CAN YOU CHOOSE GOD AND THE EMPEROR?
October 22, 2017
by Fr. Bosco Padamattummal

I want you to think about a few things and then I want to ask you some questions about those things. First, think about the checks you have written, the bills you have paid, and the purchases you have charged over the last few weeks. How have you spent your money? Next, think about where you have been, what you have done, and who you have been with over the last few weeks. How have you spent your time? Finally, what are the most important values in your life? What are the values that you say guide your life, that give you meaning and purpose.

God is somewhere in the midst of those three things. The answers you gave to my questions reveal their presence and your relationships with them. I have no judgments about whatever your answers might be and I’m not suggesting there are particular answers that are either right or wrong. I wonder, though, does your spending of time and money reflect your values? In what ways are your values being made tangible and visible? How are you spending your capital? And by capital I mean more than time and money. I’m talking about all that you are all that you have, the entirety of your life. Are you living the life you say you want to live? Is your life one of authenticity and integrity? Is there coherence and wholeness to your life?

I think that’s what Jesus is getting at in today’s Gospel when He says, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and to God the things that are God’s” (Mt 22:15-22). We hear Jesus saying there is God’s stuff and the there is the emperor’s stuff. Then we try to bifurcate our life and world between church and state, religion and politics, sacred and secular, saved and damned, tithe and taxes, spirit and matter, heaven and earth, humanity and divinity as if they are completely separate and unrelated, as if they are in opposition and have nothing to do with each other. That bifurcation or duality is at the heart of the question the Pharisees and Herodians ask Jesus. The Pharisees, as you know, were the religious leaders and authorities. The Herodians are significant because their loyalty to King Herod suggests they willingly cooperate with the Roman occupiers of the Jews while the Pharisees distanced themselves from Rome. The only thing that brings the two together is their shared dislike of Jesus. They come to Jesus with a question. “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” They want to know whose side Jesus is on, the emperor’s or God’s. It’s a trap, a set up. Either/or questions and situations almost always are. Whichever way Jesus answers the question He will have incriminated Himself with either the Pharisees or Rome. That’s dualistic thinking.

So how does Jesus answer their question? “Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God. That’s His answer. They never expected that answer. They set a trap for Jesus and they were the ones caught.

We too often fragment and compartmentalize our lives. So we have our prayer life, our religious life, our family life, our political life, our love life, our work life, our economic life. We talk and live as if there is no integrity or coherence between them. When we do we end up excluding God from a large part of our lives and our world. We perpetuate the Pharisaic-Herodian plot to entrap Jesus and we rightfully deserve to be called hypocrites.

I don’t think Jesus is bifurcating our lives or our world. He is not asking us to divide our loyalties or compartmentalize our lives. Instead He is holding before us the reality of God and the reality of our emperors. Both are real. Both are a part of our lives and our world. Jesus is asking us to step into and live in the tension of those two realities. That’s what He did. That’s where He lived. To stand in that place is to stand with Jesus. That’s where life gets real. That’s where life is really lived. It is neither a comfortable nor an easy place to be. There are no easy answers. Here’s what I mean:

What criteria determine whether something is God’s or the emperor’s? Are God and the emperor mutually exclusive, always in opposition? Can they be complementary? Is the emperor always bad? Must we choose one over the other? Who is God in our life? Who are our emperors? I don’t have answers to those questions. Instead, I struggle with them just like most of you do. I want so much to have a clear cut answer. I want to be able to give you an answer. But I don’t have any answers. I can’t tell you what to do but I can stand with you in the tension of God and the emperor and you can stand with me. That struggle, the tension of living with and between God and my emperors, continually pushes me inward, to examine my life, to reflect on who I am, what I do, and whose image and title I bear. I wonder if that’s Jesus’ intention in today’s Gospel. I wonder if that’s why the Pharisees and the Herodians were amazed. His answer to them creates an insoluble problem and maybe that’s the point. Maybe when we recognize, accept, and struggle with this insoluble problem, maybe that’s when we really begin to follow Jesus. We stop searching for answers and begin seeking life. That’s when and where the church has something to say, faith makes a difference, and lives are changed.

“Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and to God the things that are God’s.

ALL HAVE BEEN INVITED. WILL YOU ATTEND?
October 15, 2017
by Fr. Bosco Padamattummal

Have you ever invited people to your party who did not attend? You cleaned, you cooked, you decorated. The table was set, the candles were lit, and the music was playing. Everything was ready but some of the guests didn’t come. Did it make you so angry that you killed them and burned down their houses? Probably not, but that’s what happens in this parable. This parable of the King’s Son’s Wedding is so outrageous, so shocking, that it begs to be taken seriously not literally. It begs to be taken as truth not as historical fact. Besides, to hear this parable and conclude that God is an angry king who, if He doesn’t get His way, destroys His own people and burns their cities simply does not fit with the God revealed by Jesus Christ throughout the four Gospels. If we tell that story as the gospel truth I think Jesus might call us liars.

