Our Daily Bread

Homily, 17th Sunday Ordinary Time, C
Fr. Paul D. Williams, Jr., St. Joseph's, Dalton, GA

I once heard a program on public radio that talked about various scientific experiments that sought to prove that prayer is truly effective. Apparently, over the years, many medical professionals have been interested in this question, setting up studies to see if sick people who are prayed for fare better than those who are not prayed for. Some of the studies have indeed shown that there does appear to be some relationship between prayer and patients getting well more quickly. But they’ve had trouble setting up truly scientific studies, because it’s hard to contain all the variables, especially in matters spiritual. One experiment, though, the scientists claimed proved that prayer was effective. In it, they got two test tubes filled with an identical amount of a growing bacteria and asked various prayer groups to pray for one and not the other. And each time, the one that was prayed for grew faster than the other.

Now, listening to this on the radio, I was fascinated, since my background is in science. But the priest in me said, wait a second. They’ve missed the whole point, indeed it makes you wonder if these scientists truly understand what prayer is. Prayer is not a power of the mind that causes things to happen in some sort of magical or paranormal way, and God is not some big source of impersonal energy that can be manipulated by our prayers and his response measured scientifically.

Instead, prayer is, as Jesus explains in the Gospel today, a conversation with a loving Father who cares about us, knows our needs, and wants to give us all that is good for us. If a reluctant and sleepy friend will give in to a persistent friend knocking at his door, how much more will the heavenly Father respond to you when you knock on his door. And, as Jesus says, “If you with all your sins, know how to give your children good things, how much more will the heavenly Father give to those who ask him.”

So Jesus defines prayer in terms of a loving relationship, as St. Therese of Lisieux would say, “For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look toward heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy.” (CCC2258) And St. Teresa of Avil defines prayer this way, “in my opinion, it is nothing else than a close sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with him who we know loves us.” (CCC2709)

Jesus says, “Ask and you shall receive…” but we’ve all experienced times when we’ve asked but not received. Why is this? Well, St. Augustine explains it this way: “Pray for temporal goods in private, and rest in the knowledge that they come to us from him who knows what is best for us. Did you ask and not get what you wanted? Trust in your Father. If it would have been good for you, you would have received it. Before God, you are much as a little child is before you. All day long, the child cries his eyes out so that you will give him a knife to play with. You wisely refuse his plea and pay no attention to his wailing… You deny him small things so as to preserve more important things.”

So God is generous, but he is also wise, knowing what is best for us. As the new catechism says, “Our Father knows what we need before we ask him, but he awaits our petition because the dignity of his children lies in their freedom. We must pray then, with his Spirit of freedom, to be able to truly know what he wants.” So, if we want our prayer to be effective, we first have to learn to trust him. Pope John Paul said that to learn who the Father is means learning what absolute trust is. And that’s why Jesus taught us the “Our Father.” It has been called the “summary of the whole Gospel” and the “most perfect of prayers.” (CCC 2774) And in it, we learn and show absolute trust in God. We praise him, praying for his kingdom and his will to be done on earth, trusting that his plan for us is for the good of all. We ask him to give us our daily bread, which is symbolic of all our necessities, trusting that he will give us what we truly need. We pray for his mercy, and we pray for protection from evil. In short, in this prayer, we place everything in his hands: our hopes, our needs, our very lives.

But second, if we want our prayers to be effective, we should attune our hearts to his. If God is indeed a loving Father and an intimate friend, then we should appeal to that which is closest to his heart, his mercy and compassion and love. And Abraham knew this in the first reading. When God had threatened to destroy the cities because of their sin, Abraham appealed to his love, his love for just a few just people in the city. God was willing to forgive thousands of sinners for the love of just a few. And we know from the Gospels that Jesus was this way as well. Frequently, he would see the crowds and be moved to pity for them.

