Again this year, Fr. Scott and I challenged the men of the parish to join us in the Nazarite Challenge--to grow out their beards for the month of November and commit to growing in fraternity and holiness. (Last year's challenge resulted in the formation of a great little parish men's group, "André's Brothers.") Tonight, we invited those who accepted the Challenge to come together for Vespers, snacks, and drinks. Just take a look at all these handsome, happy, hirsute faces:
Thanks to the talents of the wife of one of the men, even the cookies had whiskers:
But the greatest (and most unexpected) source of joy during this November's edition of the Challenge was that we finally got Fr. Stitt to break down and give the bearded life a try:
I'm not sure how long his man mane will last, but we'll make the the most of it while it does!
Two men were seated in the same train compartment.One was grey-haired and thoughtful; the
other was young, restless, and apparently quite worried. In time, the older man spoke: “Something
sure seems to be troubling you, son.Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, sir,” the young man replied.“Actually, there’s nothing anybody can do to help.But since I feel like I can trust you,
and I probably won’t ever see you again, I’ll tell you my story, and that
itself will be a relief.”With
utter honestly, the young man shared how he’d gotten started in petty crime—stealing
small things from work to help support his widowed mother.But then he fell in with two coworkers,
who proved to be hardened criminals.The three planned a serious robbery, but when the security guard caught
them by surprise, he was shot by one of the older men, who were both captured
by the police.They pinned the
murder on the young man, who had managed to get away, and now a warrant was out
for his arrest.He was headed for
the big city, where he hoped to disappear into the crowds.
Kindly, but in all seriousness, the older man said, “You
know, you really need to turn yourself in and tell this whole story to the
court—just as you’ve told it to me.”
“It was easy to tell you,” the young man replied, “since
you’re a stranger and so understanding.I’d be much too scared to tell my story to a judge!”But eventually the older man prevailed,
and the young man promised to do it.
He kept his promise, and there came his day in court.Just as restless and anxious as he’d
been on the train, the young man was led before the bench with his eyes cast
down.After the charges were read,
he was asked to make a statement.It’s only then that he looked up at the judge—who, to his great
surprise, was none other than his friend from the train.It was suddenly much easier to tell his
story to one who knew it already.He was acquitted of murder, placed on probation for the attempted
robbery, and never turned to crime again.
On these four Sundays of November, when the Church’s
thoughts turn to prayer for the faithful departed, we’ve been reflecting on the
Four Last Things.We’ve already
considered (1) death, (2) heaven, and (3) hell.This Sunday, we contemplate the hinge between life in this
world and life in the next: (4) judgment.
Every Sunday, we profess our faith that Christ our King
“will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom
will have no end.”This Sunday, we
have a feast to celebrate that faith.These last several Sundays we’ve been hearing parables reminding us to
get ready: to prepare ourselves for the coming of the Son of Man, to prepare
for Jesus’ return.Today we hear
yet another parable, through which we learn what will happen when he comes.
The scriptures are clear that all men will be raised in
their bodies on the last day so as to stand before the judgment seat of Christ and
give an accounting of their faith and works.Standing before Jesus, who is Truth itself, the whole truth
of our relationship with God will be laid bare for all to see.Ever throw a pebble into a still pond
and wonder just how far the ripples will go?At the Last Judgment, the full extent of what we’ve all done
and failed to do will be revealed as God’s justice triumphs over our every
injustice, and God’s love and mercy prove stronger even than death.
But Jesus is not only the King and Judge of the whole universe;
he’s my king and my judge.Besides
the general judgment at the end of time, we believe in a particular judgment at
the hour of our death, when our eternal reward will be determined immediately—either
to depart into eternal punishment, or to come and enter into eternal life.
By the way so many of us live, you’d think the criteria upon
which we’ll be judged were how much money we’ve earned, or how far we’ve gotten
in our careers, or how many friend we’ve made.But Jesus makes it clear that only one question will be
asked: “What have you done for the least brothers of mine and yours?”That’s not an abstract question!In fact, the King gets rather specific
as he speaks to the sheep and then the goats.That familiar list of charitable deeds is known to us as the
Corporal Works of Mercy.But why
should these actions in particular be the ones upon which our everlasting
destiny depends?Because they’re a
practical test of whether we really love our neighbor, and the love of neighbor
is a practical test of whether we really love our God.
