this is the same activity as when Jesus turns his face towards Jerusalem and “makes his face firm.” (Luke 9:51) Once he does this, his focus is entirely shifted towards one thing: fulfilling the will of his Father by his sacrificial act of love that he will perform on the Cross. Nothing makes him waver from this determination. He is single-minded in this regard, his heart firm.

During these final days of the Advent season, anticipation is indeed building as we get closer to Christmas, but we must always keep our minds and hearts firm, fixed on Christ. So, we are to be patient, and to continue to journey during this Advent season in the present, preparing our hearts to receive the Lord.

If we are willing to journey with the Lord during these final days, it does not take away the joy of the Christmas season. Rather, it enhances the joy, because our eyes will have been fixed intently upon him, whose birth we celebrate. This Gaudete Sunday is an invitation to recenter ourselves on Our Lord Jesus Christ, so that we may joyfully greet Him when he comes into our hearts at Christmas and when he comes on the Last Day. As St. James says, “Be patient, brothers and sisters, until the coming of the Lord … Make your hearts firm, because the coming of the Lord is at hand.”

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.

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.