The Anawim and the Love of God

 Homily: 30^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          Friends, it’s true that we know that someone loves us because of what they do as much as by what they say.  For example, we know that grandma loves us, not just because she says so, but because of her incessant hugs and kisses, because she bakes us cookies, because she takes care of us when mom and dad are away, because she gives us fun and thoughtful gifts for birthdays and for Christmas, and because she celebrates all of the special occasions in life with us.  In other words, we know she loves us because she not only tells us that she loves us, but because she demonstrates her love in actions; and we know that it is in these actions that the love that she professes is, in a sense, authenticated.

          We also know that someone loves us when they, too, come to love the things that we love, right?  For example, perhaps you’re not a baseball fan, but you become a fan of your spouse’s favorite team; or, you learn to love reading books so that you can share the experience of reading a good book with your best friend; or, you open yourself to liking your significant other’s dog or cat (even if you aren’t a “dog” or “cat” person) so that your significant other doesn’t feel divided between the two.  In this case, we demonstrate love for the person by going beyond words and by demonstrating love for the things that our beloved loves.

          In our Gospel reading today, Jesus is challenged to declare his opinion about the “greatest commandment”.  The Pharisees were thinking of the 613 precepts of the Jewish law and were hoping to expose him as a fraud if he tripped up and picked a less important precept as the greatest.  Jesus answers, however, with the obvious: that the greatest commandment is the most important thing that we could possibly do in life: that is, to love God (the Almighty) with your whole being.  (I say that this was obvious, because his answer comes straight from the shema, the fundamental prayer of the Jewish people, which they prayed at morning, noon, and night and which is recorded for us in the sixth chapter of the book of Deuteronomy.  It says, “Hear, O Israel! The LORD is our God, the LORD alone! Therefore, you shall love the LORD, your God, with your whole heart, and with your whole being, and with your whole strength.”)  Notice, Jesus rightly emphasizes with your whole being.  In other words, he says, don't just say that you love God, but rather put your whole life towards demonstrating it (just like grandma demonstrates her love by the loving actions she performs for you).  This, Jesus replies, is the greatest commandment.

          Then Jesus adds to his response: stating that the second greatest commandment comes in the form of the second sense of demonstrating love (that is, loving the things that our beloved loves).  Here’s what I mean: In the first reading we heard how God declared his love for all people, especially for the poor and destitute: saying that the alien, widow, and orphan who cried out to him would be especially heard by him.  These the Scriptures call the anawim: the “poor and lowly ones” who suffer seemingly through no fault of their own.  These God takes into special account because they have no worldly recourse.  Thus, he accounts it as a great offense to him if those who claim to love him ignore them and leave them to suffer.

Can we just pause for a moment and look at the very specific tenderness that God has for the anawim?  Let’s listen again to the last part of that reading: “If you take your neighbor's cloak as a pledge, you shall return it to him before sunset; for this cloak of his is the only covering he has for his body. What else has he to sleep in?”  God is worried about one of the poor having warm pajamas to sleep in!  The point of the instruction is to say, “the man has given you his cloak (a valuable article of clothing, it seems) as a pledge to pay back what he owes you.  Do not cling to his cloak as if you don’t believe that he will pay you back.  If he needs it while he still owes you, allow him to take it back.”  God’s concern, however, is equally for the lender to be compassionate as it is for the borrower not to be cold at night!  His care and concern for the anawim is a deeply personal one.  And so, when we love our neighbor, especially those most in need among us, by serving their needs in the most personal way that we can, we demonstrate our love for that which God loves; and, in doing so, we demonstrate our love for God, once again.

          From this, we can come to a right understanding of stewardship.  Stewardship, my brothers and sisters, is not a burden of guilt that the Church imposes on us.  Rather, it is a response: it is a response of gratitude from one who acknowledges the undeserved gifts he/she has received from God.  It is a response of love from one who acknowledges that he/she was, indeed, first loved by God.  Stewardship, therefore, is “loving God back”.      By giving of ourselves in worship, prayer, and study, and by serving his Church, we demonstrate our gratitude, and, thus, our love, to God.  By serving those less-fortunate than us, we emphasize our love by loving those whom God loves.