No doubt, this is a parable of judgment, but it may not be the judgment we think it is. Speaking about the first group of guests the king says, “Those invited were not worthy.” By implication those in the second-invited group were worthy. It leaves us wondering whether we are in the first group or the second group. Are we unworthy or are we worthy? What separates or distinguishes the first-invited guests from the second?

The difference isn’t that one was more deserving than the other. The first-invited guests were the recipients of the king’s invitation and favor. But so were the second-invited guests. And so was the man who showed up without a wedding robe. They were all invited. They were all favored. None of them had done anything to earn or deserve an invitation. It was just given. If that’s true for them, it’s true for us.

The difference isn’t that the king likes one group more than the other group. His sole motivation is to share his banquet. He wants someone, anyone, everyone, to join in his joy and celebration, and be a part of his kingdom and life. Both groups were given the same opportunity. If that’s true for them, it’s true for us.

The difference isn’t that some guests are good and others are bad. There is no distinction or judgment made based upon behavior, beliefs, attitudes, or morals. To the contrary, with the second round of invitations the king sends his servants into the main streets with the instruction to “invite everyone you find.” And they did. They “went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad.” If that’s true for them, it’s true for us.

So what is it? What’s the difference between those who were not worthy and those who were? There’s only one thing that distinguishes the first-invited guests from the second-invited guests. Presence. The second-invited guests showed up. The first-invited guests did not. The “wedding hall was filled” with the second-invited guests but the first-invited guests “would not come.” That’s the only difference between the two groups.

The key to our life in God is to just show up, to be present. To be present is difficult work. Think how difficult it is to be present to another person. It means establishing the other person as our priority. It means seeing them for who they are and not who we want them to be or think they should be. It means opening ourselves to receive their life into our own. It means really listening to what they say. It means letting go of our own agendas, distractions, fears, and prejudices. It means bringing and offering all that we are and all that we have. If we’re not doing that with others we’re probably not doing it with God. Instead, we too often go our separate ways, to our farms and businesses. We’re too busy, too tired, too distracted. That’s what the first-invited group did. What they did not realize, and what we sometimes do not realize, is that there is no life outside the banquet, the kingdom.

But what about the guy who showed up without a wedding robe? This is about more than just a dress code violation. Something else was missing. “He was speechless.” It was as if he wasn’t really there. Jesus is reminding us that there are times when we show up but we’re not really present. Our body is there but we’ve left the room. So here’s what I wonder. What if this man had said something, anything? What if he had just made his presence known. What if he had said, I was hungry. I trusted you to feed me. I was lonely. I saw the lights on. I trusted you to take me in. I was thirsty. I trusted you to give me a drink. I was naked. I knew people would be well dressed. I trusted you to clothe me. I was sad and grieving. I heard music and laughter. I trusted you to share your joy. I was empty. I saw abundance. I trusted you to fill me. I was dying. I saw the door was open. I trusted you to give me life. What if he had said any one of those or a thousand others things like them? It would have been enough. Then the king would have said to him, “Oh, my dear friend, I’m so glad you got my invitation. I’m so glad you are here. You are worthy.”And if that’s true for him, then it’s true for us.

HOW ARE YOU TENDING YOUR VINEYARD?
October 8, 2017
by Deacon Dennis Walters

Jesus said to them “Listen to another parable” (Matthew 21:33-43, Parable of the Wicked Tenants) He could have just said, “Get ready for another confrontation between the Pharisees and me.” The events from today’s Gospel passage take place on Tuesday of our Lord’s passion week. Jesus is making His way toward Calvary. Just the day before these events, Jesus had gone into the Temple , cleansed the Temple, casting out the people who were profaning the House of God by buying and selling in its courts. That had caused the religious leaders, who profited greatly from the business, to become very angry towards Jesus.

This is the second parable He is telling as an answer to the angry religious leaders as a response to their rejection of His authority. He describes a man who planted a vineyard. He built a hedge around that vineyard to keep wild animals out. He dug a winepress, to collect the juice that would be harvested from the grapes grown in the vineyard. He built a tower so that a watchman might keep a diligent eye on the vineyard so that it would be protected. He placed his vineyard in the hands of men assigned to farm it, and then he left it in their care.

They understood the parable. They heard Jesus. “They realized He was talking about them.” Jesus held before them a truth they didn’t like and they wanted to put a stop to it. They wanted to arrest Him. At every turn He is offending, aggravating, and confronting the Pharisees. He eats with the wrong people. He won’t answer their questions. He taunts them by breaking the law and healing on the Sabbath. He calls them hypocrites and blind leaders. He escapes their traps. He leaves them speechless. He rattles off a string of “woes” against them. He compares them to a disobedient son who will not work in the vineyard.

