Foreshadowing: Homily for the 2nd Sunday of Lent

 

Gn 15:5-12, 17-18

Ps 27

Phil 3:17-4:1

Lk 9:28b-36

Todays readings, particularly the first one, include significant interpretive challenges.

The ritual described in Genesis is bizarre. It is the sort of thing that upon hearing in the pews one is tempted to say, “whatever,” and wait for the gospel. It does not resonate with modern sensibilities, and indeed, might send nervous prostration in members of PETA. What does slicing several animals in half and placing the halves on the ground opposite each other along with a scattering of dead birds mean? And what about the torch and smoking pot passing between the carcasses? In Dorothy Gale's words, we ain't in Kansas no more.

The Jewish Study Bible clear things up in the commentary on these passages by noting: “The ritual of cutting animals in half and passing between them is found in both the Bible and in Mesopotamia. . . It is likely that the meaning of this ritual is a self-curse such that those walking between the pieces will be like the dead animals if they violate the covenant.”

Equally odd is that the smoking fire pot and flaming torch symbolize that it is the Lord himself invoking the self-curse by walking between the dead animals.. The Lord is promising never to violate His side of the covenant formed with Abram. Oddly, nothing is said about Abram’s obligations in this covenant. God's fidelity is pure gift without quid pro quo; it is a reward for past loyalty without obligations on the part of the recipient.

Abram, who had not yet been instructed to change his name to Abraham, had been promised first, that his progeny would outnumber the stars and then that he would possess the land. Thus, his question “How am I to know that I shall possess it” That question was answered definitively through the ritual that was enacted. It was as if God responded with the common schoolyard oath, “If I am lying may God strike me dead” like these slaughtered animals.

The Jewish Study Bible makes another subtle point in its commentary on verse seven which reads: “I am the Lord who brought you from Ur of the Chaldeans... “ This verse resembles the beginning of the Decalogue in Exodus, “I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt.” This wording suggests that Abram’s life foreshadows that of his descendants, whose enslavement is predicted in the verses omitted from this reading.

The theme of foreshadowing continues through the second reading and the Gospel.

Paul is emphatic when he writes that Jesus will change our lowly bodies to conform with His glorified body—something that could not occur through ritual or magic incantation--but only through Jesus first conforming His body and life to ours by accepting death on the cross; like us in all things but sin.

We were reminded of this last Sunday as the Gospel recounted the tests to which the Evil One subjected Jesus in the desert.

The narrative of the Transfiguration appears in each of the three synoptic Gospels. Unlike most gospel passages it is proclaimed several times during the liturgical year. While there are some relatively minor differences across the three accounts, the main actors and content are consistent.

Jesus’ transfiguration points us towards a mystery and draws us into a mystery. A mystery beyond the reach of historical reconstruction, a mystery incapable of scientific explanation, and a mystery for which there is no geographic specificity. We are told of Jesus appearing in brilliant glory before three of his disciples. “While he was praying his face changed in appearance and his clothing became dazzling white.”

The apostles were confused and frightened. Peter was overwhelmed and began to speak out of anxiety without thinking what he was saying. Despite the fashion for apostle bashing in some academic circles, none of us would have responded any better than the flustered Peter. Most likely, we would have acted worse; doing something such as pulling out an Ancient Near East cell phone to take selfies with Jesus, Moses, and Elijah so we could then text them to the rest of the apostles. As the tension became unbearable the voice of God the Father confirmed that Jesus was who Peter had confessed him to be earlier in this chapter of Luke: the Christ of God, the anointed one, the one for whom the world waited.

God's command, "This is my chosen Son, listen to him" is unmistakably clear. We are to listen to Jesus' teaching in both word and deed. As we listen to Jesus; as we take His teaching to heart, try to live it, and allow it to transform us we move a bit closer to the eschatological glory foreshadowed in the transfigured Jesus.

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Phot of sunset over the Charterhouse of the Transfiguration in Vermont. Given the gospel reading from Luke it seemed to be the only choice. The monastery is at 2600 feet elevation in the Greem Mountains. The summit is at 3600 feet. This was taken at about 3200 feet, the only place from which the Charterhouse is visible.

