Thursday, December 2, 2021

Advent Spiritual House Cleaning

 

Preparing to Welcome and Entertain Christ
Advent Reflection
By Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

Something happened this past weekend which made me think about how housecleaning is so strongly associated with Advent. Father James Flint, at the opening meeting of the visitation, in the chapter room, looked around and asked, “have you renovated this room. It looks different from the last time I was here.“ Father Philip quickly spoke up and said, “we vacuumed [dusted and swept].” At my house, growing up, house cleaning was strongly associated with both Advent and Lent. Those were times of preparation, and housecleaning was no small part of that preparation. My mother would say, “We need to prepare the house just as if Jesus himself were coming as our guest.” Of course I assumed Jesus was OCD like me: If there is a fingerprint on the wall or dust in the corner, he will see it. I would diligently clean the walls and dust areas that were not frequently wiped or dusted to make sure that there were no marks or dust anywhere. The prayer that is said at mass before communion would frequently come to my mind: “Lord I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof.”

Of course, the housecleaning that we were so diligently engaged in was in anticipation of making the household environment even more welcoming than usual for the many guests that we would be welcoming and entertaining during the Christmas season. Advent is indeed a time for cleaning house in preparation for the arrival of guests, but it is even more so a time when we must be particularly concerned about cleaning our interior house in preparation for the coming of the Lord into the home of our soul, not only at Christmas, but throughout the year. We must pay particular attention to the cleaning out of our interior closets where we manage to stuff away many of our emotional issues and shortcomings that pop out of the closet periodically, and often unexpectedly, to cause us to sin. Yes, if there is even a fingerprint of anger on the wall of my soul, or a speck of the dust of selfish interest in the corner of my heart, the Lord will see it. So I spend a lot of time before the Blessed Sacrament trying to locate and eliminate dirt marks and dust in my soul. This allows me to be on my best behavior, not as a show, but as an outward manifestation of an interior response to the guest of love who makes himself at home in my uncluttered and clean heart.

Speaking about being on one’s best behavior, Beralson Pierre, an alumnus, college student, and an employee at St. Benedict’s Prep, had inquired about the monastic visitation that was taking place at Newark Abbey, curious as to what it was all about. I told him that the visitation involves two visitators - the Abbot President and a delegate - who spend several days at the monastery to observe and listen, and then to write up a report. “You must really be on your best behaviour?” said Beralson earnestly. I told him that that would defeat the purpose of the visitation. The visitators are not here to judge us, but to help us to see things that can use improvement. Jesus does not come at Christmastime as a judge, but as a child to grow in us and with us, and help us to grow individually and as a community. It is quite appropriate that it was taking place during Advent. A visitation is a kind of Advent exercise even if it does not take place during the liturgical season of Advent. The Advent exercise of a visitation prepares the monastic community for the coming of Christ, the child of love, in our midst, so that he may grow in and through us both individually and as a community, until, as St. Paul says (Ephesians 4:13), we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature adulthood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ.”

In addition to house cleaning, Advent is for me a time to work at overcoming my indolence to self-sacrificing service. I liken my time spent before the Blessed Sacrament every morning to time spent at Fr. Asiel’s “espresso bar” (he makes great Cuban style espresso). Getting juiced-up, as it were, with caffeine energizes me physically to overcome my tiredness helping me to engage with greater energy in the challenges that I am faced with during the day in the school. Likewise, at the start of every day, getting juiced-up with sacramental grace and the excitement associated with the Gospel images that I meditate on, helps me to overcome my spiritual indolence to self-sacrificing service, and helps to make me more likely to respond with patience and charity in the most challenging situations that arise in dealing with both youngsters and adults.

So let us, during this Advent season, be Advent-urous, zealously doing our house cleaning, both outwardly and inwardly, preparing to welcome the guest of love, and daily drink of the stimulant of sacramental grace to overcome our indolence to self-sacrificing service in order to allow that guest of love to feel at home in us as he works the miracles of his merciful love in and through us in the world. And finally, let us make our lives this Advent a visitation like the visitation of Mary to Elizabeth (Luke 1:39-45). After she received the message from the Angel Gabriel that she would become pregnant with the Savior she went in haste to visit and stay with Elizabeth who was pregnant with John the Baptist. May the child gestating in the womb of our heart - that is, the first movements of love in our heart - like John the Baptist in the womb of Elizabeth, leap for joy at the presence of the Lord. And may that child of love, being nurtured in our hearts, be born into the world in the form of loving service to others, proclaiming of the saving mercy of Christ. Come, Lord Jesus!

Sunday, November 28, 2021

Being Advent-urous and Advent-itious



A Christian is an Advent person: Advent-urous and Advent-itious
Reflection for Advent
By Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

There are two Advent-words that I would like us to apply to ourselves this Advent season: Advent-urous and Advent-itious. Christian life can be seen as a great Advent-ure, and the Christian is called to be Advent-urous. As Christians we are Advent people called to engage in the great Advent-ure of bringing Christ to birth in our daily lives through our deeds of love and acts of mercy. During this season of Advent we are called to be extra Advent-urous, Advent-uring out of our comfort zone and into the zone of incarnational life. One of the ways that we can be Advent-urous is by making our home a microbrewery of holy BEER and drinking lots of that homemade holy BEER. That is what Newark Abbey is: a microbrewery of holy BEER. The monks consume an abundance of this holy BEER. The Rule of St. Benedict calls the monastery a school of the Lord’s service. But if you read between the lines you can see that what he really meant was that it is a microbrewery of the Lord’s service - a microbrewery of holy BEER. And what is this holy BEER that we brew and consume? The beer brewed at this monastery is B.E.E.R.: Bible; Eucharist, Expressions (Encounters) of love, and Reconciliation.

Bible: We read scripture daily in order to activate and enliven in our minds and hearts the mystery of the incarnational life through which God lifts us human beings in his Incarnate Son to a share in his divine life. During this Advent season, let us spend extra time meditating on Scripture, not just the nativity narratives, but others that teach us how the Incarnation impacts us personally. Let us spend extra time with scripture learning about what the Incarnation is all about: the expression of GOD’s desire to lift humans to a share in the divine life. The Bible tells us that Jesus shared in our human life so we could have a part in the divine life of GOD. That is the mystery that we are celebrating during this season, and we deepen our conscious connection to this mystery through our daily meditation of Holy Scripture. Next,

Eucharist: During this season we should not only foster an increased awareness of how we translate our faith in the Incarnation into incarnate expressions of love, but seek to be empowered to transform all of our encounters with other people into loving encounters with the Incarnate One in and through our encounters with other people, especially with those who are suffering. We foster this awareness, and empowerment by attending mass frequently and receiving the Holy Eucharist. Receiving the Body and Blood of Christ as the spiritual food of our souls is no mere commemoration of the Incarnation, but is a continuous making present of this great mystery in our lives. We are created to be eucharistic people, to be thanksgiving people, who continually in every moment, in every word, in every action, invite God’s loving transformative action, in and through us - to consecrate everything that we do, to “eucharist” everything that we do, uniting everything that we do to the great Eucharistic Sacrifice - the thanksgiving sacrifice of Christ’s Body and Blood, and thereby sacramentalizing it, so that everything that I say and do may be a sign of God’s presence, and a moment of grace, birthing Christ, as it were, in every moment, in every action of my daily life. Next,

Expressions of love: With the increased awareness and empowerment that I receive through the Holy Eucharist, I am able to better translate my faith in the Incarnation into incarnate expressions of love, especially to those who are suffering. This is the highest way that I can, in this life, respond to the promptings that flow from the image and likeness of God in me, and thereby incarnate God in the world as members of the Body of Christ. I can also hear in the sounding of the word Adventurous: Advent-you’re-us. That is, Advent-you-are-us. In a real sense, we are Advent: we are created to be Advent people. We make Christ come in the here-and-now. “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there I am in the midst of them,” says the Lord. (Matthew 18:20) We make Jesus come especially by our loving service. Each of us, being created in the image and likeness of the Word of God, is a kind of Advent: to make the Word manifest in the world, to incarnate the Word in the world. Yes, all of us, individually and collectively, are an Advent of Christ in the world. Whenever we make an expression of love, whether it be a kind word or a kind deed, we are communicating from the deepest truth of our being, of who we are as a human being, a being created in the image and likeness of God: an Advent being. We should use this season not only as an opportunity for growth in faith, but especially in its “incarnation” through Charity. And finally,

Reconciliation: – During this season, be reconciled to one another and to God. Most, if not all, of us will make an examination of conscience and participate in the sacrament of reconciliation during Advent. But I think it is also very important that we reflect, during this season, on any need that there may be for reconciliation with any person in our life that we may have offended or that has offended us. The most important message of the Advent season is the coming of - the Incarnation of - the loving mercy of God. Let us all be reconciled with one another during this Advent season so that the mystery of the incarnation of Christ will shine even brighter through each of us, and in our community life, during this Christmas season and beyond.

