Tag: #frleowalsh

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The Secret Code of Emmaus…

Maybe I should get a bit more ‘click bait’ into my titles. For example – “Two Christians invite a stranger to dinner. You won’t believe what happened next! Anyhoo, here is the blog for this weekend. As always, video on Tuesday.

       Sometimes, we don’t pick up on the subtle cues and can miss what is going on right in front of us.  Here’s a good example:

     I did a lot of downhill skiing as a kid.  Every Saturday morning, Dad would load all of us eight kids in the in rig and we would head up to Arctic Valley. Mom would always stand on the porch and wave to us as we drove away for a day of fun on the slopes. I always thought it was sad that she never got to come along with us. It wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I finally figured out what was really going on. Dad was giving her a break by getting us all out of the house! Who’d have thought?

       I get the impression that a similar thing was going on with the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. I’m not saying that they were not bright, just that they were preoccupied. So much so that they didn’t really pick up on what was really going on for some time.

       We can forgive them for this. Their entire world had just been rocked.  All their hopes and dreams had died on the Cross with Jesus. They just wanted to get away. Emmaus was about a two and a half hour walk from Jerusalem.  Can you imagine their conversation along the way?  Then this strange guy shows up and walks with them.  What’s up with that?!

       But as the drama unfolds, we begin to see that the encounter between Jesus and the two disciples on the road to Emmaus is actually a thinly veiled description of Holy Mass. 

Think about it. What happens here at Mass?

       We gather.

       We share our stories.

       We break the bread.

       And we are sent.

In liturgy speak, these are called the       Gathering/Introductory Rites.

       The Liturgy of the Word

       The Liturgy of the Eucharist, and

       The Dismissal or Sending Forth.

Let’s take a look at each of these:

Step I:  We gather.  The Introductory Rites

       Those who have been to one of my slow Masses can readily answer the question: When does Mass begin?  The answer is simple: When the second person shows up! Why? Because Jesus said: “where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in their midst.”

       The Second Vatican Council in the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy (Par. 7) is very clear. “When the people gather” Christ is present. 

       Here, on the Road to Emmaus, the two disciples are gathered. Of course, Jesus would be there with them.

Step II:  We share our stories. The Liturgy of the Word.

       I can’t help but think that the conversation with Jesus on the road had to be one of the most intense Liturgies of the Word in the history of Salvation.

       Here you have the Incarnate Word of God, explaining the word of God in the Sacred Scriptures. 

       Yeah, our hearts would be burning too.

       And I hope yours is today.

Again, the Council is very clear. “In the proclamation of the Word” Jesus is present.

Step III: We break the bread – The Liturgy of the Eucharist

       Luke tells us, “He took bread, said the blessing,
broke it, and gave it to them.”

       Does this sound slightly familiar?  It should. It is right out of the Third Eucharistic Prayer. (Actually, it is the source of these words in the Third Eucharistic Prayer.)

       The reference to the Eucharist at the table in Emmaus is unmistakable. This becomes even more evident when one learns that the early Church used the words “fractio panis” or the “breaking of the bread” as a codeword for the Eucharist.

       Again, the Council is unequivocal in their language, “(Christ) is present in the sacrifice of the Mass, not only in the person of His minister… but especially under the Eucharistic species” of bread and wine.”

       As we know, the Eucharist is the source and summit of all what the Church is and does. Everything that we are and do leads to the Eucharist and everything that we are and do flows from the Eucharist.

       No wonder they recognized him “in the breaking of the bread.”

       Which makes me wonder…do we? 

       More importantly, what about others who wander in our church?   What is going on in their hearts and minds?

       Can they recognize him in our midst as we gather? In the way we treat each other?

       In the way we treat them?

       Are they welcomed? Do they feel like they may have a place here?

Are our hearts burning within us as the scriptures are proclaimed and explained?

       If not, then how can we expect their hearts to be burning within them?

       Finally, is he recognizable in the breaking of bread?