 

 Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

Temptation Eyes: Homily for the 1st Sunday of Lent

 

Lk 4:1-13

 

“Come let us worship the Lord 

who for our sake endured temptation and suffering.”  

 

Every morning during Lent the liturgy of the hours begins with this antiphon.  It reminds us that Jesus was like us in all things but sin. He knew hunger, thirst, grief, sorrow, and profound fatigue. He knew temptation and suffering which are part of what it means to be human, they are part of the human condition.  Were our lives free of temptation and absent of suffering we would be incapable of experiencing joy.

 

The use of tempted in Luke's gospel presents a challenge for English-speakers.  Many automatically define temptation  as negative, illicit, something we cannot resist, and synonymous with sin. But the Latin, Hebrew, and Greek  roots of the word translated as temptation are neutral.  Those roots include “trying,” “testing,” or “proving.”  Indeed, some versions of the Our Father pray 'do not put us to the test' rather than the more familiar, 'lead us not into temptation.'

 

Unlike Adam, Jesus, the New Adam, was obedient to the Father in all things, even to accepting death on the cross.  Satan offered those temptations when Jesus was hungry from fasting, tired from prayer, and disoriented by the harshness of the desert. 

 

The Evil One tests us when we are in similar states of hunger, fatigue and confusion.  We are tested when disoriented by the unfamiliar geography of the personal deserts in which we find ourselves: newly widowed, diagnosed with a terminal disease, the confusion when abandoned by others.  We confront these temptations when we are dissatisfied with the status quo, when we are frightened or angry, when preoccupied or overwhelmed with things of the world.

 

The challenge to create bread from stones was not simply to relieve hunger.  It was the temptation to arrogant self-sufficiency and illusory freedom.  It was the temptation of taking care of oneself to the exclusion of all else.  That temptation to radical self-sufficiency looms large in our lives in ways that are unique to each of us.  

 

Putting God to the test is an all-time favorite indoor sport.  God is not a divine puppet master  who pulls our strings so as to make us dance.  Nor is he a marionette we can control with long strings of prayer.  God does not "cause" things to happen for the entertainment value  of watching us struggle.  And yet we ask . . .

 

"Why did God give me cancer?"  

"Why is God allowing this or that war?"

"Why did God take my child?"

"Why?  Why?  Why?" 

 

We cannot control God through prayer. “If my prayer isn't answered in the way I demand, I am through with God.”  Those understandings of God are appropriate only to a child. How often do we test God in this way?  How often do we demand that God answer our prayers in very specific ways, according to a highly detailed script of which we hold the only copy?

 

Dostoevsky wrote in  'The Grand Inquisitor' section of The Brothers Karamazov:  “. . . man seeks not so much God as the miraculous.  And as man cannot bear to be without the miraculous, he will create new miracles of his own for himself and will worship deeds of sorcery and witchcraft.”  The late Jesuit Father Stanley Marrow,  accurately observed that, '. . . our appetite for signs is insatiable.  We are forever testing to see if God is still there, to check whether our prayers are getting through.'

 

The Faustian bargain, “Sell your soul."  I will give you great power.” was the final temptation. Power.  Prestige.  Money.  Control.  Being a celebrity, or at least an influencer.  These idols have replaced God in many lives.  The lust for power drives both major political parties in this country and indeed most of the world.   The false idols of power and prestige, money and control have contributed to diminishing the quality of our lives in many dimensions with both parties equally to blame.  

 

Despite the attractive temptations offered him, Jesus freely chose to obey the will of God the Father. In so doing, he made it possible for us to imitate Him in our own exercise of freedom and free will, the gifts that, along with speech, set humans far above all lower animals at a distance that will never be diminished. 

