Homily for the Feast of St. Ignatius of Loyol

The Memorial of St. Ignatius of Loyola, confronts a Jesuit homilist with the temptation to ramble on and on about one of the most fascinating men in history along with the need to be reasonably brief.  We are blessed with good documentation about Ignatius and his life. The short autobiography that Ignatius reluctantly dictated covers eighteen years of his life. It begins with the leg wound suffered at the Battle of Pamplona that precipitated his religious conversion from arrogant soldier and bon vivant to founder of a religious order of men.  The autobiography ends in 1539, the year before the official foundation of the Society of Jesus.  

One can learn much about Ignatius: man, mystic, and founder of a religious order, from the slim autobiography.  One learns even more from his 7000 or so letters.  They remain relevant.  

It is fortunate Ignatius died 1555.  He would not have survived today's politically correct scythe that cuts down both the good wheat and the weeds only to toss both into the flame, or, in worst case scenarios, keeping the weeds and destroying the wheat.  

We are living in a time when the perceived sins of one's youth, or even last week, are enthusiastically unearthed and held against many men and women as evidence of their unfitness to exist.  The situation is analogous to a social abortion.  In what has come to be called "Cancellation Culture" we are seeing  the destruction of statues, demands for public mea culpas, with the renaming of buildings, parks, and, even football teams.  

Recently the great American Catholic writer Flannery O'Connor was the victim of cancellation culture when Loyola University of Baltimore removed her name from a dormitory because of absurd  and illegitimate charges of "racism."  Loyola "cancelled" O'Connor because, according to the university president, “Information coming forward recently. . . has revealed that some of her personal writings reflected a racist perspective.” He went on, a “residence hall must be a home and a haven for those who live there, and its name should reflect Loyola’s Jesuit values.”  (Note:  O'Connor's collected letters were published in 1988.  No one would call any supposed revelations from her letter recent thirty-two years after the fact. I've read the collection twice.  It was a great consolation to learn that she couldn't spell and was aware of it.  The editor did not correct the sometimes hilarious spelling errors.  James Agee was another wretched speller.)

Whether a dangerous miasma seeps into a hall because of its name and affects the students who live there is another homily.  However, I can't shake the sense that Loyola is frightened of criticism from those who are driving this "cancellation culture" a culture that frighteningly resembles the Russian gulag or China's red guard.  Loyola of Baltimore caved in most cowardly fashion. 

Ignatius had this to say about acting out of fear for one's safety in a letter "On Confessors" to one of his men who felt it was unseemly and unsafe for him to be the confessor to the king (Letter shortened and edited without change of meaning).   "If all we looked for . . . was to walk safely, (placing) the good of souls second to keeping far from danger, we would have no business living and dealing with our neighbor.  But it is our vocation to have dealings with all people. . . .  If we proceed with a pure and upright intention, not seeking our own interests but those of Jesus Christ, he himself . . .  will protect us.  Indeed, unless his mighty hand (holds) our profession fast, no avoidance of . . dangers would (help) to keep us from falling into them and worse." (Letter to Diego Miró 1 Feb 1533)

It is always dangerous to sell one's soul to the highest bidder, in this case the howling mobs demanding the disappearance of those deemed--correctly or incorrectly--racist, sexist, or, God-forbid, not in-line with the agenda of those who scream the loudest, who, if they don't get what they want, destroy indiscriminately. 

In its desperation to appear 'woke' a university has placed itself in grave danger.  

Ignatius would not have approved.  

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The Statue of Ignatius in the Sanctuary of Loyola in Loyola, Spain.  Could never have captured this photo without a telephoto lens.  There are details visible in the photo that cannot be appreciated when looking up from the ground.

 +Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

Homily for the 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Rom 8:26-27

Mt 13:24-43

The first reading from Romans brought to mind a quote from St. Bonaventure that I cited in the homily for his recent memorial.  I edited it so as to include only the prescriptions and ignore the opposing proscriptions: “seek the answer in God’s grace . . . in the longing of will . . .  in the sighs of prayer  . . . seek God . . . and not man . . . .”  

"In the sighs of prayer."

Sometimes it is impossible to describe or understand prayer in any language.  At times prayer is a mystery of inexpressible groans as described in Paul's letter, or it is the prayer poetically described by St. John of the Cross when he wrote:

"En una noche obscura

con ansias en amores imflamada . . ." 

"Once in the dark of night, 

inflamed with love and yearning,  . . ." 

Those inexpressible groanings and yearnings define the contemplative side of our lives, a side  that may be more or less prominent depending on the mode of life and its demands.  