       And can they recognize him, the Risen Christ, as we do so? 

       I pray that it is so.

Step IV: We are sent – The Dismissal 

       At one time or another at Mass and in life, I think we can become like those two disciples on the road to Emmaus. Sometimes we can get so wrapped up with our own situation that we miss what’s really going on.

       I pray that we are a parish family whose hearts are so on fire with the love of God that those encounter us

       Whether within these walls

              Or in our schools or in our neighborhoods

              Or in our places work, or in the public square

                     or in our homes…

       I pray that they would recognize him

The two disciples show us that what we experience here cannot, must not be contained within these walls.

       The dismissal is one of the most essential parts of the Mass,

       That’s why it is so short:

       “The Lord be with you.

       And with your spirit.

              May almighty God bless you…NOW GO! 

Grab a donut and go into that part of the world where God needs you most right now!

       Proclaim the Good News of the resurrection of Christ and the forgiveness of sins.

       May your every word and action echo those of those two disciples, saying in ways small or profound,  

       ‘WE HAVE SEEN THE LORD!!!

       And how he was made known to you

              In the breaking of the bread.    

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From “Do Not Be Afraid” to “Peace be with You.”

   Howdy, Church Fans! Here is the text from this weekend. As always, the vid will be up in a couple days.

   Have you noticed how light is getting outside these days?  Just six weeks ago, we were waking up in darkness and coming home in darkness.  It’s quite a contrast. 

   There is a similar contrast in the post-resurrection gospels.  Did you pick up on it?  Before the resurrection, whether it is a huge catch of fish, while he’s walking on the water, or healing a young person, or whenever Jesus is manifesting some aspect of his divinity, the first words out of his mouth were always, “Do not be afraid.” 

   Now, after the resurrection, the first words out of his mouth are invariably:  “Peace be with you.”  What’s the difference?

   I think much of it has to do with how we understand the word “Peace.” It helps to remember that Jesus and the eleven were all good, pious first century Jews. In our own time, we might tend to think of peace as the absence of conflict or a nice feeling of interior contentment, or some such.  Those are nice as far as they go, but it the Hebrew notion of “shalom” is much more expansive. 

   Simply put, the “shalom”, the peace that we are talking about here is a state where everything is as God has intended it to be.  It’s a subtle but important difference.  

   With other notions of peace, the onus is all on us. How do we work for peace? What structures of institutional sin or policies can we put in place to ensure equality? What programs can we develop to raise awareness?  We act as if it all depends on us. How very Pelagian.

   How very different is the notion of shalom as Jesus and the apostles understood it. As we read in the scriptures, God prepared a people. In the fullness of time, the Eternal Word, the Father’s perfect self-expression took flesh of the Virgin Mary and entered fully into the reality of the human condition. By his suffering and death, he redeemed us. By his rising he has shown us that we too are to share in his glory – perfectly human, body and soul. Finally, things are as God has intended them to be. Because of this, fear simply out of context. 

   As people of the resurrection, we have a role in helping those who do not yet know Christ, or do not know him fully to come to a deeper understanding of these sacred mysteries. Our “Peace be with you,” is not some nice little comforting phrase.  It is a declaration that it is God who has acted and now all is as he intended it be.

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Awaiting the Blessed Hope

Howdy, Church fans! Hope you had a great Thanksgiving. I’m getting out a little ahead of the game this week. I’ll add the vid after I actually preach it. We enter Advent this weekend. So much different, and I believe more human, than the secular “Holiday Season.”

 

I like Advent. I always have.  For one, it allows us Catholics to be a bit countercultural. While secular America dives headlong into the “Holiday Season”, we Catholics enter into the holy season of Advent. There is a not-so-subtle and important difference. Oh sure, we go to the office Christmas…uh…Holiday Party and some Catholics even put up Christmas trees in December. But beneath it all is something deeper, something much more profound. Advent is about hope. Advent is about expectation. Advent is about preparation and vigilance. 

