Ordinary of the Mass
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Lenten Observance
”My grace is sufficient for
thee, for strength is perfected in weakness.”[1]
Those of you that
have been in the parish for a while probably remember that every
year I remark that today’s Epistle could be known as “Saint Paul’s
adventure story.” After his conversion to the Faith, Paul made
extensive missionary journeys about the Mediterranean, and it is not
particularly surprising that he faced a number of challenges.
We have to remember
that travel was far more difficult in his time than in ours—mostly
by sail boats that were very much at the mercy of the seasons and
the tides. Even on land, there was no central heating, no air
conditioning, no running water (hot or cold). Laundry was done on a
rock at the river—and Paul and Barnabas seem to have been unique
among the Apostles in looking after their own needs, having no women
in their entourage.[2]
For the sick there was no medicine beyond herbal remedies. Paul
wasn’t getting any funds from the Society for the Propagation of the
Faith—he relied on the wages he could make with the work of his own
hands as a tentmaker, rarely if ever accepting donations from his
churches for his own use.[3]
In addition to the natural difficulties, he faced occasional
persecution by Jews, Romans, and other pagans—his last journey was
to Rome where he was put on trial and eventually beheaded. (His one
advantage in life was Roman citizenship, which kept him from the
more brutal death by crucifixion—if you consider having your head
cut off an “advantage”!)
Certainly all of this
was an adventure. But it took me a number of years as a priest to
more fully understand what Saint Paul was doing. This was far more
than an Indiana Jones movie, with a swashbuckling hero. Paul had
literally joined himself to the enterprise of Jesus Christ—joined in
the most fully committed way. Paul was not simply a priest who
lived in the rectory, took his pay check, read his Breviary, and
showed up to offer daily Mass and to hear Confessions on Saturdays.
Even the priest who lives at a mission station in pagan Africa has
greater assurances of personal well-being than Paul. Paul was fully
committed to spreading the Faith of Jesus Christ to as many people
as he could contact—no matter what the personal cost. In this, he
was very much like Jesus, Himself. Indeed, all of the Apostles seem
to have lived similar lives—they had “thrown in their lot” with
Jesus Christ, with no expectation that their earthly rewards would
be poverty, persecution, and death.
Paul did not have the
privilege of going about with Jesus in his public life. But, quite
likely, he heard the Gospel account read today from Saint Luke, who
was Paul’s travelling companion for a period of time. The parable
is mentioned by all three of the synoptic Gospel writers, but we
read Luke’s account this morning.
Unlike the Pharisees, who “heard but did not understand,” Paul fully
grasped the implications of Jesus’ story. It was not really about
seeds, but about the souls of human beings! The seeds fallen by the
wayside were really human beings with souls that would be stolen by
the devil. The seeds on the rock where souls that would wither for
dryness, not being nourished with a regular reminder of the Gospels
and not refreshed with the Sacraments. The seeds among the thorns
were really souls that were in danger of being distracted by the
riches and cares of the world.
The great thing that
appealed to Saint Paul in this was that it was possible to gather
up, and, so to speak “replant” many of these souls. Nobody would
even try to recover the seeds that fell among the thorns, or the
seeds eaten by the birds—but human souls were infinitely more
valuable. And, unlike seeds, human beings had intellect and will,
and it might be possible to motivate them to move themselves from
the thorns or the rocks to the fertile ground of the Catholic
Faith. It didn’t always work out that way, but Paul was prepared,
literally, to die trying.
We should appreciate
Paul’s dedication, and even seek to imitate it in whatever ways are
open to us. Most of us will not journey all over the place to
preach as Paul did. But we are quite capable of preaching by means
of our good example to those around us in the world. I have always
liked the words of the late Emmanuel Cardinal Suhard of Paris:
To be a witness does
not consist in engaging in propaganda, nor even in stirring people
up, but in being a living mystery. It means to live in such a way
that one’s life would not make sense if God did not exist.[5]
You may not travel the Mediterranean, but you
can influence a lot of people for the good through that kind of
witness.
Saint Paul’s
“adventure story” also reveals that contemplative prayer is part of
his success. Being “caught up into paradise” and “hearing secret
words” describes the union of a human soul with God through prayer
which seeks God in Himself—or, perhaps, to be more correct it is
prayer in which man allows God to act in his soul. Not all souls
are graced with contemplative prayer, for it is a “grace,”
rather than something for which we can strive through human
activity. But the spiritual writers are unanimous in suggesting
that we must “meet God half way,” by approaching Him in meditative
prayer and by striving to live a sinless life.
So, in today’s
“adventure story,” it is proposed that each of us endeavor to
imitate Saint Paul’s example. Jesus Christ gave everything for us
and for our salvation, we must likewise be generous with our efforts
to live the Gospel and to spread It among those around us by living
a holy life.
We must not be put
off by minor inconveniences. After all it is highly unlikely that
God will ask us to endure anything approaching stoning, lashing, or
shipwreck! Although I would not be too surprised if it gets a lot
more difficult to be a Catholic in this world ruled by pagans,
modernists, and atheists in the years to come.
We must be assiduous
in prayer and in receiving the Sacraments as often as possible. We
may never receive the grace of contemplative prayer, but we
certainly will not receive it if we refuse to do our part.
We must not fear our
own inadequacies—no man or woman can expect to be perfect—except,
perhaps the Blessed Virgin and her Son. But, like Saint Paul,
whenever we feel inadequate to holiness, we must listen for the
words of God: ”My grace is sufficient for thee, for strength is
perfected in weakness.”