          Our Holy Father, Pope Francis’ latest encyclical Fratelli Tutti (“All Brothers”) emphasizes this point, especially in the chapter when he discusses the parable of the Good Samaritan.  Often, I’ll say that the lesson that the parable gives us is that we must recognize our neighbor as “the one near us who is in need of mercy”.  Pope Francis takes it one step further saying that the Samaritan did more than that: he didn’t just recognize this person in need of mercy and decide to help him as if he was his neighbor; rather, he made him his neighbor—that is, he chose this man to be his neighbor—thus making it natural for him to treat him as he did.

          Dr. Martin Luther King famously explained the parable of the Good Samaritan in this way: he said that the failure of the priest and the Levite was that they encountered the man in need and focused on this question: “what will happen to me if I stop and help him?”  The Samaritan, however, saw the man and instead asked this question: “what will happen to him if I do not help him?”  The priest and Levite were worried about the purity laws and placed them higher than the “greatest law”, as Jesus presented it.  The Samaritan, on the other hand, responded to the greatest law first, knowing that any lesser laws were subject to it.  The priest and Levite failed in love of God, because they thought love of God would be fulfilled by strict adherence to the precepts of the law.  The Samaritan, however, fulfilled love, because he obeyed the law that undergirds all of the law’s precepts when he did for the man exactly what he would have done for himself had he fell victim to the robbers.  Obeying the law of love freed the Samaritan to respond.

          Now, if you’re anything like me, you’ll feel like this is hard to do in real life.  My guess is that each of us much more readily identifies with the priest and the Levite than we do with the Samaritan.  Well, this is why love of God must be first.  When we love God—that is, when we give ourselves over completely to Him, who is love—we come to realize just how compassionate He has been to us; and we realize, too, that compassion is the one thing that we have lacked the most.  Thus we are inspired to have compassion for others; and we begin to realize that this kind of love actually frees us, because it moves us to respond to those good desires in our hearts to offer ourselves for the good of others (however foolish it may seem at the time).  Thus, we no longer say, “I won’t help him, because of what might happen to me”, but rather, “I will help, because it is what God would will for him, and it is what I would will for myself, and this person deserves nothing less.”

          My brothers and sisters: love God, and meditate on His love, that is, His compassion for us, his anawim, and you will find the freedom, that is, the inspiration, to have compassion for everyone around you that you find in need.  And when you do, then harmony will begin to return to our community, our nation, and the world; and the law of love, that is, the law of freedom that we find in Christ Jesus, will make us truly free.

Given at Saint Joan of Arc Parish: Kokomo, IN – October 25^th, 2020

God is in Control

 Homily: 29^th  Sunday, Ordinary Time – Cycle A

For the last seven months, we have been living with the reality of a global health emergency—a pandemic—that has changed our lives dramatically. In these modern times, in which our technological advancements seem to be able to solve any problem, to be completely immobilized by a natural phenomenon (a virus that spreads easily and that can cause serious illness, even death) is something difficult to accept. Just look at the way that our government leaders treat each other in regard to it: they are arguing as if preventing such a thing was possible and so they are blaming each other for not doing enough to prevent it. This is very arrogant thinking, no? The reality of this pandemic (and of natural disasters, like hurricanes, earthquakes, wildfires, and the like) is that, ultimately, there are still many things that are far beyond our control. So far beyond our control that, even the leaders of the most powerful nations on the earth cannot stop them from happening. For me, a blessing within this pandemic, and all of the changes to our lives that have come from it, is the reminder that God is still in control.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus finds himself in a “double-bind.” The Pharisees, feeling unjustly indicted after hearing the parables Jesus was teaching—the parables we’ve heard over the past three weeks—go off to plot their revenge against him. After all, they believe themselves to be the acknowledged religious authority and so they refuse to be undermined by Jesus. Soon, they send their “cronies” to test Jesus and to see if they can catch him making a comment that they can use to turn people against him. The double trouble comes in the form of the Herodians, King Herod’s cronies who many commentators suspect were the ones responsible for collecting taxes. The test that the disciples of the Pharisees propose is essentially a “catch 22” in which a key phrase has a double meaning and, thus, can trap the respondent into making an answer that she or he wouldn’t otherwise make. In this context, the phrase “is it lawful” would have conveyed two meanings.