The other word that I would like us to apply to ourselves as Advent people is the word Advent-itious. When we incarnate the mercy of Christ, we are being adventitious. Giving flesh to the mercy of Christ is adventitious because it does not come naturally. It requires the divine intervention of grace. [According to Merriam-Webster, adventitious means “coming from another source and not inherent or innate.”] Forgiving is adventitious because it is not the result of a natural, innate tendency in us. We are not able to carry it out simply according to our natural tendencies, but we need an adventitious force/power, that is, grace. We are being Advent-itious whenever we engage in some activity that involves self-sacrifice that we are not naturally inclined to do. It is Advent-itious because it requires grace. It is Advent-itious because it incarnates Christ in the moment. As you know, the Incarnation is the begetting in creation, in time, of the divine Son begotten by the Father in eternity. But incarnation is not just something that happened 2000 years ago and is completed, but it is something that is an ongoing process with ongoing consequences. Incarnation is the ongoing action of the love of the Creator in and through the human beings that he has created in the image and likeness of his eternally begotten Son. Whenever I perform an act of love I am incarnating the divine Son in the moment.

So, let us go forth living our call as Christians to be Advent-urous. During this Advent season let us be Advent-urous as we drink joyfully and abundantly of holy BEER! And let us also be Advent-itious, being reconciled to one another; forgiving and being forgiven, and stepping outside our comfort zone to engage in self-sacrificing service to other people. That is how we can be truly Advent people, not just sitting around waiting for the coming of Christ, but actively - Advent-urously and Advent-itiously - bringing Christ to birth in our own lives and in the lives of others.

All for Jesus,
Fr. Max

Sunday, November 21, 2021

Kings and Queens in Christ

 

Called To Be Members of the Royal Family of Christ
A Reflection for the Solemnity of Christ the King
By Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

It is quite noteworthy that the Catholic Church crowns the liturgical year with the Solemnity of Christ the King. It is a reminder that, although we refer to the largest season of the year as “Ordinary Time,” there has, in fact, been no such thing as ordinary time since the coming of Christ the King 2000 years ago. Since then, we have been living in Extraordinary Time - Apocalyptic Time. Since Pentecost, when Christ the King sent forth his Spirit upon the earth and in the hearts of his people, no moment can be considered ordinary. Every moment now can be an apocalyptic - a revelatory moment - in the life of a person of faith. Human beings, who were created in the image and likeness of God with both body and spirit, have always existed in a kind of “end-of-the-world” space because of their being at the boundary between the corporeal and the spiritual. In every moment, through a person’s actions, the realm of the spirit can have a revelatory effect in the world, especially when the action flows from love. Unfortunately, so often our actions flow more from the realm of worldly desire and self-interest, rather than from love. But in the end-of-the-world space, as it were, in which we exist as human persons - the apocalyptic realm of our existence as members of the Body of Christ - we are called to the freedom of members of a royal family - the divine family of the Holy Trinity - that is, as sons and daughters of God in Christ. As members of this royal family we are called to rule our lives and the world around us by the authority and power of love.

When we think of kingship, we naturally think of power. We are always, usually unconsciously, seeking ways to give ourselves a sense of power and control over our lives and the world around us. As a little humorous example, when I look at my shadow, it gives me a sense of power as I think to myself, “Rays of light traveled 93 million miles unobstructed, and I then stopped them from reaching the ground.” But what I really should be thinking is about how God has created me as a royal creature in his own image and likeness, my soul being as a lens to magnify divine light. I ought to be able to say with Mary, “My soul magnifies the Lord!” But instead, the lens of my soul is clouded by my sinful flesh. Pride and selfish ambition block the divine rays of the light of love which flow into me from eternity. The result is that I cast a shadow instead of casting a grace-filled glow of loving light befitting a member of the divine royal family.

Exercising worldly power and control can become a significant underlying motivation for us without us even realizing it. Even our good deeds can sometimes, without realizing it, become a way of giving us a sense of self-satisfaction and control. Recently, Fr. Asiel came with me to the Missionaries of Charity. He had never been there before. Sr. Benedict Ann, the local superior, came over to Fr. Asiel to introduce herself and to talk about their ministry. She explained to him that they run a women’s shelter, and have a soup kitchen. She said that they feed Jesus every day at the soup kitchen as they feed the poor who come there to eat. Fr. Asiel said to her, “What if you get before the Pearly Gates and find out that Jesus doesn't like soup?” After a short hesitation, and, laughing, she replied, “We make more than soup there.” Of course, Fr. Asiel said that to be humorous. But it does provide food for thought (pun intended). Jesus wants me to feed the hungry, but he wants me to do it with the care required by the demands of love. And what are the demands of love for me? For me, love demands that I serve others like I am serving the King himself. Love demands that I carry out my daily service with the awareness of the King’s presence in the others whom I am serving. Love demands that I carry out my service to others with the very care and concern that is demanded of a relationship with Christ the King. Since Christ the King demands that I love him with my whole mind, whole heart, whole soul, and whole strength, then I must therefore carry out my loving service of other people with my whole mind, heart, soul, and body engaged. In the parable of the Judgment of the Nations (Matthew 25:31-40), Jesus says, “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit upon his glorious throne, and all the nations will be assembled before him. And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the king will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.’” The king welcomes those on his right into the heavenly kingdom because they are already members of the divine royal family. Unlike those on the King’s left, they have lived their lives as divine royalty, ruling their lives by the authority of love. We know what Jesus says to those on his left. Jesus could just as well have said to them: I created you in the image and likeness of God to shine forth with royal splendor, with the being and life of royal priesthood. I endowed you with the capacity to exercise divine authority – the divine authority of love. But you refused. You chose to remain enslaved to the worldly authority of selfish ambition. I called you to the freedom of sons and daughters of God, but you chose the servitude of slaves to the flesh.

The parable of the Judgment of the Nations is central to my sense of vocation. For me parables are not informational. Parables are formational. A parable is not meant to merely teach a lesson. A parable does not merely convey information and instruction about a moral principle, but is meant to form the moral principle in the heart of the person who meditates upon it. Parables instill moral principles primarily through the stimulation of the imagination and memory, rather than through conceptual understanding. Jesus used parables, such as the Parable of the Judgement of the Nations, to stimulate our imagination and memory so that every moment of decision about how to act and respond toward other people will be a revelatory - an apocalyptic moment - a moment of challenge to jolt us out of our comfort zone. For me, in every moment, every decision becomes a decision made before Christ the King himself. As I am making a decision about how to respond to another person, I see it as a choice of choosing an action which invites Jesus’ invitation for me to move over to his right, or choosing an action which invites the invitation for me to move to his left. Of course, I always start out my day on Jesus' right, but as the day progresses I sometimes see myself shifting to his left. Of course, I always endeavor to get back onto his right by bedtime, or else I will not be able to sleep. And how do I get back on his right? Through acts of love - through self-sacrificing service.

We are called to be kings and queens - members of the royal family of Christ - through the exercise of the power and authority of love. But we often seek to be kings and queens through the exercise of the authority of worldly power that flows from selfish ambition. Let me explain with the use of a parable: Once there was a stonecutter who was bored and unhappy with his job because it did not give him a sense of authority and control over his life. One morning, as he was cutting stones, he saw the king pass by. He prayed to God: “Lord, please make me the king because I am tired of being a stonecutter. It seems good to be king.” Instantly, the Lord made him a king. While he was a king he was walking along a road one day and found the sun much too hot. He said to God: “It seems the sun is more powerful than the king. I would like to be the sun.” Instantly, the Lord made him the sun. As he was shining brightly one morning, he found that the clouds were blocking his sunshine, then he thought to himself: “It seems as though the clouds are better than the sun because they can obstruct my sunshine.” So he said to the Lord: “I want to be the clouds.” He became the clouds. As the clouds he also became the rain that poured down on the earth becoming a great flood. He said to himself: “I am now very powerful.” But then he noticed a big rock that blocked his flow. He said to himself: “It seems the stone is more powerful than I am. I want to be this stone.” Then he became the stone. One morning, a stonecutter started to cut him into smaller pieces. He said: “It seems the stonecutter is more powerful than I am. I want to be a stonecutter.” Then he instantly became a stonecutter - what he originally was. We, like this stonecutter, are always trying to achieve and advance to gain greater power and control over this world. But what we need to realize is that we are able to be a king and exercise true mastery through the mastery of our particular craft exercised with the authority and the power of love. Then we are true kings in the presence of Christ the King.