How does this faith of the Church in the judgment of King
Jesus affect your life and mine, here and now?For one thing, it should instill in us a holy fear—the sort
that prompts us to covert our lives while time yet remains.And for another, it should give us
blessed hope—looking forward to the Lord’s return with eager expectation, for
it is then that God’s will, God’s plan for creation, will come to its glorious
and perfect fulfillment, when God will be all in all.
My friends, we should all see ourselves in that young man on
the train—we’re all sinners, restless and anxious because we’re guilty as
charged. And for that very reason,
let us reach out with charity to every stranger who walks into our lives, for
in each and every one of them the King of the Universe is giving us another
opportunity to become his own friend.
And if we thus allow Jesus to be our friend in this life, we will be
able to stand before him with great confidence when he comes again to judge the
living and the dead.
It’s been said that in heaven the cooks will all be French, the
police will all be British, the lovers will all be Italian, and everything will
be organized by Germans.On the
other hand, in hell the cooks will all be British, the police will all be
French, the lovers will all be German, and everything will be organized by Italians!
I want to thank you all for your prayers during this past
week while I was on retreat.It
was truly a graced time of prayer and reflection—without a doubt, the best
retreat I’ve ever made.In fact, I
could say it was a little “taste of heaven”…even if the cook was Italian and
not French.The greater irony is
that, coming off of this heavenly experience, I jump back into our homily
series on the Four Last Things by preaching to you today about uplifting topic
of hell.
We’ve just heard Jesus tell us his parable of the talents.When we hear this story, it’s easy enough
to think of it in terms of our natural abilities—our “talents”—and many a
homily has been given on it inviting folks to get more involved in their parish
and share their God-given gifts.It also brings to mind the stewardship of our financial resources, providing
many a pastor the opportunity to talk about increasing the collection.Those things are good and important,
but this Sunday we’re going to consider something far more decisive.
The “talent” mentioned in the gospel was an ancient unit of
money, and it’s value varied.A single
silver talent was worth between 15-20 years’ wages of manual laborer.A bronze talent was worth a bit less; a
gold talent, a bit more.In any
case, we’re talking here about a considerable amount of wealth.
The master entrusts his fortune to the care of his servants according
to their ability.Two of his
servants are obviously quite capable, given the large amount they each
receive.And they didn’t
disappoint him: by trade and investment, by their effort and risk-taking, they
earn him a 100% return.(Don’t you
wish you could find a stockbroker like that?)
Then there's that poor third servant, who's quite the opposite of the industrious woman, the worthy wife, described in such glowing terms by Solomon. This one gives back the exact amount he had received.Even if he’d only earned a small
return, that would have been better than nothing at all.But he made no effort, took no risk,
and simply buried the great wealth that had been given to his care.
The master’s response to this lack of initiative can seem
awfully harsh, especially since nothing was actually lost: the servant had not
squandered his money nor run off with it.It’s harsh…unless what we’re talking about here is something more valuable
than money.In fact, it’s nowhere
near too harsh if what this parable is really talking about is our salvation.
This Sunday, instead of taking stock of how we’re using our
skills and our finances, let’s take stock of how invested we are in our
Catholic faith.God has entrusted
us with things worth far more than even a huge heap of bronze, silver, and gold.After his Death and Resurrection,
before making the return journey to the Father, Jesus handed over to the care
of his followers some incredible treasures: he’s given us the Church, the seven
sacraments, the holy scriptures, prayer, his Mother Mary and all the saints.By his Blood, Jesus won for us all the
means necessary for our salvation.What are we doing with them while we await his Coming?Are we putting them to good use?Earning a high return?Or have we buried and hidden them away
for safekeeping?We know our
Master’s high expectations; what are you and I doing to fulfill them?
