TAKING THE YOKE
July 5, 2020
Deacon Dennis Walters

There was a time, and perhaps it still exists, when anyone learning a skilled trade would apprentice himself to a master in that craft. Over the years, he would progress from apprentice to journeyman, and finally to master himself. Something like that educational path is what Jesus has in mind when he invites his disciples to “take my yoke upon you and learn from me, … and you will find rest for yourselves.”

Taking the yoke is a common biblical metaphor for learning a way of life. The physical yoke was a curved wooden bar that a laborer would place across his shoulders behind his neck; it had ropes on either end for carrying buckets of soil, grain, or other materials. Laborers in poor countries still carry loads that way. As a metaphor, the yoke gives you a mental picture of someone learning wisdom through working for it.

To the observant Jew, taking up the yoke of the law meant devoting oneself to studying the Torah. The book of Sirach invites the young student to “take [Wisdom’s] yoke upon your neck, that your mind may receive her teaching” (Sir. 51:26). Carrying that yoke was hard work. It required memorizing the law as contained in the first five books of the Scriptures, absorbing the commentaries of the great rabbis, and observing best practices in living the law.  

But the student wouldn’t learn these things in a classroom or by researching and writing term papers. He’d learn them by living with and following a rabbi, searching the Scriptures under his guidance, mastering them through the giveand-take of debate and analysis, and imitating the teacher’s way of life – his habits, his principles, his way of thinking. Such an education took years of personal formation. The reward for bearing that yoke was that the student would “find the rest [Wisdom] gives” (Sir. 6:28).  

So when Jesus invites us to take his yoke upon ourselves, he’s inviting us to receive an education from him that should shape our lives. To that extent, Jesus’ invitation is similar to that of other rabbis. But there are some notable differences.  

Jesus invited those who were already laboring and heavily burdened under the demands of the Mosaic law as interpreted by the scribes and Pharisees. He criticizes them for making the law hard instead of easy. They would “tie up heavy burdens and lay them on people’s shoulders” by adding requirements to the law without helping their disciples to carry them out (Mt. 23:4). Of course, Jesus himself didn’t abandon the law of Moses. Rather, in the Sermon on the Mount he corrected misinterpretations and revealed the depth of the law and what it took to keep it.

Jesus was also thinking of those who lived hardscrabble lives. Most of his audience lived at a subsistence level, what we might call living paycheck to paycheck. Work was backbreaking and didn’t always pay off, as when the apostles would fish all night and catch nothing. Disease was rampant, and certain illnesses could get one ostracized from the community without support. Plus, the Romans made demands beyond what Moses commanded, as taxpayers knew all too well. Jesus’ invitation to come to him to find rest for their souls was aimed at them.

He invited people to learn from him “because I am meek and humble of heart.” That self-description sounds strange to us. But Jesus’ meekness meant that he had great strength of character. He could, for example, get very tired after a long day of teaching, but when his efforts to take some time off were frustrated by crowds following him everywhere, he turned that frustration into compassion and fed them. His humility meant that he knew exactly who he was, and thought neither too much or too little of himself. His was a stable personality and his doctrine reliable. He invited others to learn from him the kind of stability that would give them rest from anxiety, depression, and excessive perfectionism.

Jesus’ method involved learning by living with him, following him around, absorbing his teaching and his character by a kind of spiritual osmosis. In a do-ityourself environment like ours, that kind of apprenticeship is not very fashionable. Anyone can learn the doctrines that Jesus taught by reading them in a book, and many are satisfied with that much. But the only way to get a master’s education was – and still is – to spend time with the Master Himself, to become a disciple through prayer and the sacraments, spiritual reading, and direction from those who know Him.

Which is to say that learning from Him is not effortless – it does take dedicated work – but it’s not exhausting. And the reward is rest for the soul. That does not mean kicking back and taking life easy; we will still have to contend with the frustrations, trials, and sufferings of everyday life. Nor does rest mean a promise of everlasting happiness in the life to come. As one commentator has said, Jesus’ promise of rest “is a promise of inner peace in this life, the kind of peace that quiets the mind and heart and passes human understanding.”