The new catechism says that one who prays in intercession for others has a heart “especially attuned to God’s mercy.” (CCC 2365) And if we pray like Abraham, then our prayers will indeed be effective. St. Augustine said, “It is more meritorious to pray for someone else in their needs, than it is to pray for yourself.” And as Pope John Paul has said, this type of prayer is especially needed today, for there is a lot of injustice in today’s world: war, genocide, exploitation, racism, poverty caused by injustice and neglect. Perhaps if more of us pleaded with God like Abraham for mercy and compassion, then we would truly see God’s kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.

I’m sure we can all think of examples of answered prayer, but I thought I would share with you one from our trip to Jamaica to work with the children with handicaps. The Mustard Seed Community we worked at has always been hanging on by a thread it seems. They’ve had some of their homes firebombed, been evicted from other places, and frequently have trouble getting just the basic necessities, like food and water. Well, one time, they were drastically low on food and were beginning to really worry. But Fr. Gregory, the founder, has taught these children with handicaps how to pray. Indeed, they get up at 5am each morning to pray the rosary and meditate, almost like a monastery. And it is a beautiful thing to see a child pray. So that day, Fr. Gregory asked the children to pray for food. And it turns out, that later that evening, a truck full of food came by, on its way to the Swiss ambassador’s residence for a gala reception for many of the diplomats in Kingston. Well, the truck driver was lost and accidentally pulled into the Mustard Seed Compound. And before he could react, the orphans jumped onto the truck and began unloading it with joy. By the time the truck driver figured out what was happening, the kids had taken 2/3rds of the food and were passing it around.

Well, as you can imagine, the Swiss Ambassador’s party was ruined, and Mustard Seed got an irate call from them the next morning, demanding restitution. Fr. Gregory simply said, by all means, we will do what we can, just come on by and we’ll work something out. Well, the ambassador’s wife came by, and it didn’t take her but 2 minutes with the children to see what had really happened. So instead of demanding restitution, she offered a 3 months supply of food, free, from the finest grocery in Kingston (kind of like our Publix).

So, you see, God does answer prayer, if we simply trust him, appeal to his mercy, and realize that he is a loving Father who knows our every need, for we are indeed, his beloved children.

Ora et Labora

Homily, 15th Sunday Ordinary Time, C
Fr. Paul D. Williams, Jr., St. Joseph's, Dalton, GA

“Martha, Martha, you are upset and anxious about many things; one thing only is required. Mary has chosen the better portion and she shall not be deprived of it.”

The Gospel today gives us a beautiful contrast between two types of people: on the one hand, the Martha’s of the world who are busy with all the worldly concerns that our Lord calls us to be occupied with - welcoming the stranger, feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, clothing the naked; and on the other hand, the Mary’s of the world, who are more contemplative, given to quiet reflection and the inner life of prayer.

Martha was busy with all the details of hospitality, Mary with resting at the Lord’s feet and listening to his words. Yet both these things are clearly good. God needs the Martha’s of the world as much as he needs the Mary’s of the world. Yet Jesus said that Mary had “chosen the better part.” Why is this? It’s not that Martha had chosen something bad, in fact, she was doing as our Lord had commanded, but it’s simply that Mary had chosen better. Why? Because what Mary chose will last forever. Martha’s work will come to an end. What she was doing would pass away, while Mary was anticipating the life to come, the goal to which we strive and to which all our work on earth is directed.

Martha was troubled with a myriad of details, Mary was delighting in her Lord. Martha was on the journey, Mary had reached the destination. Martha was on the pilgrimage, Mary was enjoying the Promised Land.

St. Augustine would put it this way, “Martha... when you have reached the Promised Land, will you find a stranger whom you may receive into your house? Will you find any hungry, for whom you may break your bread? Or the thirsty, to whom you may hold out your cup? The sick whom you may visit? The imprisoned whom you may set free? The dead whom you may bury? None of these will be there, but what will be there? What Mary has chosen. For there we shall be fed, and shall not feed others.” (Sermon 103, NPNF, v.6, p. 428)

On that day, what Mary had chosen was to have a foretaste of the life to come. She would have to go back to work soon enough, for our Lord was on his way to Jerusalem, where he would be lifted up on the Cross for our sins. Perhaps that’s why Mary chose to sit at our Lord’s feet that day. She knew that he would not be with them much longer. Yes, they would be reunited in Paradise one day, but in the meantime, she wanted a little rest and comfort listening to the Lord’s words - some strength for the long journey ahead. So our Lord was not so much rebuking Martha for her work, for indeed it was good, but he was reminding her of her final goal, her reason for the work.