Here’s what I think these confrontations are about. Jesus is unwilling to give up on the Pharisees, or anyone else for that matter. Jesus is unwilling to give up on you or me. His unwillingness to give up on us often confronts us with truth about our lives that is almost always difficult to hear and accept. Jesus doesn’t exclude us or anyone else from the kingdom of God. Jesus said to them, “The kingdom of God will be taken away from you.” This is not so much a punishment for failing to produce kingdom fruits. It is, rather, the recognition of what already is. They were given the vineyard and failed to produce and share the fruits of the kingdom. They have excluded themselves. In the same way, the kingdom of God will be given to those who are already producing kingdom fruits. This is not a reward but a recognition of what already is. Where the fruit is, there also is the kingdom.

If you want to know what the fruits of the kingdom look like then look at the life of God revealed in Jesus Christ. What do you see? Love, intimacy, mercy and forgiveness, justice, generosity, compassion, presence, wisdom, truth, healing, reconciliation, self-surrender, joy, thanksgiving, peace, obedience, humility. I’m not talking about these things as abstract ideas but as lived realities in the vineyards of our lives.

We’ve all been given vineyards. They are the people, relationships, circumstances and events of our lives that God has entrusted to our care. That means our spouse and marriage, children and family, our work, our church, our daily decisions and choices, our hopes, dreams, and concerns are the vineyards in which we are to reveal the presence and life of God, to produce the fruits of the kingdom. So we must look at the vineyards of our lives. So, how’s your garden growing? What do you see? Is there fruit? Is there life?

We read this parable not to make judgments on certain people in the past. We must be careful to be aware of the relevance of this parable for our own situation. We are not reading it for historical reasons but for reflection on our own lives and behavior .In Jesus’ story the owner sends his servants to collect the harvest. Instead, the tenants seized, beat, stoned and even killed the owner’s messengers. This happened again and again. The message is clearly understood by Jesus’ hearers. The Lord had sent his prophets to remind his people of their duty to serve, to be a fruitful people. Yet, one by one, God’s messengers were rejected. Today, we are God’s people. We are the tenants in the vineyard. Over the centuries, how many prophets in our Christian communities have been rejected, abused and even killed? We think of Joan of Arc, Thomas More, and, in our own times, Bishop Oscar Romero, Martin Luther King, the countless victims of violence in Central and South America, in Africa not to mention Northern Ireland. All these martyrs have one thing in common. They were killed not by pagans but by fellow-Christians, tenants in the Lord’s vineyard.

Dear Brothers and sisters, now He expects us to produce fruit, fruit that will endure. The obvious question for us to ask ourselves today is: How are we doing? How much better are we than the chief priests, the elders, the Scribes and the Pharisees? We are specially privileged, by baptism, to be called to work in the Lord’s vineyard. How do we see this call? Do we find it a privilege, a blessing, or a troublesome burden? How well have we received the message of the Lord?

WHAT SINNERS' CONVERSIONS MEAN FOR ME
October 1, 2017
by Deacon Dennis Walters

    In some ways, we in our culture don’t understand the fuss that Ezekiel is raising in the first reading. We think it’s pretty obvious that if a good person starts doing evil things, he should get what his conduct deserves; and if a wicked person converts and starts doing what is just and right, he should be rewarded.  

    We say that, but that’s not always how we really think. If a devout Catholic, faithful in all religious practices all his life, commits one mortal sin and dies without repenting and so goes to Hell for all eternity, we object that such a fate is unfair. By the same token, if a vicious concentration camp guard responsible for the deaths of thousands of inmates repents and asks God’s forgiveness just before his execution, he goes to heaven. Where’s the justice in that? We’re more like Ezekiel’s audience than we give ourselves credit for. Worse, according to Jesus in today’s Gospel, we’re often not impressed enough with sinners’ conversions to see what they have to tell us about ourselves.

    Case in point.

    The older ones among us may remember Charles W. Colson, Special Counsel to President Nixon from 1969 to 1973. He was called the President’s “hit man” who cleaned up Nixon’s messes. And he did some really vile things in his service to the President.  He helped organize a riot in which some construction workers in hard hats armed with lengths of re-bar attacked students protesting the Vietnam War. He proposed firebombing the Brookings Institution, a liberal Washington think tank. He urged that the young veteran John Kerry be “destroyed … before he becomes another Ralph Nader.” He was involved in the Watergate break-in and its cover-up, and tried to defame the man who leaked the Pentagon Papers, government documents that detailed America’s involvement in the Vietnam War. For all that, he got a light prison sentence for obstruction of justice.