All for Jesus,
Fr. Max

Friday, November 5, 2021

Judging Is Contrary To Loving

 

Stop Judging So That You May Love
A Reflection by Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

Scripture Reading:
Romans 14:7-12

Leaving church one Sunday, a woman said to her husband, "Do you think that Flanagan girl is dyeing her hair?" "I didn't notice her," replied the husband. "And that skirt Mrs. Jones was wearing. . ." continued the wife. "that’s very inappropriate attire for a mother of four, don't you think so??" "I'm afraid I didn't notice that either," said the husband. “Well then, surely you noticed how Sean McConnaghy was giving so much attention to that young lady who was seated near him. He’s a married man.” “Well, dear,” replied the husband once again, “I didn’t notice them either.” "Huh!" scoffed the wife. "A lot of good it does bringing YOU to church."

Today we heard St. Paul say, “Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister?” This echoes Jesus words in the Gospel, “Stop judging, that you may not be judged.” Yet, not only do we not refrain from judging, but we . . . I know I do . . . even sit in church, or in the monastic refectory, looking around at some other person or persons and making judgments about them.

When we judge another person we “point the finger” at them - usually in a metaphorical sense, but sometimes quite literally. How often we “point the finger” at others. My father strictly forbade us from pointing anything at another person, whether it was our finger, or a stick, or anything else. He very vehemently forbade us from pointing at someone, especially if what we were pointing imitated a gun. We were strictly forbidden to play war games with our toy guns. We were not allowed to point even a water pistol at another person. If paintball had existed when I was growing up, my father would have strictly forbidden us to do that. He would sternly correct us whenever we would point our finger at someone. Perhaps his revulsion for pointing things at another person, especially when the object being pointed was imitating a weapon, was a consequence of the horrific experiences that he had during World War II. “Pointing the finger” feeds into anger, and anger into violence. The pointing of the finger certainly does imitate the pointing of a pistol, and judging is a subtle weapon. I believe that my father was correct in his belief that “pointing the finger” and passing judgment can indeed be a kind of wielding of a weapon, however subtle it may be. Even if we disregard the idea of “pointing the finger” as a kind of weapon, it certainly can be regarded as a way of putting oneself in a position of power over another person. When I judge another person I am setting myself above that person, as though I am able to know the heart of that person. We may not realize it but “pointing the finger” and judging another person gives us an illusion of power and control over that person. For this reason judging is contrary to humility, and is therefore contrary to love. My father would sometimes remind us of that old axiom: “Whenever you point a finger at someone, there are three fingers pointing back at you.” This reflects the words of St. Paul: “For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God;” and the words of Jesus: “For as you judge, so will you be judged . . . the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you.”

I remember once seeing a cartoon which depicted an open closet door with skeletons falling out, and the caption read: “While you were busy judging others, you left your closet open. Ooops!”

Judging contradicts loving: it builds a barrier to block loving interaction. Judging serves as a way of rationalizing my own reticence or even inability to step out of my comfort zone to be charitable and show mercy when doing so is difficult. Judging rationalizes away my stubbornness and unwillingness to imitate God, the Good Shepherd, to go the long distance over rough terrain to find and bring back the lost sheep. Judging helps to rationalize away my apathy and sluggishness about imitating God, the furiously sweeping woman, lighting the lamp and sweeping the house energetically in search of the lost coin. Judging lends a certain sense of legitimacy, justifiability, or acceptability to my own lack of charity. There is no loving God independently of loving our neighbor. I remember going a whole year avoiding a confrere in the monastery who offended me. I wouldn’t sit near him at table or other social settings to talk. During that year I received Holy Communion daily and would engage in my usual morning meditation before the Blessed Sacrament. One day, as I was meditating before the Blessed Sacrament, that passage from John came to my mind: “If anyone says, “I love God,” but hates his brother, he is a liar; for whoever does not love a brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. This is the commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother (John 4:20-21). I suddenly felt a deep crisis of conscience: I was receiving Jesus in the Holy Eucharist every day and adoring him in the Blessed Sacrament while at the same time holding a grudge toward a confrere. During that year, I was speaking to God the very same way that I was speaking to my confrere: very graciously, and very superficially. That day I sought him out and got together to talk. What was so funny (or, I should say, sad; certainly embarrassing to acknowledge,) was that I could not for the life of me remember just what it was that caused me to feel so offended and feel so angry. He couldn’t remember either. While I was judging, I left my closet open. Ooops!!

All for Jesus,
Fr. Max

Becoming Love In Imitation Of The Good Shepherd

 

Our nature is to be like God: one who seeks to save
Even when the nature of the one whom we are trying to save is to sting
A Reflection by Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

Scripture Reading:
Luke 15:1-10

Henri Nouwen told a parable about an old man who used to meditate each day near the Ganges River in India. One morning he saw a scorpion floating on the water. When the scorpion drifted near the old man he reached to rescue it but was stung by it. A bit later he tried again and was stung again, the bite swelling his hand painfully and giving him much pain. Another man passing by saw what was happening and yelled at the old man, “Hey, old man, what’s wrong with you? Only a fool would risk his life for the sake of an ugly, evil creature. Don’t you know you could kill yourself trying to save that ungrateful scorpion?” The old man calmly replied, “My friend, just because it is in the scorpion’s nature to sting, does not change my nature to save.” It is God’s nature to save because it is God’s nature to love, because God is love. God seeks the lost, heals the wounded, forgives the offender and gives hope to those who are in despair. This is what God does because this is what God is. Because we are created in the image and likeness of God, this is also what we are called to be, assisted by God’s grace: to be one who seeks the lost, heals the wounded, forgives the offender, and gives hope to those who are in despair. We are called to love our enemies, to forgive those who hurt us, especially the ones who seem to have in their nature a natural tendency to hurt us. We can love even them because our nature has become transformed in Christ into a nature that is supernaturally inclined to save, a nature that spontaneously imitates the Good Shepherd in going the long distance over rough terrain, whatever the cost, to find and bring back the lost sheep; a nature that spontaneously imitates God, the furiously sweeping woman, lighting the lamp and sweeping the house energetically in search of the lost coin. Our nature can become so transformed by grace that we can use the expression normally applied only to God: God is love. We can say, like St. Thérèse de Lisieux: “I will be love.” As she said in The Story of a Soul, “Then, overcome by joy, I cried, 'Jesus, my love. At last I have found my vocation. My vocation is love. In the heart of the Church, my mother, I will be love . . .” This is our vocation as Christians: to be love; to be able to feel compassion, as God does, even for those who have hurt us most; to be one who forgives even the worst of sinners; to be one who seeks to save especially those most gripped by sin, drowning, as it were, like the scorpion, in the river of their sinfulness, even when they sting us, recognizing that that scorpion was once us, or may very well be us, as we are now. We are called to be love, like God, to be able to gaze upon every person to see with spiritual vision the image and likeness of God in them; to be able to grasp with spiritual perception the infinite significance that each person has in the mind of God; and to be able to sense with spiritual compassion the infinite dignity that each person has in the heart of God.


All for Jesus,
Fr. Max

Monday, November 1, 2021

We Are All Called To Be Saints

 

“May he bring us all together to everlasting life.”
Reflection for All-Saints Day
By Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

Today we celebrate the feast of All Saints. We are celebrating all of the saints who have gone before us and who enjoy the peace and joy of heaven. But we are also celebrating the saints who are still among us – all around us – who are responding to the Spirit in them to live a life oriented to the end to which we are called – to know and love God perfectly.

Let me tell you a story about this. A man died and appeared before the Pearly Gates. St. Peter greeted him and said, "Here's how it works. You need 100 points to make it into heaven. You tell me all the good things you've done, and I will give you a certain number of points for each item, depending on how good it was. When you reach 100 points, I will open the Pearly Gates and you can enter." "Okay," the man says, feeling very confident, "Well, first of all, I was married to the same woman for 50 years and never cheated on her, not even in my heart." "That's wonderful," said St. Peter, "that's worth three points!" "Just three points?" said the man. "Well, I attended church all my life and supported its ministry with my tithing and service. I taught religious instruction and Bible study and was on the evangelization committee." "Terrific!" said St. Peter. "That's certainly worth a point." "Wait, One point?!!" replied the man disappointedly. "Well then, I started a soup kitchen in my city and worked in a shelter for homeless veterans, participated in various organizations to promote social justice." "Fantastic, that's good for another two points," said St. Peter. "Two points!?!!" said the man. Exasperated, the man cries out, "At this rate, the only way I'll get into heaven is by the grace of God." "Bingo, 100 points!” said St. Peter, “Come on in!"