So, what about us? In a sense, we are called to be both Martha and Mary. If we do not respond to the Lord’s call to serve our neighbor, then we will not receive the gift of eternal life. If we are so focused on heaven that we neglect the poor and needy, then we have missed the very point of heaven. But, if we do not take some time to spend with the Lord, we may lose sight of our heavenly destination. We may make the mistake of thinking we can build up treasure here and now, a heaven on earth through our own hands.

So, how do we do this? How can we be both Martha and Mary? One of the common problems we face today is the widespread belief that religion is something incompatible with daily life, as if we take our religion in small doses - an hour on Sundays, a few private prayers during the week, maybe a prayer or two before we go to bed. But, we must realize that God is always present, in the midst of everything that we do. So we must integrate our prayer and work and make our work holy, sanctifying ordinary things. We can encounter God in the midst of our daily work and by means of our daily work, not in spite of it.

To be like Mary, we must put aside some time each day to spend with the Lord in prayer. And how do we do this in the midst of this busy world? Well, it’s easier than you think. When I was working in Florida I discovered a neat little trick that did wonders for my spiritual life: I turned off the radio on the way to work, and that gave me a full half-hour every morning to pray. Too often we surround ourselves with noise to distract us - radio, Television, whatever.

To be like Martha, we have dedicate ourselves to our work, but do one additional thing. In the midst of our work and daily life, we must listen to the Lord and be aware of his presence. Perhaps the reason Jesus rebuked Martha was that she was so busy with all the details of hospitality that she forgot that Jesus was in the same room. Perhaps if she had just slowed down a bit, she would have been able to listen to Jesus or even speak to him, in the midst of her work. And we can do the same, for we are always in the presence of the Lord.

When I would drive to work in Florida, there was a little sign outside a church that I would pass everyday, and it said very simply, “God speaks to those who take the time to listen.”

Jesus said to Martha, “only one thing is required.” And that one thing is Jesus himself. If we are aware of his presence now and respond to his call, then we have chosen the better portion, and, in the life to come, we shall never be deprived of it.

El Buen Samaritano

San Juan Crisóstomo dice con la boca del Señor:

"No te digo: arréglame mi vida y sácame de la miseria, entrégame tus bienes aun cuando yo me vea pobre por tu amor. Solo te imploro pan y vestido, y un poco de alivio para mi hambre. Estoy preso. No te ruego que me libres. Solo quiero que, por tu propio bien, me hagas una visita. Con eso me bastará y por eso te regalaré el Cielo. Yo te libré a ti de una prisión mil veces más dura. Pero me contento con que me vengas a ver de cuando en cuando.

Pudiera, es verdad, darte tu corona sin nada de esto, pero quiero estarte agradecido y que vengas después a recibir tu premio confiadamente. Por eso, yo, que puedo alimentarme por mí mismo, prefiero dar vueltas a tu alrededor, pidiendo, y extender mi mano a tu puerta. Mi amor llegó a tanto, que quiero que tú me alimentes. Por eso profiero, como amigo, tu mesa; de eso me glorío y te muestro ante todo el mundo como mi bienhechor."

(Homily on Romans, 15; cited in Hablar Con Dios, v. 4, p. 134)

The Good Samaritan

Homily, 15th Sunday Ordinary Time, C
Fr. Paul D. Williams, Jr., St. Joseph's, Dalton, GA

“Christ Jesus is the image of the invisible God.” Here, St. Paul is affirming the great truth that the Church has proclaimed through all the ages: that Jesus Christ is the God-man, fully human and fully divine. And it is very important to understand what this means, that we do not misinterpret it. He is not part God and part man, or some mixture of the two; he became truly man while remaining truly God (CCC 464). Vatican II's Gaudium et Spes explains (GS 38). “God's Word, through Whom all things were made, was Himself made flesh and dwelt on the earth of men. Thus He entered the world's history as a perfect man, taking that history up into Himself and summarizing it. He Himself revealed to us that "God is love" and at the same time taught us that the new command of love was the basic law of human perfection and hence of the worlds transformation.”

