The Preferential Option for the Poor

            "When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why they are poor, they call me a communist."

 – Dom (Archbishop) Helder Camara

            In the past year, we have seen elections on all levels of government, debates and deals to avoid the “fiscal cliff”, more haggling over the “debt ceiling”…and on and on. Through it all there has been one question that has been conspicuous by its absence – “How will this affect the poor?”

            This is the fundamental question that needs to be asked when approaching any economic or social issue from a Catholic Social Teaching perspective. It is called the “fundamental option for the poor” and it is our challenge “to speak for the voiceless, to defend the defenseless, to assess life styles, policies, and social institutions in terms of their impact on the poor. ” (Economic Justice for All, #16). In other words, before we look at any other factors, any legislation or policy has to be viewed from the moral perspective of how well the poor and vulnerable will fare from that policy.

            To be clear, this teaching has been a part of the doctrine of the Church from its earliest writers, and in modern social thought, it has been framed to assert that “the poor and badly off have a  claim to special consideration” (Rerum Novarum #37). This special consideration includes not just social and economic policies, but the requirement for the more fortunate to “renounce some of their rights so as to place their goods more generously at the service of others” (Call to Action #32).

            The “option for the poor” is “not intended to be an adversarial slogan that pits one group or class against another. Rather it states that the deprivation and powerlessness of the poor wounds the whole community” (Economic Justice for All #88). It is a requirement of all of us and each of us to begin to heal these wounds by creating solidarity with the poor – to understand their difficulties in a compassionate way, and to recognize them as individuals with dignity and an infinite value in the eyes of God.

            And yet, the reality is that many of us tend to see “the poor” as nameless and faceless millions who are strangers and alien. Maybe one reason for this is our lack of actual involvement with poor people. Many people stress the generosity of our fellow citizens; Americans are known worldwide as a caring people who contribute to charities that benefit the sick and the poor. But how much time is spent actually engaging with poor people, seeing them face to face, knowing their names, listening to their stories?

            Poverty is not only having fewer financial resources than necessary – it is also accompanied by a lack of full participation in the social aspects of society, and an inability to influence decisions that affect one’s life. Spending time with people of need allows us to not only hear them with passionate concern, but to advocate for them, to stand up for them, and to help them find the resources that they need to pull themselves out of poverty.

            Lent begins this month, and the three traditional activities for Lent are prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. This Lent, perhaps we should consider almsgiving as not only giving of our financial wealth, but of our time as well by volunteering in a food pantry (Catholic Charities runs five of them), or in a dining hall (like St. Vincent de Paul’s). The “preferential option for the poor” requires us to stand with them and for them; to feed them, certainly, but also to ask why they are poor and advocate for policies that will lift them up and out of their poverty.

Homily for the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord
Note: This homily was delivered on the weekend of January 12-13, 2013

(Readings: Isaiah 40:1-5, 9-11; Titus 2:11-14; 3:4-7; Luke 3:15-16; 21-22)

            The feast of the Baptism of the Lord is a feast of transitions. We are just finishing the joyous season of Christmas, and we are now beginning “Ordinary Time”. We are on the threshold of coming out of one time period and moving into another. This feast also marks the transition of Jesus from private life to public ministry. Jesus crosses the threshold in his Baptism from his life devoted to his family and his private expression of his faith to his public, outward expression of it.

            Over the next few weeks until we get into Lent, we will hear how Jesus celebrated a wedding with his friends; announced his mission to the poor, the captive, the blind, and the oppressed; how he was run out of town for his preaching. But it starts with this – his public baptism and the approval of the Father for his mission. He has moved from private prayer to public proclamation. He has crossed the threshold into another life.

            This feast should remind us as well that in Baptism we too are called to leave our old life behind – that our baptism, like that of Jesus, calls us to a commitment to continue the mission and the ministry of our Lord. We are called to cross that same threshold from private prayer to public proclamation of our faith.

            Each time we approach any threshold, we have a moment of decision. These are called “liminal” moments in spirituality lingo, moments when we are not quite in one place or another, like the transition between Christmas time and Ordinary Time. Each of these “liminal” moments is a moment of decision – we decide who we will be and what we will do when we cross that threshold.

            We have these liminal moments all the time. Each time we cross the threshold of our bedroom in the morning, we can choose what kind of person we will be to the people that live with us. We can choose to be a person of love, care, concern, or we can be focused on ourselves and our own problems of the day. Each time we cross the threshold into our office building or school or store where we work, we have a liminal moment – a moment of decision when we can choose what kind of person we will be as we interact with coworkers and customers. Will we be people who live temperately, justly and devoutly as our second reading says?