    Around the time Colson was facing arrest, a friend gave him a copy of C.S. Lewis’s book Mere Christianity. Though raised in a nominal Episcopalian home, he had never practiced his faith; but that book turned his life around. He converted to Evangelical Christianity, joined a prayer group with other government officials, and began actively practicing and promoting his faith. Much of the news media hooted that his conversion was just a ploy to get a reduced sentence (he served seven months of a three-year prison term). I remember hearing about Colson’s conversion, and had my own suspicions about it.

    But by their fruits you know them. Colson proved the genuineness of his conversion by founding Prison Fellowship to work for the conversion of prison inmates and for prison reform. He became active in Christian social ministries, including ecumenical work, and partnered with Fr. Richard John Neuhaus to promote “Evangelicals and Catholics Together.” He died in 2012, still active in ecumenical work.  

    Ezekiel’s point is that God’s justice is strict, but His mercy is far greater than we imagine, possibly greater than we like. God seems all too willing to snatch into heaven the hooker, the con artist, the thief, and the political “hit man” who decides to change. He takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but delights when the wicked turns from his wicked ways. Jesus makes the same point numerous times in the Gospels. There’s more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine who don’t need to.

    But Jesus’ point in today’s Gospel goes beyond that. The chief priests and the elders refused to recognize the authority of John the Baptist or Jesus Himself for their prophetic ministry. While they would grant a hypothetical case — that the first son in the parable who refused his father’s command was the one who later obeyed — they couldn’t grant that the prostitutes and tax collectors were really responding to God. Worse, even when the chief priests and elders saw genuine conversions among “sinners” like these, such turnarounds didn’t cause them to consider what such changes meant for themselves.

    People do change. Of course, it’s only reasonable to suspect that sudden conversions by notorious figures like Charles Colson are a ploy to gain some sort of approval. But maybe they’re genuine. And if they are, two responses are appropriate. One is to join the angels in heaven rejoicing over the sinner who repents. The other is to ask, “What does that repentance mean to me?” I can testify to what Charles Colson’s conversion meant to me. It was through two of his early books, Born Again and Life Sentence, that I, a privileged white college grad with a degree in literature and no prison experience, had to ask myself what I could offer Black and Hispanic criminals who could hardly read. The answer meant everything.

    We belong to a communion of saints. And some of these saints are tax collectors and prostitutes who’ve turned their lives around. Such people are all around you. Maybe you know some of them. What’s your opinion? Conversion notwithstanding, are they still what they were, tax collectors and prostitutes? Or will they get into heaven ahead of you? What does their turn from wickedness to holiness mean for how you live your life?  

    Your answer could mean everything for you.

GRACE ISN'T FAIR
September 24, 2017
by Fr. Bosco Padamattummal

In the parable of the workers in the vineyard it is easy to feel for the workers who had been there all day and think, yeah they should feel ripped off when the workers who came the last hour got equal pay with them who worked hard in the heat of the sun. So it is not about fairness in business, but this parable has a deep spiritual meaning on grace.

Since this is a parable about the “Kingdom of God,” the landowner is God, the vineyard is the Church, the workers are the people of God, and payment is grace or in spiritual terms, our “pay” or reward for working for God is - salvation now and heaven later. It has nothing to do with fair pay or business. And that’s the whole point of the parable because Grace isn't fair. It’s not about counting up what we have done. Grace is about what God has done for us. Jesus demonstrated that Himself on the cross when He said to the thief next to Him, “Today you will be with Me in Paradise”. What about all those poor people who had given years of service to God? Shouldn’t they be entitled to more, a few more crowns in heaven maybe? Like in Philippians 3:4-9 Paul described the loss of his family, his social class, his wealth, and his entire former existence, so that he might gain Christ, again in the Parable of the Sower (Mt. 13:5-6, 21), Jesus described the heat of the Sun on the plants being “trouble or persecution.”So grace and salvation are not just for those who have gone through persecutions. But that’s not the way that grace works apparently. Grace is not fair. It can never be, for that is its very essence. Grace is something that I can be grateful for, because I’m one of those who turns up late in the day and still receives the best that God has. The whole Gospel is not primarily about social justice. It’s about a God of grace who gives us what we don't deserve and who wants us to be a part of the bringing in of his kingdom and to live with him in it, despite the fact that we have done nothing to deserve it..

What these passages also show is not just that Jesus accepted sinners, but that He was the promised Messiah. Jesus’ whole interpretation of who He was, was based on the Bible that He read, our Old Testament. It is particularly based on Isaiah where the prophet talks about the coming of the kingdom when the lion will lie down with the lamb and all will eat together. When Jesus ate and drank with tax collectors and sinners, He was living out the words of Isaiah. And everyone there knew it, because the Pharisees who were watching Him knew their Bibles backwards, and they all knew exactly what Isaiah said. And here was Jesus actually living this out and showing up the Pharisees and others for their legalism and rule-keeping, which is what they thought that pleasing God was all about.