 

Freedom is wildly misunderstood.  It is not a release from restrictions, rules, or responsibility.  This is freedom as understood by a college student away from home for the first time.  Freedom is not the opportunity to choose anything whatsoever, whenever, and to make those choices without consequence or criticism. Dogs, monkeys, and all lower animals have no free will and, as they are driven by instincts, they bear no responsibility for their actions.  Freedom is not the ability to adopt individual or idiosyncratic attitudes toward life or morality.  Human freedom is not the right to decide who shall live and who shall die, at the beginning of life, the end of life, and anywhere in between.

 

Rather than being freedom from, human freedom is freedom for.  It allows us confront the temptations the evil one or the world,  throws in our way.  Free will allows us to say yes or no. It allows us to decide for or against ourselves. It allows us to maintain our integrity or to choose to sabotage it.  Only we can decide for or against God in freedom.  Only we have sufficient understanding to choose to reject sin.

 

In describing her adolescence, St. Edith Stein wrote: "I consciously and deliberately stopped praying so as to rely exclusively on myself; so as to make all decisions about my life in freedom."  Years later, now a Carmelite nun, she described how she had been  released from the self-imposed shackles of atheistic pseudo-freedom to find radical freedom in the science and shadow of the cross.

 

“Come let us worship the Lord 

who for our sake endured temptation and suffering.” 

   

We were reminded on Wednesday "remember your are dust and to dust you shall return." Eventually there will be no memory of us. The men here are buried without a coffin, anonymously with a cross marking the grave but no name, date, or other information.

 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD 

Ash Wednesday

 

Ash Wednesday

Joel 2:12-18

2 Cor 5:20, 6-2

Mt 6:1-6, 16-18

 

Fasting, ashes, and sackcloth have signified sorrow, mourning, penitence, atonement, and humility since the Book of Genesis.  We read in this opening book how, when Jacob was told that Joseph had been killed by a wild animal he "tore his garments, put sackcloth on his loins, and mourned his son for many days."  From Joel we learn how,

when the prophet announced the fate of Nineveh, the people . . . proclaimed a fast  "and all of them, great and small,  put on sackcloth . . . and the king sat in ashes."  Fasting cannot be a goal unto itself.  If undertaken without the desire for interior conversion if our fast is divorced from prayer it is nothing more than Weight Watchers without the points or annoying advice from Oprah.

 

We read in Isaiah:  "This is the fast I desire . . . to unlock the chains of wickedness . . .to let the oppressed go free . . . to share your bread with the hungry . . .  and not to ignore your own kin."  Lent’s fasting, prayer, and alms giving must be accompanied by inner conversion.

 

In his book God or Nothing  Robert Cardinal Sarah of Guinea wrote: "The relief we must bring to the poor and to afflicted people is not just material but spiritual."  He goes on to quote Pope Francis' exhortation Evangelii Gaudium "I want to say, with regret, that the worst discrimination which the poor suffer is the lack of spiritual care."  Proof of that discrimination was obvious in the sins of our public health officials, hospital and nursing home administrators, and the legion of medical amateurs who forced the dying elderly to die alone, terrified, uncomforted by the presence of even one family member at the bedside, and desperate for a human touch. There was no reason for that.  None.

Those sins were shared by bishops who meekly collaborated.

 

We will never know the number of  patients who were deprived of confession, absolution, the Eucharist and perhaps the opportunity to reconcile with the church before death. Hysteria, hyperbole, and health care do not mix well.  Much the same can be said for school closures that damaged many, particularly the poor, irreparably.

 

As was true of the prophets before Him,  Jesus' call to conversion and penance is not to be visible only in outward signs such as ashes, sackcloth, and fasting.  All three are hypocritical when divorced from interior conversion, when they are nothing more than a form of virtue signaling, rather like a drug dealer wearing a large crucifix and he or she peddles wares on the corner. 

 

Lent is not meant to be a season of 'give ups.' It is more important that it be a time for taking on, taking on extra time for prayer, time reading the gospel, or time spent in contemplation.  The time required need not be dramatic.  Ten or fifteen extra minutes

are perfectly adequate in the context of overly busy lives.  Our ability and desire to care for others, our willingness to attend to the needs of others, needs that are both material and spiritual, can only grow from prayer and meditation on scripture. 

