Tag: Mike Karpus

**This reflection is being posted for Aug 8th. Due to a technical issue, it did not post.**

There is a lot going on in today’s readings, from Ezekiel’s vision of the glory of God, to Jesus predicting his death — one of three times that happens in Matthew’s Gospel — to the miracle of the coin in the fish’s mouth. Then you also have the feast day of St. Dominic, founder of the Order of Preachers. Where does one focus? Where can you find the most meaning? Holy Spirit, will you help me, please?

We really have to begin with Ezekiel, because the lesson there is where I think we’ll end up by the end of this reflection. There are angels, there is a throne of sapphire, there is a rainbow-like background, and there is the Lord, appearing like fire and gleaming metal. If you read on in the book, you’ll see God shows this glory to Ezekiel before He sends him to be a prophet to Israel, even warning him that they won’t accept him, and worse. But Ezekiel goes despite these impossible odds. Such is the power of God’s glory.

Our Psalm reflects that glory, and it instructs us what to do about it: Praise the Lord! His name alone is exalted; His majesty is above, and beyond, earth and heaven!

Then, in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus’ disciples are overwhelmed with grief when He tells them that He will be put to death. Did they not hear the part about rising on the third day? Maybe we can understand their reaction, since we know how hard it was for them to understand what “rising from the dead” meant before it actually happened. But Matthew moves quickly from this interaction to the question of the temple tax. Does Jesus pay it? Peter says yes, but we are left to wonder, was Peter lying? Was he covering for Jesus? It doesn’t really matter, because Jesus knows what’s up, and He brings it up to Peter with no prompting at all. Who gets taxed? The tax is levied on foreigners. Jesus is hinting to Peter and to us that we are foreigners not of this world, and we belong, or should belong, to a far greater kingdom, the one that appeared to Ezekiel in his vision.

Jesus performs the miracle of the coin in the fish’s mouth, as He says, “that we may not offend them.” In other words, let’s pay them their tax so such minor issues cannot impede them or us from knowing the truth that Jesus is the Messiah, that He came to Earth to be sacrificed for our wrongs, and that through His conquering death and resurrection, we, too, can participate in the glory of the Lord.

The path to eternal communion with our loving God is clear, then. Through the difficulties we encounter as Ezekiel did, through the mundane of everyday life like Peter was confronted with, in all things, our focus needs to be on the glory of God as our destination. Praise the Lord! Pray always. Be like St. Dominic and pray the rosary constantly. Put it all in the perspective that being with God in His glory is our only goal.

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Están sucediendo muchas cosas en las lecturas de hoy, desde la visión de Ezequiel de la gloria de Dios, hasta Jesús prediciendo su muerte, una de las tres veces que sucede en el Evangelio de Mateo, hasta el milagro de la moneda en la boca del pez. Luego hoy también es la fiesta de Santo Domingo, fundador de la Orden de Predicadores. ¿Dónde se enfoca uno? ¿Dónde puedes encontrar el mayor significado? Espíritu Santo, ¡ayúdame, por favor!

Realmente tenemos que comenzar con Ezequiel, porque la lección allí es donde creo que vamos a terminar al final de esta reflexión. Hay ángeles, hay un trono de zafiro, hay un fondo como un arco iris, y allí está el Señor, que aparece como fuego y metal reluciente. Si sigues leyendo, verás que Dios le muestra esta gloria a Ezequiel antes de enviarlo como profeta a Israel, incluso advirtiéndole que no lo aceptarán, y cosas peores. Pero Ezekiel va a pesar de estas probabilidades imposibles. Tal es el poder de la gloria de Dios.

Nuestro Salmo refleja esa gloria, y nos instruye qué hacer al respecto: ¡El nombre del Señor alaben todos, pues su nombre es excelso; su gloria sobrepasa cielo y tierra!

Luego, en el Evangelio de Mateo, los discípulos de Jesús se llenan de dolor cuando Él les dice que lo matarán. ¿No escucharon la parte acerca de resucitar al tercer día? Tal vez podamos entender su reacción, ya que sabemos lo difícil que fue para ellos entender lo que significaba “resucitar de entre los muertos” antes de que realmente sucediera. Pero Mateo pasa rápidamente de esta interacción a la cuestión del impuesto del templo. ¿Jesús lo paga? Peter dice que sí, pero nos quedamos preguntándonos, ¿Peter estaba mintiendo? ¿Estaba defendiendo a Jesús? Realmente no importa, porque Jesús sabe lo que pasa, y se lo cuenta a Pedro sin ninguna indicación. ¿Quién paga impuestos? El impuesto se aplica a los extranjeros. Jesús le está insinuando a Pedro y a nosotros que somos extranjeros, no de este mundo, y pertenecemos, o deberíamos pertenecer, a un reino mucho más grande, el que se le apareció a Ezequiel en su visión.

