November 3, 2024 (31st Sunday in Ordinary Time)

“Algorithm of Love”

by Fr. Dominic DeLay, O.P.

[This is the text composed by the homilist prior to delivering the homily.]

What leads you to things you never knew existed, taking you, if you let it, further and further from where you started until you’re watching cats doing brain surgery or until you’re radicalized? YouTube’s algorithm? Yes, but also the Algorithm of Love. And I’m not talking about the Stanford Pact. The Algorithm of Love is 100% effective.

The scribe in today’s gospel, a scholar of the law, consults the upstart startup search engine, Jesus: “Which is the first of all the commandments?” The divine search engine’s response:

Hear, O Israel!
The Lord our God is Lord alone!
You shall love the Lord your God
with all your heart,
with all your soul,
with all your mind,
and with all your strength.

And just like that, we’re given the core code of the Algorithm of Love. The answer isn’t surprising, but the oracular, proclamatory style of the response prompts action over further casual browsing: “Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is Lord alone!” And the Greek love here isn’t a feeling – it’s not a mere, virtual like – it’s a very real action. Does the scribe – do we – dare follow this algorithmic path, not knowing where it will lead? Will we become love radicals?

Heart, soul, mind, strength. But how do we love God in each of these ways? The Greek heart is not merely the center of our feelings but also of our thoughts. Our heart is our center. How do we love God with the complete center of our being, and where might that lead us? The Greek soul is the breath or spirit. How do we love God with all our breath, and where might that lead us? The Greek mind is the place of deep thinking. How do we love God with all our deepest thoughts, and where might that lead us? The Greek strength is about power and might. How do we love God with our entire might, and where might that lead us? Heart plus soul plus mind plus strength.

One of our undergrads suggested to me that this kind of total love might involve knowing God’s love language. How does God want to be loved? It turns out that scripture gives us plenty of suggestions from God on how to love God. Over and over the scriptures tell us that God doesn’t want sacrifice and burnt offerings, empty acts of piety:

Sacrifice and offering you did not desire—but my ears you have opened…I desire to do your will, my God; your law is within my heart. (Psalm 40:6) The sacrifice you desire is a repentant heart, O God. (Psalm 51:17)

Open ears, doing God’s will, repentance. We love God by relying on God, letting God guide and empower us, turning to God in prayer. We love God through our prayers of thanks praise, petition, and adoration.

Jesus has revealed the algorithm of total love for God, but he codes an extension: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” It’s no mere touchy-feely, navel-gazing thing to say that we need to make sure to love ourselves, to note that many of us would be doing harm to our neighbors if we loved them the way we love – or rather, don’t love – ourselves, pushing ourselves, blaming ourselves, putting ourselves down, not eating or sleeping enough, not exercising our body or spirit or imagination or hope. Gorging on election predictions and returns until we’ve worked ourselves into a frenzy of fear and anger. We treat ourselves like machines, forgetting that we can’t merely recharge and restart.

How do we love ourselves? Mercy is a good start. And what’s your love language? What do you need and desire? I imagine it includes some sleep, nourishment, exercise, play, and prayer.

What does loving our neighbor look like? Jesus’ code extension isn’t new in itself – he’s quoting Leviticus. But he’s creatively combining love of neighbor with love of God. Also, Leviticus was merely talking about loving one’s own people. But we know that Jesus calls us to love everyone as our neighbor. Jesus asks us to be a neighbor to the Samaritans in our lives. This particularly challenging election season gives us many opportunities to love Samaritans, those who are different from us. How do we love those most in need with our vote? And how do we love fellow voters that we vehemently disagree with? Have we still not listened to them to learn their true thoughts, values, and fears? “For I desire mercy, not sacrifice,” God insists (Hos 6:6). Who needs your mercy right now?

There’s more: the algorithm of love carries a deep, invisible code, God’s love for us. Jesus most clearly and powerfully expresses the love that prompts our love when his love for us leads to his death.

The best way we can love God is by resting in this indescribable love of God for us. We love God by letting God love us. We love God by giving ourselves fully to God. We love God by trusting that God has already established the kingdom of love, which ultimately heals whatever we get wrong in the election and our other high-stakes pursuits. We love God by living in hope not fear or despair. Fear and despair paralyze us or prompt us to violence. Hope fuels loving action that creates real change in the world.