And the story of the Good Samaritan is a good illustration of how he is both divine and human. For in this story, Jesus Christ is both the Good Samaritan and the man who fell in with robbers, and we have a role to play as well.

In answer to the question, “Who is my neighbor?”, Jesus tells the story of the traveler going from Jerusalem to Jericho. Well, that road would have been familiar to his listeners, for it was notoriously dangerous at the time. And when Jesus said, “going down” this road, he wasn’t kidding, for in just 20 miles, the road dropped down 3600 feet, and was full of narrow, rocky crevices and sudden turns. In short, it was a happy hunting ground for robbers and thieves, who could hit their victims with ease and escape quickly back into the hills. The traveler in Jesus’ story had no one to blame but himself for traveling alone, with valuables to steal, on such a dangerous road. So the help offered by the Good Samaritan was indeed gratuitous, for the traveler had, in a sense, brought the trouble on himself.

And if we look at this story from the standpoint of Christ’s Divinity, then Jesus is the Good Samaritan. We were the ones who fell in with robbers through our own fault. We tried to travel on our own without God and fell because of sin. We were wounded by our sin, left dying by the side of the road with no way to save ourselves, but Jesus came down from heaven to earth to heal us, bind us up, nurse us back to health, and provide for our care.

But in another sense, in his humanity, Christ is also the man who fell in with robbers. For scripture tells us, (Isaiah 53:4-5) “it was our infirmities that he bore, our sufferings that he endured... he was pierced for our offenses, crushed for our sins... by his stripes we were healed”, (2 Cor. 8:9), “for our sake he became poor although he was rich”, (2 Cor. 5:21), and “for our sake he made him to be sin who did not know sin.”

So, in a special way, Jesus identifies with all those who suffer, for he took on our humanity so that he could raise up what was fallen, restore what was lost, and heal what was wounded.

And because Jesus identifies himself with the man who fell in with robbers, he calls us to be the Good Samaritan, to be like him and to respond with compassion and action to those in need. And at the last judgment, Jesus tells us that we will be judged on how we respond to that call, for he says (Mt. 25) “whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.... I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.”

St. John Chrysostom would reflect on these words of Jesus and have Jesus say to us: “I am not saying to you: solve all my problems for me, give me everything you have, even though I am poor for love of you. I only ask for some bread and clothes, some relief for my hunger. I am in prison. I do not ask you to free me. I only wish, that for your own good, you pay me a visit. That will be enough for me, and I in return will make you a gift of heaven. I have freed you from a prison a thousand times more harsh. But I am happy if you come and visit me from time to time.” (NPNF, v.11, p.458)

Throughout the history of the Church, people have responded to this call, to be the Good Samaritan who reaches out to Christ in the suffering and the poor.

If you ever have a chance to visit the Basilica Shrine of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton in Emmitsburg, Md., not too far from where I went to seminary, you will see two beautiful stained glass windows. One depicts what are called the Spiritual works of mercy, and the other depicts the Corporal works of mercy. They reflect the work that the Daughters of Charity, the order founded by St. Elizabeth, dedicate their lives to.

The Spiritual works of mercy are these: To convert the sinner; To instruct the ignorant; To counsel the doubtful; To comfort the sorrowful; To bear wrongs patiently; To forgive injuries; To pray for the living and the dead.

And the Corporal works of mercy are: To feed the hungry; To give drink to the thirsty; To clothe the naked; To shelter the homeless; To visit the sick; To visit the imprisoned; To bury the dead.

And in our day and age, there are so many opportunities to be involved with these works of mercy. In our everyday lives, we do the spiritual works by giving Christian witness, by teaching our children, by encouraging and supporting our friends, and by trying to be more virtuous people. And the opportunities for corporal works of mercy are even greater, for we can reach out to the homeless and needy, visit the lonely and abandoned, and pray for those who are sick.