Today's gospel picks up at the end of last Sunday's, continuing  a series of parables that will come to an end with next week. The parables are a critical component of the New Testament. They instruct in a particular and always memorable way in part because they are easy to recall.  Medical students oftentimes find that they learn more from, and have better memory for, case studies than for the frequently anesthetic-like prose of textbooks.  In his parables, Jesus presents us with short case studies that we have to think through, explore, and enter into so as to understand them.  My physician dad, who died 46 years ago this past Wednesday repeatedly emphasized beginning the moment I got accepted at Temple, the habit of reading the weekly case studies in the New England Journal of Medicine, a habit I continue today.

Some of Jesus' parables have become parts of everyday English:  the Prodigal Son, the Good Samaritan, and the lost sheep to name a few.  They are treasures of our faith. 

Jesus continues to use images of seeds in the parables today.  First he tells of good seed that was contaminated with weeds by an enemy.  Then follows the short parable of the mustard seed that is haiku-like in its simplicity. As was true last Sunday the gospel passage ends with Jesus explaining the meaning of the parable to his uncomprehending apostles after the crowds were sent away.  

The evil one has been sowing his seeds since the beginning when Cain murdered Able out of jealousy. Obviously, the situation has continued to deteriorate until today. The nature of the sins may have changed but the underlying motivations of pride, lust, greed, and all the other named sins, have not changed.  Humanity is quite creative in coming up with new responses to the temptations of the evil one, and modes of responding to his urgings, whether the name be the devil, Satan, Mephistopheles, Lucifer, or any of the others used to describe the sower of evil thoughts, wicked desires, and sinful actions.  

Today that creativity is reflected in what advertising executives call "rebranding," a technique of renaming something for any number of reasons including dissociating it from a dark history or failure  Thus abortion has been rebranded women's health while killing the sick elderly in their beds has been rebranded physician prescribed death.

Jesus explained the parable of the weeds and wheat after the crowds departed. Oddly, the apostles did not ask about the parable of the mustard seed.  There are two possible explanations for that:  they either got the point of the parable without explanation or they were so distracted by the first parable they didn't pay attention to the second.  I'll go with curtain number two.  

The parable of the mustard seed is fascinating. Using very few words it describes how the tiny seed of faith sown in us at  conception and blossoming at birth, can flourish into a very large bush.  As any gardener knows, plants must be nurtured to at least a minimal degree. Faith must also be nurtured, attended to, and cared for if it is to increase.  

The amount of care and attention we give to our faith through prayer, meditation, and the sacraments, will determine whether the faith  we do have will increase thirty or a hundred fold, or whether it will wither and fade.  

The choice is up to us

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Boston being hit by a few days of over-90s heat.  Mostly staying in.  There was a time when I would run in this kind of weather, particularly after the sun had set.  Those days are long gone but fondly remembered.  The photos below are from the Vermont mountains.   I lived further north in Hartland for four years on a small mountain road overlooking the valley and the Connecticut River.  Had no a/c but only needed to sleep in the finished basement perhaps twice each summer.  It was a good time of life.   

Looking more or less east over Arlington, VT.

 Looking west toward NY State.  Arlington and Sandgate are on the NY-VT border

A dip in a cool pond on a day such as today is going to be?  Not  bad idea. 

Early autumn rather than mid-summer.  The first layer of ice generally appears here well before Christmas. 

+Fr. Jack, SJ, MDa

15th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Is 55:10-11

Ps 65

Rom 8:18-25

Mt 13:1-23

It is important to remember that both the Old and New Testaments were written in a particular time and place.   They reflect a specific social structure and describe a unique model of governance and law. 

One of the challenges today is to put the teaching of the scripture into a modern context so as to understand how particular examples and mandates apply to us now in the 21^st century.  Some of the images and examples may not resonate with us whereas others still work fairly well.   Because of the geographic and social setting of the scripture images of agriculture recur throughout.  These images of sheep, cattle, and grain, to say nothing of vineyards and wine, are common in the US though not necessarily in Boston where wine comes from the store, lamb and beef and shrink wrapped, and furrows are seen on the brow rather than the field.  For the most part, however, we can relate to the images in Jesus' teaching. 

The first reading, the psalm and the gospel all contain images of grain, seed, rain, and soil.  There is quite a bit to consider. The gospel from Matthew had a shorter option limited to the first nine verses of chapter 13 rather than the first 23 verses.  The longer version is a complete self-explanatory unit. The parable begins in the first nine verses and is explained in the last eight verses, with some exhortation to the apostles in the middle verses.   

This particular parable is oftentimes referred to as the parable of the sower.  It is the wrong title.  This parable has nothing to do with the sower or the seed.  It has everything to do with the soil into which the seed is sown.  The sower is merely the means of getting the seed to the ground. Recall that the seed is good seed that could take root anywhere.  