We love God by letting God love us and by loving ourselves and our neighbor. Yet we do none of this by our own powers. When we love our neighbor, it is God loving through us. God is at the center of our being, our heart. God’s Spirit is our breath, our soul. God’s deepest thought, Jesus, guides our deepest thoughts. God’s strength is our strength in Christ. God powerfully loves our neighbor through our God-reliant weakness.

Where does the Algorithm of Love lead? The scribe affirms Jesus’ insight, and Jesus in turn affirms his: “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” Simply to acknowledge the truth of God’s algorithm of love brings us close to the kingdom of God. And, with the broad band of God’s Spirit of love breathing within us, we merely take the first step in the algorithm – we receive God’s love for us – and find ourselves immersed in the kingdom of love. Where will this algorithmic journey take us? The result is multivalent. Living the Algorithm of Love takes us from result to result, moving us ever deeper into the realm of love.

October 13, 2024 (28th Sunday in Ordinary Time)

“The One Thing”

by Fr. Dominic DeLay, O.P.

[This is the text composed by the homilist prior to delivering the homily.]

There’s a reason so many of us who aren’t students have committed ourselves to the Catholic Community at Stanford. We are inspired by the presence of you who are students. Some of you come, and you’re not even Catholic. We know the reason you are here, even if you are too stressed to remember it sometimes, is because you have a deep, deep desire for…something… And that reminds the rest of us that we also have a deep desire…

I asked a few of our undergrad leaders what they want. One said she wants an understanding of God’s mission for her, another to ultimately be in heaven with God, and another peace. What do you want? What do you really want? And what will you do to get it?

The man in today’s gospel story from Mark, a young man in Matthew’s version, wants nothing less than eternal life. He’s so passionate about his goal that he asks Jesus for advice, always a risky move. But Jesus pulls out a stock answer and simply lists the commandments. Disappointed, the man says he’s done all these things since his youth. Apparently, he’s an excellent rule follower. He’s ready for a harder, more advanced set of rules.

Jesus looks at him with love, sees the man’s deepest desire, and says, “You are lacking in one thing.” But he doesn’t tell him what this one thing is. Is it something that can’t be expressed, at least not as a rule? Does Jesus want this man and all of us to go beyond rule following to a more mature faith? While we often resist rules, there are times when they make life easier. It makes me think, during this election season, the first as voters for many of you, of the temptation to think our Catholic faith will tell us precisely how to vote.

Today’s after-Mass discussions about the elections will probably explore not just Catholic rules but also underlying Catholic principles. In the U.S. Bishops’ document on voting, they set forth four basic principles: the need to recognize the dignity of every human being, to promote the common good rather than merely our own, to act in solidarity with all peoples, and to promote subsidiarity. Dignity, common good, solidarity, and subsidiarity. I’ll let you look up subsidiarity. These principles help us judge what is good and right in specific instances. Is this the one thing, possession not just of rules but also of the principles for moral action? Is that what will gain us eternal life?

But our faith asks even more of us. As the bishops’ document reminds us, we need to form our conscience and act according to it. This applies not just to voting but to all moral aspects of our lives. To form our conscience, we learn the authentic rules and principles, not the imbalanced and shallow versions of them that we sometimes find in news coverage or get from well-meaning but fearful Catholics. And we study the issues, talk with good and smart people, and pray. Rinse and repeat. Forming our conscience is hard work and a lifelong task. This is scary business because there may be times when our well-formed conscience, which we are obliged to obey – that’s the number one moral rule of the Church – calls us to act contrary to one of the church’s other rules. Is forming our conscience the one thing?

It is indispensable, but there’s a virtue that enables us to properly use our conscience. Today’s first reading says, “I prayed, and prudence was given me.” The virtue or good habit of prudence is the ability to discern how to apply our conscience in particular situations. Discerning how to vote for a candidate might sound like this: This candidate’s platform aligns with my conscience in more important ways than the other candidates’ platforms, but does she have a track record that indicates sincerity and capability? Will she have the opportunity to pursue the important things? Are her solutions good, or might they cause more harm than good? Is prudence the one thing?