 

Before washing your face tonight look at the smudge of ashes on your forehead, no matter how faint it has become. Ask what it means to you.  What does it mean for the next forty days? And then pray the words of the responsorial psalm, the great Miserere.

 

"A clean heart create for me, O God,
and a steadfast spirit renew within me. 

Cast me not out from your presence

and your Holy Spirit take not from me.”

 

Indeed, reciting this short psalm daily for the next forty days would be a good Lenten practice that would yield much fruit, could easily be fit in with a commute

or coffee break and, as a bonus, would allow you to eat chocolate throughout lent, having taken on rather than a ‘give up.’

 

“O Lord, open my lips
and my mouth shall declare your praise."

 

________________________________________________________

Ashes and holy water prepared for distribution.

 

  

 Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

 

 

 

From the Heart: Homily for the 8th Sunday in Ordinary Time

 

Sir 27:4-7

Ps 92

1 Cor 15:53-58

Lk 6:39-45

 

The readings from Sirach and Luke pose the same question, arrive at the same answer,  and offer the same warning. Sirach advises:  "Praise no one before he speaks, for it is then that people are tested."  Luke observes:  " . . . from the heart the mouth speaks."

 

Throughout the book of Sirach the author uses images from daily life and experience as a means of instruction in how to live. Here we are reminded that the results give the measure of the person. Publicity, an air of bravado, and good looks count for little except in the worlds of celebrity and politics.  Instant communication and social media have created treacherous minefields that did not exist in the past.  Today Sirach might write,  "Praise no one before he instagrams"  and Luke might observe that the heart reveals itself in the sound bite.  Remember the advertising campaign, "Friends don't let friends drive drunk?" Excellent advice at all times.  Thus, it was no surprise when the riff on this theme appeared as: Friends don't let friends text drunk. Similarly excellent advice.

 

It is always amusing to watch a celebrity or political figure—to say nothing of a talk-show host—spout off an opinion and then have to retract, grovel, and apologize.  Indeed, the offender oftentimes quotes the gist of Sirach during the apology when whining:  "But that's not who I am."  Perhaps it is.  It is difficult to retract an ill-advised comment in the current cancellation culture dominating the U.S, especially if that comment is misattributed, misquoted, taken out of context, or manipulated to fit an accuser's agenda. 

 

The power of speech is unique to humans.  No lower animal possesses anything approaching speech. True, each species has a repertory of squeaks, squawks, shrieks, growls and other primitive sounds that allow for a type of communication. But only humans have the gift of words that can be combined into sentences and  paragraphs, poetry and prayer, words that can foster peace or precipitate war.  Words that can explain complex scientific principles or ease a grieving soul. 

 

In scripture speech is frequently symbolized by the tongue, the extraordinary organ that gives humans the ability to form words consistently and intelligibly. Both Sirach and Jesus advise control of the tongue, control of what one says and how one says it.

 

Babette's Feast is a 1988 movie that won the Best Foreign Film Oscar. It is a perfect film. It most definitely is not, as one idiot critic described it, a semi-comedic food movie.  It is a profound meditation on the Eucharist and the importance of the Eucharistic banquet in creating community, maintaining that community, and, most critically, healing the rifts that inevitably develop in any community or family. In one scene during the titular feast a woman tells the splintering community:  "The tongue, that strange little muscle, it has accomplished great and glorious deeds for man.  But it's also an unruly evil, full of deadly poison."

 

There is nothing one can add to describe the power of human speech, the effect of what we say, how we say it, and to whom we say it. That strange little muscle, can caress the words of the Our Father, the Hail Mary, and the many prayers that we utter in times of distress and sorrow as well as in times of celebration and joy. That strange little muscle can also destroy another's happiness or ruin a reputation in moments.  We are, and will truly be, known by our words.

 

The psalm assures us: "The just one shall flourish like the palm tree, like a cedar of Lebanon shall he grow. . . They shall bear fruit even in old age; vigorous and sturdy shall they be . . ." Yes, even in old age.