A parable always points to something more than its story.  When we hear one of Jesus’ parables we must always ask ourselves, as did the apostles at the end of this narrative,  what is below the surface, what does it mean?  The story of a parable is generally simple; the meaning, however, is deeper and more complex.  That is the great gift of Jesus' parables, we can return to them again and again, and find something new each time.  We can meditate on them repeatedly and never exhaust the possibilities.   

The parable about the soils where the seed falls is a parable about us.  It is a parable about us who are here to receive the Living Word of God in the readings and the True Body and Blood of Christ in the sacrament of the altar.  

The Word of God is the seed, we are the soil.  What kind of soil are we?  Are we willing to receive the word?  Are we going to let it take root in us?  Will we start off strong and fade in the end or will the Word of God take root in us and produce a yield up to a hundred times? It isn’t always easy.  When he explains the parable to the apostles Jesus gives three reasons that some reject the Word of God.

The activity of the evil one.

Personal shallowness.

Worldly concerns and the desire for wealth.  

We confront each of these  challenges to accepting the Word of God daily.  

Like us, Jesus knew temptation from the evil one.  Unlike us Jesus never acted on the temptation.  He never “took the bait” of food, power, or glory.  Jesus, fully Divine and fully human, was like us in all things but sin.  He is our model of obedience to the will and law of God. 

Personal shallowness is a different way of rejecting God’s Word.  It is represented by the seed that springs up and then withers with the sun.  That is us when we enthusiastically embrace the Word of God, and nurture the seed . . .  until something happens.  It could be a natural disaster, a personal crisis, a loss you name it.  Today one has to add the disruptions of covid to the list. 

As soon as things don’t go our way we decide God is not worth bothering with.  The childish response, “I could never believe a God who let something like this happen” is no different than the child who shrieks I hate you at his or her parents when the highly desired and expensive video game, or the pony, or some other tchotchke is not among the birthday presents. 

The crop that is choked out by weeds of worldly concern brings to mind a popular bumper sticker that never fails to depress me when I see it.  “He who has the most toys when he dies . . .  wins.”

Exactly what he wins is never spelled out. 

Accumulating material possessions in competitive fashion, having more, bigger, faster; more luxurious, more exclusive, more prestigious, distracts us from living.  Financial success or having nice things is not a sin.  A flashy car or a large house is not inherently sinful.  However, when obtaining these things to the exclusion of everything and everyone else becomes the dominant factor of our lives, we allow the Word to be choked by those distractions.  

The seed that the sower has spread is of the finest quality.  The rains have been plentiful.  As we heard in the psalm: “You care for the earth, give it water, you fill it with riches. Your river in heaven brims over to provide its grain.”

The only question is about the quality of soil we are 

and how we will receive the Word or God. 

___________________________________________

Meant to post on Sunday but time was getting very tight to get to Mass.  And then I crashed.     The photos below are all from Cohasset, MA where I'd been giving a small retreat, taken in at sunrise two different mornings.  The BC Bellarmine Conference Center is a true gem and, because it is on the highest point around the harbor, has exquisite views.

The white deck leads to a not-inexpensive boat moored at the end. 

Down at the entrance to the conference center that adjoins the Cohasset Yacht Club.

A lighthouse far out at the end of the harbor.  I'd just remembered a 70-300 telephoto lens I've had for years but haven't put on the camera in at least a year.  Won't make that mistake again.  Very misty morning that cleared a few hours after this shot.  

The lens noted above has some challenges built it.  It does not focus quickly or, at least some of the time, accurately, when set to autofocus.  I was trying to shoot a boat going out fishing at about 6 AM.  The light was low and the camera was working hard to focus.  I like the effect and may try to intentionally recreate it at some point soon.

Our Lady Queen of the Harbor.  The statue is about four feet tall and is anchored into a rock in a way that it can never blow over.

Mary's view.  There is a period about 20 minutes before sunrise and 20 minutes after sunset called the blue hour when the rays of the sun, through the magic of physics, create a blue cast.  That is oftentimes enhanced by the sensors on a camera.

Shooting from the boathouse on the property.  No boats.  In theory there is a kayak somewhere.  I do not need to know where.

Another boat heading out early in the AM. 

+Fr. Jack, SJ,MD

14th Sunday Ordinary Time

Homily for the 14^th Sunday in Ordinary Time  

Zech 9:9-10

Ps 145

Rom 8:9, 11-13

Mt: 11-25-30

The first reading and the Gospel are related theologically and united musically.  

