Was Jesus Christ a Schlep?

Jesus expels the moneychangers from the Temple.

(Fourteenth Sunday of the Year (A): This homily was given on July 9, 2023 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I. by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Zechariah 9:9-10; Psalm 145:1-14; Romans 8:9-13; Matthew 11:25-30.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Fourteenth Sunday 2023]

Was Jesus Christ a schlep?

I hope no one is offended by that question.  I ask it in all seriousness, based on an all-too-common misinterpretation of the word “meek” as it appears in the Bible.  In our first reading—in this famous text from Zechariah 9—we are told that the Messiah will be “meek,” and that he will enter the city of Jerusalem on a donkey.  (This prophecy, of course, was fulfilled on the very first Palm Sunday when Jesus arrived in Jerusalem.)  And then, in this well-known Gospel passage from Matthew 11, Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart.”

So, what exactly does it mean to be “meek?”

Well, I submit to you that most people today think being meek means being a schlep!  Now just in case your Yiddish is a bit rusty, I should mention that a schlep is someone who just plods along clumsily through life—without any initiative, without any assertiveness, without any backbone.

The pop singer Frank Zappa was certainly no prophet, but he did accurately express this misunderstanding of meekness in one of his songs, when he wrote: “Some take the Bible for what it’s worth, when it says that the meek shall inherit the earth; well I heard that some sheik bought New Jersey last week, and you . . . ain’t gettin’ nothing!”—the implication being that “meek” people are wimpy schleps who allow others to take advantage of them.

That’s wrong! 

If that were meekness, my brothers and sisters, then “meek” Jesus would never have driven the money-changers out of the temple or reprimanded the Pharisees!  Clearly Jesus was not a schlep!  Neither was Moses, who tossed the Ten Commandments down Mt. Sinai at Aaron and the Israelites after they had sinned by worshipping the golden calf!  And yet, in the book of Numbers, this same Moses is called “the meekest of men.”

Biblically speaking, meekness is not weakness, it’s strength!  Meekness is the strength to deal with adversity without complaining; meekness is the strength to accept God’s will even when we might not like it or understand it (which can happen quite often!); meekness is the strength to keep our emotions under control when they could easily get out of control—like when we’re driving around Westerly in the summertime!

That’s why Jesus says, “Blessed are the meek!”  If you can deal with adversity without complaining, and accept God’s will even when it’s difficult and you don’t understand it, and keep your emotions in check all the time—even when the summer traffic in our beautiful town is at its worst, then you definitely will be a blessed person!  No doubt about it!

And how can we learn this virtue of meekness?

According to Jesus, we can—and we should—learn it, first and foremost, from him!  As he said to us today, “Learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart.” 

No one of us has faced more adversity than Jesus Christ faced, because no one of us has had to take the sins of the whole world upon himself.  No one of us has been challenged to accept God’s will more than Jesus was challenged, since for him God’s will was the Cross!  And no human being alive today is as “emotionally together” as Jesus was.  For example, consider the very common emotion of anger.  Whenever Jesus Christ got angry, you could be absolutely certain of three things: it was justified, it was not sinful, and it was not excessive.  Would that we could always say that about our anger!

Jesus says here that he wants to give us “rest”—which signifies his peace.  But it’s clear from the text that meekness is a pre-requisite for receiving this peace in its fullness.  It’s not optional.  Consequently our prayer at this Mass should be, “O Lord Jesus, please help me and teach me to be meek, as you were meek—help me to imitate you—so that I might experience a greater measure of your peace in my life. Amen.”   

 

Our Heavenly Father's ‘Dinner Rules’

 

(Corpus Christi 2023 (A): This homily was given on June 11, 2023 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Deuteronomy 8:2-16; Psalm 147:12-20; 1 Corinthians 10:16-17; 11:23-34; John 6:51-58.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Corpus Christi 2023]

"Be on time for supper." 

"When I call you for dinner, stop playing ball with your friends and come home immediately."

"Sit up straight in your chair."

"Don't put your water glass too close to the edge of the table; if you do, you might knock it onto the floor."

"Finish everything on your plate or no dessert."

"You do not leave the table until I or your mother give you permission to leave."