            Think of the liminal moment that you have when you come into and leave the Church today. The holy water that we have at the doors of the Church helps me to use those moments when I cross those thresholds to remember why I am entering and what kind of person I want to be when I leave. As I enter the Church, and I cross the threshold, I bless myself with holy water and remember with great gratitude my parents who brought me into the life of faith by bringing me to Baptism as an infant. On my way out, as I cross the threshold, I bless myself with holy water to remind myself that my Baptism calls me to be a public witness to my faith – to live a life as a faithful Catholic Christian in everything that I say and do.

            Each week when we cross that threshold to come into this Church, we are making a decision to hear the Word of God and to celebrate this Eucharist with everyone else who believes as well. By coming over that threshold, we are using that liminal moment to make the decision to express our faith together, to strengthen each other for our own journeys as we leave.

            And when we leave today, when we cross the threshold out into the world outside of our worship space, we have a decision to make. Are we going to leave our faith and our belief here in this space? Or are we going to witness to the mission and ministry of Jesus? Our baptism calls us to mission – to not leave our faith here, but to be a presence in the world, as our first reading says, who makes a straight highway for God in the wastelands of our lives, someone who will be a voice in the wilderness of our culture, someone who will fill in the valleys of the pain we see around us, and who will make the hills of greed and the mountains of power into a level plain.

            Today as you leave the Church, you will come to the threshold – you will have your liminal moment of decision to live out the Christian calling of your Baptism, or leave your faith behind in the walls of this worship space. My prayer for you, as I will say again as you leave, is that you go in peace to proclaim the Gospel of the Lord. 

Blessed Are the Peacemakers

(Note: This article appeared in the January 2013 issue of the Western New York Catholic, the Diocesan newspaper for the Diocese of Buffalo. I have become a regular columnist for the newspaper since November, and I am sharing this on here for those of you who may not have access to the Diocesan paper.)

This January 1^st was the 46^th World Day of Peace, and Pope Benedict XVI marked the occasion by issuing a message for the celebration titled “Blessed Are the Peacemakers”. The Pope has previously issued seven other messages for the World Day of Peace dealing with specific aspects of peace, such as the human family, the human person, fighting poverty, and protecting creation.

            In this year’s message, Pope Benedict deals with peace in a more general way, explaining the fullness and the diversity of the concept of peace, and encouraging all people to take responsibility for peace-building. His message highlights the 50^th anniversary of both the Second Vatican Council and the encyclical Pacem in Terris (Peace in the World) issued by Pope John XXIII in 1963. That encyclical urged Christians to live a unity of faith and action by taking an active role in public life, especially in the promotion of peace.

            Since Pacem in Terris, the teaching of the Church has taken a decidedly strong turn in promoting peace, condemning war and criticizing the arms race and nuclear weapons. Less than two years later, the Vatican Council issued Gaudium et spes (Church in the Modern World), which called for a “completely fresh appraisal of war”. This “fresh appraisal” did, in fact, lead Church teaching to give a new and stronger support to non-violent approaches in the struggle for justice.

            The Council also, for the first time, recognized conscientious objection to war as a legitimate position to be held by Catholics. This is remarkable when one considers that just nine years earlier Pope Pius XII made a statement that conscientious objection was not a position legitimately open to Catholics. The Council made it clear that unlike previous assumptions about the necessity or inevitability of war, the Church should expect peace to be the natural condition when people live in accord with the moral order. This orientation toward peace is the context of the Council’s praise of those who renounce violence.

            It also was the basis for the US Bishops to declare almost twenty years later that a Christian approach to the use of force must begin from a “presumption against war”. In their document The Challenge of Peace, issued in 1983, The Bishops also endorsed non-violent resistance to injustice, peace research, conflict resolution studies and peace education. Significantly, that document also sanctioned not only conscientious objection, but a commitment to non-violence and pacifism as a legitimate option for Christians.

            The Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church sums up the issue of peace and war this way: “War is a scourge, and is never an appropriate way to resolve problems that arise between nations, it never has been and never will be.” Then, quoting Pope Paul VI’s address to the U. N. in 1965, “never again some peoples against others, never again! …no more war, no more war!”

            From Pacem in Terris, to the Vatican Council’s “fresh appraisal of war” and its disposition against the arms race, to Pope Benedict’s encouragement for all Christians to take personal responsibility for peace-building – all of these should have moved the issue of non-violence to a position high on the agenda of the Church. Yet it is still rare to hear a condemnation of war and violence and the promotion of peace-building from the pulpit, or in the classroom, or as an issue in parishes and organizations. What more will it take to finally make non-violence and peace-building central to the Church’s mission today?

My homily for Christmas Midnight Mass

Homily – Christmas Midnight Mass

Readings

            Isaiah 9: 1-6

            Psalm 96

            Titus 2:11-14

            Luke 2:1-14

            Well, it’s finally here. After all of the planning, and the running around and preparations and paying attention to all kinds of details, Christmas has arrived. So what do you think? Is it what you expected? Doesn’t it seem that every Christmas there is some new and unexpected event or wrinkle or wondrous surprise? Sometimes it is unexpected bad news or difficulties like an illness or losing a loved one. Sometimes it is a joyful surprise like someone announcing their engagement or that they are expecting a baby. But Christmas always seems to have something unexpected attached to it.