Both readings describe a peaceful Messiah and the peace he brings.  Verses from both readings are sung in the first part of Georg Friederich Handel’s Messiah, a work of music that will never be surpassed.    

The soprano air “Rejoice greatly Oh daughter of Zion”  comes directly from Zechariah's prophecy.  

"Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; 

shout, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Behold, thy King cometh unto thee; 

He is the righteous Saviour, 

and He shall speak peace unto the heathen."

Jesus did speak peace unto the heathen.  He continues to speak that peace unto the heathen, unto us, but too often, we are deaf to the sound of His words and ignore His message.

After a short recitative we hear the last three verses of Matthew's Gospel as two distinct segments bringing the first part of Messiah to a close.  

"Come unto Him, all ye that labour, 

come unto Him that are heavy laden, 

and He will give you rest.
Take his yoke upon you, and learn of Him, 

for He is meek and lowly of heart,

and ye shall find rest unto your souls."  

This comprises the second half of the aria, "He Shall Feed His Flock"

The exquisite music for this well-known aria resembles a lullaby. It enhances the comforting message of peace, particularly peace for oneself, that Jesus brings to the midst of chaos and horror, even the chaos and horror we are living through today. 

The first of the three parts of Messiah concludes in a joyful fugue: 

"His yoke is easy and His burden is light,"

A yoke joins a team of working animals. It lightens the burden on each one  through the sharing of its weight. It does so by distributing the weight more evenly. Taking Jesus' yoke upon our own shoulders both teaches us and lightens a burden that would crush us were we to try to carry it on our own.  Jesus' yoke relieves us of carrying the load of grief, sorrow, fear, anger, and uncertainty, that has affected so many in these days of illness and social violence and threat.  

One does not have to be a musicologist to respond viscerally to Handel's Messiah.  Nor does one have to be a biblical scholar to see the relationship between Zechariah’s prophetic image of Jerusalem’s king riding “on a colt, the foal of an ass” and Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem. As described in Zechariah the king’s entry into Jerusalem is both triumphant and peaceful; two words that rarely appear in the same sentence.  Think about the symbolism of a king astride a donkey. 

A donkey is useless in war.  If the king of the first reading entered Jerusalem riding a horse, or if Jesus entered Jerusalem on a horse, the image would have been one of power, majesty, and even aggression rather than one of peace.  Recall that Jesus instructed his disciples to bring a donkey not a horse, as he prepared to enter Jerusalem where his redemptive mission would reach its apogee.   His message was one of humbleness rather than one of aggression or might.  Words were not necessary to convey it. 

If you have a recording of Messiah listen to it today, or at least to part one.  If you don't have a recording there are multiple full-length versions on You Tube.  Simply type the desired verse from Zechariah or Matthew into the You Tube finder and multiple options will pop up. I checked. 

Pay attention to the verses from today’s readings.  When you hear  “Come unto him, all ye who labor. . . .”  recall that Jesus offered an invitation to those outside the circle of disciples.  It is an invitation to come to him so as to find rest, comfort, and safety.  Jesus offers us, who are here together, the same invitation.  It is an invitation that never expires. 

The psalm explained everything:  "The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and of great kindness. The Lord is good to all and compassionate toward all his works."  It is God’s mercy and kindness that makes His yoke easy and His burden light.  

Handel’s Messiah is magnificent.  The words and music exist in perfect unity.  From the opening, “Comfort ye, my people”  to the overwhelming  "Amen" that ends the oratorio, we are reminded of what Jesus did for us.  

Is there any reason not to accept the invitation to take his yoke upon our own shoulders?   

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The photos are of Maribor, Slovenia, the second largest city that has a population of close to 97,000.  I didn't get to spend as much time there as I had hoped I would but did have two glorious days wandering alone with the camera.  I'd be very happy to be stationed there. 

The bridge over the Drava River.  To the left is the center of town to the right was a Jesuit residential college for students.  Alas, the building was sold to the hospital next door.  Pity.  

Cafe was just down the street from the college.  I took this very early in the AM.  

The church here is rather far away.  Was using a very long lens. 

Housing in the center is quite dense and compact. 

A small sidewalk cafe.  Slovenians are hardy people.  The table is set for dining outside.  The photo was taken in late January.  It was not warm. 

Same cafe as above.  The three women were talking and then split to walk alone in separate directions.  The only other country besides Slovenia in which I feel safe alone, after dark, with expensive camera equipment is Taiwan.

People dining outdoors in winter coats.  Some photos demand being shown in black and white rather than color.  This is especially true of street scenes at night, especially now as some of the lighting causes very odd colors in digital photos. 

+Fr. Jack, SJ, MD