The man in this story was indeed a saint, but there was still something that he needed to learn; and that was that living a life of faith and holiness is a gift. As a gift, we do not earn it. The merits in our virtue and our good works are the merits of the Holy Spirit who works through us to make his presence known and felt in the world. The saints are the instruments of the work of the Spirit in the World. We, too, are instruments of the Holy Spirit by the very fact that each of us has been created in the image and likeness of God, as St. Paul says, for good works. “For we are his handiwork, created in Christ Jesus for the good works that God has prepared in advance, that we should live in them. For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God; it is not from works, so no one may boast. (Ephesians 2:9-11) So, we are all called to be saints by virtue of being created in the image and likeness of God as his handiwork. The one characteristic that is seen in every saint is that they are spontaneous in doing good works. But the good works are not in themselves what saves them, nor is it even their faith that saves them. Faith and good works are the manifestation of the Holy Spirit’s saving power at work in them.

Remember, holiness isn’t something that we achieve. It is a divine impulse in which we share, and it is much too big for us to experience alone. As we all together share in the experience of sin and death, so too do we all together share in holiness and life. Each person is already implanted with the Spirit and the grace of God. The main thing that can prevent us from living by the power of God’s grace is not being aware that we have it. One day I asked some students: what do you have to do to become a saint? One of the students responded: “You have to die.” No! Becoming a saint is something that happens now. We are all children of God, not later when we die, but now, at this very moment and all through our lives. Whether you are a lay person or a religious brother or sister or a priest. [Christian or a Moslem or Jewish or Hindu or Buddhist], you are called to be a saint. Even if you are presently in serious doubt about the existence of God or the presence of God in your life, you are called to be a saint, because you are called upon to act upon the very impulse that flows from the image and likeness of God in you. That very impulse in you prompts you to feed the hungry and give drink to the thirsty. It prompts you to welcome the stranger and care for the sick. It prompts your concern for social justice and care of the environment. A person may spend many years acting on these impulses before they come to a clear, conscious awareness of the Holy Spirit at work in them. But it will come; and it will come in God’s time. You may have to endure years of doubt before you receive the special grace of the awareness of the personal encounter with God that you have every time you do something good for another person and serve the needs of others. But you are doing just that: encountering God every time you do a good deed for another person or serve the cause of social justice. As Jesus said, “Whatever you did for the least one of my brothers or sisters you did for me.” This saying of Jesus is echoed in the motto of St. Benedict’s Prep: Whatever hurts my brother hurts me; and whatever helps my brother helps me. This is because we are all children of God united in his Son, and therefore are all connected in our calling to holiness and happiness in God.

So let us always take seriously our call to be saints, and daily support one another in our efforts through prayer, example and personal support, and, as St. Benedict says, “. . . may he bring us all together to everlasting life.”

All for Jesus,
Fr. Max

Being a Saint is Being a God-Choice

 

True freedom-of-choice is allowing oneself to be a God-choice
Reflection for All-Saints Day
By Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

There was a U.S. senator who was a staunch defender of freedom of choice, and defended this position until the day he died. When he died, he stood before the Pearly Gates. Peter greeted him and said, “You have been chosen by God to enter into heavenly bliss.” “Chosen?” exclaimed the senator with dismay, “I have always been a staunch defender of freedom of choice, and I think that this choice should extend to this life as well.” I feel like I should be able to make a well informed choice between heaven and hell. I propose that the Lord allow me to spend a few days in heaven to see how that is, and then a few days in hell to see how that is. Then I can make an informed choice.” “That is highly irregular,” replied Peter, “but I will go and see what the Lord has to say.” Peter went in and spoke to the Lord, then he came out and said to the senator, “Okay, the Lord said that he will allow you to exercise your freedom of choice at this vital juncture. You can come into heaven for a few days, and then you can then spend a few days in hell to see how that is.” Delighted by the Lord’s acceding to him his freedom of choice, he entered through the Pearly Gates, spending a few days in heaven. He found the blissful contemplation of the glory of God to be quite satisfactory, but he was still anxious to see what it was like in hell. After a few days, St. Peter came to him and said, “Okay, senator, it is time for your sojourn in hell.” Satan was delighted to hear that the senator was coming for a stay. Satan came personally to escort him in a grand limousine. “Senator, it is so wonderful to finally meet you in person. I have been supporting you and your freedom of choice position for so long. I am so pleased that you have stuck with your freedom of choice position and defended it to the end. I am sure that you will find our life down here very comfortable and I encourage you to exercise your freedom of choice position and choose our life here.” When they arrived in hell, there was a red carpet for the senator. He was welcomed into a mansion where there were many servants. The senator was served his favorite foods; he had the company of beautiful women; there was a large swimming pool in the back and a Jacuzzi. He had his own golf course, and was able to engage in stimulating conversations with many other intellectuals there, and was invited to give speeches to much applause. When his several days were over, he was escorted by Satan in the limousine back to the Pearly Gates. St. Peter came out and, greeting him, asked him, “Now that you had the opportunity to make an informed choice, what is your choice?” “Well,” replied the pro-choice senator, “Heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in hell. I exercise my freedom of choice right and choose hell.” “Alright,” said St. Peter, and escorting him to an elevator, tells him to step in, and he goes rapidly down, down, and further down. When the elevator stops the doors open and there he is, in the middle of a barren land where it is very hot. There is no red carpet to welcome him, and the land is covered with waste and garbage. He sees all his people that he met on his previous stay dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls to the ground. The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulders, and says, “My dear Senator, I am so glad you exercised your freedom of choice right, and chose hell.” "I don't understand," stammers the Senator. "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened?" “Well,” replied the devil, “yesterday we were campaigning. Today, you voted.” What is so striking about this story is that the senator chose to exercise his freedom of choice to defy/reject his status as chosen by God for eternal happiness. So often, our exercise of our freedom is for the purpose of pursuing our self-interest in acquiring material comforts and attaining to achievements that will improve our status and reputation; and this is so often done without regard for our chosen status as children of God, without reference to our being chosen by God to be united in love with one another and to God in the bond of eternal loving mercy. The comforts and status that we achieve in this way are temporary and fleeting, and often illusory. The freedom that we are exercising is actually not true freedom. It is the compulsion of self-interest, and it gives us no rest, no lasting comfort, and, in fact, causes us much anxiety and stress most of the time. True freedom is allowing ourselves to simply be what God has chosen us to be: a child of God. True freedom is allowing ourselves to be chosen – to be God’s choice. True freedom of choice is allowing ourselves to be a free choice by God – allowing ourselves to be a God-choice. That is what a saint is: a person who has exercised his or her true human freedom to allow him or herself to be God’s choice. So many of our choices in this life that are made with the intention of exercising our freedom of choice may be informed by very well devised and thought-out reasoning, and may seem perfectly acceptable because they give us the opportunity to exercise our rights and freedoms, but, if our choices are not informed by the most important factor – the Love of the Holy Spirit – then our choices may not be heavenward-directed choices. Heavenward-directed choices are directed by faith and powered by love. This is what makes a person a saint: they exercise their God-given freedom of choice to make decisions which are informed by faith and powered by the Spirit of Love, rather than being informed merely by reason and powered by self-interest. The choices that they make are made with the true freedom of choice of a child of God. They allow themselves to be what they are called to be: a God-choice, and filled with God’s Spirit of love. Every choice that they make becomes a God-choice because it flows from love. True freedom is love. True freedom of choice is allowing ourselves to be a God-choice from which flow divine choices that are imbued with the infinite and eternal choice of loving mercy. True freedom of choice is found in the infinite and eternal Choice of divine life, into which we are all chosen to be bonded together in the freedom of God’s love. We are all called to true freedom of choice because of the fact that we are all chosen. We are called to be bonded in the mystical communion of saints: the mystical communion of God’s chosen ones, the mystical communion of the infinite and eternal Choice of divine life.

All for Jesus,
Fr. Max

Saturday, October 30, 2021

Overcoming Spiritual ADHD

 


What Does It Mean To Love God With Your Whole Mind, Heart, Soul, and Strength?
Reflections of the Readings for the 31st Sunday of Ordinary Time - Year B

Readings:
Deuteronomy 6:2-6
Hebrews 7:23-28
Mark 12:28b-34


A lawyer, a doctor and the parish pastor went hunting. When they saw a buck, all three of them shot at the deer simultaneously. But only one shot struck the buck. An argument broke out among them on whose bullet struck the deer and succeeded in killing it. A game warden came on the scene to see what was going on. The three men told him that they were arguing about whose bullet struck the deer. The warden said, “I’ll settle this.” Then he turned and walked over to the deer to examine it. After examining the deer, the officer settled the matter. “The pastor shot the buck,” he said with confidence. “How can you tell that it was the pastor’s?” inquired the three. “I can tell,” replied the warden, “because it went in one ear and out the other.” That can happen to us when the priest, who is acting in persona Christi, is aiming the Word of God at us, aiming for the heart. Unfortunately, most of the time it doesn’t make it to the heart, but goes in one ear and out the other. God is always aiming for our heart, whether it is when the Word of God is being proclaimed, or when the Word of God is communicating himself in every moment through the people and events around us. God aims for the heart, but we are moving targets. We have spiritual ADHD, as it were. God’s communication of himself to us is happening in every moment in some way, but his communication is not reaching our heart, but is going in one ear and out the other, as it were.