 

We are two more days away from Ash Wednesday. Lent gives us an opportunity to examine our lives, to evaluate our deeds, and to reconsider our words, those things that tell the world what we are, who we are, and how we are. Those things that reveal the stores of goodness in our hearts or allow the evils we harbor there to spill forth.

 

The gospel antiphon gives us all the instruction we need:

"Shine like lights in the world

as you hold on to the word of life."

 

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Last Sunday before Lent begins on Wednesday.  Much to prepare for the Lenten and Easter seasons.  The photos aare not quite as random as they would look, all having been taken during tertianship in Australia from the long retreat, that we were doing around now in 2011 and the short experiment  which, in my case was Warrnambool, Victoria.  Both were important and deeply consoling experiences   

Taken in Sevenhill, South Australia during retreat.  It was an unusually cool (cold) and rainy time.  Toook these at night while standing on the covered porch of the house in which some of stayed.

 The Jesuit IHS logo suspended over the cemetery in Sevenhill. 

The pond I walked by several times per day when going from the house to the retreat house.  The main house wasn't large enough for all. 

The loft and organ in the church in Warrnambool.  Spent three weeks there giving retreats. 

The beach in Warrnambool.  It was a bit of a walk from the church but worth it every time I made it.  

 

 

FrJack, SJ, MD

 

Give, and gifts will be given to you” Homily for the 7^th Sunday Ordinary Time  

1 Sm 26:2, 7-9, 12-13, 22-23

Ps 103

1 Cor 15:45-49

Lk 6:27-38

 

The first reading is instructive. The second one is explanatory.  The gospel is prescriptive.   And the psalm offers consolation in our struggles.

 

The first reading instructs us on the difference between envy and jealousy, words that are oftentimes used interchangeably as if they were synonyms. They are not. The distinction is important.

 

Envy and jealousy are different emotions that drive different behaviors. The behaviors associated with jealousy are potentially more damaging, destructive, and dangerous than the behaviors characteristic of envy, though envy may deteriorate into violent jealousy.

 

Envy means coveting or wanting what someone else has. It can drive positive behaviors or disastrously maladaptive ones depending on the individual and what he or she envies. It can motivate someone to work harder, such as a student who envies a classmates grades  and wants similar ones.  Mulling over the envy may precipitate the realization that less time gaming and more studying may garner the same grades.  However, envy that puts someone into financial distress because "I want the same Mercedes that my neighbor has" or "I gotta' have those granite counter tops like my sister's" is destructive. 

 

Rather than wanting what the other has jealousy is fear, sometimes a delusional fear,  that someone will take what I have from me.  It can drive violent, destructive, and even murderous behavior.  See Shakespeare for elaboration on the theme of jealousy.

 

The story of Saul and David is one of envy that deteriorated into homicidal jealousy on Saul's part. The tragedy began with Saul envying David's popularity and skill.  Saul wanted people to sing his praises the way they sang David's.  With time Saul became obsessed that David would usurp his power. That obsession drove his desire to kill David to prevent that from happening.

 

For his part, David was far from perfect.  He was a man with serious flaws, who sunk to an abysmal low in his affair with Bathsheba.  Like all of us he was a sinner: a sinner who was loved by God and forgiven when he repented. though the penalty for that sin was harsh.  In this particular narrative, however, he showed himself to be virtuous when he refused to kill Saul despite the perfect opportunity to do so. "Today, though the Lord delivered you into my grasp, I would not harm the Lord's anointed.”

 

The politicians of both parties in this country could learn a lot from David.  Envy, jealousy, and their associated behaviors are rampant in the halls of congress and state legislatures, and in just about any other venue one can name. While not rare in Rome that is a homily for another time.

 

Attempted murder is generally frowned upon in the halls of government, at least in the U.S. But character assassination, false accusations, backstabbing, and slander on social media are modern equivalents.  Destroying another's reputation can be as lethal as a spear through the heart.