You see, if we haven’t proven ourselves trustworthy and
industrious in this world, how can we expect to inherit the next?If I’ve only prayed halfheartedly here,
should I expect to one day enter into the fullness of joy?If I don’t always make time for Mass,
can I reasonably expect happiness that never ends?If I don’t read the Bible, ought I hope for what it
promises?If I give my time to
sitting in front of the TV or surfing Internet but never to adoring the Blessed
Sacrament, can I rightfully anticipate to behold God face-to-face?If I don’t keep company with God’s holy
ones on earth, can I assume I’ll be comfortable dwelling with them in Paradise?
You and I were made by God, and you and I were made for God:
to enjoy life with him eternally.That’s
been God’s plan from the very beginning.In God and with God is found our true meaning, our deep fulfillment, our
real happiness—now and forever.Hell
is being separated from all of this—to be separated from God: from the one for
whom our hearts long; from the destiny for which we were created.To close oneself off from God’s love
and mercy, to die in mortal sin without repentance, to fail to make any
investment or return—even a small one—on the priceless means of salvation with
which Christ has entrusted you, means being separated from the Lord
forever.That’s not the whim of
some strict, angry God.Hell is
our own choice.We damn ourselves.
It sounds kind of crazy, but the real possibility of hell is
actually a necessary element of God’s boundless love for us.Because he loves us, God has the
highest respect for us and for the free will that we’ve been given.If we weren’t truly free, we could not truly
love him in return.Which means we
can choose to love…or choose not to love.And love, of course, isn’t just a matter of some nice words or vague
feelings; it’s a matter of action, it’s an entire way of life.Our human freedom would be a big sham if
the winning score were already fixed regardless of how we play the game.Do you think the Son of God would have
gone to all the trouble of becoming man and dying on a Cross if heaven were
simply automatic for everybody?God will not force himself on us.
God does not want us to go to hell.And the Church fervently prays that
none of her children will be lost.But the decision, my friends, belongs to each soul.We must choose, and follow through on
our choice.
So, how do we grow the Lord’s investment in us?How do we make a responsible return on the
immense spiritual wealth that we’ve been given?(1) For one thing, on a personal level, we need to remember
that faith, like the muscles of our bodies, needs to be exercised in order to
grow and get stronger—and it’s not enough to do so only on rare or special occasions.As with money: put your faith to work,
and it will work for you.(2) Secondly,
on a wider scale, we grow our faith by spreading it around.If we hope to see faith increase in the
world, then we must be willing to share it with others.
Like our reflections on Purgatory a couple of Sunday’s ago,
such talk might seem awfully old fashioned.I suspect it’s been quite awhile since you’ve heard a homily
on hell.In fact, it’d be easy to
think that modern, enlightened Catholics shouldn’t even talk about this stuff
any more!But just listen to what
the Bishops at Vatican II had to say on the subject, citing this Sunday’s
parable:
Since we know not the
day nor the hour, we should follow the advice of the Lord and watch constantly so
that, having finished the course of our earthly life, we may merit to enter
into the marriage feast with him and to be numbered among the blessed and not
be ordered to depart into the eternal fire like the wicked and slothful
servant, into the outer darkness where "there will be weeping and gnashing
of teeth" (Lumen Gentium,
48).
Now you might be thinking, “Father, I come here to Mass
hoping to go home with a good feeling.
Thoughts of hell don’t exactly leave me with a smile on my face.” My silly opening joke wasn’t enough to
do that! But my task as your
parish priest isn’t to get you to smile for an hour or two; it’s to make sure
you share in the happiness that never ends. These teachings may be sobering, I know, but the stakes are
that high. Hell isn’t there to
cause us to live in fear and trembling, but it does call us to get serious
about the heavenly treasures placed into our hands. Each one of us will be called upon to give a full
accounting. What return will you
make?