Speaking of ADHD, and going in one ear and out the other, one Halloween, in the Learning Center, during the Language Arts block, the students were each given a gift bag of candy and watched a movie. By the time they came to my block for mathematics they were on a sugar high and in a non-academic mood. Sugar multiplies ADHD! The students couldn’t stop talking. I was trying in vain to get them to focus. I kept telling them to stop talking to one another and focus on the assigned tasks. At one point, I spoke very sternly. They did stop talking, at least for a short time, but after a few moments, when I had turned around, I could hear a couple of students talking again. Feeling very frustrated, I turned around and said loudly, “Why am I still hearing voices?” One of the students spoke up, “I don’t know, Fr. Max. Maybe you should talk to Dr. Lamourt (the psychologist).” I responded loudly, “Well, if I am crazy, it is you guys who are driving me crazy.” That of course, got the whole class laughing and prompted further distraction. I felt like yelling some more, but I decided just to stand there quietly for a few moments and pray, as I often do, for patience and for God to give me the grace of recognizing his presence in the moment, and how he is communicating himself to me in that moment through the frustrating situation and through the very kids who are prompting my frustration. It worked, as it usually does. I eventually became more calm and got control of the classroom and did not have to call the disciplinarian. 

Speaking of going crazy, Dr. Karl Menninger, the famous psychiatrist, during a lecture on mental health, was asked the question, “What would you advise a person to do if that person felt a nervous breakdown coming on?” Of course, everyone was expecting that Dr. Menninger’s advice to such a person would be to seek counseling or consult a psychiatrist.” To their astonishment, he replied, “If a person felt a nervous breakdown coming on, I would tell that person to ‘lock up your house, go across the highway, find someone in need and do something to help that person.’” That is the most effective psychological therapy: relieving the stress and anxiety of obsessive concern for self-preservation by directing our attention and energy into loving service. That is the greatest stress reliever. But this always comes with a challenge: we are called to love God with our whole heart, whole soul, whole mind, and whole strength, but we are called to do it in a world that is full of challenges; in a world that is broken; a world in which we are constantly faced with the challenges of trying to love people whose brokenness can make them difficult to love. Because of this, we have a tendency to become like the Scribes and Pharisees whom Jesus often criticizes: who would build a protective wall of religious pretension around themselves as a way of protecting themselves from the challenges and difficulties of loving others.  

We can become like Ralphy. One Sunday the family was at mass. When the collection basket came around, Ralphy reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter and dropped it in the basket. After mass, Dad asked him, “Was that quarter all you had to give?” “No,” replied Ralphy, “I also had a dollar.” Dad asked, “Why didn’t you put in the dollar?” "Well,” Ralphy explained.” I was going to give the dollar, but then I remembered what the priest said: ‘God loves a cheerful giver.’ I knew that I'd be a lot more cheerful if I gave the quarter, than if I gave the dollar." Love involves cheerful giving even when the challenges are the greatest. Loving God means getting my hands dirty, working, serving, and frequently getting frustrated as I engage in my relationships with other people.

I repeat the challenge: We are called, as we heard in the Gospel today, to love God with our whole heart, whole soul, whole mind, and whole strength, but we are called to do it in a world that is full of challenges; in a world that is broken; a world in which we are constantly faced with the challenges of trying to love people whose brokenness can make them difficult to love. It seems to me that loving God is easier than loving one’s fellow human beings. Why can’t I just love God and get the credit for that?!!! It is easy for me to sit and meditate before the Blessed Sacrament and pray the Rosary. I love to go to mass, and to preside at mass as a priest. Isn’t that loving God? Well, the answer of course is: not if I want to love God with my whole heart, whole soul, whole mind, and whole strength. These exercises support my effort at loving God, but loving God means getting my hands dirty, working, serving, and frequently getting frustrated as I engage in my relationships with other people. Love involves relationship. Sometimes I am more passive while God engages my heart, soul, mind and body in the solitary activities of prayer and meditation, but most of the time, the way that he is engaging my mind, heart, soul and body in divine interaction is in the context of my active engagement in my relationships and interactions with other people. Most of the time, I am more active than passive in my communicating with God and engaging myself in relationship with him. During most of my day, the way that I am communicating with God is through my loving service to others, and I am allowing him to communicate himself to me through my openness to his presence in the events that are demanding my engagement, and in the people with whom I am engaged and whom I am serving. Whenever I am engaged in loving service I am communicating with God. I am worshipping him and communicating my love for him as I carry out my daily service with the awareness of God’s presence in the others whom I am serving. I am communicating my love for God when I carry out my service to others with the very care and concern that is demanded of a relationship with God. Since God demands that I love him with my whole mind, whole heart, whole soul, and whole strength, then I must therefore carry out my loving service of other people with my whole mind, heart, soul, and strength engaged. Love is a divine interaction. It is an engagement of the mind, heart, soul and body together. God’s way of engaging us in this divine interaction in our daily lives is by engaging our mind, heart, soul and strength in the interactions between those whom he created for divine interaction: those whom he created in his image and likeness; those whom he created precisely for this divine interaction: you, me and every human being that I come in contact with. Let us not be like the Pharisees like those whom Jesus criticizes: They felt that they could love God by engaging in worship, prayer and sacrifice, and not have to care for those around them in need. Just as he did to them, he wants to jolt us out of our comfort zone, not just once but in every moment as he presents himself in each moment with the demand to love him with our whole mind, heart, soul and strength, not just when we pray, but always.

Wakeup Call

A spiritual writer once said: “To live with the saints above, that is the highest glory. But to live with the saints below, that is another story.”

The scribe in today’s Gospel reading came to Jesus and asked, “Which is the first of all the commandments?” Jesus replied by juxtaposing two commandments: love of God and love of neighbor. He connected the Shema Israel: to love God with your whole heart, soul, mind and strength, with the command to love your neighbor as yourself. Jesus was acutely aware of how the Scribes and the Pharisees had separated the two precepts in practice. They felt that they could fulfill the Shema Israel, to love God completely, without engaging in the effort at loving your neighbor. They felt that they could love God by engaging in worship, prayer and sacrifice, and not have to care for those around them in need. They also felt that they could seek reconciliation with God and forgiveness from God and not have to seek reconciliation and forgiveness between their fellow human beings. But Jesus seeks to disrupt their feeling of comfort about this. He wants to jolt them out of their comfort zone by making clear to them that you cannot love God without loving your neighbor, and you cannot gain forgiveness and reconciliation with God without seeking reconciliation and forgiveness with your neighbor. We hear this is the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” We hear it in Jesus’ portrayal of the Last Judgment: “Whatever you did for the least of my brothers and sisters you did for me.” There is no loving God independently of loving our neighbor. St. John makes this even more explicit: “If anyone says, “I love God,” but hates his brother, he is a liar; for whoever does not love a brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. This is the commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother. (John 4:20-21)

I remember going a whole year avoiding a confrere in the monastery who offended me. I wouldn’t sit near him at table or other social settings to talk. During that year I received Holy Communion daily and would engage in my usual morning meditation before the Blessed Sacrament. One day, as I was meditating before the Blessed Sacrament, that passage from John, which I just quoted, came to my mind and I suddenly felt a deep crises of conscience: I was receiving Jesus in the Holy Eucharist every day and adoring him in the Blessed Sacrament while at the same time holding a grudge toward a confrere. That day I sought him out and we got together to talk. What was so funny (or perhaps I should say, sad, and even embarrassing) was that I could not for the life of me remember just what it was that caused me to feel so offended. He couldn’t remember either.

That was really a wakeup call for me!