 

The second reading explains the reason for sinful human behavior in concise terms.

 

Adam, the first man, was from the earth and of the earth.  Thus, Paul wrote: "As was the earthly one, so also are the earthly." We will be reminded of our earthly origins in eleven days as ashes are imposed on our foreheads with the formula, "Recall that thou art dust and to dust thou shalt return."  No getting around that fact. We are from the earth and will return to it in due course.

 

Jesus, the new Adam, was of heaven. In his obedience, he atoned for the sin of Adam the original sin that we carry within us, the sin of arrogance and pride.  Jesus the heavenly man is the image we desire. That image is within our grasp. As Paul wrote, "Just as we have borne the image of the earthly one, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly one."

 

But how can those of the earth bear the image of the one of heaven?  The prescription is given in the gospel. It is not an easy-to-fill prescription, it is definitely not an over-the-counter remedy.

 

Love your enemies . . . .

Bless those who curse you . . .  

Offer unstinting generosity . . .

Do to others as you would have them do unto you . . .

 

Some of the prescriptions are particularly challenging today:

 

Do not judge . . . .

Do not condemn . . .

Forgive and be forgiven . . .

 

The challenges are great and cannot be lived univocally.  When is calling something sin judgmental and when is it necessary to call sin for what it is? When must we forgive? What is unforgiveable?  When is it possible to restore trust?   When must we remain forever untrusting of another?

 

Each of us must struggle to answer these questions for him or herself.  The struggle is eased by the consolations in the psalm: 

 

"He pardons all your iniquities,
heals all your ills.
He redeems your life from destruction,
crowns you with kindness and compassion."

 

True, we must ask for that pardon and healing, ideally through the sacrament of confession.  Ideally, it helps us to amend our lives.  But . . . . pardon, redemption, and healing are there for the asking.

 

“Merciful and gracious is the LORD,
slow to anger and abounding in kindness.
Not according to our sins does he deal with us,
nor does he requite us according to our crimes."

 

In response to this consolation we can only sing with the psalmist to acknowledge that "The Lord is kind and merciful."

 

__________________________________________________

It hit forty in  Boston today triggering thoughts of flowers, and spring, and being "Out In the Country" . . . . great song. 

 

 

 Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

The Foundation: Homily for the 6th Sunday in Ordinary Time

 

Jer 17:5-8

Ps 1

1 Cor 15:12, 16-20

Lk 6:17, 20-26

 

"Happy is the man

who has not followed the counsel of the wicked,

or taken the path of sinners,

but for whom the teaching of the Lord is his delight . . .

 

Not so the wicked;

they are like chaff that wind blows away.

The wicked will not survive judgment

in the assembly of the righteous."

Thus begins the psalter; the Church's ancient prayer book of 150 hymns, that comprise most of the Liturgy of the Hours. The importance of the psalms for the Church's liturgy cannot be overemphasized. There is no time of the day that the psalms are not being recited or chanted, be it in hurried fashion by a busy religious holding a breviary with multi-colored ribbon markers, the monk or nun using with neumes of ancient Gregorian chants in choir in the middle of the night, or, in a modern development, from the backlit screen of an iPad or iPhone while waiting to board at an airport.

The introduction of the responsorial psalm into the Mass was a positive development that allowed for greater familiarity with these hymns.  While the importance of the psalms cannot be overemphasized, it is similarly difficult to overemphasize the importance of this first psalm to the rest of the psalter.

In one of his homilies on Psalm 1, St. Basil the Great indicated that the foundations and structures around things and upon which things are constructed, must be proportionate to their purpose and size.  The foundation of a tall building must be sunk deep into the earth if it is to support the structure's height and weight. The keel of a large merchant ship must be sufficiently large and deep to keep it steady in rough seas.  Thus, the psalms that are so important to the spiritual life of the Church and the individual, must have a firm and deeply anchored starting point.  Sometimes called Beatus Vir, Psalm 1 has been set to music by many composers including Mozart in his exquisite Solemn Vespers of the Confessor.  Beatus vir is that starting point, foundation, and steadying keel of which Basil speaks.  Both the first reading and the gospel rely on it.

