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Unwashed Hands, Unwashed Hair

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One Christmas holiday several years ago, my oldest niece, a college student at the time, brought her boyfriend home to meet my parents, her grandparents. The first morning of their visit, Mark came to the breakfast table with a Kansas State ballcap on his head. He hadn’t had time to take a shower before breakfast and was embarrassed to be seen with “bed head.” Unfortunately, my niece had neglected to tell Mark one of the longstanding rules of my childhood home: No ballcaps in the house, and certainly not at the table.

As we all sat down for breakfast, my father looked over at Mark and said, “No ballcaps at the table.” (And it wasn’t because my father was a KU fan and not a K-State fan!) Mark started to explain that he hadn’t washed his hair when my father interrupted him: “Mark, if you want to be a member of this family, then you will follow our rules.” Mark took off his hat, patted his hair down as best he could, and 27 years and four daughters later, he and my niece are happily married with family rules of their own.

The scribes and Pharisees are enforcers of the law, even though it’s virtually lifeless and stifles true religious devotion and worship. When they see Jesus and his disciples eating without washing their hands they don’t see anything besides a so-called religious law being broken. They don’t see anything but their power and authority being questioned.

My father’s “no ballcap rule” was intended to instill respect. It was meant to sanctify the family meal and our participation in it. It all comes down to the value and need of tradition, which is life-giving vs. mindless obedience to laws, which distance people from God and the faith.

Honoring a well-thought-out rule teaches us obedience. We learn to humbly accept what is being passed on to us so that we may be members of a family…God’s family.

Father Tim S. Hickey is a priest of the Archdiocese of Hartford currently serving as a mission priest in the Catholic Diocese of Dodge City, in his native Kansas. He is pastor of three parishes in rural Western Kansas.

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Satisfaction

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Whether the soundtrack of your life spins the Rolling Stones’ classic “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” or Devo’s more agitated version of the song some 15 years later, one thing is clear: If we place our hope and trust in anything or anyone other than Jesus Christ, we’ll never know true satisfaction, peace or contentment.

In today’s Gospel (Mark 6:45-52), the Evangelist describes the aftermath of Jesus’ miraculous feeding of the 5,000. He says that after they had eaten, they “were satisfied.” But were they really? Their stomachs may have been full, but as we all know, hunger will kick in in a few hours. We’ll need more fish and bread, more channel surfing, more Internet searching, more restless pursuits.

But what can we feed on to find true satisfaction? Consider: The 5,000 had just heard Jesus’ preaching. Wouldn’t that be enough for us and them to chew on for a while? They had just seen Jesus transform five loaves and two fish into enough to feed them, with some left over. Wouldn’t that miracle, and all the miracles since then, be enough to fill our speculation and theirs that maybe the man who had just fed them was more than an itinerant rabbi?

And what about us? Mark’s Gospel continues with Jesus leaving the scene and heading off by himself to pray. At his command, the disciples leave, too, and are soon spotted by our Lord trapped in a storm at sea. When Jesus comes to their rescue, walking toward them on the stormy sea, they think he’s a ghost and cry out. He climbs into their boat and all is calm. In other words, he enters our life we are satisfied. We want to hear what Jesus has to say to us. We want to pray to him for help.

It’s true: We’re all pretty powerless to find true satisfaction for ourselves and in ourselves alone. With my hardened heart, as the Stones sang, “I try and I try and I try and I try…” But with the Lord, as our Prayer over the Offering says, I can petition God for “the gift of true prayer and of peace.”

Father Tim S. Hickey is a priest of the Archdiocese of Hartford currently serving as a mission priest in the Catholic Diocese of Dodge City, in his native Kansas. He is pastor of three parishes in rural Western Kansas.

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Harvesting Weeds and Wheat

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In Dante’s Inferno, he passes through the gates of hell above which are inscribed these words, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” That’s almost the situation we find in today’s first reading from the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah (Jeremiah 7:1-11).

Jeremiah has been tasked by the Lord God to stand at the gates of the Temple and remind the faithful of what God expects of them if they seek to remain his Chosen People and enjoy the benefits of a covenant relationship with him. Through Jeremiah we hear the Lord chastising the people, accusing them of injustice, idolatry, hard-heartedness toward the “resident alien, the orphan and the widow,” deceit, adultery, perjury… These have become common and accepted practices among the one-time faithful, and yet they still show up at the Temple thinking that their sinful actions are overlooked or ignored by God. “We are safe; we can commit all these abominations again,” is the excuse they offer to themselves. “At least,” perhaps they think, “we’re keeping up with our Sabbath obligation.”