Jesús realiza el milagro de la moneda en la boca del pez, como dice, “para no darles motivo de escándalo”. En otras palabras, paguémosles su impuesto para que esos problemas menores no les impidan a ellos ni a nosotros conocer la verdad de que Jesús es el Mesías, que vino a la Tierra para ser sacrificado por nuestros errores, y que a través de Su muerte y resurrección vencedora nosotros también podemos participar en la gloria del Señor.

Entonces, el camino hacia la comunión eterna con nuestro Dios amoroso es claro. A través de las dificultades que encontramos como lo hizo Ezequiel, a través de lo mundano de la vida cotidiana como lo enfrentó Pedro, en todas las cosas, nuestro enfoque debe estar en la gloria de Dios como nuestro destino. ¡Alabado sea el Señor! Oren siempre. Sean como Santo Domingo y recen el rosario constantemente. Ponlo todo en la perspectiva de que estar con Dios en Su gloria es nuestra única meta.

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There is a long-lingering rumor, one I have never been able to confirm, that my father’s family has Jewish origins, and some ancestor back in time converted to Catholicism, possibly to avoid persecution, possibly to better gain acceptance from neighbors, possibly because of a true conversion of faith. That’s the trouble with family rumors — they only go so far, and you have to try to fill in the blanks yourself. Don’t even get me started on why my Sicilian ancestors had to leave Chicago back around 1920. That’s a story for another day.

Still, this bit of family history I’ve shared came to mind when reading today’s Gospel, where Matthew quotes a section of Isaiah that contains the word “Gentile” twice. Even for us who might have Jewish origins, those passages pertain to all of us Gentiles out here. Isaiah was telling his listeners that the suffering servant would “proclaim justice to the Gentiles,” as well as “in his name the Gentiles will hope.”

Matthew quotes the passage to specifically tell us: Jesus is that suffering servant. And He suffered not just for the Jews, but for the Gentiles, too — all of us get to share in His justice and the hope His name provides.

Truly believing in that justice and that hope changes everything for us. Take our First Reading, where the prophet Micah, paints a pretty gloomy picture: There are people out there planning evil, in Micah’s time and our own. “They covet fields, and seize them; houses, and they take them. They cheat an owner of his house, a man of his inheritance.” God is not ignoring this, Micah tells us. Rather, God is “planning against this race an evil from which you shall not withdraw your necks.”

Is it all evil and vengeance, Micah? Some actually might want that, as we hear the Psalmist say, “Why, O Lord, do you stand aloof? Why hide in times of distress?” Yet the Psalmist does seem to get it, as we are reminded in our last verse today, “On you the unfortunate man depends.”

Back we go to Matthew quoting Isaiah, where we get the answer to it all: “He will not contend or cry out, nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, a smoldering wick he will not quench, until he brings justice to victory.”

Jesus brings about the victory in His suffering, in His death on the cross, and His rising in triumph from the dead. To this day, we have a hard time grasping a conquering king dying by crucifixion instead of directing an army. But God’s ways are not our ways. Perhaps the evil Micah prophesied was not against the wicked, but the very type of death God chose for His son, a true sacrifice for us who did not deserve it, all out of His infinite love, mercy and justice. 

As the priest in my mother’s parish proclaims at every Mass, “God is good!” To which the congregation replies, “All the time!” Just a small portion of that infinite goodness is His justice and hope. May we Gentiles cling to them always.

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Existe un rumor desde hace mucho tiempo, uno que nunca he podido confirmar, que la familia de mi padre tiene orígenes judíos, y algún familiar en algún momento se convirtió al catolicismo, posiblemente para evitar la persecución o para ganarse la aceptación de los vecinos, o porque verdaderamente se convirtió a la fe. Eso es el problema con los rumores familiares: solo llegan hasta cierto punto y uno tiene que tratar de llenar la información que falta por sí mismo. Ni siquiera voy a hablar del por qué mis antepasados ​​​​sicilianos tuvieron que salirse de Chicago alrededor de 1920. Esa es una historia para otro día.

Aún así, esta parte de la historia familiar que he compartido me vino a la mente al leer el Evangelio de hoy, donde Mateo cita una sección de Isaías que contiene la palabra “gentil” dos veces. Incluso para nosotros que podríamos tener orígenes judíos, esos pasajes pertenecen a todos los gentiles que estamos aquí. Isaías estaba diciendo a sus oyentes que el siervo sufriente “proclamaría justicia a los gentiles”, así como “en su nombre esperarán los gentiles”.