But the pray-er in today’s first reading continues: “I prayed, and prudence was given me; I pleaded, and the spirit of wisdom came to me.” Ah, wisdom. That sounds a bit more exciting, doesn’t it? Who doesn’t want to be wise? Wisdom is a gift of the Holy Spirit that deepens the human understanding we’ve developed through reflection on our mistakes and on life in general. Wisdom sees not only the trees but the forest. And the roots. Wisdom learns from others, walks with others, especially the marginalized and those who aren’t Catholic, as we Catholics are trying to do with our emphasis on synodality. Is wisdom – which by the way doesn’t favor age over youth – is wisdom the one thing in life?

“I prayed, and prudence was given me; I pleaded, and the spirit of wisdom came to me. I preferred her to scepter and throne, and deemed riches nothing in comparison with her…Beyond health and beauty I loved her, and I chose to have her rather than the light…”

This is the stumbling block for the man in the gospel. “You are lacking in one thing,” Jesus says to him with love. “Go, sell what you have, and give to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven…” The man has a deep desire for the one thing that will lead him to eternal life, but he can’t quite bring himself to place this desire above his many possessions. At Jesus’ invitation, his challenge, the man’s face falls, and he goes away sad.

I think Jesus was sad as well. It must have pained him to then say, “How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” I don’t want to merely spiritualize wealth here. After all, Catholic teaching is that, while we have the right to own property, we have the responsibility to share it with those in need. We can take that to the voting booth, by the way. But we are wealthy in other ways, aren’t we? What are your many “possessions”?

One of my treasured possessions is my to-do list. My doing, though, often becomes my identity and gets in the way of seeing people that aren’t in my plan. I talked with a couple other undergrad leaders, who came up with their own enticing list of possessions: comfort, sense of control, prestigious internship opportunities, resumes, the estimation of others – what would they think if I left everything? What are your many possessions and obsessions, and how do they possess you? Might we give up everything for wisdom? Is wisdom the one thing?

“Go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” Then come, follow me. If we follow Jesus, really put him first, will he lead us to that one thing, whatever it is? Or is the one thing not a thing at all, not something we do – “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” – and not something we have, whether it’s the newest, greatest phone or wisdom – Is the one thing not something we do or possess but a way of being? Is the following itself the one thing?

Jesus does lead us to something, eternal life. But when we walk with Jesus, we are already experiencing eternal life. We walk with Jesus, experiencing in him and each other the one thing we desire most deeply even as we walk together toward the fullness of that one thing. When we Christians walk with Jesus, accompanied by the wisdom and support of our friends of other faiths, we all continually discover and rediscover the one great truth, that we are God’s most valued possession.

February 25, 2024 (Second Sunday in Lent)

by Fr. Xavier Lavagetto, O.P.

[This is the text composed by the homilist prior to delivering the homily.]

“Take your son Isaac, your only one, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah. There you shall offer him up as a holocaust on a height that I will point out to you.” These are words of terror. What kind of God makes such a demand?... What kind of father does it?

Abraham, why didn’t you plead? “Take my life, not my son’s!” You confronted God and pleaded for the children of Sodom and Gomorrah when you challenged God, “Will you destroy the righteous with the wicked?” … Why don’t you plead for your own son?

Don’t forget that Genesis is not a mere account but a commentary on the human heart and a Jewish challenge to pagan thinking. Genesis is more sophisticated than most realize.

In those days, child sacrifice was the measure of devotion. It rested on the crazy idea that a father owned his children and their lives. Genesis rejects such deadly piety for all time for all Abraham’s descendants.

But there is more; hear it again, but with the missing words: Abraham took the wood for the burnt offering and laid it on Isaac his son. Then he took in his hand the fire and the knife, [Remember these next words!.] and they both went on together. Isaac spoke to Abraham his father: “My father?” He answered, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “I see the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” Abraham replied, “God will provide for himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son; and they both went on together.” …

Anytime scripture repeats a phrase, it is saying, “Explain this.” “They both went on together” describes walking together in trust, freely and knowingly. Isn’t that what we all want: someone to walk with us?

But more, Abraham’s Hebrew answer to Isaac is ambiguous, saying something more. “God himself will provide. The lamb for the burnt offering is my son. And they both went on together.” … Jewish tradition taught, and Jesus and Paul held that Isaac knowingly walked, freely carried the wood, and willingly was bound. This young man could easily overpower old Abraham. Isaac is not a passive victim, but an active participant for “they both went on together. What was God asking of them?