   Advent is about hope. Human beings cannot live without hope. In his book on the subject, the theologian/philosopher Josef Pieper talked about little hopes and big Hope.  Little hopes are the daily hopes and expectations such as a much-anticipated visit by a friend or a festive Thanksgiving dinner with family.  Big Hope refers to the eternal things, essentially all those things that are mentioned the Nicaean Creed, especially “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his Kingdom will have no end.”  Unlike secular humanism that (mis)places its hope in the capacity of the human person for pursuing the good and the moral, Christian Hope is rooted not in our capacity for good, but in God’s infinite capacity to love. It is God’s plan, not ours, that brings fulfillment now and unto ages of ages. Humans have limits. God does not.

   Advent is about expectation. One important distinction that Jesus makes about the end of the age is between predicting the end of the age and preparing for it. History is fraught with examples of well-meaning but misguided isogetes who think they have “cracked the Biblical code” about when the end of the age will come. The most recent was supposed to be on November 9th.  If you look up their website today, you are greeted by a big blue message that says, “An error has occurred.”  Oh, the irony!

   Rather than predict, Jesus wants us to prepare for his second coming in glory, here and now. Now is the time to get our physical and spiritual house in order. Advent helps us do that. We await the blessed hope and the coming of our Savior Jesus Christ. 

   Advent is about preparation and vigilance. It’s a time to remove the physical and spiritual clutter in our lives, to get rid of anything that might get in the way of our relationship with Christ and with one another.  How do we spend our time? Is there time for Christ?  How is our physical space and personal space arranged? Is there literally space for Christ?  Is our spiritual house in order? If not, what needs to change?        Advent is a time of hope, a time of expectation, and a time of preparation. May we use this time to prepare well for the second coming of the Lord in glory, even as we prepare to celebrate his first coming in humility.

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Philemon’s Dilemma

Homily – 23SundayC, Philemon’s Dilemma

   Whatever your musical tastes, country music has a lot of practical wisdom. Brad Paisley described it as “Four chords and the truth!”  For your edification, here is short list of real titles of real country music songs.

Real Country Music Titles:

  • Drop Kick Me, Jesus, Through The Goalposts Of Life
  • My John Deere Was Breaking Your Field, While Your Dear John Was Breaking My Heart
  • I Changed Her Oil, She Changed My Life
  • How Can I Miss you if you won’t go away?
  • I’m So Miserable Without You It’s Like Having You Here
  • The Last Word in Lonesome is “me”
  • The Worst You Ever Gave Me Was the Best I Ever Had
  • If the Phone Doesn’t Ring, It’s Me.
  • I Been Roped and Thrown By Jesus In The Holy Ghost Corral

   The late, great Toby Keith wrote one entitled, “Wish I Didn’t Know Now (What I didn’t Know Then.)”

   I imagine that is what Philemon was thinking when he opened that letter from St. Paul, probably carried to him the same Onesimus mentioned therein. So, what is Philemon’s problem?

   Well, it’s a doozy. Philemon is a wealthy Greek, probably from the Church in Collosae, who came to the Catholic Faith and was baptized by Paul. Onesimus was his slave…his runaway slave who found his way to Paul and spent a fair amount of time helping him during his imprisonment. Now Paul is sending him back to Philemon asking that he not be received as a runaway slave, but as a brother in Christ. Philemon has a dilemma.  Does he do as Paul asks?  If he does, then does that mean he will have free all his other slaves who have been baptized?  What about the ones who have not yet been baptized. If they come to faith does that mean an automatic ticket to freedom?  If they ask for baptism can he refuse them?  What are the implications if he does not do as Paul asks and puts the slave’s collar back on Onesimus?  Who knew that being a Christian would be so hard? How difficult it is to be an intentional disciple of Jesus! 

   It’s not like he didn’t have fair warning. Jesus said as much in our gospel passage this week from Luke. He does not sugar coat it. Being a disciple of Jesus demands a complete change of mind and heart.

