Author: Daniel Scofield, MTS

What is our commitment to works of mercy? Ministering to our fellow human beings means ministering to the Lord Jesus himself, whose image we can see in the faces of the poor. Today’s passage from the Gospel of Matthew records speaking to his disciples on the nature of their actions as his followers. Saint Teresa of Calcutta (Mother Teresa) speaks to having the commitment to works of mercy. “In order to help us deserve heaven, Christ set a condition: that at the moment of our death you and I, whoever we might have been and wherever we have lived, Christians and non-Christians alike, every human being who has been created by the loving hand of God in his own image shall stand in his presence and be judged according to what we have been for the poor, what we have done for them.… Christ said, ‘I was hungry and you gave me food.’ He was hungry not only for bread but for the understanding love of being loved, of being known, of being someone to someone. He was naked not only of clothing but of human dignity and of respect, through the injustice that is done to the poor, who are looked down upon simply because they are poor. He was dispossessed not only of a house made of bricks but because of the dispossession of those who are locked up, of those who are unwanted and unloved, of those who walk through the world with no one to care for them.… Do we go out to meet those? Do we know them? Do we try to find them?”

Christianity is not primarily about ethics, “being a nice person,” or, to use Flannery O’Connor’s wry formula, “having a heart of gold.” Bishop Robert Barron writes that when Christians grant that Christianity’s ultimate purpose is to make us ethically better people, they cannot convincingly defend against the insinuation that if some other system makes human beings just as good or better, Christianity has lost its purpose. Immanuel Kant argued that, at its best, religion is not about dogma or doctrine or liturgy but about ethics. In the measure that the Scriptures, prayer, and belief make one morally good, they are admissible, but in the measure that they lead to moral corruption, they should be dispensed with. The problem with this old and new Kantianism is that it runs dramatically counter to the witness of the first Christians, who were concerned, above all, not with an ethical program but with the explosive emergence of a new world. We can read the letters of St. Paul, the earliest Christian texts we have, and are particularly instructive on this score. The central motif of all of Paul’s letters is Jesus Christ risen from the dead. For Paul, the resurrection of Jesus is the sign that the world as we know it—a world marked by death and the fear of death—is passing and that a new order of things is emerging. The inaugural speech of Jesus, as reported in the Gospel of Mark, commences with the announcement of the kingdom of God and then the exhortation to “repent and believe the good news.” We tend automatically to interpret repentance as a summons to moral conversion, but the Greek word that Mark employs is metanoiete, which literally means “go beyond the mind you have.” In Mark’s telling, Jesus urges his listeners to change their thinking to see the new world that is coming into existence. Anyone with any theological persuasion or no persuasion can be “good people.” But only followers of the risen Christ can witness to an earthquake that has shaken the foundations of the world and turned every expectation upside down.

Fear not; you are inadequate! Fr. Ron Rolheiser writes that that little saying has a deceptive depth. Whether you are a parent, a teacher, a minister, a priest, an advocate for justice, or simply a friend to someone in need, there are countless times when you come face to face with your own inadequacy, when you are helpless in the face of all that you should be doing. At times like that, it is essential to remember that God alone is adequate, that you are not God, and that God is more parent, teacher, minister, priest, advocate for justice, and friend than you are. Obvious as this is, it is not always evident to us, as our history of needless worry, being angry, feeling overly self-important, living with ulcers, and being chronically overextended give ample testimony to. We are instruments, mere instruments, albeit important ones, and, unlike God, we are not adequate to the task. Knowing this should give us some consolation at those times when it seems that, somehow, we should be doing better than we are. Healthy prayer functions paradoxically: On the one hand, it connects us to God and divine energy. Conversely, at the same time, it dissociates us from God by making it clear to us that we are not God. Hence, a good prayer life is paradoxical, too, in its effect. Namely, it connects us to God and thus saves us from depression even as it dissociates us from God and thereby saves us from inflation and self-righteousness. Simply put, if someone does not pray, in some way, they are forever falling either into depression or infantile grandiosity; either there is a lack of connection to God, or there is an over-identification with God. Both have adverse effects. Accepting our inadequacy can help bring us to prayer. Fear not; you are inadequate! To admit the truth of that is to be making a little prayer. It is both healthily humbling and uplifting to accept that we are not God and are not asked to try to be. When we are overly discouraged, it is because we have forgotten that truth. When we are overly inflated, it is for the same reason.