Vatican II explains, (GS 38), “To those, therefore, who believe in divine love, [The Lord] gives assurance that the way of love lies open to men and that the effort to establish a universal brotherhood is not a hopeless one. He cautions them at the same time that this charity is not something to be reserved for important matters, but must be pursued chiefly in the ordinary circumstances of life.”

And I want to reiterate one point, that may be lost sometimes: the Good Samaritan responded to the needs of the man who fell in with robbers, even though this man was entirely at fault for not taking enough precautions when traveling a dangerous road. And we are called to do the same today, and respond with compassion and action even to those who have brought trouble on themselves. We are called to be like Christ who came to us even in the midst of our sin. St. Paul says, (Romans 5:8), “But God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” And if that is how God proves his love for us, then if we are to prove our love to him and inherit everlasting life, then we must do as Jesus tells us in today’s Gospel, “Go and do likewise.”

The Cost of Discipleship

Homily, 13th Sunday of Ordinary Time, Cycle C
Fr. Paul D. Williams, Jr. (St. Joseph's, 6/26/2010)

In the Gospel today, our Lord reminds us of the cost of discipleship. On his last journey to Jerusalem, where he will take up his Cross and offer himself for our salvation, he encounters three men who could be disciples. While their motivations may have been good, our Lord wanted to help them understand exactly what discipleship means.

To the first, he says, “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” Discipleship is costly. You will not find rest or security, but only hardship and the Cross.

The second, invited by Jesus personally, responds to the invitation with a condition, “Lord, let me go first and bury my father.” Caring for ones parents is a noble vocation, a fulfillment of the Fourth Commandment, “Honor your father and mother.” But perhaps this duty would take many years in which this potential disciple could revisit the opportunity Jesus is offering. The invitation was now, and trust was required. “Let the bed bury the dead. But you, go and proclaim the Kingdom of God.” The beautiful thing about saying “yes” now is that “all these things will be given you besides.” Following Christ doesn't mean abandoning one's obligations, but that God will supply for your needs. One of the first duties I had as a priest was to bury my Father, who died of cancer nine months after I was ordained. The Archbishop was kind enough to ordain me early so that my father could be present before his cancer made it difficult for him. And I was able to begin my ministry and care for my father together. His death was all the more beautiful because as a family, we were able to see it in the context of our vocations as disciples of Christ.

To the third, who wants to say goodbye to his family, Jesus says, “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the Kingdom of God.” Like the second, God will carry your family and loved ones along with you on the journey of discipleship. Like the farmer who begins plowing and cannot take his eyes off his goal, else the line will turn out crooked, you cannot divert your eyes from Christ. The disciple does not ask “what if?”, but “what now?” We have a goal that we can reach through faithfulness to our vocations.

One good example of the Cost of Discipleship in the modern era was a Lutheran pastor who wrote a book with that title. He not only wrote it, he lived it.

[The following story is redacted from several common stories summarizing Bonhoeffer's life, and much information is available on the Internet. Here is the book, The Cost of Discipleship, and here is an outline of Bonhoeffer's life.]

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a pastor, theologian, and teacher. A German, he lived during the rise of Nazi Germany and saw the terrible tragedy that was approaching Europe. Interestingly, the pastor had safely escaped the troubles in Europe and gone to teach in New York in June, 1939. He abruptly returned less than a month later saying: “I have had time to think and to pray about my situation, and that of my nation, and to have God's will for me clarified. I have come to the conclusion that I have made a mistake in coming to America. I shall have no right to participate in the reconstruction of the Christian life in Germany after the war if I did not share in the trials of this time with my people. Christians in Germany face the terrible alternative of willing the defeat of their nation in order that civilization may survive, or willing the victory of their nation and thereby destroying civilization. I know which of these alternatives I must choose. But I cannot make that choice in security.”