Those, my brothers and sisters, were some of my earthly father's "dinner rules."  They were never written down anywhere, but they were verbally promulgated quite often.  And whenever they were violated by yours' truly or his little sister (as happened on more than one occasion), an appropriate punishment was assigned and administered—immediately!  And, sadly, there was no “court of appeals” in the Suriani household at the time.  In matters such as these, my father was the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court—like it or not.

This morning I'd like to review with you some other dinner rules: the ones given to us by our Father in heaven.  They're given in reference to the meal his Son died to give us, the Holy Eucharist.  And they're given through his Son's mouthpiece on earth, the Church.  I decided to deal with this issue in today's homily for two reasons: first of all, because it's Corpus Christi Sunday; and, secondly, because many of our heavenly Father's children seem to be unclear about some of his dinner rules, even though these are written down for us in Scripture, in Canon Law, and in various other documents.

So here they are . . . (This, by the way, is not an exhaustive list.  These are just some of the more important ones.)

Rule # 1: When we come into the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, we should always genuflect (unless we are physically unable to do so!).  As it says in the document Eucharistiae Sacramentum: "Genuflection on one knee is prescribed before the Blessed Sacrament whether it be reserved in the tabernacle or exposed for public adoration."  We should also genuflect whenever we pass in front of the tabernacle or monstrance.  This is a sign of our recognition that we are in the presence of the King of kings and the Lord of lords. 

Do you genuflect before you enter your pew for Sunday Mass?

Rule # 2: Under ordinary circumstances, Protestants cannot receive the Eucharist in a Catholic Church.  And the corollary here is also true: Catholics cannot receive in a Protestant church—and that includes Christ Episcopal Church down the street!  (I mention Christ Episcopal because I've heard stories over the years about some of our parishioners receiving at funerals and weddings there!) 

Why these restrictions?  Is the Church being mean-spirited?  No, the Church is simply asking us to be honest.  As we heard in our second reading today from 1 Corinthians 10, "Because the loaf of bread is one, we, though many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf."  When we share Eucharist with others we are making a public statement that we are one in faith with them.  That's what Paul is telling us in this text.  But, unfortunately, we are not one in faith with our Protestant brothers and sisters.  Yes, we share some elements of belief in common, that's true; but not enough such that we can come together and partake of "the one loaf."

We’re working toward that unity—and hopefully someday it will be attained.  But we’re not there yet.  And we need to be honest about that.

Rule # 3: As we are told in Canon 919 of the Code of Canon Law: If we want to receive the Eucharist, we must fast for one solid hour from all food and drink (except water and medication).  That includes gum, by the way.  Obviously, if you are sick or unable to fast for a medical reason, then this rule does not apply to you.

Although not chewing gum at Mass does still apply! 

Rule # 4: Under ordinary circumstances, if we have committed a mortal sin we must not receive Communion until we have gone to Confession.  At the risk of offending some, I will now get specific, because when I make a statement like this in a homily, invariably some people will ask me later on: "But Fr. Ray, what sins would fit into that category?"  Well, here are some of the more common ones (I base this on my 37 years of hearing Confessions): missing Mass on a Sunday or Holy Day without good reason; deep hatred for another person (remember St. John in his first letter equates hatred with murder); adultery, fornication, masturbation, homosexual activity, artificial contraception, sterilization—and procedures like IVF. 

And, of course, if a person is involved in an invalid marriage, he or she must not receive until after the marriage is validated.  Now if that is your situation, please do not despair or get angry; simply make plans to see a priest or deacon, to discuss what needs to be done to straighten the matter out.

We deal with these situations all the time.

"Fr. Ray, these are very radical ideas."  No, they're not.  In fact, almost all of them can be found in most Catholic missals—including the ones here at St. Pius (on page 319 to be exact). There you will find the official guidelines for receiving Communion given to us by the Catholic bishops of our country.  And please notice what they say about those who are unable to receive the Eucharist for one reason or another.  This is important, and can be a source of some consolation.  They say, "All who are not receiving Holy Communion are encouraged to express in their hearts a prayerful desire for unity with the Lord Jesus and with one another."  In other words, they are encouraged to ask Jesus into their hearts so they can have a "spiritual communion" with him.  They cannot receive him eucharistically, but they can (if they choose) receive the Lord in another way.  Everyone had to do that, you will recall, during the pandemic, when churches were closed.  Here at St. Pius we also encourage those not receiving Communion to come up to the priest or deacon with their arms crossed over their chest in order to receive a blessing.  (But please keep in mind, this last one is a local dinner rule.  This type of blessing is not mandated by the Church, so it's not offered everywhere—although it is in most places nowadays.)