In The Return of the Prodigal Son, Henri Nouwen suggests that one of the main things that has to happen for us to come to conversion and purity of heart is that we must move from being a judge to being a repentant sinner. From judge to repentant sinner, what is being suggested here? Psalm 51 haunts the heart with the refrain: “A humbled and contrite heart you (God) will not spurn.” Fr. Rolheiser writes that our problem is that, despite considerable sincerity, our hearts are rarely humble and contrite. The norm is the judgment of others, anger at them, and a certain moral smugness and self-righteousness. Seldom are we on our knees with our heads against the breast of a forgiving God, contrite about what we’ve done and left undone—our betrayals, our sins, our inadequacies. Most of the time, our posture is that of the judge. Our faults are rarely at issue as we adjudicate others’ need for repentance and pronounce judgment on them. Most of the time, our own judgmental attitude and self-righteousness are hidden from us. In our own eyes, we are never the hypocrite, the one sitting in judgment on somebody else’s life. No. We are the honest ones, the compassionate ones, the humble ones. It is strange how each of us so clearly sees the judgmental attitude in the other and yet is unaware of how brutally judgmental we are. One man’s prophet is another man’s fanatic; one woman’s freedom fighter is another woman’s terrorist; and one person’s pro-life struggle is, for another person, the dealing of death! What is true here regarding the self-righteousness and self-blindness that exists within our ideological circles is perhaps even more true within the ordinary give and take of our daily lives. We are invariably judges, never repentant sinners. Conversion begins when we stop standing as a judge in order to kneel as a sinner. When we are humble and contrite of heart, we will not be spurned by God or each other.

Take up his cross daily and follow me.” Lent has begun, and we already get a hint of the cross that awaits us on Good Friday. While some may see the cross as a sign of defeat, faithful Christians see the cross as a sign of Jesus’ love for us. Jesus came to bring justice, peace, and love. His mission ultimately led him to the cross, from where His faithful love brought us life. Jesus did not seek to be glorified: he chose to come without glory to undergo suffering, and you, who have been born without glory, do you wish to be glorified? The route you must take is the one Jesus took. That means recognizing and imitating Him both in His humiliation and good name; in this way, you will glory in the cross, which was his path to glory. That was what St. Paul did, and therefore, he was able to rejoice in saying, “Far be it from me to glory except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Lent is an excellent time to reflect on our daily life in the light of today’s reading. This will hopefully lead to a determination to rejoice as St. Paul did by taking up your cross each day. Make this Lent your 40-day walk with Jesus!

How about for Lent this year we do our very best to stop hating each other. Hatred and contempt are everywhere. Is this new or are we just more aware of it? Why is this happening and intensifying? Why do we justify this hatred on moral grounds, even biblical grounds, claiming that the Gospel itself gives us grounds for our disrespect – My truth is so right and you are so wrong that I can disrespect you and I have biblical grounds to hate you! Well, even a cursory look at scripture should be enough to enable us to see this for what it is; rationalization, self-interest, and the farthest thing from Jesus. He asks us to do something else: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor^’ and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. … If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” This is the very essence of Christian morality. Can you love someone who hates you? Can you do good to someone who wishes you evil? Can you forgive someone who has wronged you? Can you forgive a murderer? Can you move beyond your natural proclivity for vengeance? Sadly, today we are failing that test on both sides of the ideological and religious spectrum. People are openly espousing disrespect, division, hatred, and vengeance – and trying to claim the moral high ground in doing this. Worse still, churches and church leaders of every kind are lining up behind them and giving them “Gospel” support for their espousal of hatred and vengeance. This needs to be named and challenged: anyone who is advocating division, disrespect, hatred, or revenge is antithetical to Jesus and the Gospels. As well, anyone supporting such a person by an appeal to Jesus, the Gospels, or authentic morality, is also antithetical to Jesus and the Gospels. God is love. Jesus is love enfleshed. Disrespect, hatred, division, and revenge may never be preached in God’s or Jesus’ name, no matter the cause, no matter the anger, no matter the wrong. This doesn’t mean that we cannot have disagreements, spirited discussions, and bitter debates. But disrespect, hatred, division, and revenge may not be advocated in the name of goodness and Jesus. Division, disrespect, hatred, and vengeance are the Anti-Christ. (Adapted from Fr. Ron Rolheiser’s article: Breaking Faith With Each Other).