For the Pharisees, the law with which they were concerned was the Law of Moses, which states that allegiance is to be paid to God alone (thus, the first commandment: “I am the Lord, your God. You shall not have strange gods before me.”). And so, paying the census tax—at least to the Pharisees—was akin to “splitting” your allegiance between God and someone else. For the Herodians, the law with which they were concerned with was the civil law, in which it is a crime on the level of treason to refuse to pay the tax. Thus, not to pay the tax is akin to an act of a revolutionary, which is something the Romans were quite sensitive about. And so, we see Jesus’ double bind. If he says that it is lawful to pay the census tax, then he is contradicting the Mosaic Law and splitting his allegiance between God and Caesar. On the other hand, if he says that it is not lawful, the Herodians will likely report him as “inciting acts against Caesar,” which will probably get him arrested.

As Jesus is wont to do, however, he sees the trap for what it is and steps right around it. He sees the limited perspective with which they both viewed the problem and then expands it to show them yet a third solution, the “both/and.” Jesus’ answer—“Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God”—demonstrates that he sees no conflict in paying the tax on one hand and maintaining allegiance to God alone on the other. In other words, Jesus is saying that what Caesar demands is of little accord, so pay it if you must, but do not let it distract you from giving to God his just due, which is of much greater importance.

For us, this calls us to consider how we live our lives as Christians subject to a government that is at times hostile to our religious convictions. Are we going to cower, sulking frustratedly because our government doesn’t rule the way we’d like it to (which is the model put forth by the Pharisees)? Or will we acknowledge that our God is in control, in spite of our government’s limitations, and realize that what we owe God is of much greater importance than whatever it is our government exacts of us? The thing that we tend to overlook, it seems, is not what we owe to the government (I suspect that no one here is unaware of what they owe to them), but rather what we owe to God.

Now, perhaps at this point you are looking at me and asking, “What exactly do we owe to God?” Well, in a word, everything. There’s nothing that we have in this world that hasn’t come from God and so to “repay … to God what belongs to God” means that in some way we owe him everything we have. However, let’s take a look at the Psalm that we proclaimed today to see if we can get a little more specific. In it the psalmist states, “Give the Lord, you family of nations, give the Lord glory and praise; give the Lord the glory due his name! Bring gifts and enter his courts.” Therefore, it seems that our worship is what we owe God, first and foremost.

You know, here in the United States, we have a certain cultural attitude in which we feel obliged at times to “keep the score even.” In other words, when we receive a gift or kindness from others, we feel like we are then in debt to the other person and thus look for some way to repay their kindness. When we are faced with the graciousness of God, however, we are forced to acknowledge that we are unable to repay God for what he has given to us. Yet, we tend to discount the simple acts that God desires from us. We fail to recognize that, in truth, there is absolutely nothing that can take the place of our coming together as a faith community to worship God in thanksgiving for his gifts that sustain us each and every day.

From this standpoint, then, it makes sense that giving glory to God is our first priority. Of course, that’s not all we are called to do. Our giving back to God from the gifts he’s given us cannot be limited simply to a Sunday afternoon; rather it must spill forth into our daily lives. “Tell his glory among the nations,” the psalmist proclaims, “among all peoples [tell] his wondrous deeds.” At the end of each Mass, we are sent forth into the world to bring the Good News we celebrate here into our homes, our communities, and our workplaces, completing “works of faith” and “labors of love,” all the while “enduring in hope”—true hope—that God indeed is in control and that one day we will see him face to face. This is the life that we, as adopted daughters and sons of God, are called to live; and it is the life of faith into which Rosa Maria is being brought today through baptism.

My brothers and sisters, when a pandemic, or anything else, disrupts our lives, we are forced to face the ominous question: “Who really is in control here?” For some, the answer is frightening: a cold, malicious God who exacts suffering on both good and bad, seemingly without discretion; or worse yet no God at all, leaving them with no way to ascribe meaning to the suffering which they endure. For us, however, it is God, our Father, who protects us and nourishes us and most importantly never abandons us, even if we try to abandon him. Perhaps we can remember this today as we do what the psalmist charges us to do, “bringing our gifts into his courts” so as to repay to the Lord what truly belongs to him, “the glory due his name.” The glory that is our lives of service, gratuitously given and united to the one who paid the price for us all, Jesus Christ our Lord, whom we encounter here at this altar.