On his return, pastor Bonhoeffer was involved in the German underground, or resistance to Hitler and the Nazis. He was condemned for his involvement in “Operation 7”, a rescue mission that had helped a small group of Jews over the German border and into Switzerland. The 39-year-old theologian had also been involved in planning an unsuccessful assassination attempt on the life of Adolf Hitler. His participation in the murder plot obviously conflicts with Bonhoeffer's position as a pacifist. His sister-in-law, Emmi Bonhoeffer, cited his reasoning. He told her: “If I see a madman driving a car into a group of innocent bystanders, then I can't, as a Christian, simply wait for the catastrophe and then comfort the wounded and bury the dead. I must try to wrestle the steering wheel out of the hands of the driver.” His vocation called him to action.

Bonhoeffer, even while in prison, maintained his pastoral role. Those who were with him spoke of the guidance and spiritual inspiration he gave not only to fellow inmates but to prison guards as well. He didn't look back, but remained faithful to his vocation. In a letter smuggled out of prison Bonhoeffer showed no bitterness but rather explained how, “We in the resistance have learned to see the great events of world history from below, from the perspective of the excluded, the ill treated, the powerless, the oppressed and despised... so that personal suffering has become a more useful key for understanding the world than personal happiness.”

Bonhoeffer went calmly to his death. The morning as he was led out of his cell, he was observed by the prison doctor who said: “Through the half-open door I saw Pastor Bonhoeffer still in his prison clothes, kneeling in fervent prayer to the Lord his God. The devotion and evident conviction of being heard that I saw in the prayer of this intensely captivating man moved me to the depths.”

In his book, The Cost of Discipleship, pastor Bonhoeffer coins a term that is used commonly in the Christian world today as a wake-up call to authentic discipleship, he calls it “Cheap Grace” versus “Costly Grace.”

He explains it this way, “Cheap grace is the deadly enemy of our church. We are fighting today for costly grace. Cheap grace means grace sold on the market … Cheap grace means the justification of sin without the justification of the sinner... [In other words, excusing sin but not recognizing the Gospel's transformative power.] Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession, absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.”

He definies Costly rgace this way, “Costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man’ will gladly go and self all that he has. It is the pearl of great price to buy which the merchant will sell all his goods. It is the kingly rule of Christ, for whose sake a man will pluck out the eye which causes him to stumble, it is the call of Jesus Christ at which the disciple leaves his nets and follows him.”

“Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock. Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies [makes new] the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: “you were bought at a price,” and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. Above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. Costly grace is the Incarnation of God.”

Those words are particularly important: “God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life...” Echoing St. John, pastor Bonhoeffer reminds us that God loves each of us individually and uniquely, beyond measure. So much so that he gave his only Son for our sakes, so that we might share in the “only true life” that Christ came to give us.

He concludes, “Costly grace is the sanctuary of God; it has to be protected from the world, and not thrown to the dogs. It is therefore the living word, the Word of God, which he speaks as it pleases him. Costly grace confronts us as a gracious call to follow Jesus. It comes as a word of forgiveness to the broken spirit and the contrite heart. Grace is costly because it compels a man to submit to the yoke of Christ and follow him; it is grace because Jesus says: 'My yoke is easy and my burden is light.'”

The invitation to live our vocation is given by Christ, “Follow me” and explained simply by St. Paul, “the whole law is fulfilled in one statement, namely, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'” This love is costly. As true disciples, we respond with our whole hearts, embracing God's will for our lives, and going forth to “proclaim the Kingdom of God” in today's world.

Father's Day and St. Joseph

Father's Day Meditation
Fr. Paul D. Williams, Jr.

In our lives, we often find that God does the unexpected, and when he does so, wonderful things happen. On this Father's Day, I thought it would be good to look at St. Joseph as model for husbands and fathers and how God works in our lives.