First, they had to face the contradiction of a God who promises a progeny through Isaac yet demands his death. … Imagine Abraham’s dread and Isaac’s courage. … Yet they choose to walk on together without being given a solution. Those last steps were tortuous, yet “they both went on together.” They walk together trusting.

I don’t like a God who tests the mettle of a man, but I am forced to admit that it was in the very testing that they were purified in the fire and made strong. … Do you look for the grace offered in your struggles?

Trust is only made real by the very act of trusting. Love is only as strong as our decision to trust.

God did stop Abraham; he was not seeking Isaac’s death. On that day, the idea that one could own another human being died, and child sacrifice ended.  … God did not want Isaac’s death but Abraham’s trust.

In today’s Gospel, we are again on a mountain; a voice speaks again, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.” A journey begins again to Moriah, now renamed Jerusalem with its Golgotha. Once more, a son will freely walk, freely carry the wood, freely be bound, and, this time, freely die. God has the devotion of Abraham … for us! Jesus has the self-sacrificing generosity of Isaac … for us!

I understand Peter’s foolishness. “Rabbi, it is good that we are here! Let us make three tents.” … I, too, would keep Jesus safe in resplendent glory on the mountain, but that would leave the world unchanged. The Father and Jesus “both went on together;’ claiming a different glory, the glory of the cross.

The measure of divine love is God in Jesus’ freely giving himself into our hands! He didn’t have to die, but his love is that passionate. On the Mount of Transfiguration, we glimpse that love that pursues you and me is revealed as God himself. Our response is to listen. Will you listen and let him love you?

The ignominy of the cross continues in the hiddenness of Jesus in the Eucharist. God claims us, a motley group of sinners, as his glory. Jesus just doesn’t give his life for you; he pours himself into you. Take eat. Take drink.

I fear such loving lest God ask it from me! Wouldn’t you want to remain safe on the mountain like Peter? He wanted love without sacrifice and glory without giving, but Jesus refused to limit his love. He gives his all … for all … to all!

God in Jesus wants the glory of lovers, giving themselves away in love. It is not his pain and death that heals you; it is divine life, and love poured out and poured into you! Jesus’ sacrifice is not primarily about dying but about giving. It is all about our walking on together. Only the gift of love can end the child sacrifice, the violence, and the killing we still inflect. Will you walk on with God and each other?

February 18, 2024 (First Sunday in Lent)

“What Awaits Us in the Desert?”

by Fr. Dominic DeLay, O.P.

[This is the text composed by the homilist prior to delivering the homily.]

What awaits us in the desert of Lent? Why does the Spirit drive Jesus into the desert? Drive is the same word used for Jesus driving out demons and driving out the moneychangers from the temple. Jesus is driven into the desert by the Spirit, the same Spirit that just descended on him in baptism when the voice from the heavens declared, “You are my beloved Son…” That same Spirit drives us who have been baptized and those seeking baptism into the desert. We are thrust into the desert, not to earn but to learn, not to earn God’s love but to learn anew the truth of our baptism, which carries God’s voice promising each of us, “You are my beloved child.” Echoing the forty years of the Israelites’ formative journey, Jesus needed forty days to discover the meaning of God’s love for him. We need that forty-day biblical journey to discover the depths of God’s love for us and to be transformed by that love.

What awaits us in the desert? Jesus was among wild beasts in the desert, the wilderness, the quiet place. What wild beasts will we encounter? Unlike Jesus, who didn’t have time to make a plan for his time in the desert – he didn’t even know how long he’d be there – we know the parameters and have had time to make plans. Of course, plans attract certain wild beasts, such as busyness and distraction. Not only do busyness and distraction keep us from our plans, but also we can become busy with the plans themselves. In other words, we can become busy with our prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, turning them into projects to check off for the day rather than practices that drive us into the arms of God. But that’s okay, because the wild beasts are the point. We’re meant to confront these wild beasts, including busyness and distraction, and the other wild beasts that busyness and distraction keep us from detecting.