Biblical scholars are uncertain about the dating of the psalms. Estimates range from  10^th century BC to 5^th  century BC to as late as the second century BC.  Current opinion is that many of the first 50 came into use before the 59 year exile from Jerusalem  that began in 587 BC and ended in 538.  More important than the specific dating or composer of the psalms is their importance as poetic songs that have transmitted truth for millennia and the responses to them of each individual who prays them.

Unlike Matthew's eight beatitudes, all of which follow the same pattern of consolation "Blessed are they who . .  . . for they will be . . ." Luke enumerates the woes that will befall those who fail to trust in the Lord.   Thus, while the first four statements in what is known as  The Sermon on the Plain begins with the personal "Blessed are you . . . ." the tone changes in the final four statements that begin with, "But woe to you who . . . "

These woes are addressed to those who are rich and satiated, who laugh and are well-thought of.  The woes don't necessarily condemn those who are materially wealthy, happy, have enough to eat, and are renown and respected.  Rather, they stand as a warning to the comfortable of the world whose prosperity and notoriety has turned them away from God and the demands of His covenant.  Those whose love of power, or narcissistic enchantment with their own abilities, drives them to flaunt God's law.

Subtly underlying the woes is the reminder that worldly comfort can change over night. The stock market crash of 1929 set off a ten-year long economic depression from which many never recovered. In our day the 'covid crash' has had similarly catastrophic effects on the lives and well-being of many, particularly those who are, or were not, materially comfortable to begin with.  And the negative impact of unnecessarily closing schools for months will echo for generations to come.  But there was an even more malignant side to the covid crash. That is in the treatment of others.

Were this gospel to continue further, though still be within the Sermon on the Plain,  we would hear Jesus' teaching on love for one's enemies, for the other, for the one whom we interpret as a threat or danger. Alas, U.S. society has taken a tack of persecuting those who do not toe the party line.

I am still at a loss to explain the column that appeared a few years ago on Medscape, a physician's website.  Written by alleged bioethicist Arthur Caplan of NYU the attention-grabbing title was: "It's OK for Docs to Refuse to Treat Unvaccinated Patients." Fortunately, Caplan is just a PhD and not a physician entrusted with the care of patients. While I cannot share my initial response to the column in sacred space without risking a lightening strike, the fallout was swift and sure with over 1000 comments on a website in which 100 comments is an enormous response.  The majority ranged from negative to condemnatory, including one contributor who declared he was discontinuing his subscription. 

Not only is not OK to refuse to treat non-vaccinated patients it is immoral to refuse treatment on that basis, not unlike those passers-by who ignored a brutalized man until a Samaritan happened upon the scene.

Back in the early-80s when AIDS was still a mysterious illness the hue and cry against physicians who refused to treat AIDS patients or those whose lifestyles put them at risk was loud. Apparently things have changed such that it is OK to refuse to treat those with whose decisions we don’t agree.  Of course the usual suspects in Hollywood emerged from the woodwork to pontificate including a suggestion that it is OK to punch the unvaccinated in the face.  These are the ways of the wicked to which the psalmist refers.

We are living through very dark ethical and moral times.  Happy the one who follows not the counsels of the wicked, but rather the way of the Lord   . . . . .even when that way is difficult and perhaps dangerous.  

 

______________________________________________________

 

Photos of a farm in rural Connecticut.  Probably going to look a lot like that tomorrow morning.  I have no idea why the spacing at the top is so bizarre.  Did the usual copy and paste routine but . . . .