All of us have apprenticed ourselves to Jesus through baptism. How far we progress, be it from apprentice to journeyman to master disciple, our goal in life is to learn wisdom; and that is to become as like the Master as possible. It’s a lifelong education and, pursued diligently, provides rest for our souls.

A HIGHER LOVE
June 28, 2020
Fr. Bosco Padamattummal

Look with me at a verse from today’s Gospel: “Whoever does not take up his cross and follow Me is not worthy of Me. Whoever loses his life for My sake shall find it” (Mt 10:38).  

Now, that is the heart of the message. This is a text all about commitment, and all about dedication, self-denial, self-sacrifice. It is about genuine discipleship.  

In Matthew’s Gospel alone, it is a constant teaching. For example, if you go back with me to chapter 5, verse 20, the first message our Lord gave, He said this:
“For I say unto you, if your righteousness does not exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, you shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven.”  

Chapter 7, verses 13-14 say:  
“Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road broad that leads to destruction, and those who enter through it are many. How narrow the gate and constricted the road that leads to life. And those who find it are few.”  And here He says there is a genuine righteousness, and there is a false righteousness. There is true discipleship and false discipleship.  

St. Paul in Romans 9:6 says: “For not all who are of Israel are Israel.”

That’s a very, very provocative, insightful statement. “All Israel is not Israel.” In other words, all who are outwardly Jews as not inwardly Jews. All who are outwardly identified as the people of God are not inwardly the people of God.

The first characteristic of a true disciple is that he is like his Lord. He bears the character of Christ. That’s why in Acts 11:26 they were called Christians. They were little christs. They belonged to Christ. They manifested His character. They bore the marks of His pattern of life.  

So, what does it mean to be genuine? It means to manifest the character of Christ. Last Sunday we saw that a true disciple, a true believer is one who fears not the world. He is so committed to the lordship of Christ that he is not afraid of what men might do to him. When he comes to the point of having to confess, he will confess and not deny Jesus Christ, no matter what it costs him.

And being a Christian and follower of Jesus Christ may mean that you have created a division in your own home. But that’s the mark of a true disciple. There are wives that will not come to Christ for fear of separation from their husbands. There may be husbands who will not come to Christ for fear of separation from their wives. There are children who will not come to Christ for fear of their fathers or mothers. There is one priest in our diocese in India whose whole family became the Jehovah Witnesses, and they tried to compel him to leave the seminary. But he became a priest and is doing wonderful work in the diocese. It is like a true disciple who says, “I love You more than I love the people that are closest to me in this world. And if it comes to that, I’ll choose You over them.”

 A true Christian who reads the first words of today’s Gospel will say, “I love death for Your sake better than life for my sake.” When Jesus said, “Take up your cross and follow me,” these Galilean disciples knew exactly what He was talking about: Be ready for painful, tortuous death (the most excruciating death man has ever invented is the slow death of crucifixion) rather than deny Me. These Galileans had seen that sort of punishment in their country.

At the end of today’s Gospel He is telling the world, “When these go out to preach and to present Me, if you receive them, and you can demonstrate and respond to that by giving them just a cup of cold water because they’re My disciples” – in other words, you’re helping them in the simplest way, responding to them in the simplest way – “you in no way will lose your reward.”

Dear brothers and sisters, in being a disciple of Jesus Christ you become the source of conflict for half the world, and for the other half the source of blessing. Everything – my possessions, my dreams, my family, my life – has to come under the lordship of Christ. He, and He alone, must determine all that I do. Anything that gets in the way of my total surrender to Christ must go.  

Does that mean I stop loving my family? Of course not! It does mean that there is a higher love, a higher calling, that must take precedence. Love for Jesus must be even greater than our love for family.