The Pharisees were all about keeping rules, and by doing that they were automatically excluding anyone who didn’t keep the rules, anyone who wasn’t like them. Whenever we start substituting love for rules, we start to become people of ungrace and we can’t help but create an ‘us and them’ culture. And anyone who is not like us is not really accepted, and we judge them in just the same way as the Pharisees judged people in their day.

Jesus as usual, never defines what grace is, just like He never defines the kingdom of God. He just tells stories about it and models it in His own life. Ernest Hemingway tells the story of a Spanish father who wants to reconcile with his son who has run away to Madrid. Now remorseful, the father takes out this ad in the El Liberal newspaper: “Paco meet me at Hotel Montana noon Tuesday. All is forgiven. Papa”. Paco is a common name in Spain, and when the father goes to the square he finds 800 young men named Paco waiting for their fathers. Dear brothers and sisters, this parable is a story of a God of grace who forgives. This is a God who doesn’t know when to stop loving. Nothing you or I have done – nothing! – can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus. Jesus who promised paradise to the good thief from the cross is inviting each one of us  to receive his grace mercy which never stops Amen!

THE BEAUTY OF FORGIVENESS
September 17, 2017
by Fr. Bosco Padamattummal
 

It is easy to proclaim the virtue of forgiveness. But the reality is another matter. C.S. Lewis put it so well, “Forgiveness is a beautiful word until, you have something to forgive.” But why is forgiveness so hard? First, forgiveness is difficult because it is not natural. The natural human impulse is to get even, to exact revenge. Forgiveness goes against the grain of human existence. Secondly, forgiveness is hard because it is not fair. To forgive without just repayment offends our sense of justice. We want to be vindicated.

The apostle Peter also struggled with the issue of forgiveness. In Matthew 18 Jesus has been dealing with the subject of a brother who has sinned. As Peter listens to the LORD teach he fastens onto one aspect, “What does this mean about how much I must forgive someone who has wronged me?” Peter directs his question to the Lord in verse 21, "Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times?"

Peter makes two mistakes that are apparent to us. First, he assumes that his brother will sin against him and not he against his brother. And secondly, Peter wanted to set some kind of limit on forgiveness. In all fairness to Peter he was generous in his limit. He asked if forgiving seven times would be sufficient. The Rabbi’s of the time taught that one must forgive three times, this is drawn from a misunderstanding of the book of Amos, which says that God would revoke punishment against them for three transgressions but not for four. Thus they taught that God Himself never forgave more than three times. To Peter’s credit he is more than doubling what the Rabbi’s taught. I believe that Jesus dumbfounds Peter with His reply in verse 22, "I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.” The term “seventy times seven” is literally “seventy seven” and is a little ambiguous it can mean either “seventy plus seven” or “seventy times seven” but the meaning is the same it is a call for unlimited forgiveness.

The master in the parable forgave his servant out of compassion for him and his family. We must see ourselves in this if we are going to be helped by this parable of Jesus. We must see that the sum of our offenses against God through the years constitutes this kind of a debt, an absolutely impossible amount. Our rebellions, our selfish acts and thoughts, our willful choices, our lovelessness toward one another, and the hurt we have caused others, our pride, our anger, our lusts, our bitterness, our hates, and our lies; all these add up through the years to a staggering debt we owe God and which we cannot pay. But then there comes the good news, the wonderful good news of the Gospel; that we can be "Forgiven, in Christ’s name."

Man’s first great need is receiving forgiveness and man’s second great need with regard to forgiveness is to extend forgiveness (vv. 28-35) To use the Lord’s words to accept God’s forgiveness and then to refuse to forgive another is not just unfortunate, it is “wicked” (v. 32). “Corrie ten Boom likened forgiveness to letting go of a bell rope. If you have ever seen a country church with a bell in the steeple, you will remember that to get the bell ringing you have to tug awhile. Once it has begun to ring, you merely maintain the momentum. As long as you keep pulling, the bell keeps ringing. Miss ten Boom said forgiveness is letting go of the rope. It is just that simple. But when you do so, the bell keeps ringing. Momentum is at work. However, if you keep your hands off the rope, the bell will begin to slow and eventually stop.

It is like that with forgiveness. When you decide to forgive, the old feelings of unforgiveness may continue to assert themselves. After all, they have lots of momentum. But if you affirm your decision to forgive, that unforgiving spirit will begin to slow and will eventually be still. Forgiveness is not something you feel, it is something you do. It is letting go of the rope of retribution.”