Finally, a few quick rules on receiving:

Number 1: When we approach the altar, we should do so with reverence.  I suggest folding your hands in this fashion; unless, of course, you have a bambino in your arms.  In that case, please do not fold your hands and drop your baby!  (Common sense should be your guide here.)

Number 2: Our focus should be on Whom we are about to receive, not on those who have already received—or on anything else, for that matter.  We should be preparing for our encounter with the King of kings and the Lord of lords!

Number 3: Before we receive we are supposed to make an act of reverence.  Here’s what it says in the General Instruction to the Roman Missal: “When receiving Holy Communion, the communicant bows his or her head before the Sacrament as a gesture of reverence and receives the Body of the Lord from the minister.”  (GIRM 160) 

Number 4: If we choose to receive in the hand, we should make a "throne" for the Lord in this fashion.  (No “coin slots” or “slides” or picking the host out of the priest’s hand, please!)

Number 5: When the priest or deacon or extraordinary minister says, "The Body of Christ," we are to say, "Amen."  Not "Thank you."  Not "Have a nice day, Father"—or anything else.  Nor are we to do an impression of a mime, and say nothing at all! 

Number 6: If we receive in the hand, we are to take one step to the side and consume the Eucharist right there at the foot of the sanctuary.  We are not to take Communion back to our pew—or home to our sick relatives.  If someone at home is unable to come to Mass and wants to receive, let us know.  We have extraordinary ministers who take Communion to the sick of our parish every weekend.

Now I must admit something to you: In all honesty, when I was growing up, I didn't always like my earthly father's dinner rules.  At times they seemed unreasonable, arbitrary, and just plain unfair!  But looking back on it now, I realize he was right.  My father wanted our suppers to be pleasant experiences for everyone in the family.  And his rules—when they were actually followed by my sister and me—helped to make it happen.  Our heavenly Father's dinner rules are given for a similar purpose: so that the Eucharistic banquet which we celebrate here will be a spiritually profitable experience for everybody involved.  May our observance of these rules help to make that happen.

Every Sunday.

 

The First Outpouring of the Holy Spirit: for Forgiveness

 

(Pentecost 2023 (A): This homily was given on May 28, 2023 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Acts 2:1-11; Psalm 104:1,24,29-30,31,34; 1 Corinthians 12:3-13; John 20:19-23.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Pentecost 2023]

I’m sure that many of you remember the great comedian, Red Skelton.  He performed back in the days when most comics didn’t feel the need to use 4-letter words in their comedy routines.

 

Ah, the good old days.

 

I read an interesting story about Red a few years ago.  It seems that, one day back in 1951, he was on a plane that was headed to Europe, where he was scheduled to perform in a show.  But on the way, as the plane was flying over the Swiss Alps, three of its engines failed and the plane began to go down.  The situation looked rather bleak (to put it mildly!), and many of the passengers quite naturally began to pray.  As for Red Skelton, he responded to the situation by doing what he did best: he went into a comedy routine—to try to distract the passengers from the impending disaster.  He was like the orchestra on the Titanic that played music as the ship slowly sank into the North Atlantic.

 

Well, thankfully, at the last moment, the pilot spotted a large field between two of the mountains there in the Alps, and he was able to land the plane safely in that field.

 

When the ordeal was finally over, Red stood up and—in typical Red Skelton style—said, “Now, ladies and gentlemen, you may return to all the evil habits you gave up twenty minutes ago.”