 

TO FEAR OR NOT TO FEAR, THAT IS THE QUESTION
June 21, 2020
 Fr. Bosco Padamattummal

Today’s reading from the tenth chapter of the Gospel according to Matthew tells of our Lord instruction to those committed to His sovereignty; they are being trained. Discipleship is a process by which you become like Christ. The more you become like Him, the more the world treats you like Him.

The goal is to be like Christ, and there’s a price to pay for that. St. Paul says in 1 Cor 12 that the very essence of what made the Apostles unique was their ability to speak infallibly with God’s own authority and then to validate that message with signs and wonders and mighty works.

In fact, in Luke 10:17 they say: “Lord, even the demons are subject to us in Your name.”

And Jesus’ response is (Luke 10:19-20): “I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing shall hurt you. Nevertheless do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”  

In other words, Jesus is pointing them back to the Gospel again. He’s telling them, “Don’t let an obsession with spiritual gifts divert you from what I actually came to do: to seek and to save the lost.”

The first principle Jesus teaches them we heard at the beginning of today’s Gospel reading (Mt 10:26): “Fear no one.” He has already told them…

“I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves.” (Mt 10:16)  
“Beware of men; they’ll deliver you to the councils and scourge you in the synagogues.” (Mt. 10:17)
“You’ll be brought before kings and governors.” (Mt. 10:18)
“They’ll deliver you up.” That is the idea of a prisoner brought before trial. (Mt. 10:19)
“Your own family will put you to death.” (Mt. 10:21)
“You’ll be hated by everybody.” (Mt. 10:22)
“You’ll be persecuted.” (Mt. 10: 23)

But the Lord is saying here, “They’re going to do all these things to you, but don’t be afraid.”
FACE IT; BE BOLD; DON’T BE AFRAID.

He gives three reasons not to be afraid:

1. “Look, don’t be afraid, because what is covered will be revealed. It is said in many workplaces,  “The more you stand for the right, the more the system hates you and the less you’re rewarded.” God’s going to uncover the real heroes. When the lid comes off, the evil people are going to find out that all they have left for them is vengeance.  In short if you’re stuck on worrying about what the world is going to say, you’re looking at the wrong thing. What you want to be looking at is what God’s going to say in the end, the reward of eternity. It is easy to safeguard our reputation here and lose our reward there.

2. The second reason is a comparison. The point here is that we are to fear the one who can determine the destiny of souls, not the ones who can only determine the destinies of bodies. It is a comparison between men and God. Don’t fear men; fear God.  

3. The third reason we need not fear is because of what I call valuation. In Matthew 10:29 we read: “Are not two sparrows sold for a coin? Not one of them falls on the ground without your Father’s knowledge.” The point is that if God is concerned about little birds and about numbering and knowing the hairs of your head, then “Don’t be afraid” (Mt 10:31). You are of more value than many little birds – and a whole lot of your hair!

LET US LOOK INTO CERTAIN THINGS  THAT ARE HAPPENING AROUND US IN OUR NATION

First, our faith teaches us about the exclusivity of the Christ and the values he taught: In John 14:6 Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.” We must be willing to proclaim this truth from the rooftops, but our political system removes all Christian identities from the public places like school.

Secondly, the sanctity of human life. In the United States you can be fined up to $5,000 and/or spend a year in jail for crushing the egg of a bald eagle. For destroying an unborn animal! And yet you can make a good living destroying unborn babies. WHAT CAN WE DO??? We can: Say what you believe! Write what you believe! And vote for what you believe on these important issues that we face here!  

Dear brothers and sisters, at the end of today’s Gospel we read: To fail to confess Jesus Christ is to trample God’s provision for our deliverance from judgment and puts one on dangerous ground! But if you confess Christ, Christ will confess you before His Father, and you will escape Hell and enter Heaven.  

WHAT DO YOU FEAR? We are not to fear man who can destroy only the body, but God who can destroy both body and soul in hell.  