   It’s a good lesson for us. Being a disciple of Jesus has never been about fitting comfortably and anonymously into an increasing secular society. It is about standing in the truth in love.  This may manifest itself at work, at school, on the community council, in the doctor’s office, in the ballot box, and any other number of places. 

   Scripture does not say what Philemon did after he received the letter. Perhaps he did as Paul asked.  Perhaps he did not. Regardless, the early Church has passed this letter on to us to help us in our discernment in our own journey of faith. May we have the grace to respond as Christ would have us do.  It has never been easy, but it is always worth it. 

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What Matters to God

   For a number of years, our family had a dairy farm in western Washington about100 miles south of Seattle. As a “gentleman farmer” my dad used to have a T-shirt that said, “A big barn and a plump wife never did any man harm.”  

   Big barns are pretty cool.  It’s amazing how some of them were built in the early 20th century. Not only are they incredibly functional, they are truly works of art. And by and large a big barn never did a man harm.

   So what’s the deal then with the parable of the man who had the bountiful harvest and built himself some big barns to put it in. Why is he called a fool?

   It’s pretty simple really. There is nothing wrong with a bountiful harvest or a big barn to put it in. Where gentleman farmer in the parable went wrong is that he saw his wealth as an end unto itself. He put his trust in the things of this world and forgot that our true destiny of communion with God transcends anything this world has to offer.

   Wealth in and of itself is neither good nor bad. It simply gives you more options. But as our misguided farmer found out, at the end of the day we really don’t own anything. It is all a gift given to us to use for the time that we are on this earth. We are stewards, not owners.

   They say you spend the first third of your life wanting stuff, the second third accumulating stuff and the last third trying to get rid of stuff. Having just turned 60, I’m finding that there is a lot of truth to this. The goal at this stage is to shed as much stuff as practical and to grow rich in what matters to God.

   So what matters to God? 

   Well, if we pay attention to Our Lord in the today’s gospel, its not the stuff we’ll leave behind, but the relationships with God and others that really matter. We don’t take any of the stuff with us, but we do take our relationships. For us Catholics that relationship is characterized by full communion with Christ and his Church – union at the very level of being.  Who I am, united with who God is and who you are. It is these relationships that we call full communion that we carry with us into eternity.

That is what matters to God.

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Persistence in Prayer

One of the most maligned folks in American history is Calvin Coolidge, the nation’s 30th president who served the White House from 1923 to 1929.  He had the unfortunate distinction of being in office at the outset of the Great Depression. He was a quiet man. His nicknames were: Cautious Cal, Cool Cal, Silent Cal, and the Sphinx of the Potomac.

Not many know much about President Coolidge today. But if you Google him, the first 49,000 citations will mention this one quotation he gave in a speech in 1929. He said: “Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan Press On! has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.”

     Mr. Coolidge was right. Why does Jesus ask us to be so persistent in prayer? Our prayer certainly does not change God’s mind.  God already knows what we need long before we ask. Parents are the best examples of this and can give us some insight. Mom or Dad could easily give us what we need without our asking, but would we really appreciate it? Probably not. How delightful it is to a parent when a child comes to their own realization of what is best and then asks the favor.

    Three and a half millennia of human experience have shown that persistence in prayer has profound effects upon the one doing the praying. God does not change as a result of prayer. We do. Persistence in prayer allows us to discern God’s ultimate desire for us and to make that desire our own.

 Time is an ingredient. A monk much wiser than me once said,

“I have found that so much of prayer is simply waiting on God; and I have learned that if I am willing to wait long enough, insight always comes.”

Timing is everything, and God’s timing always so much better than our own. Persistence in prayer allows us to move from praying, “MY will be done.” to “THY will be done.” 

As we spend more time in prayer we begin to realize that God has three ways of answering prayer. 1) “Yes.” 2) “Not yet.” and 3) “I have something better in mind for you.” 