"The great lesson designed for us in this parable is
expressed in those words with which our Lord concludes: Watch because you know not the day nor the hour. The bridegroom in
the parable came in the middle of the
night, that is, at a time when he was least expected…. Not that he desires
to surprise us, for if he did he would not so often warn us; but that he
desires we would always watch, and be always ready, that so we may never be
surprised.…Oh, who can express or conceive the greatness of these heavenly
rewards, of these highest honors, of these never-ending joys, signified here by
our Lord's ministering in this manner himself to the servants whom he shall find watching!…Conclude to bear always
in mind this indispensable duty of watching, so frequently inculcated by the
Son of God, that so you may never be surprised and sleep in death. Carry always with you the lamp of faith to
enlighten yourself, but never forget that this light must be kept in with the
oil of good works."
The Lectionary gives us some rather rough readings for the
clergy this Sunday, doesn’t it?The
Apostle Paul sets out the ideal for Christian leaders: to share both the
gospel—which is the very word of God—and even to share something of ourselves,
building a true rapport of love with God’s people.But the prophet Malachi passes on a word of warning from the
Lord to his priests: You have turned
aside from the right way, and caused many others to falter; of your blessing I
will make a curse.And then
Jesus warns the crowds about the scribes and Pharisees—the religious
authorities of their day: You should do
as they say, but not as they do. They don't practice what they preach.
Rough words indeed!And, sadly, they still ring all-too-true today, as the scandals of the
last few decades have made painfully clear.We should be troubled by the reprehensible things some
priests have done.But we priests
should also examine ourselves about some things we have failed to do—more
specifically, some things we have failed to say.In the face of the surrounding culture, this is not an easy
time to be a faithful, uncompromising Catholic.It’s no excuse, but it’s not an easy time to speak up and
say what one ought as a faithful priest.
Now, this is probably when you figure: So he’s going to talk to us about abortion, or sexuality, or some other
hot button issue.Relax.No…at least, not this Sunday.
One subject we priests have failed to preach and teach about
in recent years is Purgatory.And
I think that’s the case for two reasons: speaking about Purgatory requires us
to consider two intertwined realities we’d rather forget: sin and death.
At a conference I attended last spring, a Catholic Hospice
nurse gave a fine talk to a room full of priests.I remember distinctly how she said to us: Fathers, do not neglect your duty to the
dying.It’s the most important
thing you do as priests: you prepare people to meet God.She was right.And that’s really something we priests
need to do for our people long before we’re praying at their deathbeds.
More than a month ago, Fr. Scott proposed that we do
something to remedy the situation and give a series of homilies on “The Four
Last Things”: death, heaven, hell, and judgment.Having just celebrated the feast of All Saints, the
commemoration of All Souls, and at this Mass praying by name for the 140
individuals whose funerals and burials have taken place in this parish over the
last 12 months, we begin today with a Catholic consideration of death—and along
with it, some thoughts on Purgatory.
Any clergyman or funeral director can tell you: the way we
mourn our dead in America has changed rather rapidly and dramatically in recent
years.In fact, many people don’t
even call them “funerals” anymore; instead, they plan “celebrations of life.”And—quite understandably—in search of
some comfort, folks frequently say things like, “She's an angel now” (even though
they didn’t exactly think of her in angelic terms while she was alive), and,
“He’s in a better place” (which isn’t all that hard to imagine, given the hardship
we endure in this world).
But is getting into heaven automatic—a guarantee—as we so
often speak and act?That’s not
what we read in the pages of the Bible.And it’s not what we find in the writings of the saints.It mustn’t be taken for granted—whether
for ourselves, or for our departed loved ones.For you and me, that means we need to get our lives in
order, to set our priorities straight, for a day of reckoning will come, and
there’s no escaping it.For our
dead, that means we need to do more than celebrate their lives, more than simply
remember.We mustn’t stop at
pulling out the old pictures and playing their favorite song.We need to pray for them—which is what
our Catholic funeral rituals are all about.That’s what those who have passed away truly need from us.They may have been good people—maybe
even really good people—but they were not perfect people.We will all, however, stand before a
perfect God one day, and to him we must render an account—priests and parishioners
alike.