A few months ago I was visiting some old Catholic and Anglican churches in the outskirts of London with my nephew and his family, and on one of the graves, on the floor of the church, this was written: “He feared man so little because he feared God so much.” What a great testimony!

 

THE TIME OF FASTING FROM THE EUCHARIST IS OVER
June 14, 2020
Deacon Dennis Walters

Today’s first reading contains a remark by Moses to the Israelites that applies especially well to our situation today. He says to them: “Remember how … the Lord, your God, has directed all your journeying in the desert, so as to test you…. He therefore let you be afflicted with hunger.” 

We often don’t realize what we’ve got until it’s gone. For the last three months, most of us have had no access to the Eucharist. If the church building was open, we could, if o u r s c h e d u l e permitted, come to visit the Lord in the tabernacle; but Sunday liturgies were closed to us. Of course, we could watch Masses on television. But physical participation was denied us. As for communion, the best we could do is pray a prayer of spiritual communion which, for some of us, only increased a hunger for the real thing.

It would be useful for us, now that access to the Eucharist has been restored, to ask ourselves what hunger we felt, and why we felt it? Was it a frustration at being denied something by executive order? Was it because we were so used to going to Mass and communion that, not being able to, we missed the usual routine? Or was there something more, a sense that we craved some kind of real spiritual food?

As Catholics, we’ve long been taught that the Eucharist is necessary for spiritual life. “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood you do not have life within you.” In context, Jesus was warning those who would refuse to eat his flesh and drink his blood, that such refusal would result in spiritual death. That’s not the situation we face. Those of us who receive communion regularly are in no danger of spiritual starvation if we’ve been denied the Eucharist for a few weeks. Rather, we’ve been placed on a spiritual fast – an imposed fast, true, but one that forces us to review what we want from this bread of life.

In our Gospel reading, Jesus says, “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.” That word remains is a prominent theme in John’s Gospel. It indicates a permanent residence, one that goes two ways: “He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him” (Jn. 6:56). “Remain in me, and I in you….  He that remains in me, and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit” (Jn. 15:4-6). Frequent and devout reception of the Eucharist ensures that our moral and spiritual lives stay where they belong.

Again, Jesus assures us that “my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink.” Ordinary food is not only necessary for life, but for growth. We’ve been eating food all our lives, but the growth that comes from it happens so gradually that we don’t notice changes as they occur. But if we look at photos of ourselves when we were babies, school children, teenagers, and adults, we can see what growth has happened. The food we eat is taken into ourselves; we absorb it; physically, it becomes us. Likewise, the Holy Eucharist consumed regularly over long periods acts like real food; it makes changes in us. The more we let it nourish us, the more we come to look and act like Jesus. We don’t see these changes as they occur, most of which take years; but if you look back on your spiritual life, you should be able to see their effects.

But for those Eucharistic effects to occur, two acts are critical: PREPARATION and CONSUMPTION. Just as you wouldn’t sit down for dinner without first washing up, you shouldn’t approach communion without preparing yourself for it. St. Paul tells us in our second reading that our communion is a participation in the body of Christ – that is to say, a participation both in Jesus Himself, and in one another. PREPARATION, then, should involve making sure our souls and our bodies are clean. Clean souls mean that we’re ready and willing to eat the body of Christ. Normally, all that takes is a private prayer asking forgiveness for any sins you may have committed and for more hunger for the Eucharist. Clean bodies means what it sounds like: clean hands and neat clothes.

CONSUMING the Eucharist includes the way you eat it. (I say this because some of us will be receiving communion for the first time this weekend, but a reminder is helpful for all of us.) Here, it’s important not to treat the sacred host as a “thing,” like something you pop in your mouth and forget about it. However you receive communion – in your hand or on your tongue – remember that you’re holding the Lord of the universe. That host is a He, not an It. If you take the host in your hand, place it carefully in your mouth and thank Jesus that you carry Him for a brief moment in your body.