Dios es en control

 Homilía: 29º Domingo en el Tiempo Ordinario – Ciclo A

Hermanos, durante los últimos siete meses, hemos estado viviendo con la realidad de una emergencia sanitaria mundial, una pandemia, que ha cambiado nuestras vidas de forma espectacular. En estos tiempos modernos, en los que nuestros avances tecnológicos parecen ser capaces de solucionar cualquier problema, quedar completamente inmovilizados por un fenómeno natural (un virus que se propaga con facilidad y que puede provocar enfermedades graves, incluso la muerte) es algo difícil de aceptar. Solo mire la forma en que nuestros líderes de gobierno se tratan entre sí al respecto: están discutiendo como si prevenir tal cosa fuera posible y, por lo tanto, se culpan mutuamente por no hacer lo suficiente para evitarlo. Este es un pensamiento muy arrogante, ¿no? La realidad de esta pandemia (y de los desastres naturales, como huracanes, terremotos, incendios forestales y similares) es que, en última instancia, todavía hay muchas cosas que escapan a nuestro control. Tan fuera de nuestro control que ni siquiera los líderes de las naciones más poderosas de la tierra pueden evitar que sucedan. Para mí, una bendición dentro de esta pandemia, y todos los cambios en nuestras vidas que han surgido de ella, es el recordatorio de que Dios todavía tiene el control.

En el evangelio de hoy, Jesús se encuentra en un "doble vínculo". Los fariseos, sintiéndose injustamente acusados después de escuchar las parábolas que Jesús estaba enseñando, las parábolas que hemos escuchado durante las últimas tres semanas, van a planear su venganza contra él. Después de todo, se creen a sí mismos como la autoridad religiosa reconocida y por eso se niegan a ser socavados por Jesús. Pronto, envían a sus "compinches" para poner a prueba a Jesús y ver si pueden atraparlo haciendo un comentario que puedan usar para poner a la gente en su contra. El doble vinculo viene en la forma de los herodianos, los compinches del rey Herodes, que eran los responsables de recaudar impuestos. La prueba que proponen los discípulos de los fariseos es esencialmente una "círculo vicioso" en la que una frase clave tiene un doble significado y, por lo tanto, puede atrapar al encuestado para que dé una respuesta que de otro modo no haría. En este contexto, la frase “es lícito” habría tenido dos significados.

Para los fariseos, la ley que les preocupaba era la Ley de Moisés, que establece que la lealtad se debe pagar solo a Dios (por lo tanto, el primer mandamiento: "Yo soy el Señor, tu Dios. No tendrás dioses extraños antes de mí."). Y así, pagar el impuesto del censo, al menos a los fariseos, era similar a “dividir” su lealtad entre Dios y alguien más. Para los herodianos, la ley que les preocupaba era la ley civil, en la que es un delito a nivel de traición negarse a pagar el impuesto. Por lo tanto, no pagar el impuesto es similar a un acto de revolucionario, algo que los romanos eran bastante sensibles. Y entonces, vemos el doble vínculo de Jesús. Si dice que es lícito pagar el impuesto del censo, entonces contradice la ley mosaica y divide su lealtad entre Dios y César. Por otro lado, si dice que no es lícito, es probable que los herodianos lo denuncien como "incitación a actos contra César", lo que probablemente hará que lo arresten.

Sin embargo, como suele hacer Jesús, ve la trampa tal como es y la evita. Él ve la perspectiva limitada con la que ambos vieron el problema y luego la expande para mostrarles una tercera solución. La respuesta de Jesús: "Den, pues, al César lo que es del César, y a Dios lo que es de Dios", demuestra que no ve ningún conflicto en pagar el impuesto por un lado y mantener la lealtad a Dios solo por el otro. En otras palabras, Jesús está diciendo que lo que el César exige es poco acorde, así que págalo si es necesario, pero no dejes que eso te distraiga de dar a Dios lo que es justo, que es de mucha mayor importancia.

Para nosotros, esto nos llama a considerar cómo vivimos nuestras vidas como cristianos sujetos a un gobierno que a veces es hostil a nuestras convicciones religiosas. ¿Nos vamos a esconder y frustrarnos porque nuestro gobierno no gobierna de la manera que nos gustaría (que es el modelo propuesto por los fariseos)? ¿O reconoceremos que nuestro Dios está en control, a pesar de las limitaciones de nuestro gobierno, y nos daremos cuenta de que lo que le debemos a Dios es de mucha mayor importancia que lo que sea que nuestro gobierno nos exija? Al parecer, lo que tendemos a pasar por alto no es lo que le debemos al gobierno (sospecho que nadie aquí desconoce lo que le debemos), sino tendemos pasar por alto lo que le debemos a Dios.