            We have spent Advent preparing to remember the coming of the Lord – the Advent of our God to earth. And we have prayed for him to come again, and to come into our hearts. All of Advent has been focused on Christ’s coming – the arrival of the Messiah.

            Now imagine for a moment that you had been waiting for thousands of years for the Messiah like the Jewish people were – waiting for the one who was going to save you from the “yoke that burdens you, the pole on your shoulder and the rod of your taskmaster” as Isaiah promised. And then the day arrives – and it’s a baby! Born helpless, poor, hungry – in a state of complete dependence. Not at all what you expected. It always seems that God defies what we expect. Why would God choose to come to us that way?

            Maybe it’s because as much as we have wanted Christ to come to us, Christ even more wants us to come to him. And he wants us to come to him because he has a message of God’s hope, God’s mercy, God’s salvation. Rather than approaching God with fear and trepidation, we can come to the Christ child in wonder, and in awe, and without fear. Our God is approachable…in fact, God wants us to come as comfortably as we come to a newborn baby: without fear, without pretensions, without apprehension.

            The angels say as much to the shepherds – do not be afraid. Come – come to Bethlehem, come to see the Christ child. Come to see God’s advent among the people. And our Christmas hymns emphasize this too – “Rise Up, Shepherd, and follow”; “O Come, Little Children, come one and come all”; and probably the best known:

[Singing] O come let us adore him

[Singing together] O come let us adore him

O come let us adore him…

Christ the Lord

            Christ’s birth was the beginning of the life of the one who called us – each of us and all of us – to come to him. “Come”, he said, “leave your boats and your customs post, and whatever else you’re doing, and come follow me”. “Come”, he said, “come out of your grave and live again, come down from up there in the tree and have dinner with me”.  “Come”, he said, “come and eat my body and drink my blood and have life”. “Come”, he said, “come to me all of you who are weary and heavily burdened, and I will give you rest”. “Come”

            In the rest of the year before us, there will be plenty of time to think about our responsibilities, to consider what it means to be a follower of this Christ, the Messiah, God-with-us. There will be time to learn and to grow in this Year of Faith, and there will be time to reflect on our discipleship. But for tonight, for right now, let’s just be at peace with each other and be in communion with God and those around us. Let’s bask in the feeling of warmth that comes from a God who loves us so desperately and calls us to come near. Let’s sing and be joyful and celebrate this prayerful time together.

O come, let us adore him

O come, let us adore him

O come let us adore him

Christ, the Lord.

Merry Christmas!

Homily – Third Sunday of Advent – Year C (12/16/12)

            I don’t have any answers. I don’t think anyone does. We look at a tragedy like the events in Newtown and we can wonder why, we can wonder where God was, we can wonder if there really is any goodness in the world.

            And it is especially difficult to try to reconcile what has happened with the celebration of the Third Sunday of Advent, Gaudete Sunday, a Sunday when our readings are calling for us to rejoice. “Shout for joy!” our first reading says, “sing joyfully”. Paul tells the Philippians, “Rejoice in the Lord always – I’ll say it again, Rejoice!” And the Gospel says that John preached “good news”. On most days, and especially on this past Friday, the news seems to be anything other than “good”.

            With so much pain in the world, and with such spectacular tragedies as Sandy Hook Elementary, what could be the cause for rejoicing? Zephaniah tells the people to rejoice because the Lord is in their midst. Isaiah tells us that God is among us and Paul tells the Philippians that the Lord is near. But it sure doesn’t feel like the Lord is among us or near us or in our midst when we experience tragedy and sorrow. And yet we are called to rejoice – regardless of how we FEEL. Because our joy is not a religious sentiment or an emotional happiness, but rather a confidence in God’s care no matter what comes our way.

            Our joy is grounded in the conviction that Jesus came and did, in fact, redeem humanity – even in the face of evidence to the contrary. And so we are told to fear not. Paul tells us, have no anxiety. Because our Advent joy comes from our realization, our confidence, our belief that God is, in fact, in our midst, and that God’s presence can so transform our lives that the promises of peace and security and harmony will one day be fulfilled. Our Advent joy comes from our insistence on celebrating this Paschal Mystery – the commemoration of Jesus’ own suffering as redemptive and as our salvation. And we sing “Alleluia” at the raising of the Gospel as an act of defiance in the face of evil. Our Advent joy comes from our conviction that because of the incarnation, because of Jesus taking on our humanity, because God is truly with us, is Emmanuel, that we can look at tragedy and know that humanity is more than the evil and wickedness that we see.