The time of fasting from the Eucharist is over. As Moses told the Israelites, the Lord directed this part of our journey “so as to test you by affliction … with hunger, and then fed you with manna, a food unknown to your fathers.” The test didn’t last very long, but hopefully it was long enough to make us realize the importance of what we have. “My flesh is real food,” Jesus says, “and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.” It’s vital that we remain in Jesus and He in us because not only life, but growth, depends on it.

LOVE IS AS LOVE DOES
June 7, 2020
Deacon Dennis Walters

The last time I attended a summer conference at the University of Steubenville, I noticed a striking picture of Jesus hanging near the presenter’s stage. The image showed Jesus wearing a crown of thorns that covered his entire head. His face was beaten and bloody, and his bloodshot eyes seemed to look straight into mine. The caption at the bottom was in Latin: “Sic Deus Dilexit Mundum.”  

Those are the first four words of our gospel: “God so loved the world,” though I didn’t recognize the reference at first. With my rusty Latin, I translated the words a little differently: “God has loved the world that way.” Love is as love does. The beaten and mauled face of Jesus in that picture fascinated me, and drove home the extent to which God was willing to “do love” for the world.  

You sometimes hear among Christians a distinction between the God of the Old Testament, a God of wrath and punishment, and the God of the New, a God of love and mercy. It’s a false distinction, as our readings on this Trinity Sunday make clear.  

Take our first reading in its context, for example. The people of Israel at Sinai had violated the covenant they had just made under oath. They wanted a visible god, so they made one, a golden calf in the shape of one of Egypt’s gods. In response, God threatened to wipe out this people and establish a new one from Moses’ own family. By dint of strenuous intercession, Moses “convinced” God to relent, even having the chutzpah to ask, “Since I’ve found favor in your sight, show me what You look like.” God granted the request, at least partially. As He passed before Moses, He proclaimed Himself “the Lord, the Lord, slow to anger and rich in kindness and fidelity.”  

The Hebrew word for fidelity is hesed, which also means “steadfast love.” God shows His hesed by His mighty works on Israel’s behalf, which the Old Testament recalls over and over again, such as the gift of manna, the quail, the water from the rock (twice!), and forgiveness of Israel’s repeated infidelities. Hesed – steadfast love – is praised often, especially in the Psalms (see Ps. 136). Even God’s wrath is a manifestation of His love, for what lover would get angry over the cheating of someone for whom he has no affection?  

Hesed is what causes the grace that St. Paul prays for in our second reading. Grace is another word for God’s active goodness toward everyone regardless of whether one thinks it’s deserved or not. As the Old Testament says, God makes His rain to fall on the just and the unjust, the good and the bad, alike.

 Most of us probably don’t consider how we’re surrounded by God’s grace every day. Certain graces are natural: that the sun sheds just the right amount of light on you, that you got out of bed this morning, that you have food and shelter enough for your needs, that you have friends and spouses and children who love you.  

Other graces are supernatural, in that they not only come from a loving God but that they draw you toward Him: the grace that brings you to this church, the grace of His ready forgiveness when you ask for it, the grace of spiritual food and drink, the grace that prompts you to help others in trouble.  

It’s the grace of the Son, the love of the Father, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit – the grace of the Triune God.  

Love is as love does. God loved the world so much that He gave the best gift He had, His only Son. Even though Jesus’ incarnation was planned from all eternity, it wasn’t inevitable. God could have left us to ourselves. The worst fate that the Old Testament threatens people with is for God to leave them alone. It’s what we deserve. But it leaves the world – all of us – without hope. And that’s not what He wanted.

In a sense, His love couldn’t leave us alone. The world needed saving from itself, from what today’s Gospel calls condemnation. His coming among us as man was a gift, one that He carried to extremes, to the cross.  

At the Steubenville conference, my eyes kept wandering back to that picture, to the image of that head covered with thorns, and to those eyes that almost forced me to look at him. St. Teresa of Avila once recommended to her sisters:

“If you are experiencing trials or are sad, … behold Him burdened with the cross…. He will look at you with those eyes so beautiful and compassionate, filled with tears; He will forget His sorrows so as to console you in yours, merely because you yourself go to Him to be consoled, and you turn your head to look at Him.