Bueno, tal vez en este punto me esté mirando y preguntando: "¿Qué le debemos a Dios, exactamente?" Bueno, en una palabra, todo. No hay nada que tengamos en este mundo que no venga de Dios y, por lo tanto, "Den ... a Dios lo que es de Dios" significa que de alguna manera le debemos todo lo que tenemos. Sin embargo, echemos un vistazo al Salmo que proclamamos hoy para ver si podemos ser un poco más específicos. En él, el salmista declara: “Alaben al Señor, pueblos del orbe, reconozcan su gloria y su poder y tribútenle honores a su nombre. Ofrézcanle en sus atrios sacrificios." Por tanto, parece que nuestra adoración es lo que le debemos a Dios, ante todo.

Miran, aquí en los Estados Unidos, tenemos una cierta actitud cultural en la que nos sentimos obligados a veces a "nivelar". En otras palabras, cuando recibimos un obsequio o bondad de los demás, sentimos que estamos en deuda con la otra persona y, por lo tanto, buscamos alguna forma de pagar su bondad. Sin embargo, cuando nos enfrentamos a la gracia de Dios, nos vemos obligados a reconocer que somos incapaces de pagarle a Dios por lo que nos ha dado. Sin embargo, tendemos a descartar los actos simples que Dios desea de nosotros. No reconocemos que, en verdad, no hay nada que pueda reemplazar nuestra unión como comunidad de fe para adorar a Dios en acción de gracias por sus dones que nos sostienen todos los días.

Desde este punto de vista, entonces, tiene sentido que dar gloria a Dios sea nuestra primera prioridad. Por supuesto, eso no es todo lo que estamos llamados a hacer. Nuestra retribución a Dios de los dones que nos ha dado no puede limitarse simplemente a un domingo por la tarde; más bien debe extenderse a nuestra vida diaria. "Su grandeza anunciemos a los pueblos", proclama el salmista, “de nación en nación [anunciemos] sus maravillas". Al final de cada Misa, somos enviados al mundo para llevar las Buenas Nuevas que celebramos aquí a nuestros hogares, nuestras comunidades y nuestros lugares de trabajo, completando "obras de fe" y "labores de amor"; todo el tiempo "perseverando en la esperanza”—esperanza verdadera—de que Dios realmente tiene el control y que un día lo veremos cara a cara. Esta es la vida que nosotros, como hijas e hijos adoptivos de Dios, estamos llamados a vivir; y es la vida de fe a la que Rosa Maria está entrando hoy a través del bautismo.

Mis hermanos y hermanas, cuando una pandemia, o cualquier otra cosa, interrumpe nuestras vidas, nos vemos obligados a enfrentarnos a la ominosa pregunta: "¿Quién tiene realmente el control aquí?" Para algunos, la respuesta es aterradora: un Dios frío y malicioso que exige sufrimiento tanto a los buenos como a los malos, aparentemente sin discreción; o peor aún, ningún Dios en absoluto, dejándolos sin forma de atribuir significado al sufrimiento que soportan. Para nosotros, sin embargo, es Dios, nuestro Padre, quien nos protege y nos nutre; y lo más importante nunca nos abandona, incluso si tratamos de abandonarlo. Quizás podamos recordar esto hoy al hacer lo que el salmista nos encarga hacer, “ofrézcanle en sus atrios sacrificios” para devolver al Señor lo que verdaderamente le pertenece, “la gloria debida a su nombre”. La gloria que es nuestra vida de servicio, entregada gratuitamente y unida al que pagó el precio por todos nosotros, Jesucristo nuestro Señor, a quien encontramos aquí en este altar.

Dado en la parroquia de San Patricio: Kokomo, IN – 18 de octubre, 2020

Ser pro-vida se empieza con gratitud

 Homilía: 27º Domingo en el Tiempo Ordinario – Ciclo A

Hermanos, nuestras lecturas nos recuerdan hoy que Dios nos ha dado todo lo que necesitamos para vivir una vida placentera y fructífera, así como un recordatorio de la mayordomía que es parte de haber recibido estos dones de Dios. Tanto en la primera lectura como en el Evangelio, se describe a un dueño de viñedo que hace todo bien. Recogió un campo con buena tierra, labró la tierra y la limpió de piedras, plantó vides que se sabe que producen las uvas más selectas e instaló un lagar para que, cuando las uvas se recojan en el momento perfecto, ni un momento se pierde antes de extraer su jugo para iniciar el proceso de vinificación con el fin de conservar su sabor perfecto. Incluso lo custodiaba para protegerlo de los animales. Sí, hizo todo lo que haría un buen dueño si quisiera garantizar una excelente cosecha de uvas.