Jesus uses the simile of the leaven to show the vitality of his teaching. Here, “leaven” is used in the sense of bad disposition. In the making of bread, leaven is what causes the dough to rise; the Pharisees’ hypocrisy and Herod’s dissolute life, stemming from their personal ambition, were the “leaven” which was poisoning from within the “dough” of Israel, and which would eventually corrupt it. Jesus seeks to warn his disciples about these dangers and to have them understand that if they are to take in his teaching, they need a pure and simple heart. Sr. Chris Koellhoffer says, “I suspect that if my mother had been present for the multiplication of the loaves and fishes, Jesus would not have had to remind her of the fragments. With a large family, she honed her skills at bringing leftovers to life in a new and appealing form. So vigilant and careful was she that hardly a crumb in our home ever went to waste under her thoughtful planning of meals.” In Jesus’ question to the disciples, we can hear his frustration at their difficulty in “getting it.” Beyond that, perhaps his question to them, “Do you not remember?” also reminded them that he left nothing behind. When it came to the significance and dignity of the human person, Jesus was forever mindful of what others might deem useless, forgotten, and leftover. Jesus, as we enter this Lenten season, help us to savor your words.

Human beings tend to look for signs that will interpret various experiences or affirm plans and decisions. In their faith lives, there are any number of people who ask for signs from God, and God seems to come through for them frequently and generously. Sr. Ephrem Hollermann writes that she sometimes envies them because she has never been a good “reader of signs” in her spiritual life. When God breaks into my life, it seems more like a fleeting moment of intensified divine presence, unaccompanied by the concreteness of a sign. I wonder if I am too much like the Pharisees in today’s Gospel, who seem to have missed concrete signs all along the way. But it’s not just the Pharisees who miss this. In the scene immediately preceding today’s text, Jesus miraculously fed four thousand with just seven loaves and several fish. Within the ten verses that follow today’s Gospel, Jesus addresses his disciples with a barrage of questions: “Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes and fail to see? Do you have ears and fail to hear? And do you remember when I broke the seven loaves for the four thousand? Do you not yet understand?” Small wonder Jesus’ frustration gets the best of him: “Why does this generation seek a sign? Amen, I say to you, no sign will be given to this generation.” It seems a sign “on demand” will not be forthcoming. Whether we are sign readers or caught off guard by jolts of the divine, we face the same challenge to be continually alert to the workings of God in our lives. No sign, after all, will be given to a faithless generation.

In biblical times, people who had leprosy were ostracized from society, condemned to live in regions outside of everyday life, and cry out “unclean” whenever anyone approached them. But they had legitimate reasons for putting these persons outside the circle of everyday life. Leprosy held the danger of contagion. Fr. Rolheiser writes that today, without any legitimacy, we’re still designating certain people as “lepers” unfit to flourish inside the circles of everyday life. We classify them as “losers” and condemn them to the fringes. They’re the new lepers. Examples of this abound, but perhaps we see this most simplistically played out in our high schools where there is always a popular crowd, an “in” crowd who dictates the ethos, decides what’s acceptable, and holds down the center of the community, even as they don’t constitute its majority. Most students are outside that more exclusive inner circle of popularity, on the edges of it, trying for full acceptance, not entirely “in” and not fully “out.” But there’s always another set, the ones seen as “losers,” as not measuring up, as not worthy of full status and recognition. This group is not permitted to fully belong. Every human circle has that category of persons. There are a myriad of complex reasons, many to do with mental health, which can help explain why, sometimes, tragically, a high school boy will take up a gun, come into his school, and shoot his classmates. But it’s hard not to notice that, almost always, it’s a young man who has been deemed a “loner,” a loser. We can’t blame his immediate peers and his classmates for deeming him such, however consciously or unconsciously this is done. His classmates are victims, not just of this young man’s illness and rage, but also of a society that blindly helps produce this kind of illness and rage. I’m not a parent, but if I were, I would try with all the moral powers that I possessed as a parent to have my children purge their vocabulary of racial, gender, and disability slurs. Both society and the church are houses. We have, thank goodness, in recent decades forbidden the use of words that disparage another person based on their race, gender, or disability. It’s time we forbid some other slurs inside the house!

Today we celebrate the memorial of St. Scholastica. Bishop Robert Barron writes that St. Gregory the Great tells a charming story about St. Benedict and his twin sister, Scholastica, a woman deeply devoted to God. As was her annual custom, Scholastica came to visit her brother in a small building just outside the monastery. The two of them engaged in intense theological conversation long into the night. When Benedict announced that it was time for him to go, Scholastica begged him to stay. When he continued to insist that he return to the main house, his sister bowed her head in prayer. Immediately, a terrific storm blew up, which prevented Benedict from leaving. “God Almighty forgive you, sister!” Benedict said. “What have you done?’ “I asked you to stay,” she said, “and you would not hear me. So I prayed to God and he heard me.” Smiling knowingly at Scholastica, he remained, and the two of them spoke of divine things until dawn.