” Love is as love does. God has loved you that way. All you need to do is turn to look at Him.

SOBER INTOXICATION
May 31, 2020
 Fr. Bosco Padamattummal

Today we celebrate the Feast of Pentecost – the 50th day after the Resurrection and ten days after the Ascension – when the Holy Spirit descended upon Our Lady and the Apostles as the Lord Jesus had promised.  

Jesus reassured them (and us) that we will be clothed with power from on high, and that the Spirit of Truth will abide with us and in us as the Comforter, the Encourager, the Advocate who will guide us into all the truth. On that day the Holy Spirit descended to teach them the full truth of the Gospel, to give them the courage to preach that truth, and to dwell in their souls in a new and powerful way.    

Today’s feast has two dimensions to it, as the texts of the Mass make clear: the ecclesial and the personal. In the reading from the Acts of the Apostles, we hear of the effect of the Spirit coming upon the Apostles: Once afraid of even being associated with Christ, they now profess His death and resurrection openly and publicly before all those gathered at Jerusalem for the feast. The Apostles not only received the doctrine to be preached, but they also received the courage to preach it.

The Book of Acts of the Apostles is the story of adventures of the disciples of Christ after the Pentecost. In the first four books of the New Testament we learn the Good News of what God did through Jesus Christ. In the book of Acts, we learn the Good News of what God did through the Holy Spirit.

Some people were amazed and astonished that these apostles preached so boldly to the people. Some said, “They are filled with new wine.” They sure looked drunk. But Peter denied it. “We’re not drunk,” he said, “It’s only nine o’clock in the morning.” So which is it? Were they sober as Peter said, or were they filled with new wine? The only answer to that question is, “Yes.” They were not drunk, but they were intoxicated. They were sober and filled with a new wine. That is the gift and paradox of this day, the Feast of Pentecost.

It was not alcohol that made them proclaim boldly; it was the power of God to change and transform lives. This sobriety doesn’t mean we stop drinking, however. It means we drink a new wine. At Pentecost a new spirit, the Holy Spirit of God, fills and intoxicates us. We are intoxicated by God’s love, God’s mercy, God’s grace, God’s generosity, God’s beauty, God’s deeds of power in our lives.

The sober intoxication of Pentecost fills our lives to the brim with love. It opens our eyes to the mystery of God and the wonder and beauty of life. It softens our heart and calls us to find ourselves in the lives of others. It allows us to stand in that most holy place of our truest and most authentic self.

We come here today to be reminded of and give thanks for the Pentecostal reality of our lives, to get sober and drink new wine, and to be sent out to live under the influence.

Dear brothers and sisters, Pentecost does not celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit as if it had previously been absent. Rather, Pentecost celebrates another coming of the Holy Spirit. It is no longer limited to particular people or events. Today is the celebration of Spirit of God made public, available to all – men and women, young and old, you and me. No one is left out from His gifts.

On this holy day, as we reflect on this great feast of the church, we do well to consider whether we work at making our souls a worthy room for God to dwell in. When we await the arrival of guests, if we truly delight in their company, we prepare our houses to receive them, that they may stay as long as they wish. We buy them food and drink which they like; we provide comfortable furniture to foster long conversation; and we even prepare a bed, should we be fortunate enough to have them spend the night. In the spiritual life, God comes as a guest through sanctifying grace. He is present to us more or less based upon the intensity of our love and the effort we make to prepare a place for him.

May the FIRE of Pentecost illumine our hearts and push back the darkness. May the WIND of Pentecost unlock and open the doors to new life. May the TONGUES of Pentecost proclaim the great deeds of God and call us to live in a state of forgiveness, to remember and reclaim our original beauty, to turn our gaze back to God, to reshape and form ourselves in His likeness