Sin embargo, en ambos casos, escuchamos que el dueño del viñedo no cosechó una cosecha abundante. En Isaías, vemos que la viña misma produjo frutos malos, que no valen nada más que ser desechados. Y en el Evangelio, Jesús nos cuenta cómo los trabajadores contratados por el dueño tratan de evitar que el dueño reclame su cosecha, conspirando para quedarse con ella. En ambos casos, las parábolas estaban destinadas a despertar a las personas que las escucharon a la realidad de que no han respondido bien a los dones que Dios les había enriquecido ni a la mayordomía que Dios les había confiado. Los escuchamos hoy como un recordatorio de que nosotros también debemos despertar a estas realidades.

Sin embargo, más allá de estas cosas, estas palabras fueron un recordatorio tanto para quienes las escucharon originalmente como para nosotros hoy, que no podemos dejarnos caer en la trampa de pensar que Dios es nuestro siervo, en lugar de nuestro Señor. Los antiguos israelitas de la época de Isaías empezaron a dar por sentada su prosperidad y empezaron a tratar a Dios como a su siervo, alguien a quien llamaban para ayudarles a hacer las cosas a su manera, en lugar de su Señor, alguien a quien dirigían su amor y servicio. A los principales sacerdotes y a los ancianos del pueblo judío durante el tiempo de Jesús aquí en la tierra se les confió la mayordomía para enseñar al pueblo de Dios cómo tener una relación correcta con Dios, pero lo que hicieron fue convertir la religión en una pseudo-esclavitud, que mantuvo la personas en deuda con ellos (con el pretexto de estar en deuda con Dios), en lugar de estar realmente en deuda con Dios. Así, en ambos casos, el resultado fue que Dios les quitaría el bien que les había dado para dárselo a otros que producirían fruto de los dones y la mayordomía que les habían dado.

En el centro de este fracaso, al parecer, fue su incapacidad para permanecer agradecidos por lo que se les había dado. En cambio, dieron por sentado que lo que les habían dado se les debía de alguna manera. Por lo tanto, fallaron en producir el fruto que Dios deseaba, un reino de justicia y armonía en una relación correcta con Dios, produciendo uvas bastante silvestres de egoísmo y codicia.

Y esto no es solo un fracaso de un pueblo en particular en un momento particular, ¿verdad? No, es un fracaso en el que todo ser humano ha estado en peligro de caer desde el primer pecado. Está claro que, cuando las personas permanecen verdaderamente agradecidas por todo lo que tienen (la mayoría de lo que no se merecían), permanecen contentas y en armonía unas con otras. Sin embargo, cuando la gratitud se pierde y la gente comienza a sentirse autorizada, la gente se vuelve egoísta y codicia, con la falta de armonía y el rencor como resultado. Cuando esto sucede, perdemos de vista al “otro” como nuestro hermano / hermana y comenzamos a tratarlos mal. De manera real, perdemos el sentido de la dignidad del “otro” y, como resultado, comenzamos a maltratarlos. Tal vez pueda tomarse un segundo ahora para considerar el estado de nuestra sociedad y preguntar: "¿Es la forma en que nos tratamos unos a otros una señal de que somos un pueblo agradecido o un pueblo entregado al egoísmo y la codicia?" Creo que, como pueblo, hemos caído en la última categoría.

Hermanos, si queremos permanecer al cuidado del dueño de la viña o con nuestra mayordomía en la viña de Dios, entonces debemos volver a una gratitud radical por lo que Dios nos ha dado y alejarnos de nuestra codicia. Las señales de que somos ingratos abundan en la forma en que nos tratamos, ¿verdad? El debate del martes pasado sobre los candidatos a la presidencia fue una vergüenza para la humanidad (no solo para el cargo de presidente, sino para la humanidad). ¿Pero estamos mucho mejor? ¿No respetamos igualmente la dignidad de otras personas cuando chismeamos, murmuramos y nos comportamos pasivo-agresivamente unos con otros? Creo que lo hacemos.