Mateo cita el pasaje para decirnos específicamente: Jesús es ese siervo sufriente. Y Él sufrió no solo por los judíos, sino también por los gentiles: todos nosotros podemos compartir Su justicia y la esperanza que brinda Su nombre.

Creer de verdad en esa justicia y esa esperanza nos lo cambia todo. Toma nuestra Primera Lectura, donde el profeta Miqueas, pinta un cuadro bastante sombrío: Hay gente por ahí planeando el mal, en el tiempo de Miqueas y en el nuestro. “Codician los campos, y se apoderan de ellos; casas, y se las llevan. Estafan al dueño de su casa, al hombre de su heredad.” Dios no está ignorando esto, nos dice Miqueas. Más bien, Dios está “planeando contra esta raza un mal del cual no retirarán sus cuellos”.

¿Todo es maldad y venganza, Micah? Algunos en realidad podrían querer eso, como escuchamos al salmista decir: “¿Por qué, oh Señor, te mantienes apartado? ¿Por qué esconderse en tiempos de angustia?” Sin embargo, el salmista parece entenderlo, como se nos recuerda en nuestro último versículo de hoy: “De ti depende el desgraciado”.

Volvemos a Mateo citando a Isaías, donde encontramos la respuesta para todo: “Él no contenderá ni clamará, ni nadie oirá su voz en las calles. No quebrará la caña cascada, ni apagará la mecha que humea, hasta que haga triunfar la justicia”.

Jesús produce la victoria en Su sufrimiento, en Su muerte en la cruz y Su resurrección triunfante de entre los muertos. Hasta el día de hoy, nos cuesta entender a un rey conquistador muriendo crucificado en lugar de estar dirigiendo a un ejército. Pero los caminos de Dios no son los nuestros. Quizás el mal profetizado por Miqueas no era contra los malvados, sino el mismo tipo de muerte que Dios escogió para Su hijo, un verdadero sacrificio para nosotros que no lo merecíamos, todo por Su infinito amor, misericordia y justicia.

Como proclama el Padre en cada Misa en la parroquia de mi mamá , “¡Dios es bueno!” Y la congregación responde: “¡Todo el tiempo!” Sólo una pequeña porción de esta bondad infinita es Su justicia y esperanza. Que los gentiles nos aferremos siempre a Él y su bondad.

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You will remember that just a few days ago, the Gospel for June 18 gave us that famous line from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, “You cannot serve God and mammon.” (Mt 6:24) It’s an easily understood concept. To put it in a more modern vernacular, “How can you expect to ‘get God’ if you’re busy trying to ‘get stuff’?”

Here we are, 2,000 years later, and the world basically runs on the accumulation of “stuff.” We invent stuff, develop stuff, manufacture stuff, grow stuff, buy stuff, sell stuff, collect stuff, service stuff, and dispose of stuff. Cars, electronics, household goods, food, baseball cards, stocks and bonds, money — it’s all stuff, and the emphasis on acquiring it is getting in the way of what we’re really here for: to know, love and serve God in this world so that we can be with him in the next.

The Church in its wisdom ups the ante with today’s Gospel, where Luke tells us about Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem, where he will suffer, die and rise — all for us, by the way. It’s not the simple “God or stuff” dichotomy. These are real “punch in the stomach” examples today.

When Jesus tells someone, “Follow me,” the reply is “Lord, let me go first and bury my father.” The Lord’s reply is blunt: “Let the dead bury their dead. But you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”

Another person thinks he has it figured out: “I will follow you Lord, but first let me say farewell to my family at home.” See, Jesus? I’m leaving them behind for you. Again, Jesus pushes for more: “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God.”

Even in requests that seem reasonable to us, Jesus sees the truth. And that truth is this: God first. Always, always, God first. There can be no compromise. Look at it this way: Your father died and must be buried. What if, in your love for and belief in God, you commend your father to God’s mercy, you pray for his soul, you realize that God created him, gave him his life, and knew the moment when it had to end. You thank God for what your father taught you, and you ask God for mercy for yourself, as well. 

What if, instead of saying goodbye to your family before following Jesus, you bring your family with you? You teach them of God’s greatness, His love, mercy and justice, His only begotten Son who became man, taught us, healed us, suffered for us, died for us, rose again, gave His very self to us in the Eucharist. What if you prayed for them, and asked God to help you guide them to communion with Him?

That plow Jesus talks about is the course of your life. If you’re looking back to what was, you’re going to have a pretty crooked row. If you keep your focus up front — on God, your life’s goal — putting Him first and foremost, the plowing might not be any easier, but it will be heading in the only right direction — straight to God, your ultimate joy.