ARE YOU YOUR BROTHERS KEEPER?
September 10, 2017
by Fr. Bosco Padamattummal

WE ARE REMINDED TODAY that to belong to the Church is to belong to a community of brothers and sisters in Christ. This means that being a Christian is not a private, purely personal affair, although that is the way some people seem to behave. When God asked Cain, “Where is your brother?” Cain answered, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” The teaching of the Gospel is that indeed I am responsible for my brothers and sisters. The whole of Matthew chapter 18 is a discourse on mutual relations within the Christian community and, especially, what to do when divisions arise, as must inevitably happen. We are communities of sinners trying to be saints and there are many pitfalls on the way.

In olden times, cities were walled and watchmen were placed on towers to warn of any approaching danger. Especially at night while the whole city slept in peace the watchmen would stay awake and keep watch. The life of the whole city was in their hands. They were the first to know if there was any danger or if an enemy was approaching. The watchmen had to be alert, attentive, trustworthy, dependable, and focused. His main job was to warn the people of the enemy so that the people could defend themselves. What if the watchmen fell asleep or did not raise the alarm because he was afraid or scared that he would be laughed at and embarrassed? Would you hold them responsible for the deaths of those they did not warn? As watchmen we are accountable to God if we do not warn the sinner of impending destruction. We will be held responsible if we make no effort to save a sinner or to restore a fallen brother or sister. Our individual responsibility also extends to our own walk with the Lord. Our Christian walk must measure up to Biblical standards because we cannot attempt to remove the speck in our brother’s eye with a plank in our own eye.

Are we sitting comfortably in our Churches and homes unconcerned about the many people who do not know the true way to peace and happiness? Are we too busy with our private lives to worry about anyone else - too busy with our own activities and pleasures to see the hurting and the lost? Jesus has given clear instructions for dealing with sin in the church. To achieve the right results His instructions must be carried out under divine guidance. A quiet correction is always better than a public rebuke or worse yet – gossip. We should not see ourselves as accusers but as counselors relying on the Word of God. We must make them understand and see the relevance of the Word of God in their particular situation. We are not to present ourselves as prosecuting attorneys presenting evidence and pronouncing guilt. Love involves the responsibility to warn our neighbors concerning their spiritual well-being. Our Christian testimony to our neighbor in both words and the way we live our lives is very important.

 Jesus wants us to have the kind of Churches where He can rescue people. He wants us to be lifeguards and not umpires. When Jesus was teaching in the temple the Pharisees brought in a woman who had been caught in adultery. The Pharisees wanted her to sin no more and to them that meant judging her sin and giving her what she deserved according to the Law – death by stoning. Jesus also wanted her to sin no more so in love He offered her forgiveness and life so that she could live in righteousness. Both Jesus and the Pharisees were trying to accomplish the same thing. But one would have resulted in death and the other resulted in life.

Dear Brothers and sisters, as a community we have a responsibility for each other’s well-being. We do not further the witness of a loving community when we, in false “charity”, ignore social problems such as drug-taking, alcoholism, compulsive gambling, violence in the home, discrimination against the physically and mentally handicapped, racial exploitation and the like taking place in our parish community. It is not enough just to deal with these things in the privacy of “Confession” for, ultimately, reconciliation must be at the community level. And, as such, this is the responsibility of the community exercising its calling as the Body of Christ.

ARE YOU PREPARED FOR THE PERFORMANCE?
September 3, 2017
By Deacon Dennis Walters

Sometimes when I’m assisting at Mass and my mind begins to wander, I recall an old Roman proverb: Age quod agis — “Do what you’re doing.” 

Here’s how St. Paul puts it for believers: “I appeal to you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” St. Paul follows that sentence with a four-chapter description of what “present your bodies as a living sacrifice” involves. Behaving in all areas of life with the kind of love that Christians are supposed to exercise is a sacrifice in the root sense of the word — that is, making what you do something holy, something set apart for God. St. Paul calls it “your spiritual worship.”

That “spiritual worship” is encapsulated in the sacrifice of the Mass, and it includes your body. To validly participate in the Mass, you have to be physically present, doing the standing and sitting and kneeling, and saying the responses, especially the affirmation of faith at the great Amen. The reason physical presence matters is that you’re a priest. True, you’re not a priest in the same sense as Fr. Bosco is; but you’re performing a priestly role along with him by offering yourself through Jesus to the Father, and for that you need to be present bodily and do what you’re supposed to be doing.

But, some Catholics complain that they get nothing out of Mass. It’s boring. It’s the same thing every time. Granted, the readings and some prayers vary, but the structure doesn’t. The whole thing is scripted; everything happens in the same order every time, so there’s no need to pay attention. You can respond in your sleep (and some people do).

That’s one way of looking at it. There’s another way.