Hermanos, el Papa Francisco se ha relajado a lo largo de los años por no hablar lo suficiente sobre los problemas de la “vida”, principalmente el aborto. Sin embargo, nuestro Santo Padre hace declaraciones profundamente pro-vida cada vez que condena los chismes y las murmuraciones y nos insta a abandonar estos comportamientos cancerosos. Estos, por supuesto, están muy lejos de equivalente al pecado del aborto, pero son una parte de la corriente subterránea que mantiene la cultura de la muerte a flote, y él lo sabe. Hermanos, la cultura de la vida comenzará a restaurarse tan pronto como comencemos a respetar y honrar la dignidad de nuestras propias vidas. Lo que significa primero, que permanecemos asombrados por el regalo de cada una de nuestras vidas y decidimos respetarlos. Luego, reconociendo la misma dignidad en los demás, también comenzaremos a tener un profundo respeto por ellos. Finalmente, y después de un tiempo significativo, comenzaremos a consagrar en nuestras leyes este respeto, y así proteger esa dignidad en todos.

Este año celebramos el vigésimo quinto año de la encíclica de San Juan Pablo II, El Evangelio de la vida. En esa carta nos exhortó a desmantelar la cultura de la muerte para volver a construir una cultura de la vida. Vivió los horrores de la Alemania nazi. Vio que esos horrores no comenzaron con leyes que consagraban el derecho al asesinato en masa mediante una cámara de gas. Vio, más bien, que comenzaron cuando la falta de respeto de la gente por la dignidad inherente de otro comenzó a consagrarse en la cultura. La "cultura de la muerte", por lo tanto, no es la cultura que permite el asesinato en masa, porque eso es solo su efecto. Más bien, la "cultura de la muerte" es la cultura que tolera que un grupo de personas trate a otro grupo de manera irrespetuosa, una en la que se tolera el chisme, el escándalo y la difamación, ya que estos horrores "más pequeños" son las piedras fundamentales que hacen los horrores mayores (como el holocausto y el aborto) posible. Mientras nos esforzamos con entusiasmo por elegir líderes gubernamentales que trabajarán para redactar y promulgar leyes que respeten toda la vida humana, no olvidemos que también debemos trabajar dentro de nuestras propias vidas para erradicar cualquier actitud o tendencia a tratar a quienes nos rodean de manera irrespetuosa.

Esto, por supuesto, comienza con gratitud: gratitud por el don de la vida que Dios nos ha dado y gratitud por la mayordomía que nos ha dado para usar esta vida para el bien, que es la construcción de su reino. ¿Qué mejor lugar para renovar nuestro compromiso con la gratitud que aquí, en la Eucaristía: nuestro sacrificio de acción de gracias a Dios? Al hacer nuestro regalo de alabanza y acción de gracias hoy, seamos especialmente conscientes del regalo de Dios de nuestras vidas y la mayordomía que viene con él. Entonces, dejemos de lado nuestras diferencias egoístas y decidamos que vamos a ser una familia que se ama: una familia, que trabaja para traer la cultura de la vida de regreso a nuestra comunidad y, a través de nuestra comunidad, y en nombre de Jesús, al mundo.

Dado en la parroquia San Patricio: Kokomo, IN – 4 de octubre, 2020

Being pro-life begins with gratitude

 Homily: 27^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Friends, our readings remind us today that God has given us everything that we need to live a pleasant and fruitful life as well as a reminder of the stewardship that is a part of having received these gifts from God.  In both the first reading and the Gospel, a vineyard owner is described who does everything right.  He picked a field with good soil, he tilled the ground and cleared it of stones, planted vines that have been known to produce the choicest grapes, and installed a winepress so that, when the grapes are picked at the perfect moment, not one moment is lost before extracting its juice to begin the winemaking process so as to preserve its perfect flavor.  He even guarded it to protect it from animals.  Yes, he did everything that a good owner would do if he wanted to all but guarantee a choice crop of grapes.

Yet, in both cases, we hear that the vineyard owner didn’t reap a bountiful harvest.  In Isaiah, we see the vineyard itself produced bad fruit, worth nothing but the be thrown out.  And in the Gospel, Jesus tells us of how the owner’s hired workers try to keep the owner from claiming his harvest, plotting to keep it for themselves, instead.  In both cases, the parables were meant to wake up the people who heard them to the reality that they have not responded well to the gifts with which God had enriched them nor to the stewardship with which they had been entrusted by God.  We hear these today as a reminder that we, too, need to wake up to these realities.