The Chosen People have rejected the covenant relationship God offered to them exclusively: “And you shall be my people, and I will be your God” (Exodus 6:7, Leviticus 26:12, Jeremiah 30:22). In essence, a relationship is a two-way street. We keep up our end of the relationship and God more than keeps up with his part of it.

Repentance, however, puts us back in right relationship with God. In the Gospel (Matthew 13:24-30) Jesus tells the parable of the field sown with good seed that gets sabotaged by an enemy of the landowner. The weeds are allowed to grow alongside the wheat, and both are harvested together. But, Jesus teaches us, the weeds are tied in bundles for burning (i.e., destined for hell), while the wheat is gathered into the barn (i.e., heaven).

The list of sins Jeremiah accuses the people of can make for a good examination of conscience for us. These are the weeds that need to be pulled from our field and burned so that we stop deluding ourselves into believing we are bearing good fruit for the Kingdom.

Father Tim S. Hickey is a priest of the Archdiocese of Hartford currently serving as a mission priest in the Diocese of Dodge City, Kansas. A native Kansan, he was schooled at Benedictine College, Marquette University and Mount St. Mary’s Seminary. Prior to becoming a priest, Father Hickey was editor of Columbia magazine for the Knights of Columbus. He writes occasionally for Magnificat’s seasonal special issues and for Communion and Liberation.

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Exile and Return

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Earlier this week at daily Mass we began hearing readings from the second Book of Kings. We’re being introduced to ancient kings from Assyria and Babylon who have one intent: to overthrow the Kingdom of Judah and take captive Jerusalem and despoil the Temple.

These are challenging readings because of the foreign names — Sennacherib, Hezekiah, Hilkiah, Ahikam, Nebuchadnezzar, Jehoiachin and others — but also because they capture a wide swath of biblical history in the rise and fall of successive heirs of Kings David and Solomon. The Chosen People have made themselves vulnerable to being overthrown because they themselves have been overthrown. They have forgotten God. Their kings have forsaken their vocation as shepherds.

In today’s reading, the nearly 1,000-year reign of the Royal Kingdom of Judah, followed by the divided kingdoms of Judah and Israel come to an end. Scripture records the events dispassionately, almost like modern-day journalism. Nebuchadnezzer, king of Babylon, leads a siege of Jerusalem and conquers it. He captures King Jehoiachin of Judah and sends him into exile, along with the leading people of Jerusalem. Most tragically, Nebuchadnezzer’s army plunders the Temple and all the sacred objects used for the worship of God. With Jerusalem decimated and a foreign king now reigning over the Promised Land, all hope seemingly lost, the chronicler of these events notes this: “None were left among the people of the land except the poor” (2 Kgs 24:15).

Holy Mother Church next offers us the mournful, penitent prayers of these poor and exiled in Psalm 79 for our meditation: “O Lord, how long? … We are brought very low … Help us, O God our savior … Deliver us and pardon our sins…”

No matter where our sins may lead us or how far we feel we have strayed from the Savior’s mercy, may we turn to the Lord just like the psalmist and cry out, “Help us, O God our savior… Deliver us and pardon our sins.”

Father Tim S. Hickey is a priest of the Archdiocese of Hartford currently serving as a mission priest in the Diocese of Dodge City, Kansas. A native Kansan, he was schooled at Benedictine College, Marquette University and Mount St. Mary’s Seminary. Prior to becoming a priest, Father Hickey was editor of Columbia magazine for the Knights of Columbus. He writes occasionally for Magnificat’s seasonal special issues and for Communion and Liberation.

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Why Are You Here?

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“Elijah, why are you here?”

That’s the question the voice of the Lord poses to the Old Testament prophet in our first reading today from the First Book of Kings (19:9a, 11-16). Elijah is on the run. He has challenged and beat the 450 prophets of Baal in a showdown to prove that the Lord God is the one true God. His actions are acclaimed by the Israelites, who have been under the wicked rule of corrupt King Ahab and his pagan queen, Jezebel. “The Lord is God! The Lord is God” they acclaim in their desire to return to and renew their covenant with God. Their fealty to God and not to her is much for Jezebel and so she places a bounty on Elijah’s head, vowing to kill him within 24 hours for what God has manifested of himself through Elijah’s actions.

Elijah has escaped and taken refuge in a cave on Mount Horeb. Despite remaining true to God’s call to him to prophesy to the people of Israel about their waywardness, he is dispirited. He is told to stand on the mountain for the “Lord will be passing by.” Then comes the wind, an earthquake and fire, but the Lord is not found in any of those shows of natural power and strength. Instead, God speaks to Elijah in a whisper.

How often are we like Elijah in our relationship with God? A Scripture professor I had in seminary used to refer to the crowds who followed our Lord as “The Jesus Show.” All most of them wanted was the spectacle— the dramatic healings, the mass feedings and more. They couldn’t be bothered with listening to Jesus’ teachings or seeing up close and personal what he was doing in his interactions with people.