The Church’s teaching on Purgatory has roots in the Old
Testament (e.g. 2Maccabees 12:39-46) and the practices of the earliest
Christians, who—even if they didn’t use the word—consistently prayed for their
dead…and why pray for the dead if you don’t believe your prayers can have any
effect?It’s best to think of
Purgatory more as a process than a place: the process of purification to become
as holy as necessary to enter the joy of heaven (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1030).Purgatory is only possible for those who have died in God’s
friendship—that is, in a state of grace, repentant of all mortal sin.It’s not a second chance, not an
opportunity to start over, not a “Get Out of Jail Free” card; Purgatory’s a
matter of taking care of unfinished business, of completing the soul’s deep
cleaning that we have already begun before death.
Scripture tells us that nothing unclean will be able to
enter God’s presence in heaven (Revelation 21:27).While it will be more or less intense, more or less
uncomfortable, depending on the sort of life we’ve led, Purgatory is the
definitive removal of any remaining impurities: sin, our attachment to it, and
all of its lingering effects.The
pains of Purgatory—often described in terms of fire—are not a temporary, lesser
hell intended to torment us, but are the side effect of the thorough purging
necessary to truly heal us.(Think
of it like physical therapy: it only hurts because God has to push you hard enough to help you get better.)
When a loved one dies, we miss them.We can also feel quite helpless in the
face of their passing, and wish there was something we could do.There is!Maintain your real and living connection with the faithful
departed.Don’t fail to aid them
at a time when they are unable to help themselves.It’s a good and pious custom to visit and care for the
graves of the deceased—the places where their mortal remains await the Day of Resurrection.But we should also
come to the assistance of their immortal souls, and we do that by our prayers, by
gaining indulgences, by doing penances, by performing acts of charity, and—of
supreme value—by offering the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.
The Church’s doctrine of Purgatory might seem “old
fashioned” to some—best left on a dusty old shelf and forgotten.But I think it’s actually one of the
most consoling truths of our Catholic faith.I know all too well that I’m not who I want to be, who I
ought to be, in order to live in God’s presence forever.Plain and simple: I’m a sinner.If I could get frequent flyer miles in
the confessional, I’d be taking a lot of exotic vacations.Which is to say, if this life is my
only hope—I’m pretty much sunk!But
if I haven’t cut myself off completely from the Lord, if the work of my
purification can carry on and be completed after I draw my last breath—that’s
truly a great work of Divine Mercy.It’s a source of incredible hope.
Chris Stefanick is a husband, father of six, and one of the
most powerful and popular Catholic speakers in our country today. Last Thursday—All Souls Day—he released a
brief video on the Christian understanding of death that I’ve posted to the
parish website.I couldn’t say it
any better, so I’ll just repeat his words:
Death.It’s the final enemy of mankind.And even though it feels so
unnatural and shocking, everybody has to experience it.And the billions of people on this
planet will all be replaced by billions more in about a hundred years.Every single one of us has to die.
So how do you deal
with that uncomfortable fact?You
know, the Romans and the epicureans throughout history, they drowned that
reality with their wine.Buddhists
embrace that reality with the notion that we have to let go of our sense of
self now—it’s just an illusion anyway.You know, atheists: they try not to think about it too much.
But Christianity—it’s
the ultimate defiance to death.We
believe in the Christmas invasion.We believe in a God who was born behind enemy lines and walked through the
valley of the shadow of death with us.We believe in the Easter victory.We believe in life everlasting.You see, we Christians make peace with
death because we can look it in the eye and say, “We win.”
We weren’t made for
death.We were made for life, and
death’s days are numbered.Sure, we still have that gut-level fear of death, which is not a sign of
weakness; it’s a sign of being human.It’s OK.It keeps us from
playing in traffic and running with scissors.
I mean, we still have
to deal with the pain of death, which is very real. But a new light shines in the darkness. And all that pain, and fear, and
sadness, and even anger: it’s forever changed by Easter Sunday. It’s forever changed by the faith
that death isn’t a period; it’s a comma.
It’s forever changed by the hope of reunion with all those faces we miss
so much. And by the knowledge that
we don’t face death alone: we have a God who is walking with us. And we have an army of loved ones who
went before us who are cheering us on, right on the other side of that finish
line.