The first thing to note about St. Joseph is his dilemma. God not only does the unexpected, but he puts Joseph in a tough situation. His wife was pregnant, and he did not yet know that she had conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit after the annunciation by Gabriel. Yet certainly he could not believe that she could have done something wrong. So how does he handle his dilemma? Since he is an “upright man, unwilling to expose her to the law”, he chooses to divorce her quietly because that will cause her the least harm. He was not interested in what would benefit him the most, but instead, he thought only of what was best for her. In fact, the shame would have fallen on him, because he would have been seen as a deadbeat who abandoned his fiancé. He was not only a just man, but he was a charitable man, willing to make sacrifices for the sake of others, and to give of himself.

Perhaps God was testing him, to see if he was worthy to be the foster father of Jesus, to see if he would have the qualities necessary to be a father to the Savior. But finally, the Lord sends an angel to tell him the rest of the story, to tell him what he must do. And that is the next thing to note about St. Joseph: when he awoke, the scriptures say, “he did as the angel of the Lord had directed him.” He did not question the Lord’s will; he did not second-guess what he had been told; he simply submitted himself to God’s will and went about his duty as he was told.

Again, God had acted in an unexpected way, and for St. Joseph, that meant that his life from that moment onwards was radically changed. Through the tradition of the Church, in the writings of the saints, and in a lot of Christian art, St. Joseph is pictured as an old man. Since he was the guardian and protector of Mary’s virginity, many in the church, in their excess of piety, thought that he must certainly be an old man. But, this attitude, this image, as Fulton Sheen once said, “betrays a lack of confidence in the ability of young people to live chaste lives, as if the condition for living holy purity is that one be old.” So isn’t it much more beautiful to picture St. Joseph as a young man who immediately said “yes” to God when he called. St. Joseph was a chaste man. Not all husbands are called to live perfect continence within marriage as he did, but all husbands are called to live and act chastely, not treating their wives or other women as objects, but instead treating them with respect and dignity.

And I do not find it too hard to believe that he would so joyfully accept God’s will for his life for he was already a just man who knew the joys of keeping the commandments and loving God and our neighbor as himself. After all, he was being called to participate in the greatest wonder in human history - the birth of the God-man, Immanuel, God is with us; he was being called to be the guardian and protector of this divine child, and he had the privilege to be the husband of the most marvelous woman who has ever existed, Mary.

And to top it all off, St. Joseph, at the command of the angel, had the privilege of giving that child the name of Jesus, “he who saves his people from their sins”, the name above every other name, the name at which every knee should bend, in the heavens and on the earth, the name that every tongue must confess as Lord.

There is a beautiful prayer in the tradition of the Church asking for St. Joseph's intercession:

O blessed Joseph, happy man whose privilege it was,
not only to see and hear that God
whom many a king has longed to see, yet saw not,
longed to hear, yet heard not;
but also to carry him in your arms and kiss him,
to clothe him and watch over him!
Pray for us, Blessed Joseph.

All the Rest of Life is Expendable

Homily Corpus Christi, C
Fr. Paul D. Williams, Jr. St. Joseph's, Dalton, GA

I’m sure most of you are familiar with Flannery O'Connor, well-known Southern author, a native of Milledgeville Georgia, and a Catholic who belonged to the parish there. In one of her letters, she recalls a visit she made to another well-known author, who had been raised Catholic, but no longer believed. Flannery's friend said that "when she was a child and received the Host [the Blessed Sacrament], she thought of it as the Holy Ghost, he being the 'most portable' Person of the Trinity; now, she thought of it as a symbol and implied that it was a pretty good one." In the letter, Flannery tells us her response: "I then said, in a very shaky voice, 'Well, if it's a symbol, to hell with it!' [She goes on...] That was all the defense I was capable of, but I realize now that this is all I ever will be able to say about it, outside of a story, except that it [the eucharist] is the center of existence for me; all the rest of life is expendable."

When I look at the world today, it becomes pretty obvious that Jesus is the center of existence for fewer and fewer people. We have placed so many other things at the center of our lives: money, pleasure, politics, power. Sure, Jesus is a part of some people’s lives, perhaps as an example, a teacher, a friend we turn to as a last resort. Yes, he is all those things, but it seems as if he is no longer the whole, the center, the reason for existence.