What awaits us in the desert? Busyness with work and other activities, including the works of Lent, distract us from seeing the lurking bigger beasts, such as despair. We doomscroll yet don’t realize we’re sinking into despair. Or we give in to despair and give up on news and politics altogether. We despair of the world changing, and we despair of ever being healed from our habitual sins. We cease to hear ourselves complain and gossip, not realizing we’re actually complaining against God just as the Israelites did in the desert. We don’t realize our despair has led us to casually taking up idolatry, putting our own projects or pleasures ahead of prayer. As rabid despair sinks his teeth into our flesh, sloth, anger, and violence set in. We do violence to ourselves with silent condemnations we don’t even hear. We do violence to others through our words, defensiveness, and resentments. We despair of solving violence in the world without violence. We condone or passively become complicit in violent pseudo-solutions. Before we know it, we’re talking oxymoronically about humane execution and the rules of war. Or we’re not talking at all.

What awaits us in the desert? The wild beasts are real, but so are the angels. While Jesus was in the desert among the wild beasts, the angels ministered to him. If we let them, God’s angels minister to us in the desert. They feed us with the body and blood, the life force, of Jesus. They feed us with God’s meaty words in the scriptures. God’s angels lead us to the sacrament river of reconciliation, where we slake our desert thirst and are cleansed from our sins, returning to baptismal hope. Our recurring sin has become an occasion of grace, turning us to rely on God rather than ourselves. We remember that God loves us equally with and without our sin. God’s angels tilt our heads up from our despair, and we see that we are not alone. We walk with each other, not wandering aimlessly in the desert, but making our way, together, little by little, to Easter and new life. We see the candidates for Easter initiation in our midst, and our own faith is renewed. During this Black History month, God’s angels remind us how Black Americans sowed seeds of active, loving nonviolence in the desert, seeds which blossomed before and can blossom again with the water of hope.

What awaits us in the desert? God’s angels hold us steady long enough for us to learn not to run from the wild beasts but to confront them, even befriend them. We are grateful that the wild beasts have led us to look for God’s help and to remember God’s ineffable love for us. We realize that these wild beasts are afraid too. These wild beasts of busyness, distraction, sloth, anger, and violence, riding on the back of the wild beast of despair, look to us for stillness and peace. With God’s angels at our side, we learn that our God-trusting quiet quiets the wild beasts as well. Might such a stillness quiet the fears of our enemies?

What awaits us in the desert and beyond? Jesus came to understand and encounter God’s baptismal love for him more and more deeply. He left the desert filled with hope and proclaimed, “This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand.” May our desert journey together be an occasion to learn more deeply of God’s infinite love for us. May we be prepared this Lent to leave the desert with the courage to proclaim God’s peaceable Easter kingdom with renewed hope.

February 4, 2024 (Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time)

“Kick Up Some Dust”

by Fr. Dominic DeLay, O.P.

[This is the text composed by the homilist prior to delivering the homily.]

I always wonder if Jesus healed Peter’s mother-in-law because he was hungry. When he takes her by the hand and helps her up, a kind of mini resurrection, her fever leaves her and she waits on them. Some of us might prefer that he ask her to be one of the twelve, but we can say that he has healed and freed her so that she can be of service to Jesus’ kingdom of love and life in the ways she has available to her.

There’s more, though. The word translated as “wait on” is from the same word at the root of deacon. Literally, this word means to kick up some dust, a nice, earthy way to describe serving, like running an errand. Simon’s mother-in-law – Shall we give her a name? How about Dusty? – Dusty, healed and now vigorous, kicks up some dust in service of Jesus’ mission. This same word for service is used to describe those other women who followed and supported Jesus.

Jesus himself kicks up some dust in today’s story. After healing practically everyone in town, he gets up early the next day to go off to a deserted place to pray. His disciples manage to track him to tell him everyone is calling for him. But Jesus turns his back on such adulation. “Let us go on to the nearby villages that I may preach there also. It is for this purpose that I have come.” He kicks up some dust and keeps moving, “preaching and driving out demons throughout the whole of Galilee.”

For Black History month, Fr. Xavier has prepared a handout for each Sunday that recalls stories we might not have heard of. I came across in Sojourner magazine the story of Rose Robinson. That Greek word for kicking up dust that is the root of the word for deacon could also have been used of runners. Rose Robinson was a star high jumper who literally kicked up dust in competition and had a long career kicking up dust through activism.

Throughout the 1950s, she led “skate-ins” to desegregate a Cleveland skating rink. In 1958, she refused to represent the United States at a State Department meet in the Soviet Union, not wanting to be a pawn in her country’s attempts to whitewash its reputation for racist laws. In 1959, she remained in her seat during the national anthem at the Pan American Games. She’s considered the first to use that non-violent tactic for justice.