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Jesus is particularly clear in today’s Gospel from Matthew, a selection from his Sermon on the Mount: Speak the truth.

“Let your ‘Yes’ mean ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No’ mean ‘No.’ Anything more is from the evil one.” There are any number of euphemisms for that directive: Say what you mean and mean what you say. Give it to them straight. Tell it like it is. Don’t lie. 

It comes down to being a person of integrity, a true follower of Christ. If you always tell the truth, you can never be questioned. Now, Jesus’ directive isn’t “Always give an answer whether they like it or not.” Think of Pilate’s question of Jesus on Good Friday: “Are you the king of the Jews?” Our Lord replied not with a “yes” where he meant “yes,” but with a question of his own: “Do you say this on your own or have others told you about me?”

The point of saying what you mean and meaning what you say is, as Jesus tells Pilate a little later, to “testify to the truth.” Swearing by heaven, earth, Jerusalem or our very head is worthless on our part: God is in charge, and we have no right to make Him our witness. On the contrary, it is our job to be witnesses for Him. 

This is a good point to bring in our saint of the day, Barnabas. Originally named Joseph, he made quite an impression by selling property and putting the proceeds at the feet of the Apostles for the needs of the new Christian community. The gift earned him his new name, “Barnabas, or “son of encouragement.”

Even more important to the new Church was Barnabas letting his “yes” mean yes” and his “no” mean “no.” He risked his own integrity by bringing Saul — Paul, the future Apostle to the Gentiles — to them and vouching for this former persecutor of Christians as being trustworthy and converted to the Gospel message. Barnabas then mentored Paul and together they spread the Gospel to Antioch and beyond. Barnabas proved a follower of the truth, a witness for God’s own Son, and for God’s plan for the world. 

Let us pray that we, too, can be better followers of the truth, better witnesses for God and his plan for salvation, better instruments for building the kingdom of heaven here among us. May we ourselves be sons and daughters of encouragement, aiding our fellow Christians in their faith in our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

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This summer, God willing, my wife and I will celebrate our 35th wedding anniversary. Reflecting on that makes me feel totally inadequate to discuss the topic of today’s Gospel, divorce. And yet, at the same time, reflecting honestly on 35 years of marriage makes me feel totally inadequate to discuss marriage. What do I really know, and what can I tell anyone else that would help them based on the life I have lived? Can I even find the words? 

I do know this: Marriage is the easiest thing in the world, if you do it correctly. Moses permitted divorce because he saw people weren’t doing it correctly. “Because of the hardness of your hearts” he allowed it. Now, this brings to mind something I heard a priest say once that has always stuck with me: “If you’re going to bring people to Jesus, you have to meet them where they are.” Of course, he didn’t mean in a physical or geographical sense; he was talking about where people are in their faith, their spiritual journey. You have to assess and accept where they are, not where you expect they should be. I see this concept in Moses’ bill of divorce, that the people weren’t in a place to see the underlying truth in marriage. When the Pharisees bring it up with Jesus, he sees they are ready to hear the truth and he gives it to them straight: Married people “are no longer two but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, no human being must separate.” But even before that, Jesus gets to the bedrock basics of the situation: “From the beginning of creation, God made them male and female.”

“God made them” and “God has joined.” And God does all of this out of His infinite love. That’s marriage, folks. Our marriage is not about my wife and me. It’s about her and me and God. His love created us, joins us, sustains us, forgives us. And only by loving God completely, putting Him at the center of our lives, can we properly love each other, can we become one flesh. No longer is the self the focus, it’s that precious gift of God’s love, including in the person of our spouse. And this is not just a marriage thing. We can’t do single life or celibacy or consecrated life properly, either, without surrendering our path to the loving will of God.

I once asked my wife a trick question: Who do you think is more important, you or me? Knowing me as well as she does, she knew I was up to something, so I had to explain, yes, it’s all in the choice of words. Not “who is” more important but “who do you think?” Because when it comes to any relationship based on mutual love, our main focus cannot be ourselves. And nearly 35 years of togetherness has taught us that I left the most important member of this relationship — God — out of that trick question. 

Marriage is the easiest thing in the world, if you do it correctly. But all of us being humans, we don’t do it correctly all of the time. Love is easy to talk about but not always easy to do in our sinful human condition. Luckily, we have a marriage partner more than willing to help us, if we remember to keep Him at the center of it.