 

 

For the 52nd Annual March for Life

24 January 2025 Wednesday was the Day of Prayer for the Protection of Unborn Children. At 1:00 PM today the 52nd annual March for Life will step off in D.C. Fifty-two years of prayerful protest against abortion and, a more recent addition, the intentional killing of the ill elderly. I taught at Georgetown University School of Medicine for ten years. Georgetown is the location for the annual Cardinal O’Connor Conference on Life. That will happen tomorrow January 25. All of these events were, and remain, necessary responses to the U.S. Supreme Court's disastrous Roe vs. Wade decision of January 22, 1973 and society’s enthusiastic embrace of killing the most vulnerable at both ends of the age spectrum. Though now repealed with the lawmaking returned to the states, Roe v. Wade sent American society down a slippery slope of killing the unplanned, the imperfect, the undesirable, and the inconveniently sick and elderly. While initially Roe vs. Wade set a three-month limit during which abortion was considered legal, things have changed. Late-term abortion, i.e. after twenty weeks gestation and for some, up to the point of viability, has been approved in a number of states with legislation pending in others. A column in the Washington Post from February 1, 2019 contained the following startling quote. "This week in Virginia, Delegate Kathy Tran (D-Fairfax) admitted that, yes, her bill would allow a doctor to perform an abortion after the mother had gone into labor—a position that Democratic Gov. Ralph Northam, a pediatric neurologist by training bizarrely (and ineptly) defended in a radio interview." Massachusetts has made multiple attempts to approve what is euphemistically called "assisted dying," so far to no avail. A bill will come up in New York shortly with a similar intent. When did old age, handicap, or terminal illness, become capital offenses demanding a prescribed, planned, and intentional death? In his encyclical Evangelium Vitae, St. John Paul II condemned "therapeutic interventions--which accept life only under certain conditions and reject it when it is affected by any limitation, handicap, or illness." As if to prove John Paul's condemnation, Iceland, through prenatal testing and post-test abortion, has almost eliminated Down Syndrome or Trisomy 21 from its population. John Paul pointed out in his encyclical: "A danger today is the tendency to disguise certain crimes against life in its early or final stages by using innocuous medical terms which distract attention from the fact that what is involved is the right to life of an actual human person." Killing the sick and sick elderly is considerably more accurate than physician prescribed death. Women's Health is a clever term to disguise abortion. While St. John Paul II picked up on the manipulation of language he seems to have missed the severe editing of long standing codes of conductin the world of medicine. Sadly, medical schools shoulder much of the blame. In ancient times Hippocratic physicians, pronounced and lived according to the Oath Attributed to Hippocrates. It was not universally administered nor did all physicians abide by its precepts, thus the designation Hippocratic physicians separated those who took the oath from non-Hippocratic physicians, those who didn’t. The bowdlerized “oath” administered these days is a trite med school graduation exercise performed so that mommy can dab at her eyes and daddy can bust his buttons. The modern versions are unrecognizable when compared to the original. The promises to live ethically and morally, and the promise to revere and respect the onewho taught the young physician the art of medicine, have all been deleted. A new physician no longer swears: "Into whatsoever houses I enter, . . .I will abstain from all intentional wrong-doing and harm, especially from abusing the bodies of man or woman," Today's young doctors do not say: "I will use treatment to help the sick . . . but never with a view to injury and wrong-doing. Neither will I administer a poison to anybody when asked to do so, nor will I suggest such a course . . . . Similarly I will not give to a woman a pessary to cause abortion. But I will keep pure and holy both my life and my art." The Hippocratic oath is thought to have been composed between the third and fifth centuries B.C. suggesting that the sanctity of vulnerable life was more respected by pagans than it is by today's shrill proponents and their fellow travelers. Unfortunately, there will be a 53rd Annual March for Life and probably a 54th and 55th as well. The need for witness will be even greater over the coming years as vulnerable and defenseless human life remains under assault in novel forms such as puberty blockers. We pray in thanksgiving for those who will march in D.C. a bit later today, particularly the legions of young people who traveled from all over the country. We pray for the victims of unnatural executions, the Holy Innocents of today. We pray for the collateral damage to families. The cost is much higher than anyone realizes. We pray for the conversion of heart of abortionists and those who would execute the sick elderly. We pray for their collaborators who administer the anesthesia, prep the patient, and assure the patient that she is doing the absolutely right thing or that grandma’s family is acting in her best interest. Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis. Requiescant in pace.