In 1960, she was sentenced to prison for not paying her taxes in protest against her country’s testing of atomic bombs despite the dangers of nuclear fallout. After her three-month hunger strike, the judge offered to commute her sentence if she paid the $386 she owed in taxes, but she refused. Her hunger strike drew national attention that resulted in her release, but her body was weakened enough to ruin her track career. She continued, however, to kick up dust through activism until her death in 1976.

How are we healed so that we can serve in our particular ways? Through our baptism, we who are Christians have been saved by Christ. Of course, salvation also means healing, as in salve or balm. Why has each of us been healed through baptism? How are we called to kick up the dust in service of the kingdom?

In fact, all the sacraments are sacraments of service. We are confirmed in our baptism to strengthen us for service. We regularly participate in the sacrament of the eucharist so that we might re-commit ourselves to service and be fed and strengthened. We ask forgiveness for our sins so that we can be free to serve. We’re anointed for healing so that we can be vigorous servants. We are married or ordained for service to the church and the rest of the world.

Jesus moved on, leaving adulation behind, to preach and drive out demons, and he calls us to kick up the dust and follow him. Last Sunday, Fr. Xavier suggested that racism and other destructive features of our society are demons. How can we together drive out racist laws, policies, systems, and practices from the soul of our nation and church, from Stanford? How can those of us who superficially benefit from racism, leave power and comfort behind and purge our own lives from reliance on it so that we and others might live in true freedom? What other ways are we called to leave behind adulation or routine to serve more freely and fully?

In today’s eucharist, let’s allow Jesus to heal and lift us up once again that we might follow him and serve one another in vigor. With Dusty, Rose, and so many others, let’s kick up some dust.

January 28, 2024 (Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time)

by Fr. Xavier Lavagetto, O.P.

[This is the text composed by the homilist prior to delivering the homily.]

The Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Holiday sent me down memory lane. For most here, it is ancient history, but for me, it was yesterday!   The early sixties were a time of tremendous hope. It was Vatican II, the civil rights movement, and President Kennedy. At my alma mater, St. Mary’s College High School, we sang with gusto, “We shall overcome.” … It excited us, but not all. One irate parent, a member of the John Birch Society, cornered the principal, Bro. Mel, and after a tirade, he ended with a flourish: “What shall we overcome? What shall we overcome?”  …   Br. Mel quietly said: ”Ignorance, poverty, disease, racism, bigotry.”   

Those tasks remain; they plague us still. Ignorance, intolerance, racism, and a spirit of revenge still possess us. These diminish the person and possess the mind as cruelly as any demon. Indeed, they are worse, for they make us into demons!

Consider the demonic depths of the last century — a time of “-isms” made it a century of holocausts and death! In the first 80 years,  127 million people died, not in war, but at the hands of their own governments. Reflecting on those years that Pope Benedict knew so well, he wrote, “People of the present are sacrificed to the moloch of the future — a future whose effective realization is at best doubtful. One does not make the world more humane by refusing to act humanely here and now.” … One does not make the world more humane by refusing to act humanely here and now.”  (Deus Ist Caritas. §31b)

Today’s Gospel may seem quaint with its talk of possession. After all, we are so enlightened. … Yet when I start talking of actual cases of possession, people are simply riveted. …  Have you noticed how movies dealing with the occult, the demonic, or Marvel superheroes rake in the bucks?  … Go figure! … It is one thing to know that the world can be hellish; it is another to recognize that we are complicit; we readily do the devil’s work for him … for free!

Scriptures use most often two names: Satan and the Devil. Satanus was the original name for the heavenly court’s District Attorney who attacks and accuses! ... Have you ever attacked and accused someone else? …  While Diabolus comes from the word to divide and tear apart. …. Have you ever torn someone apart verbally or in your heart? For that matter, how many politicians use division to mobilize the vote? Rage is an addictive drug.

 Fr. Ronald Rolheiser explains it: the powers of hell, satan and the devil, work in two ways. Sometimes they work as the devil by dividing us from God, each other, and from what is best within us.     Sometimes they work in just the opposite way, as satan. Here, they unite us to each other but through the grip of mob hysteria, envy-induced hype, and the kind of sick unity that makes for gang-rapes and crucifixions.” …. We might add the tribal mentality that divides the nation and doubts our democratic institutions.  … I wonder if we need an old-fashioned exorcism of America.