       Okay great.  How?

It’s not that hard.  You need to find a time and a place.  Take some time each day to unplug from the distractions of this world. Find a quiet place and spend some time with the Lord. Decide on a time each day that will work for you. You may have to tweak this a bit. And this may change depending on your situation.

At one parish my prayer time happened at 9:00 at night. Here at St. Elizabeth’s, it works out best at 7:00 in the morning.

You may need to adjust this time, you may need to fight for this time, but you need to make time.  I’ll say it again, if you cannot find at least ten minutes a day for private prayer with Our Lord, your life is out of control and you need to make adjustments.  No excuses.

Second, find a place.

       Create a space in the home.

       Or change your routine to bring you to a holy place.  

       I love this one quotation that is popping up on the door in many churches in France.  In four short sentences it says: 

       It is possible that on entering this church, you may hear the Call of God.    

       On the other hand, it is not likely that he will contact you by phone. Thank you for turning it off.   

       If you would like to talk to God, come in, choose a quiet place, and talk to him.  

       If you would like to see him, send him a text while driving.

Get creative. I love to tell the story of the fellow at St. Benedict’s who had two issues. First, because of his weird work schedule, he couldn’t find his ten minutes and he kept bringing the stress of his work home with him.

       As we chatted, the Holy Spirit kicked in and I asked him, “You live right down the street from the parish, right?

Why don’t you just pull your truck in and park in front of that big crucifix in front of the church on your way home?”

       You know, he did.

       About a month later he was in my office again and said, “You know, Father, that ten minutes has made all the difference.  I don’t even get out of my truck. I just do my Magnificat right there.  And I’ve also found that I can just leave all of the stresses and burdens of the day right there at the foot of the Cross. I suppose I could pick them back up again, but I’ve never seen the need.”

Make time. Create or find a place. Be persistent.  It may not change God, but it will certainly have a profound effect on you.

Let me end by paraphrasing Mr. Coolidge.  

“Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence in prayer. Vocation will not; nothing is more common than unfulfilled vocations. Cleverness will not; you cannot outmaneuver God. Erudition will not; the world is full of theological derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan Pray On! has opened and always will open the door of grace in the human heart.”

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Good Neighbors

The world is a bit less friendly than it used to be. I remember years past when it was no big deal to pick up a hitchhiker on the Kenai Peninsula or on the Alcan Highway. Even around town it was no big deal to give a couple of ski bums a ride to Girdwood on a Saturday morning. And you always stopped to help someone broke down on the side of the road. It was just something we did without thinking. Times have changed, I guess. People are much more cautious these days.  

It doesn’t appear that things have changed all that much in 2000 years. I like the story of the Good Samaritan we hear in Luke’s gospel this week, but I always sort of wince when I read about the priest and the Levite passing on the other side of the street. What’s up with that?  It grates against our wholesome Alaskan ethos.

Biblical scholars help us understand a little bit about what was going on when they explain that both were probably on pilgrimage and on their way up to Jerusalem to worship in the Temple. Apparently, if they had stopped to help the man and (God forbid) actually touch him, they would have incurred a ritual impurity and thus been unable to enter the Temple area.

Okay.  Fine.  So what?

That is exactly Jesus’s point. It doesn’t matter if they were on their way to worship. There was a brother Jew in need, bleeding on the side of the road. The obligation of charity trumps the obligation of the law every time. 

There are several different kinds of law that we need to keep in mind. In order of priority, they are: 1) Divine Law, 2) Natural Law, 3) Human Positive Law, and 4) Custom. 

These are at play even in the life of the Church, but there is a priority even within each category. Keeping holy the sabbath is indeed Divine Law, given to us in the Second Commandment and should not be taken lightly. Nevertheless, if the parable of the Good Samaritan teaches us anything, it is that love of God and love of neighbor are inseparable. One cannot render authentic worship to God after having passed by a person in need. The scholar of the Law, gained this insight at the feet of Christ. We hear it again in our sacred assembly. 