            We will continue to be confronted by sorrow and sadness in our lives – it is sometimes close to us like unemployment or sickness or loss of loved ones, and it is sometimes far away - but still touching us deeply - like Newtown, CT. If we are to be people of Advent joy, we might ask, like the people in today’s Gospel, “What are we to do?” Paul’s answer is to lead lives of kindness, to be people of gentleness, to forego any retaliation. John the Baptist’s answer is to be who you are called to be – to find goodness and right living and care for others in the ordinary circumstances of our lives.

            There are no answers to our “why?” in the face of such incomprehensible tragedy. All we can do, if we are truly intent on Christ’s “advent”, is to bring a different way of living into these situations. All we can do is to take hold of God’s hand so that there is some effect of God’s love in our surroundings. All we can do is to bring our own reflection of Jesus’ presence to our own circumstances so that at least a few areas of the world are made receptive to God’s truth and justice and made ready to receive Jesus when he comes again.

A "New" Lectio Divina?

I read a blog by Carl McColman, a spiritual writer whom I admire quite a bit - he seems to frequently have some very insightful things to say. His most recent blog, however, gave me some pause. He was talking about a new Paulist Press Bible that was designed specifically to help people pray lectio divina, an ancient form of prayer with Scripture. In short, it consists of four steps: lectio (reading), meditatio (reflecting), oratio (prayer / responding), and contemplatio (resting / contemplation). So far Mr. McColman and I agree that this would be a good thing. He goes on to express concern, however, that the ad for the Bible seems to indicate that there is "action" involved as the fourth step. Here are his words:

I nicked the following graphic from the Paulist Press website, where they are promoting their new Catholic Prayer Bible: Lectio Divina Edition. It’s coming out in a couple of months; and when I first heard about it, I was excited at the concept: a Bible designed to support the practice of lectio divina. Wow. I was looking forward not only to acquiring my own copy, but to selling it through the store where I work.
But then I saw this graphic, and my anticipation turned to dismay. Look at it carefully: it boldly pronounces to the world that the four step process of lectio consists of reading, reflection, prayer, and action.
Action?!?!?!
I don’t know about you, but the last time I checked what Guigo II had to say, the classical model of lectio consisted of these four steps: lectio, meditatio, oratio and contemplatio. Okay, so lectio is reading, meditatio can be interpreted as reflection, and oratio certainly is a key form of prayer.
But since when is contemplatio a code word for action?!?!?!? Have we as a culture become so frightened of contemplation that we have to re-invent the very spiritual practices that were designed to foster contemplation, so that they function as self-help programs instead?
Okay, I realize I’m reacting to an ad. Maybe this was designed by some overzealous undergraduate intern who doesn’t know any better. Maybe the actual Bible will retain the original understanding of lectio. One can hope.
But — if this ad is accurate and the commentary in this Bible really does re-invent lectio divina as some sort of spiritualized goal-setting exercise rather than as an invitation to contemplation, then I cannot in good conscience recommend this book. We shall see.

I can also agree with Mr. McColman that rejecting "contemplation" in favor of "action" would be too indicative of what is wrong with our action-oriented, hypercharged culture. On the other hand, I have advocated for adding a FIFTH step (talk about chutzpah!!) called operatio, or "work", or, keeping with the other "r" words, "re-engaging". It seems to me that as its own exercise, lectio divina is a fine form of praying with Scripture and of meditation / contemplation. My only objection always is that such contemplation should lead us back into the world, not as an escape from it. Proper contemplation of Scripture, it seems to me, calls us to ACT - we are claimed by the One who speaks to us in Scripture, and that claim demands action on our part. Leaving lectio divina (which I practice myself frequently, by the way) with the final step as contemplatio seems to me to leave it my heart and between me and God. I've never been comfortable with that - I always feel driven to take what insights I have had and to apply them to my life - to ACT.

I can sympathize with Mr. McColman's dismay if the entire emphasis is on developing some sort of "action plan" from practiciing lectio divina as if it is some sort of go-getter tool for success. Rather, I think that if the idea is to use lectio not only for private contemplation but for an impetus to build the Kingdom, then I'm all for it.

A Thansgiving Prayer

If I would have created this blog earlier, I would have posted this Thanksgiving Prayer in time for folks to use it. If you don't already have one, here it is. Or - save it for next year.

Thanksgiving Day Prayer

We thank you, God, our grace, for being alive, tomorrow and today,
for this earth, for bread and light, for the people around us,
today, yesterday and every day.

We thank you for our lives here and now, lives sometimes difficult but full of joy.

Blessed are you, Creator of all that is, blessed are you for giving us
freedom and life, the light of our eyes and the air we breathe.

We ask your blessings now upon this food and upon our lives,
for we are all the work of your hands,
and we ask this as we ask all things, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.