And Christ is present to us in so many different ways. According to the teaching of the Church, he is present to us in the Word, especially the Gospel when it is read and proclaimed. He is present to us when “two or three gather” in his name, which is especially true when we gather to worship together in sacrifice of the Mass. He is present to us in the Church itself, which is his Mystical Body, in its people, ministers and authority. He is present in the sacraments, when he heals us, forgives our sins, and gives us grace for our various states in life. We know all of that, if only we would live it.

But there is another presence which I would like to talk about. Jesus said, “(Matthew 25:40) whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.” So, in a special way, the Church has always taught, Jesus is present among us in the poor, the sick, the imprisoned, the lonely, the suffering, those in need.

Mother Teresa illustrates this well with a story she would tell a lot. She begins the story this way, “I remember one of our Sisters, who had just graduated from the university. She came from a well-to-do family that lived outside of India. [she was assigned on her first day] to the Home for Dying Destitutes in Calcutta. Before this Sister went, I told her, ‘You saw the priest during Mass, with what love, with what delicate care he touched the body of Christ [in the Eucharist]. Make sure you do the same thing when you get to the home, because Jesus is there in a distressing disguise.’ So she went, and after three hours, she came back. That girl from the university, who had seen and understood so many things, came to my room with such a beautiful smile on her face. She said, ‘For three hours I’ve been touching the body of Christ!’ And [Mother Teresa] said, ‘What did you do? What happened?’ She said, ‘They brought a man from the street who had fallen into a drain and had been there for some time. He was covered with maggots and dirt and wounds. And though I found it difficult, I cleaned him, and I knew I was touching the body of Christ!’ [Mother Teresa goes on] She knew! Do we know? Do we recognize Jesus under the appearance of bread [in the Eucharist]? If we recognize him under the appearance of bread, we will have no difficulty recognizing him in the disguise of the suffering poor, and the suffering in our family, in our own community.”

And that is the final, most perfect, and fullest way in which Christ is present to us. In the Eucharist. For “in the most blessed sacrament of the Eucharist, the body and blood, together with the soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ and therefore, the whole Christ is truly, really, and substantially contained.” (CCC 1374)

And that truth is what has guided, inspired, and given life to the Church. Throughout the ages, saints and the faithful would attest to this great mystery.

St. Paul would recall the institution of this great sacrament, when Jesus said, “This is my body, which is for you. This cup is the new covenant in my blood.” For Jesus desired to give us a memorial of his death, so that we could always have access to him and this great mystery.

And Vatican II would say this about the institution of the Eucharist, “At the Last Supper, on the night he was betrayed, our Savior instituted the Eucharistic sacrifice of his Body and Blood. This he did in order to perpetuate the sacrifice of the Cross throughout the ages until he should come again, and so to entrust to his beloved Spouse, the Church, a memorial of his death and resurrection: a sacrament of love, a sign of unity, a bond of charity, a Paschal banquet in which Christ s consumed, the mind is filled with grace, and a pledge of future glory is given to us.” (SC 47)

Because of this, Vatican II would call the Eucharist “the source and summit of Christian life.” (LG 11)

And our very own Flannery O’Connor would call the Eucharist the “center of her existence.” And if we want to do the same, to make Jesus in the Eucharist the center of our existence, then we need to recognize his presence in the Blessed Sacrament, and from there we can see his presence in the Word, when we gather for prayer and worship, in the sacraments, the Mass, the Church, and in the poor and needy. Ultimately, we need only follow the advice of Mother Teresa, “If we recognize him under the appearance of bread, we will have no difficulty recognizing him in the disguise of the suffering poor, and the suffering in our family, in our own community.”

And if we can recognize him in the Eucharist, then perhaps it would be easy to make him the center of our existence. If he is, then perhaps we will have some small affect on the world around us. Is Jesus in the Eucharist the center of your life? Come and receive him today at communion and give him the answer. Come and receive the real body and blood, soul and divinity of our Lord. Come and adore him in the tabernacle and on the altar and see the one who befriends us, refreshes us, defends us, and gives us life eternal - our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.