May we have the grace to go and do likewise.

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Credible Witnesses

Hello, Church fans! As many of you know, I am now at St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Parish on Huffman Road on the hillside here in Anchorage. So far, so good. Here is the gist of the homily this weekend.

Transition can be a crazy time and always involves a lot of mixed emotions. The last thing this parish needs is any kind of change.  So, we are going to take things easy for a while, get our emotional and spiritual feet underneath us, and maybe have a little fun in the process. Cause if you think about it, when it comes to church, if you are not having fun, you are doing it wrong.

Take moving for example, right now, I am in the midst of unpacking all my stuff in the parish house. The garage is full of hunting gear, pilot gear, an antique bedroom set, some exercise equipment, and a couple of freezers full of moose and deer and fish and whatnot.  And then there are the boxes…so many boxes…

       But let me share you a moving hack that I learned about three parishes ago. As you look at that big pile of half-labeled boxes of all your belongings. Get yourself a little Christmas tree and put it in the middle. Then start playing Christmas music.  As you open each box, exclaim with delight, “Oh look!  Towels and washcloths!  How thoughtful!  These will be perfect for the bathroom!” Or, “what a lovely lamp! This will go perfect in the living room!”  It’s a nice way of reminding ourselves that we really don’t own anything.  Everything is a gift. You’re gonna leave I tal behind anyway.  Think about it.  You never see a hearse with a U-Haul behind it.

   Many of you may remember Fr. Justin Dzickowicz, OSB, the mad monk from New Jersey who served here briefly at St. Elizabeth’s in the early 2000’s. While he was in Alaska, he and I formed a deep friendship that lasts to this day. While I was pastor of St. Andrew’s he would come and visit for several weeks at a time, usually during the summer.  When he wasn’t doing that, he was serving as a missionary chaplain to a convent of Benedictine sisters in Namibia. One day, he was getting ready to head directly from Alaska to Namibia. Preparing for such a trip was a significant effort and soon the living room floor was covered with boxes of supplies and baggage. As he packed yet another box, muttering all the while to himself, he looked up and noticed me observing him quietly. “What?!” he said in exasperation.  I simply replied with Our Lord’s words from today’s gospel reading:

Carry no money bag, no sack, no sandals;

and greet no one along the way…

“Oh, shut up!” he roared as I fled from the room. 

   But really, why did Jesus send the 72 out in such a way?  It helps to remember that in those days, much like the televangelists today, there were rabbis who were making a pretty good living by developing a following and building a little empire. By sending his disciples out thus, Jesus is making a very clear point that the Kingdom he proclaims transcends this material world. He sends his disciples as mendicants, dependent totally on the providence of God and the charity of those who will hear His message of salvation. In doing so, he ensures that they will be credible witnesses of the Good News.

   It’s a good reminder to us. A good reflection in our daily examen at the end of the day (you ARE doing a daily examen, yes?) is to ask, “As an intentional disciple of Jesus, like the 72, have I been a credible witness of the Gospel today?  Have I proclaimed the Kingdom in simple or even profound ways? Or, have I let the “stuff” of this world get in the way and dictate how I treat others? If so, what do I need to cast off so that I am a credible witness and a herald of Christ to the people and places that God sends me each day?

   It’s important that we make the most of every opportunity. Like the 72, Christ has sent you to this part of the world to herald his coming. And always remember, this coming week, you may be the only Gospel another person will ever hear. 

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Really Jesus

     It’s disheartening how many Catholics are confused about the true and substantial presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, in the last 50 years. Blame it on poor catechesis, a lack of good preaching, or whatever. Turns out things were not all that different in the middle of the 13th century. It took the vision of St Juliana of Cornillon and the Eucharistic miracle at Bolsena, Italy, in 1263 where the precious blood spilled out of the consecrated host and onto the corporal and altar cloth, to get folks’ attention. Pope Urban IV was so moved by the miracle, that he had the bloodied corporal moved to the cathedral in Orvieto where it resides today. (I’ve actually seen it. It’s pretty cool.) The following year Pope Urban  proclaimed the universal celebration of the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Our Lord, commonly known by its Latin name of Corpus Christi. 