All for Jesus,
Fr. Max

Thursday, October 21, 2021

Entering into the Cathedral is like entering the Heart of God

 

Entering into the Newark Cathedral is like entering the Heart of God
Reflection for the Feast of the Dedication of the Cathedral of the Sacred Heart of Newark
By Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

Walking into the Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart in Newark is like walking into the Bible. Catholic and Orthodox churches, in general, are like this. Orthodox churches are especially like a picture Bible. You can learn so much about the historical events and prophetic revelations of the Bible by reading the icons which completely surround you. In most Catholic churches it is quite similar: you have paintings, statues, mosaics, freises, Stained-glass windows, etc. which teach about the mysteries expounded in the Scriptures. The Bible mysteries are made present as these images stir up the physical imagination, which is the first step in stirring up the supernatural imagination. Word and sacrament are key means that the Holy Spirit uses to activate the image and likeness of God in us, and what better space for that to happen than in the Newark cathedral basilica, with all its sacramentals, which include not only the sacramental art and architecture that help to make the Biblical mysteries present, but also the angelic choir and grand organ that help us worship and praise the Lord in the presence of the angels and saints.

Any church, especially the Cathedral, is a place where Catholics can feel the same sense of holy fear as Jacob did, and say with him, “Surely the Lord is in this place—and I did not know it! . . .How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.” The presence of the Blessed Sacrament gives it a place and presence and encounter with the Lord. Catholics are taught from an early age that the Lord is especially present in the church. We are taught to dip our fingers into the holy water font as we walk in to sign ourselves as a sign by which we acknowledge that we recognized that the Lord is present. We bow and/or genuflect as we enter our pew. We may go to light a candle and make a visit to the tabernacle.

For most protestant and non denominational Christians the church is merely a meeting or assembly place for worship services. They take seriously, as we do, the words of Jesus, “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in their midst.” For them, the church becomes a place of presence and encounter with the Lord when people gather there in his name, to proclaim the Word and worship in song and prayer. The non denominational Christian, if they go into the church space alone to pray, it is for the quiet, not, I believe, because they believe that there is something about that space which makes it a space where God is present in a special way, different than the manner that he would be present in any other space where that person may be by him or herself praying. This is not so for Catholics. Early in the history of the Catholic Church, especially because of the belief in the real and continued presence of Christ in the consecrated hosts, the space in which the Blessed Sacrament is reserved, is regarded by Catholics as a space of real and special presence of the Lord, different from the ordinary way that he is present elsewhere. That is why Catholics have always endeavored to construct and fill the spaces for worship and sacramental rites, especially churches, where the Blessed Sacrament is perpetually present, with grand art and architecture in order to convey a sense of being in the presence of the supernatural; in order to convey a sense of being in the place where heaven descends? When I was a child, our pastor at St. Lucy’s Church, Fr. Thomas Ritucci, would often say to us altar servers that the church is a place where we are in the presence of the communion of saints and angels in a special way, and where heaven descends in the celebration of the sacrifice of the mass. I would always think about this as I served at mass, always imagining throngs of saints and angels present, and heaven descending, especially at the time of the consecration of the sacred species into the Body and Blood of Christ. This childhood excitement revives in me when I am in the Newark Cathedral. That childhood awe at imagining myself in the presence of angels and saints is facilitated in a special way as I look up at the clerestory stained glass windows with the glowing, even ethereal, images of angels and saints above. Sometimes, as I gaze at the rose windows, as they glow brightly with the bright sunlight, I imagine myself like Moses in the presence of the burning bush. This is exactly what a church is meant to do. This is what the Newark Cathedral does. And it is quite apropos that it is named for the Sacred Heart of Jesus. It is in the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus that we become true children of our heavenly Father. The Cathedral church models the Church which is the Body of Christ, within which beats the heart of the Creator, beating through the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. The Cathedral Church serves as a sacramental sign of our entry into the very heart of Jesus - of the very heart of God. So, in addition to likening the entering into the Cathedral Church to an entering into the Bible, I think we can also liken our entry into the Cathedral of the Sacred Heart to an entering into the heart of God.

All for Jesus,
Fr. Max

Sunday, October 17, 2021

The Suffering Servant Messiah and the Authority of Love

 

Human Expectations about Rank and Privilege Are Turned Upside Down by the Power and Authority of Love
A Reflection of the Readings for the 29th Sunday of Ordinary Time - Year B
By Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

Readings:
Isaiah 53:10-11
Hebrews 4:14-16
Mark 10:35-45

James and John’s vying for greater status makes me think about a story that I heard. There were three high school classmates who always were vying to be better than each other, each aspiring to outperform the others. Many years after they graduated high school, the three classmates met in a class reunion. Each was anxious to prove that he had outdone the other in career aspirations. “I am a pastor,” said the first, “people call me ‘Monsignor.’” “Well,” bragged the second, “I am a bishop and people call me ‘Your Excellency.’” “Well,” said the third, “I have you both beat.” “Yeah? How?” asked the other two. “I’m an auditor for the IRS. When people open the door and see me, they say, ‘My God, it’s you again!”

I have another story. This one is true, or perhaps a legend. It took place more than 250 years ago. On one occasion during the American Revolutionary War, preparations were being made for an up-coming battle. A man dressed in civilian clothes passed by a corporal who was screaming orders at his men. Seeing that they were obviously exhausted from their labor, the man asked the corporal, “Why don’t you help them?” “Sir,” the corporal bristled as his anger rose, “I am a corporal!” With a quick apology, the stranger took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves and set to work with the soldiers. When the work was completed, he walked over to the corporal and said, “Mr. Corporal, Sir, whenever you need someone to help with a job, feel free to call on me, your commander-in-chief. I will be happy to be of service.” With that, George Washington put on his coat and left, to the corporal’s embarrassment, of course. Whether George Washington’s motivation was gospel-driven or not, Washington understood the principle that Jesus was conveying to his apostles in the Gospel passage (Mark 10:35-45), that those who aspire to greatness, or aspire to rank first among others, must serve the needs of all - they must be, as Jesus said, the slave of all. For Jesus, a person’s status is no longer to be measured by how many people are subject to that person, or how many people serve that person, but how many people to whom that person is subject through loving service. This principle does not accord with human reason. The corporal’s position seems more reasonable. Incidents like this one with Washington and his corporal stand out so much because they are uncommon. People resist it because of its apparent unreasonableness. That is why this principle has not found a universal foothold in society at large. I may insist that I am not seeking greatness and power over other people, but if I examine my motives deeply and honestly, I will often discover that I am actually seeking to be better than others or exercise power over others in much smaller matters, even in my ministry. That could happen with anyone, whether lay or religious: we may be using our reason to rationalize a grasp for power and control over others in our job and/or in our family.

Let me tell you a story that happened this week that got me reflecting on my own use of authority and power. One of the students I tutor sent an email to Dr. Fletcher, the music teacher and band director, to inform him that he would be late to band practice the next day after school because of tutoring. The email read: “Good evening Dr. Fletcher, I just wanted to let you know that I have torturing tomorrow after school.” Dr. Fletcher shared that with other members of the faculty and staff - blocking out, of course, the name of the student). When I viewed it, I wondered, “is that just a misspelling? Maybe he meant it figuratively as a way of expressing how onerous is the task of addressing skills deficiencies? Or perhaps, God forbid, he meant it literally?” One of the faculty members who read it asked me, “What is it that you do after school when you are tutoring?” “Well,” I responded, “I do whatever it takes to get them to learn.” It has made me reflect in recent days on how I personally exercise power over others, in particular, my students. It is important to act with authority; the students need that. However, I have to ask myself if I am guilty of exercising authority for the sake of exercising authority, or for ensuring that I am successful. In that case, I am really meeting the needs of the students, or am I meeting my own disordered desires. I have to be careful that I am not putting my aspiration to be successful with the student - to be successful in developing his learning skills - ahead of that student’s need to grow in self-confidence and self-esteem. I may even use the power of reason to rationalize that I am helping the student even when I am actually harming him by neglecting to nurture his self-esteem. Reason is good and necessary for life in this world. It is a gift from God to be used for living well and continually improving society. But I must always be aware that reason can turn into rationalization by which I can convince myself that what I am doing is good for others, even when my deeper motivation is self-interest, and doing it may not necessarily be in the best interest of others.