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Today’s readings offer us something that we in this current age of television, movies and mystery novels are pretty familiar with — the flashback. In the First Reading, Sirach flashes back to the glory of King David hundreds of years before the writer of Sirach picked up his pen. In the Gospel of Mark, King Herod flashes back to his own killing of John the Baptist as he tries to figure out who this Jesus is that he is hearing about. Two kings — David and Herod — two flashbacks, at least two very interesting lessons for us today.

Not that many days ago, our daily readings told us about David’s big sins, the taking of Uriah’s wife and the sending of Uriah to die in battle, and the prophet Nathan confronting him with the truth. Adultery and murder, of course, are Ten Commandment-level bad, yet Sirach hails him as Israel’s greatest, “like the choice fat of the sacred offerings.” Numerous great things are attributed to David, things previously chronicled in the books of Samuel. Perhaps the most important for our purposes is that “With his every deed he offered thanks to God Most High, in words of praise” and “With his whole being he loved his Maker and daily had his praises sung.” Sirach admits David was not perfect, because “The Lord forgave him his sins.” 

Sirach reminds us that kings can be just like the rest of us, sinful and in need of forgiveness. And David reminds us of what we need to do: to love God with our whole being, to thank and praise Him always, to repent of our sins and turn to God’s mercy.

And then there’s Herod. Mark reminds us that kings can be just like the rest of us, refusing to see the wrongs we have done, committed to our own pride instead of the will of God. Herod had John arrested because he didn’t like the truth John told him; he killed John to impress others. And when he heard of Jesus, he couldn’t comprehend that there would be one ever greater, one whom John wasn’t fit to untie His sandal straps. Instead of trying to hear the Lord’s message, he dismissed it as some sort of supernatural hocus-pocus.

Sirach’s flashback shows us that God can forgive our sins and exalt us when we repent and love, serve and praise Him. Mark’s flashback shows us that it is up to us to want God’s forgiveness and love. If we only focus on ourselves and reject our Lord’s most loving gift, we waste that most precious love of our own accord. 

Today’s Responsorial Psalm wraps it all up very nicely. The psalmist tells us “God’s way is unerring” and “He is a shield to all who take refuge in Him.” Once again, it comes down to this: God, who doesn’t need us in the slightest, wants a relationship with us. He wants to be our God if we will be his people. And I know God knows it’s hard for us to overcome ourselves, but His love and grace are freely given to all who sincerely call on His name. He is more than willing to transform us commoners into kings after His own heart.

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If you’re like me, you probably can’t even count the number of times you’ve heard or read today’s Gospel, Mark’s version of the sower and the seed. That familiarity with the parable puts us in a polar opposite situation with the Twelve Apostles. “We get it, we get it. Good soil — fruit; bad soil — withered,” our minds might be saying, not understanding how or why Jesus’ closest followers had to ask him what the story meant.

Yet, Jesus’ response to us, I think, would be exactly the same as it was to his disciples. To paraphrase: “Don’t you get it? If you don’t get it here, how will you get any of my teaching?” Because responding out of familiarity, “We get it” seems to be just what he’s warning against. We think we know, so we let the teaching get snatched away, or let it wither, or let it get choked by other worldly concerns, including our own arrogance that “We get it.”

Looking at it like that made me realize, while the four types of soil can be seen as four types of people, four types of hearts our Lord is looking to penetrate, they also can be seen as four varying stages in our own hearts and our own faith journeys. Anyone who has ever been to a retreat, Cursillo, spiritual conference or other faith-filled event can’t help but leave it thanking God for how much they have been moved and changed and enlivened. God forbid on the drive home we see a broken-down car on the side of the road or a homeless person panhandling on the corner and we give them no thought at all. Or someone cuts us off and we’re quick to scream loudly. Fertile ground and a rocky path, right there in the same heart.

The key, Jesus tells us, is hearing the word and accepting it. In the context of the parable, the seed is sown in the soil of our souls. Accepting it, then, is the tending of that seed and that soil, becoming our own gardeners to make sure that seed bears fruit that is thirty or sixty or a hundredfold. We have to have an active role in the process, the accepting, the nurturing, the cultivating, developing and sharing of that which has been given to us.

Paul reminds us in his salutations to Timothy and Titus how the seed sown by Jesus is planted in us today, 2,000 years later. “Timothy, my dear child,” he says, and “Titus, my true child in our common faith.” Faith is handed down to us in close, personal relationship. Our parents, priests, teachers, catechists, spiritual directors; the writings of saints baring their souls; the epistles and Gospels and prophets and psalms. With the Holy Spirit’s help, these personal connections transmit the love of God through our Lord Jesus Christ down through time and space to our very souls. Now it is up to us to tend the soil of our souls, to accept the seed planted there and make it bear much fruit. And what do you do when you have fruit, abundant and overflowing? You give it to others.

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