 

Which brings us to this morning’s gospel reading from John, chapter 20.  Today, as I mentioned at the beginning of Mass, we celebrate the feast of Pentecost, which was the event we heard about in our first reading from Acts, chapter 2.  This was the moment when the promise Jesus had made to his Apostles at the Last Supper was completely fulfilled.  This was the moment of the first Confirmation, when the Holy Spirit descended on these men and gave them power—new power: the power to live the truth of the Gospel, and speak the truth of the Gospel, and defend the truth of the Gospel.  This was the moment when they received gifts—the spiritual gifts they would need to carry out the mission Jesus had given them to convert the world: first and foremost, the gifts of faith, hope and charity; but also the seven gifts mentioned in Isaiah 11 (wisdom, understanding, knowledge, etc.); as well as the charismatic gifts like tongues, prophecy and healing.

 

The Spirit empowered them through this spectacular event, and they were transformed.  Suddenly they were no longer afraid of their own shadows.  Suddenly they were not intimidated by the godless culture they were living in.  Instead, they made the decision to use the gifts the Spirit gave to them that day, and change their culture in a positive way from within—which is exactly what we’re supposed to do in our culture today with the anointing we receive at our Confirmation. 

 

But it’s not magic!  Notice, I said that the Apostles made the decision to use the gifts of the Spirit to work for positive change.  The fact is, you can receive the gifts of the Spirit at Confirmation (as many of our young people do today) and do absolutely nothing positive with those graces.  In that case, you most certainly will be intimidated by the culture we’re currently living in, and eventually overpowered by it.  This, unfortunately, happens more often than not these days.  If you need some proof, just get hold of some statistics on how many confirmed Catholic young people support things like abortion and transgenderism and so-called gay marriage.

 

At this point, I’ll bet it’s way over 50%.

 

But as important as it is to receive—and use—the gifts of the Holy Spirit in our lives, there is something even more basic that the Spirit brings to us, which is why Jesus didn’t wait until Pentecost to begin pouring out the Spirit on his first priests.  As we heard in today’s gospel, Jesus first sent the Spirit to his Apostles way back on Easter Sunday (a full fifty days before Pentecost).

 

Why?

 

So that they could forgive sins in his name!

 

The Spirit was given first so that sins could be forgiven—which should make perfect sense to us because, if a person is steeped in sin, any spiritual gifts he may have won’t matter. 

 

They won’t matter at all.

 

Forgiveness is primary—and necessary.  This is something, by the way, that Red Skelton definitely understood.  It’s why he said what he said on that plane back in 1951.  Red knew that when the passengers on that aircraft thought they were about to die, most of them were not especially interested in how much wisdom and knowledge they possessed, or whether they could pray in tongues or not.  What they were most concerned with at that decisive (and scary) moment was where they stood before God!  And it was that concern which led them to want to give up what Red called their “evil habits”—that is to say, the sins they had committed but had not yet repented of.

 

Red knew.

 

“[Jesus] breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.  Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.’”

 

This is where priests get the power to forgive sins in the sacrament of Reconciliation.

 

And so, if you want to determine how active the Holy Spirit is in your life at any given time, the first question you should ask yourself is not, “What spiritual gifts do I have?”  No, no, no.  The very first question you should ask yourself is, “How repentant am I—how repentant am I for my sins—and how often do I express my repentance humbly and sincerely and honestly by bringing those sins to Jesus in the confessional?

 

It’s my simple prayer today that in the future the Holy Spirit will be very, very active both in your life and in mine.

 

Love and Obedience

"St. Augustine" by Caravaggio

(Sixth Sunday of Easter (A): This homily was given on May 14, 2023, at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani.  Read Acts 8:5-17; Psalm 66:1-20; 1 Peter 3:15-18; John 14:15-21.)

[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Sixth Sunday of Easter 2023]

My homily today is entitled, “Love and Obedience.”

In the minds of many people these days, those are two ideas that definitely don’t go together, spiritually speaking.  And this is true even for many Christians!  They say they love God (and I presume most are sincere in making that assertion), but they also believe that obedience to his commandments is optional (here I include the Ten Commandments, as well as the other commandments that Jesus gives us in Scripture and through his Church—like the commandment to love your enemies).

But Jesus never said these laws were optional!  Quite oppositely, our Lord made a direct connection between love and obedience on many occasions.  He did it twice in today’s gospel.  He began by saying, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.”  Then later on he added, “Whoever has my commandments and observes them is the one who loves me.”