James and John, the sons of Zebedee, had a strong desire for success and had lofty aspirations. But those desires and aspirations, to the extent that they were influenced by self-interest, were disorder desires and aspirations, even if they seemed very reasonable. On the contrary, properly ordered desires and aspirations flow from self-sacrificial love, even if they can, to many, seem very unreasonable. That is the lesson that Jesus was teaching his disciples, and is teaching us.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus turns human expectations about rank and privilege, about ambitions and authority, upside down, even to the point that it sounds unreasonable. What Jesus is making very clear to us today is that God is not reasonable. God does not act from reason. Human beings, who can only understand and make decisions by the use of successional, sequential, and analytical thinking, make use of the power of reason that they have been endowed with. But God does not think and make decisions by the use of reason. God’s thought and his being are one, and the nature of his being is love. So, when it appears to us that God is being unreasonable, it is because he, in fact, does not use reason as we do. His thought completely transcends what human reason can attain. Jesus comes into this world to radically change the way that we think about God. He turns things on their head. He regularly makes declarations that are totally unreasonable. For example, after giving the same wages to those who worked only one hour as he did to those who worked 12 hours, he said to those who protested (Matthew 20:15-16), “. . .are you envious because I am generous? So the last will be first, and the first will be last.” That is totally unreasonable. It is not fair. Reason tells us that God must be fair. So it is reasonable to expect God to be fair. Well, not according to Jesus. According to Jesus, God is not fair, God is merciful. Fairness is a way of judging actions according to reason. But God judges - God views things - from the perspective of his transcendent being, which is love. And Jesus challenges us also to attempt to go beyond what is reasonable to that which transcends reason so that we can gain a better sense of how God thinks and acts, and ourselves act Godly - that is, lovingly.

In summary, Jesus wants his followers to see that the highest authority by which one can act and influence other people is the authority of love. Love flows from self-sacrifice rather than self-interest, and Jesus wants his followers to imitate him in that kind of exercise of authority. In the Gospel passage from Luke (22:25-27), he says to his disciples, “. . .‘The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you; rather the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one at the table? But I am among you as one who serves.” Thus, Jesus counters the human expectation for a messiah that exercises great power and authority in the world to overthrow the existing political order, to reveal that the real messiah is a suffering servant. That is most unreasonable. But the power and authority of God transcends what is reasonable: that is, the power and authority of love.

The exercise of the authority of love is self-transcending. It is self-transcending because it is God himself activating his image and likeness in me with his Holy Spirit living and acting in and through me. If it is merely I who am being merciful, then I have not transcended my self. I may be doing what is reasonable for me to do in aspiring to be good, but it is unlikely that I am authentically exercising the authority of love. But if God is being merciful through me, as is the case when I show mercy toward others that is beyond my own power to love, such as in the case of loving my enemies, it is then that I am transcending my self and am manifesting a love-response that is a perfect activation of God’s image and likeness in me in its fullness. It is then that I am being perfect as my heavenly Father is perfect. It is then that I am drinking of the cup that Jesus drank, and being baptized with the baptism with which Jesus was baptized. In fact, it is then then that, through me, Jesus continues to drink of that cup of redemptive mercy, and it is then that, through me, Jesus continues to be baptized with the baptism of self-sacrificing love. It is then that Jesus is exercising the power and authority of love in and through me. Amen.

All for Jesus,
Fr. Max

Saturday, October 16, 2021

Not Justification but Mercification


We are not justified by faith, but mercified through a living faith

A Reflection on the Readings for Saturday of the 28th Week of Ordinary Time
By Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

Readings:
Romans 4:13, 16-18
Luke 12:8-12


One of the students I tutor sent an email to Dr. Fletcher, the music teacher and band director, to inform him that he would not be able to make it to band practice after school. The email read: “Good evening Dr. Fletcher, I just wanted to let you know that I have torturing tomorrow after school.” I wonder if that was just a misspelling, or he meant it figuratively, or, perhaps, even meant it literally. Dr. Fletcher shared that email with other faculty members. One of the faculty members asked me, “What is it that you do after school with the students when you tutor?” “Well,” I responded, “I do whatever it takes to get them to learn.” I think that it can only be experienced as torture when I have to break through a student’s defensive denial of his need for help. The kind of student that I am not able to help is the student that is in denial of having a learning or skills deficiency that needs to be addressed. I think that this is kind of what Jesus was talking about when he says, “. . .whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven.” Denial of one’s sinfulness and denial of one’s need for forgiveness can be taken as a kind of blasphemy. It is a kind of blasphemy because it denies what and who the Holy Spirit is. As a result, the Holy Spirit cannot act in such a person according to the Holy Spirit's very nature which is to be merciful, and according to that person’s very nature, which is to be a channel of God’s mercy. Denying what we are created to be - that is, both an object and subject of God’s mercy - is a kind of blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. Denying the Holy Spirit’s mercy is denying what the Holy Spirit is, which is mercy. To act against forgiveness is to prevent the Spirit’s power in us to forgive. A “sin against the Spirit” is any action that prevents God from being God in our life – and it is unforgivable because we lock out the very access to forgiveness that would transform our lives. God wants to activate the image and likeness of himself in us through the power of love, to work his mercy in and through us so that we can become what he has created us to be. When I go about all day doing all of my service work - tutoring, counseling, teaching, and then come home to clean the refectory, dust and vacuum, and then go to bed tired from all of the good works that I have done, feeling that I am justified by all of the good work that I have done, and then forget to do an examination of conscience and seek God’s mercy, by this, I am blocking the work of the Spirit in me to work his mercy in and through me. In this way I am in a certain sense acting against forgiveness. To act against forgiveness is to prevent the Spirit’s power in me to forgive. So not only will I not be forgiven, but I will be less able to forgive others.

I sin against the Holy Spirit when I think of my justification by faith as a quid pro quo affair - I do this and God will do that. St. Paul worked hard to disassociate the word, justification, a very legalistic term, from its legalistic meaning when applied to God’s action. As I said, the word, justification, implies a quid pro quo - I do this and God will do that; I put my faith in him and do good works and God will reward me with eternal life. But that is not the nature of the justification which is worked in us by the Holy Spirit. It is not quid pro quo. It depends 100 percent on God’s action in me. It is gift. Thus, I propose a better word than “justification” to describe what the Holy Spirit is doing in us: he is not justifying us, he is “mercifying” us. The action of the Spirit in us, when we are allowing him to live and work in us, can best be described as “mercification,” not justification. Putting my faith in Jesus Christ and doing all of the things that are associated with a life of faith, such as fasting, prayer and good works, are not the means of my justification, but the way that I cooperate with the Holy Spirit in the process of “mercification” in me, so that he can not only mercify me but, in turn, work his mercification through me. I am not being justified by faith. Rather, I am being mercy-fied by faith. Through faith I am being forgiven and becoming ever more a forgiving and loving person, and this is happening in the context of a living faith working through love.

Once again in today’s reading from Romans (4:13, 16-18), St. Paul talks about the righteousness that comes through faith. As I said in a previous reflection, the faith through which justification comes - or, using my term, the faith through which mercification comes - must be a living faith that works through love. A living faith is a loving faith, and a loving faith is a living faith. The justification which comes through a living faith is not a justification which comes from faith-acts or faith-works, but a justification which comes from the Spirit of Christ living and active in us who acts in the world through us - through our living, loving faith. That is why I prefer to refer to it as mercification. Our actions of living-faith flow from the life of the Spirit of love in us. As Christians – in particular monks – ours is a life of faith. We are not called just to have faith, but to live it. We are not asked to live good lives, but to live lives in which Goodness himself is living and active in us. We are called to live lives that manifest a living faith in Jesus Christ, lives in which the image and likeness of God in us is fully activated. That is what a living faith is: the activation of the image and likeness of God in us. St. Paul said that we are justified by faith. I propose that we are justified neither by faith nor by works: we are justified by the Spirit of Christ living within us, enlivening us with faith-life, which is at the same time love-life. What really matters to our personal salvation is not faith-works but faith-life, which is the activation of the image and likeness of God in us as faith working through love. We are called to a living-faith which is a loving-faith, which spontaneously finds expression in a life of love, in a lifestyle that allows the Spirit of Christ to live in and through us so that his, and our, heavenly Father can touch the lives of his children in and through us. That is the goal of our faith-life, to which everything else is secondary.

All for Jesus,
Fr. Max

Tuesday, October 12, 2021

The Unclean Spirit's Return

 

Our soul must be a house that accommodates the Spirit of love
A Reflection on Luke 11:24-26
By Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

“When the unclean spirit has gone out of a person, it wanders through waterless regions looking for a resting place, but not finding any, it says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came.’ When it comes, it finds it swept and put in order. Then it goes and brings seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they enter and live there; and the last state of that person is worse than the first.” (Luke 11:24-26)

Reading this, my reaction is, “Why bother trying to overcome evil in myself if every good and successful effort to become virtuous and overcome sinful tendencies in myself just results in the introduction of an even harder challenge, seven times harder to overcome than the last?” This can cause me to become disheartened in my pursuit of virtue and holiness. But I think that what Jesus is warning his hearers about in today’s Gospel passage is the same thing that St. Paul warns his hearers about often: the temptation to be presumptuous about the effectiveness of our own abilities and talents for achieving virtue and holiness. 