Above and beyond these things, however, these words were a reminder both for those who originally heard them and for us today that we can’t let ourselves fall into the trap of thinking that God is our servant, instead of our Lord.  The ancient Israelites of Isaiah’s time started to take their prosperity for granted and started treating God like their servant—someone on whom they called to help them do things their way—instead of their Lord—someone to whom they directed their love and service.  The chief priests and elders of the Jewish people during Jesus’ time here on earth were entrusted with the stewardship to teach God’s people how to be in right relationship with God, but what they did was turn religion into a pseudo-slavery, which kept God’s people beholden to them (under the pretext of being beholden to God), instead of being actually beholden to God.  Thus, in both cases, the result was that God would take away from them the good that he had given to them to give to others who would produce fruit from the gifts and stewardship that they had been given.

At the core of this failure, it seems, was their failure to remain grateful for what they had been given.  Instead, they took it for granted that what they had been given was somehow owed to them.  Thus, they failed to produce the fruit that God desired—a kingdom of justice and harmony in right relationship with God—producing rather wild grapes of selfishness and greed.

And this is not just a failure of a particular people at a particular time, right?  No, it’s a failure that every human has been in danger of falling into since the first sin.  It is clear that, when people remain truly grateful for all that they have (most of which they didn’t deserve), they remain content and in harmony with one another.  However, when gratitude is lost and people begin to feel entitled, people turn to selfishness and greed, with disharmony and rancor as the result.  When this happens, we lose sight of the “other” as our brother/sister and we begin to treat them poorly.  In a real way, we lose our sense of the dignity of the “other” and, as a result, we begin to mistreat them.  Perhaps you can take just a second now to consider the state of our society and to ask, “Is how we treat one another a sign that we are a grateful people, or a people given over to selfishness and greed?”  I think that, as a people, we have fallen into the latter category.

Friends, if we wish to remain in the care of the vineyard owner or with our stewardship in God’s vineyard, then we must return to a radical gratitude for what God has given us and away from our greed.  The signs that we are ungrateful are abundant in the way we treat each other, are they not?  Last Tuesday’s debate of the candidates for president was a disgrace of humanity (not just the office of President, but of humanity).  Are we much better, though?  Do we not similarly disrespect the dignity of other persons when we gossip, backbite, and behave passive-aggressively towards one another?  I think that we do.

Friends, Pope Francis has taken slack over the years for not speaking out enough about the “life” issues, most prominently abortion.  Nevertheless, our Holy Father makes profoundly pro-life statements every time that he condemns gossip and backbiting and urges us to abandon these cancerous behaviors.  These, of course, are nowhere near equivalent to the sin of abortion, but they are a part of the undercurrent that keeps the culture of death afloat, and he knows it.  Friends, the culture of life will begin to be restored only as soon as we begin to respect and honor the dignity of our own lives.  Meaning first, that we remain in awe of the gift of each our lives and decide to respect them.  Then, recognizing the same dignity in others, we will begin to have a profound respect for them, as well.  Finally, and after significant time, we’ll begin to enshrine in our laws this respect, and thus protect that dignity in everyone.

This year we celebrate the 25^th year of St. John Paul II’s encyclical, The Gospel of Life.  In that letter he called on us to dismantle the culture of death in order to build a culture of life once again.  He lived through the horrors of Nazi Germany.  He saw that those horrors began not with laws enshrining a right to mass-murder by gas chamber.  He saw, rather, that they began when people’s disrespect for the inherent dignity of another began to be enshrined in the culture.  The “culture of death”, therefore, is not the culture that permits mass-murder, for that is only its effect.  Rather, the “culture of death” is the culture that tolerates one group of people treating another group disrespectfully—one in which gossip, scandal, and defamation are tolerated—for these “smaller” horrors are the foundation stones that make the greater horrors (like the holocaust and abortion) possible.  As we strive eagerly to elect government leaders who will work to write and enact laws that respect all human life, let us not forget that we must also work within our own lives to root out any attitude or tendency to treat those around us disrespectfully.

This, of course, begins with gratitude: gratitude for the gift of life that God has given us and gratitude for the stewardship that he has given us to use this life for good, which is the building of his kingdom.  What better place to renew our commitment to gratitude than here, in the Eucharist: our sacrifice of thanksgiving to God?  As we make our gift of praise and thanksgiving today, let us be especially mindful of God’s gift of our lives and the stewardship that comes with it.  Then, let us put aside our selfish differences and decide that we are going to be a family that loves one other: a family, who works to bring the culture of life back into our community and, through our community, and in the name of Jesus, into the world.

Given at Saint Patrick’s Church: Kokomo, IN – October 4^th, 2020