This is a fitting gospel, incidentally, for Mother’s Day.  When I was young I remember that when I asked my mom what she wanted for her birthday or Christmas or Mother’s Day, she’d almost always give me the same answer.  She’d say, “I don’t want anything material.  Just be nice to your sister.  Just obey me when I ask you to do things.  That’s all I want.  That’s what will make me happy.  That will show me that you love me.”

To which I would typically respond, “Aw ma, come on.  Be serious.”

But she was being serious!

In the Christian life, obedience is supposed to flow from love; it’s supposed to be rooted in love: the love of a Person (a divine Person) whose name is Jesus Christ.

To the extent that that’s the case—to the extent that our obedience is rooted in love, it will actually be easy; to the extent that our obedience rooted in obligation or something else, it will be difficult.

Bishop Sheen had a great way of illustrating this.  He said, “There isn’t a driver [among us] who hasn’t broken the law against speeding.  [But] did you ever lean over your steering wheel and say an act of contrition [afterward]?  Nobody is really sorry for breaking a law, unless he gets caught.”

Sheen was right.  Keeping a commandment for the sake of keeping a commandment doesn’t provide much motivation for doing what’s right, whereas keeping a commandment out of love for another person does provide that incentive.

Love for God will motivate us to obey him; and it will lead us to repent when we don’t obey him—because we will be conscious of having hurt someone we love. 

Let me change Bishop Sheen’s example just a bit to illustrate this point.  Imagine that you broke the speed limit law one day, drove recklessly and nearly got into a serious accident—with your two little children in the back seat of the car.

In that case, would you say an act of contrition afterward for travelling so fast?

You should!  In fact, I would say that you should probably bring that sin to confession.

In any event, you’d be far more likely to realize you broke a law and to repent in a situation like that, simply because what you did directly affected two people whom you dearly love.

So, if you’re having difficulty obeying one or more of God’s commandments, ask the Lord to fill your heart with love for him.  I do that all the time, in the midst of my own sins—because I know if I love God more I will obey him more (and sin less!).

Here we can all take a lesson from Augustine and his experience back in the 4^th century.  Most of us know the basic outline of his story. …

For his first three decades on earth Augustine lived a lifestyle that would have made Hugh Hefner, the founder of Playboy magazine, proud.  That is to say, for his first three decades on earth Augustine lived the life of a hedonist.  His constant prayer was, “Lord, make me chaste—but not now!”  Yes, he believed in God, but for him, God was “out there.”  For him the Lord was an abstraction to be discussed in a philosophical debate—and God’s commandments were simply a bunch of arbitrary rules that threatened the lifestyle he had chosen to embrace.  Well, finally, thanks in large part to his mother Monica’s faithful prayers, Augustine had an experience of God’s love through the Sacred Scriptures. 

It happened one day when he was in the city of Milan with a friend, trying to make sense of his messed-up life. As is the case for most hedonists, Augustine’s years of debauchery had left him empty and confused and on the verge of despair.   Well, at one point he heard a child off in the distance singing a song that he had never heard before.  One of the lines in the song really struck him: “Pick it up and read it.  Pick it up and read it.”  He thought that maybe God was trying to speak to him at that moment, and so he found a copy of the Bible and picked it up, making the decision to read the very first passage his eyes fell upon.  That turned out to be the text from Romans 13 where St. Paul says, “Not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual excess and lust, not in quarreling and jealousy.  Rather, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the desires of the flesh.”

At that moment, God reached out to Augustine with his love and mercy—and Augustine knew it!  That proved to be the turning point in his life.

Many years later, reflecting back on his three decades of sin and his subsequent conversion, Augustine wrote this prayer to God—the God he had clearly fallen in love with:

Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would not have been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.

It is not a coincidence, my brothers and sisters, that Augustine changed his life in a radically positive way.

He was touched by the love of God; he began to love God in return—and in response to the love he experienced from God, he was also motivated to obey.  And he obeyed so well, that he eventually became a saint.

It’s my prayer today that we will all follow that very same pattern in our lives.