When I was in college, I became the stage manager for a production of A Man for All Seasons. Among other things, that meant that I had to make sure every actor followed every cue according to script in every performance. An actor who performs the same role hundreds of times can’t afford to let the audience know he’s bored with the play. He always has to be “on,” as if each performance was the only one. How do you keep things fresh? First, by studying how his real personality informs the character he plays. Second, by observing how his reactions to other characters helps them with their portrayals. Third, by experimenting with little bits of “stage business” (small actions not written in the script) that reveal elements of his character to the audience. Fourth, by rehearsing lines, rehearsing cues, and rehearsing movements as the director indicates — again, again, and again. As stage manager, I was responsible for making sure cast and crew performed according to the script. But their performance brought the script alive.

In a sense, the Mass is like a play — except that we’re really worshipping, not acting. The Mass is formal, public worship. Because it’s formal, it has a defined plot and all the characters know what their part is. The dialog between God and His people is scripted, using formal language suitable to the dignity of the characters: God the Creator and us His creatures. And because the Mass is public worship, it’s ritualized: the actions are predictable. Nothing is spontaneous, in the sense that neither side is free to improvise; but that’s not the same as saying that by following the script we as characters in this “play” can’t keep our role fresh. We do that by intending to do what we’re supposed to be doing, committing ourselves to the performance — the gestures, the bodily positions, the formal language — bringing it alive. 

So to a Catholic who says he gets nothing out of Mass, I might ask, “What are you putting into it?” 

Several times in the Old Testament, a leader of Israel would command the people, “Sanctify yourselves for the sacrifice, for tomorrow the Lord is coming to you.” The expression, “sanctify yourselves,” is odd. Scripture generally insists that it’s God who sanctifies us, makes us holy; we don’t do it ourselves. So what did “sanctify yourselves” mean?

Basically, it meant “prepare yourself for worship,” usually through physical purification. In a negative sense, sanctifying yourself meant keeping away from any activity that would make you ritually impure, such as eating forbidden foods. In a more positive sense, it meant purifying yourself by taking a bath, washing your clothes, and gathering together the offering you’d take to the sacrifice. We sanctify ourselves in the same way, by preparing to come to Mass — bodily by bathing and dressing in good clothes, and spiritually by preparing to do sacrifice. The idea is that, if we intend to come to where God will meet us, we’d better get ready to be there.

Yes, the Mass is repetitive in structure and content, but it’s only boring if we’re physically present but mentally somewhere else. True, attending Mass means giving up our time, our energy, and our attention — it’s a sacrifice. But we get out of Mass what we put into it.  What we put into it, according to St. Paul, is our bodies, a “living sacrifice.” Our offering is ourselves. In exchange, God offers Himself to us in the Eucharist. If that exchange is to work out as God intends it to, we need to do our part: be present in body and mind, really doing what we’re doing.

LESSONS FROM A CANAANITE WOMAN
August 20, 2017
by Fr. Bosco Padamattummal

Mahatma Gandhi in his autobiography tells how, during his student days, he read the Gospels and saw in the teachings of Jesus the answer to the major problem facing the people of India, the caste system. Seriously considering to embrace the Christian faith, Gandhi attended church one Sunday morning intending to talk to the minister about the idea. On entering the church, however, the usher refused to give him a seat and told him to go and worship with his own people. Gandhi left the church and never returned. “If Christians have caste differences also,” he said, “I might as well remain a Hindu.”

The belief that God’s blessings are somewhat limited to peoples of certain nationalities or cultures has been around for a very long time. Such a belief was very much alive in the society in which Jesus grew up. When Jesus said in today’s gospel reading, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matthew 15:24) he was expressing a popular belief. It is not clear whether he really believed it himself or whether he said it in order to expose and correct its false claims. Every people and culture has a handful of such prejudices and myths – from the myth of the Jews as the only people of God to that of no salvation outside the Church, from the prejudice of the caste system in India to that of racial superiority in Nazi Germany, we are today invited to expose such myths and correct their false and exaggerated claims.

It took the active intervention of a complete outsider, a Canaanite woman, to create the awareness among early Jewish Christians that the belief in the exclusive divine prerogatives of the Jewish people did not stand up to reason. Probably you and I owe the fact that we are Christians today to the heroism of this unnamed woman who dismantled the dividing wall of intolerance between Jews and Gentiles. We need to consult this woman in today’s service, asking her to teach us how to go about dismantling the structures that create undue division among God’s children, the human race that God has loved into being.

The first thing she teaches us in our Christian vocation to reconcile all humankind to God is courage. Given her position as a foreigner and as a woman, it took phenomenal courage on her part to decide to take on the all-Jewish and all-male company of Jesus and his disciples. She was so small that, even though she addresses Jesus by his proper Messianic titles: “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David” (verse 22), Jesus still ignored her: “He did not answer her at all” (verse 23a). Most people at this point would give up and accept defeat. But not our Canaanite sister. Rather she intensifies her efforts and embarks on a one-woman demonstration to the point that the disciples had to ask Jesus to do something about it: “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us” (verse 23b). Her courage and her refusal to take no for an answer finally paid off.