Today, in prayer, imagine the Lord asking you, “Why are you here?”, and then wait in silence for His voice to whisper to your heart, to reassure you, to guide you and to bring you His peace.

Father Tim S. Hickey is a priest of the Archdiocese of Hartford currently serving as a mission priest in the Diocese of Dodge City, Kansas. A native Kansan, he was schooled at Benedictine College, Marquette University and Mount St. Mary’s Seminary. Prior to becoming a priest, Father Hickey was editor of Columbia magazine for the Knights of Columbus. He writes occasionally for Magnificat’s seasonal special issues and for Communion and Liberation.

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Look of Love

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Today’s Gospel contains what may be the most reassuring words in all of Scripture. A young man has run up to Jesus to ask him a question about the demands of discipleship. After Jesus reminds the young man that following him means following the Commandments, the aspirant responds to the Lord, “Teacher, all of these I have observed from my youth.”

Then, Mark recounts, “Jesus, looking at him, loved him…” Imagine, just for a moment, how that young man must have felt. To have the Son of God himself gaze upon him with the same loving expression that the Father himself looked upon Jesus, that Mary and Joseph received when they held their infant son in their arms, when Jesus looked down from the cross on his mother and the Beloved Disciple.

That young man received the same loving look from the Lord and was for that moment of all of God’s creation the sole focus of Christ’s attention. Who among us hasn’t longed for that kind of reassurance from the Lord? And, still, it wasn’t enough for the young man.

What reassurance we can find, then, in these words from our first reading: “Although you have not seen him you love him; although you do not see him now yet you rejoice with an indescribable joy.” The young man leaves the company of Jesus and the disciples sad because he cannot give up his many possessions.

What about you and me? What would any of us give up for just one second of that look of love from our Savior?

Father Tim S. Hickey is a priest of the Archdiocese of Hartford currently serving as a mission priest in the Diocese of Dodge City, Kansas. A native Kansan, he was schooled at Benedictine College, Marquette University and Mount St. Mary’s Seminary. Prior to becoming a priest, Father Hickey was editor of Columbia magazine for the Knights of Columbus. He writes occasionally for Magnificat’s seasonal special issues and for Communion and Liberation.

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Beginnings and Endings

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In these final days before the great Solemnity of Pentecost, the Mass readings speak of endings and beginnings. We know that something new is about to happen: The Church is about to be born through the coming of the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles and the Blessed Mother. We know that something old is coming to an end: The fear-induced inertia that has plagued Jesus’ closest followers since his Ascension, holding them back from acting on the Lord’s command to them to “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Mt 28:19) will be swept away by the powerful wind of the Holy Spirit blowing through the Upper Room.

The endings, then, aren’t dead ends; rather, they are summations, even climaxes. The beginnings aren’t events fraught with worry and anxiety about what is about to unfold; rather, they are invitations to newness.

In today’s first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, Paul is delivering the peroration to his public ministry. His final words to the early Christians to whom he has preached the Good News are not a sad farewell. He is at peace with what he has done — not necessarily with what he has accomplished — because he has been faithful to “the ministry I received from the Lord Jesus, to bear witness to the Gospel of God’s grace.” His accomplishments are the Lord’s. “I served the Lord with humility,” he says. “I did not shrink from telling you what was for your benefit.”

Even though he is certain that “imprisonment and hardships” await him personally, the fact that he has proclaimed “the entire plan of God” means he has fulfilled Christ’s command. Whatever may happen to him is part of God’s plan. He has knowledge, he has certainty. He is at peace.

Many of us wonder, even worry, about what will happen to us next. … and not just tomorrow or next week, but the all-encompassing next of eternity. In today’s Gospel Jesus tells his followers and us exactly what heaven will be like: “Now this is eternal life, that they should know you, the only true God, and the one whom you sent, Jesus Christ.” That’s it…nothing more, nothing less. And, really, what else should we want or need? Heaven will be intimate knowledge, abiding union in God the Father with Jesus Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.

As we prepare to receive anew the Holy Spirit this Pentecost Sunday, we pray that our earthly endings will always be peaceful and our beginnings filled with promise until we come to God’s kingdom which has no end.

Father Tim S. Hickey is a priest of the Archdiocese of Hartford currently serving as a mission priest in the Diocese of Dodge City, Kansas. A native Kansan, he was schooled at Benedictine College, Marquette University and Mount St. Mary’s Seminary. Prior to becoming a priest, Father Hickey was editor of Columbia magazine for the Knights of Columbus. He writes occasionally for Magnificat’s seasonal special issues and for Communion and Liberation.