In the Gospel parable spoken by Jesus, the clean house, swept and put in order, that the unclean spirit finds upon its return, is the house of the soul where order is imposed through ascetical practices and religious observances, not carried out in humble obedience, and that are effective in fostering virtue, but have no capacity to introduce love into the soul. The house of the soul becomes a clean but empty room. St. Paul describes the emptiness of such a soul (1 Corinthians 13:1-3): “. . .if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away everything I own, and if I hand my body over so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing.” In this state, my soul is perfectly clean and ordered; but it is not tidied and ordered to accommodate the spirit of mercy and charity. Rather, it is better ordered to accommodate the spirits associated with pride and self-interest. In this state my soul is not prepared for the activation of the image and likeness of God in me, but, instead, is prepared for the activation of spiritual pride and human ambition. My soul is not a home where the Spirit of Christ feels comfortable and at home. My ascesis and religious observance do not serve as a preparation for the activation of the image and likeness of God in me by the indwelling and action of the Spirit of Christ in me. Through intense ascesis and religious practices, I may clean and order my soul, making my soul perfectly clean and ordered; but if it is not tidied and ordered through humility and obedience, I may be unwittingly cleaning and ordering my soul to better accommodate the spirit of pride and its associated self-interest spirits, rather than preparing my soul to better accommodate the spirit of mercy and charity. The unclean spirit of pride returns to my soul and is delighted to find a space so accommodating that it invites all of its seven fellow unclean spirits of anger, fear, envy, jealousy, hypocrisy, arrogance and lust. A soul that is not filled with love is a space just waiting to be filled with the unclean spirits associated with pride and self-interest.

A soul, on the other hand, that is emptied and made clean by openness and obedience to the Spirit of Christ becomes a house most accommodating to the Spirit of love, and quickly and readily becomes filled with, and occupied with - the clean and holy spirit of charity. The soul that is filled with the Spirit of charity leaves no space for the self-building ambition of pride and its associated unclean spirits of selfish interest. Let us daily endeavor to do the housecleaning of our soul with humble listening to the Word of God and receiving the Lord in humble obedience, so that our soul becomes ever increasingly a house that accommodates Christ’s Spirit of Love.

All for Jesus,
Fr. Max

The Rich Young Man and the Perfect Gift of Self

 


Being a Christian Is About Making a Full Gift of Self Through Love
Reflection of the Readings for the 28th Sunday of Ordinary Time - Year B
By Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

Readings:
Wisdom 7:7-11
Hebrews 4:12-13
Mark 10:17-30

I read a story about the founder of the Methodist Church, John Wesley. In this story he had a dream. In this dream, he came to the gates of hell and asked, “What kind of people are here, Catholics?” The answer was, “Yes, many.” “Also, Anglicans?” “Yes, many” was the answer. “Also Lutherans, Baptists and Orthodox?” The answer was always the same, “Yes, many.” And what about the Methodists?” “Also plenty,” was the answer. This made Wesley feel very distressed. So he then went to the gates of heaven. He knocked at the door and asked the same question. “Are there any Catholics here?” “No, not a single one,” was the answer. “And Anglicans?” “No, not one!” “What about Lutherans, Baptists and Orthodox?” “No, none,” was again the answer. Finally he dared to ask, “what about Methodists?” “No, not a single one here.” Wesley was horrified, and, with deep vexation, asked, “Well, what kind of people are there in heaven anyway?” The answer came, “Only Christians.”

What might this mean that there are only Christians in heaven? Does it mean that Jews, Moslems, Buddhists or people adhering to other religious beliefs cannot get into heaven. Well, I believe that the readings today give us clues to the type of person who will be admitted to heaven. The person who qualifies for admission to heaven can indeed be called a Christian, but what, then, is the definition of a Christian? Today’s readings make clear that being a true Christian is about being a true person of God, and being a true person of God is not about perfect adherence to a particular set of doctrines and laws, but about making a total gift of self to God by making a total gift of self to others through love. Solomon does not pray for the ability to adhere to a set of doctrines and laws, but for the living spirit of wisdom - the Spirit of God, which is the Spirit of love - to dwell in his heart, so that he may make a better gift of self in the service of love toward his subjects. The passage from Hebrews speaks, not about the word of God as being conveyed through laws and doctrines and scriptures, but about the word being living and active and penetrating the heart - something that doctrines and laws cannot do. Jesus challenges the rich young man, who is already adhering perfectly to the Law and the doctrines of the faith, to make a total gift of self if he wants to be truly made perfect and inherit eternal life.

I am convinced that being a Christian is more about making a total gift of self through love than it is about adhering to a particular set of doctrines. I don’t know if John Wesley actually had that dream, but if he did, when the Lord says that the only kind of people in heaven are Christians, I would interpret “Christians” to refer precisely to those people who have made a total gift of self through love. This is not to deny that Christians have an obligation to humbly pursue right thinking about the nature of God, his revelations, and his interventions in human history, but this later aspect is secondary to the principal goal of Christianity: that is, to imitate Christ’s total gift of self, who, “. . .emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:6-8) This is the true Christian way because it is the way of love. It is the way that we activate the image and likeness of God in us, and thereby activate in ourselves the vehicle by which the Lord channels his faithful loving mercy into the world through us. This is the Christian way, no matter what particular religious denomination one belongs to. Although Jesus set up the one Church, which has continued under the name Catholic for two millennia, through which he conveys and preserves the truths of the faith, and dispenses the graces sacramentally for a life of redemptive suffering and love, one’s receiving of these graces, and exercising of this redemptive love in imitation of Christ, does not necessarily require an explicit membership in the Roman Catholic Church with an explicit adherence to the doctrines that it puts forth through its Magisterium, but an implicit membership and implicit adherence to its doctrines, which is attained by the activation of the image and likeness of God in oneself through a sincere pursuit of truth and a life of love. To prove that one’s faith and membership in the one Church set up by Christ does not have to be fully explicit, Jesus tells us the parable of the Last Judgment (Matthew 25:31-46). The king invites those on his right to enter their eternal reward because they have given themselves in service to him by feeding him when he was hungry, giving him drink when he was thirsty, clothing him when he was naked, welcoming him as a stranger, caring for him when he was sick, and visiting him when he was confined. These righteous people did not have an awareness of having acted with such explicit faith and knowledge, asking, “. . .when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?” The faith of these righteous people, and their membership in the Church as people of God was implicit as the image and likeness of God in them was activated in the service of the Lord. What is more important than explicit membership in he Catholic Church and explicit adherence to its laws and doctrines is the explicit expression of what that membership and adherence to doctrine is meant to facilitate: namely, the activation of the image and likeness of God in us for the service of love. I may be a devout Catholic and I may be able to adhere to the fullness of doctrine that comes from the Magisterial authority of the Roman Catholic Church; I may (1 Corinthians 13) “. . .have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge” that is made available through the Catholic Church. I may have a Catholic “faith so as to move mountains but [if I] do not have love, I am nothing.” “If I give away everything I own” to be a Catholic, and “if I hand my body over so that I may boast” of being Roman Catholic, “but do not have love, I gain nothing.”

It is true that it is Jesus Christ who bears the Spirit of God into the world, and into human souls, so it is therefore also true that any person in whom the Spirit of God - the Spirit of Christ - dwells actively can, in a proper sense, be called Christian. So, when the Lord tells Wesley in his dream that only Christians are in heaven, it should be taken to mean that only those in whom the Spirit of Christ - the Spirit of God - is active - that is, only those in whom the image and likeness of God is fully activated - are the people who are in heaven.

I want to be in heaven some day, and I am confident that it is the Church that Jesus established, namely, the Catholic Church, which makes it possible for me, and everyone else destined for heaven, to prepare our souls for the heavenly state. To those of us who have an explicit membership in the Catholic Church, St. Paul says (Ephesians 1:8-10), “With all wisdom and insight he has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.” That is why I am so happy to be a member of the Roman Catholic Church. Being a member of the Catholic Church certainly is a privilege, and I certainly feel privileged to have been baptized into the Roman Catholic Church, to be able to be a member of a monastic religious community, and more recently to be ordained a priest. But none of this should be seen by me as something for me to boast about, but rather to be humble about. I must never see my membership in the Roman Catholic Church as giving me an advantage for salvation over other people who are living a life of mercy and love but may not be members of the Catholic Church. I must rather always consider whether I am being true to my Catholic faith by living a life of mercy and charity - that is, a life in which the image and likeness of God is fully activated in me. I must always remember that, no matter what my religious membership may be, the Spirit that judges me is “living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12-13); remembering always that I will be principally judged on the state of my heart, and on a living faith from which flows love that is a total gift of self.

All for Jesus,
Fr. Max