The second thing we can learn from this woman is focus or what the civil rights movement calls “keep your eyes on the prize.” When Jesus spoke to her in language that demeaned her people: “It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs” (verse 26), she did not lose her cool but kept her eyes on the goal of her mission, which is to show that even non-Jews are entitled to God’s blessing in Christ. Our sister knew that if she gave Jesus a piece of her mind at that moment, that would jeopardise her mission and she might lose what she came for. But with focus and with her eyes on the prize, she made it. She is a model of non-violence, if you figure that the words of Jesus to her were unjustified verbal assault on her and on her people.

Finally, it was Jesus who gave in: “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish” (verse 28) and the woman got what she wanted. The message of this single woman outsider to every one of us today is: Be not afraid. Be not afraid to challenge prejudice and falsity even in high places, even in religious high places. The least among us can be a vehicle that God can use to bring justice and healing to all of God’s disadvantaged daughters and sons all over the world.

DO NOT BE AFRAID, STEP OUT OF THE BOAT!
August 13, 2017
by Fr. Bosco Padamattummal

Peter helps us answer those questions as he jumps - not off a cliff, but out of a boat. In Matthew we read about Peter walking on the water, and if we look closely enough we may just discover the courage to follow his example. I love Peter because he reminds me of myself. He is quick to act, often without thinking. He shoots off his mouth when prudence may be the better choice. Peter understands failure. After all, he denied Christ. He experiences the soothing balm of forgiveness, and he has the joy of being used greatly by God on the day of Pentecost. Peter preaches the sermon that leads 5,000 people to join the church.

I. Dispel disillusionment: When the disciples first see Jesus coming at them they mistake Him for a ghost. They have spent the whole night afraid the storm would drown them, and now a ghost shows up. Things were going from bad, to worse. It was the epitome of out of the frying pan and into the fire. The first thing that must happen to get out of the boat is that our disillusionment must be dispelled. Have you ever noticed that we make the problems of life worse in our head than they really are? As humans we are masters at creating terrible events in our minds and worrying ourselves to death. The disciples are filling in the blanks. They see a figure walking on the water toward them and they assume that it must be a ghost. Is that not just like us? We often make our fears greater than they are. But how do we handle real fears?

We must become so familiar with Jesus, that when false promises or pseudo-saviors show up, we spot them for who they are. We must know Jesus, in the deepest most personal sense. Only through a personal relationship with Him will we be able to recognize Him. Only as we grow to know Christ deeper will we be able to identify the fakes. The disciples mistake Jesus for a ghost when He shows up. Only when Peter is sure that it is Jesus walking on the water does he dare think about getting out of the boat.

II. Defeat distractions: Peter leaves the boat when he knows that it is Jesus on the water and not a ghost, and for a little while he walks on the water. Peter does the impossible, but then things change. Peter took his eyes off Jesus and focused on the storm. Will we sink when we get distracted from Jesus, our source of power? Distractions can come in two forms, the obvious and the subtle. Peter gets distracted by the obvious stuff. The thunder booms, the lightning cracks, the wind whips, and the waves pound. There's a storm going on around Peter. It's easy to see why he gets distracted. He's afraid. Just a few moments ago he was hiding in the boat from the storm, now he is exposed in the middle of the storm.

We get scared by things that look like they will overtake us, and we turn from Jesus, the source of our power and peace. When we choose to focus on the problems rather than the power, we sacrifice our connection with Jesus. Jesus is a power greater than the problems we face. When our problems distract us from Jesus, we turn from the greatest power there is to a lesser power. John writes in I John 4:4, "the One who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world." If we focus on the problems then we will lose sight of the one greater than anything.

III. Destroy doubt: When Peter got into the boat, the disciples worshiped Jesus. We get the feeling that this worship of Him was different. Before this encounter Jesus was just an amazing man, but now the disciples saw Him as the Messiah and Son of God. No matter how we answer that question, there is a deeper problem: We doubt Jesus. We trust our skills, our intellect, our money, our position, or our connections more than we do the Son of God. We  only turn to Jesus as a last result. We put Jesus on a time limit. If Christ does not handle our problem within a certain amount of time, we assume that He does not care, is not able, or is too busy. So we go to someone or something else. Not only must Christ be our first choice, He must become our only choice.

The existential philosopher, Soren Kierkegaard, called the decision to follow Jesus a leap of faith, like jumping off a cliff. Peter would call it leaving the boat. Whatever it is, the One greater than fears, problems, and doubts is here. Jesus is waiting on you to believe in Him and risk it all. Come on, leave the boat and walk on the water. Jesus says you can do it.