Throughout the years, the Church has come up with various ways to try to describe this great mystery of our faith in the true presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Eventually, the best we could come up with was to use Greek philosophical categories to at least attempt to describe a little of what was going on. Briefly put, all things are made up of their substance and their attributes. The substance of a person or thing is its essence, its identity—what or who it is in and of itself. The attributes are what it looks like. Take yourself for example. You have always been you. Your identity has not changed. But your attributes have. As you aged, you got  taller, more trim and better looking! Your substance is the same, but your attributes have changed.

In the Eucharist, the process is the opposite. The attributes remain the same. It still looks and tastes like bread and wine.  However, the substance, the essence, the identity of the bread and wine is changed into the body, blood, soul and divinity of Christ.

Why? Well, quite frankly, because Jesus said so. Like the resurrection, the mechanics of this mystery escape us. Furthermore, we have to be careful not to get too bogged down in the details of sacramental analysis.  We can try to understand certain aspects, and use, quite rightly, the term “trans-substantiation,” but even as we do so, we realize that we are only talking about one tiny aspect of the immensity of the reality that is the Eucharist. When we understand that all that Christ is, is truly present to all that we are; that there is nothing that separates us from the love of God in a holy communion at the very essence of who we are, it is truly astounding.

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Trinity Sunday – Good Doctrine Leads to Good Behavior

We don’t argue about doctrine these days. Sometimes I wish we did. Why?  Because bad theology leads to bad behavior.

Sincerity is no arbiter of truth. You can be very sincere in your convictions and very, very wrong. Think about it. Every super villain in the Marvel universe is convinced that he or she is justified in their evil actions by a just cause. Thanos wanted people to thrive, but he didn’t think there was enough resources to go around. His solution was to randomly eliminate half the sentient beings in the universe.

Such a thought process can be sneaky. When it first came out, I thought the WWJD fad was kind of neat. When faced with a moral question, why not ask, “What would Jesus do?” The problem is that the vast majority of people wearing WWJD bracelets never really bothered to find out who Jesus actually is and what Jesus actually did. The result is that all too often WWJD became a way to justify bad behavior by recreating Jesus in one’s own image to fit one’s own preferences.  Bad theology leads to bad behavior.

The early Church had a deep appreciation for the need to articulate the Faith in a way that reflected, as best as humanly possible, the divine realities what were revealed to us. 

So it was that 1700 years ago, in 325 that the first Ecumenical Council met at Nicaea to come up with a way to suitably articulate the nature of Christ. Simply put, the controversy was this.  We Christians say that “Jesus is Lord!”  But how do we say that Jesus is Lord? One group, led by Arias, overemphasizing the transcendence of God, said that Jesus was the first of God’s creation and leads us to the Father. Thus, Christ was not to be worshipped.  This did not sit well with Arias’s bishop, Alexander, who rightly upheld the divinity of Jesus. The controversy spilled out into the whole Church. Apparently there were even a few bar fights about the divinity of Christ in the streets of Alexandria. So, the Emperor Constantine, who had recently legalized the Church, called the bishops to his summer palace in Nicaea to work it out. It was at this first ecumenical council that the bulk of the statement of faith we now know as the Nicaean Creed was pounded out. One of the canons of the Council of Nicaea was that the creed it produced would be recited at every Mass throughout the world for all time. That is why we recite the Nicaean Creed every Sunday.

On this Trinity Sunday, we should take time to really pay attention. When we understand the Creed, we understand what it means to say that Jesus is Lord. Good doctrine leads to good behavior. I don’t recommend getting into any bar fights, but I do pray it helps us to be more charitable and credible witnesses of the Gospel.