 Jesus comes with new authority to break those shackles of mind and heart that make us ideologues and killing machines; he would free us to be alive and helping!

Reducing faith to no more than having the correct answers and avoiding evil takes us no further than Jesus’ accusers. Our goal is not to parrot truth but to know the one who is TRUTH. Our goal is not to just avoid evil but to become virtuous, faith-filled, free adults.

Plato complained about the tyranny of the marketplace that enslaves the mind. Common opinion and half-truths are blinding and binding. The marketplace sells us a false future and awakens envious desires. Buy this, buy that, and you will be …. ( and you fill in the blank)! St. Paul urges us: “Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect.” (Rom. 12:2)

We heard God’s promise to Moses in our first reading: “I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their kinsmen, and will put my words into his mouth...” The people in today’s Gospel caught a glimpse of that promise in Jesus, who taught “a new teaching with authority.”  In him, they experienced God.

Yet we can replace Jesus with mere belief; we can replace growing in character with merely not messing up. God wants a free mind and a generous heart at every step in our life’s journey. Truth and love need each other if we are to become whole, for love without truth is misguided, and truth without love is brutal. Let me say that again: love without truth is misguided, and truth without love is brutal.

Paul urges us, “Living the truth in love, we should grow in every way into him who is the head, Christ.” (Eph. 4:15)

Jesus reveals a God who treasures us; he asks you to treasure each other as God’s gift. When you do, the genuine demons that rule our world flee. Jesus will touch, help, and heal through you, and then we can rightly sing, “We shall overcome.”

Today, we celebrate those who seek new freedom … they are the candidates for Baptism, those seeking reception into the Church, and those Catholics asking this year for confirmation. I marvel at the hunger in their hearts, the sacrifice of their time, and the desire for spiritual freedom and a life-giving joy. They inspire me not to take life for granted but to delight in the Christ who is God’s love, come in person.

January 21, 2024 (Third Sunday in Ordinary Time)

by Fr. Bob Glynn, S.J.

[This text is an automatically generated transcript. Some edits have been made.]

About 10 days ago, I was confronted with a massive crisis. I was finishing my novel and usually I have two or three lined up afterwards and I had nothing to read. Now these are the things my life is made up of crises. So what am I going to do? This was There was panic. So I went to my usual sources The New York Times Book Review a number of others in which reading through now, I don’t know about you, but when they make these choices, they are crucial. And so there are certain things that set me off. I want something humorous and I look and then it will say, a romantic comedy. No, those are giveaway. Romantic comedy means something like a Hallmark movie that is cutesy. No. Or something that says it was so funny, I laughed out loud again and again. I have learned from experience that I never laugh out loud, again and again, particularly with these books that have been reviewed. So I looked through and I finally found one this was this was quite a research effort that said, humorous and provocative. I thought okay, that sounds like me. Alright, so I stuck with that.

And the book I found was this book called Confidence and it starts out in a promising location. They’re not in the prison, and they’re not in the juvenile facility. They’re in this place called The Last Resort Ranch, which is a place that’s supposed to sort out adolescents who are in trouble, but whose families have enough money to pay their way to go to this instead of juvenile hall. So everybody in this kind of juvenile Ranch is rich, except for Ezra Okay, who has gotten a scholarship to attend last resort ranch, and Israel is everything that everyone else is going to make fun out. Okay. He’s short. He has huge cost Coke bottle Google Glasses, he can barely see everything about him says, torture me. And he’s having a terrible time because everybody is faking it until the arrival of Orson now orison is the second and last person to come to this ranch on scholarship. And Orson is very different from Ezra insofar as he is very good looking very charming and can get people to do almost anything you want, and no one picks on the two of them because Ezra has the brains, the two of them combined to start basically, a number of scams in this ranch because all of the rich kids have hidden away money so that when they arrive there, they could bribe people and do things except there’s nobody to bribe etc.

So they begin procuring drugs and alcohol and different good things that you need to make you happy when you’re at that prison Ranch, but that’s not the principle. Until finally, the counselors with camp, figure out what’s going on and as I endorse and escape once they escape, they’re together and they realize that they are a brilliant confidence team. And these windows people less than or left and right now they’re only in 18 years old, and it’s kind of small stuff but they’re making money, but they kind of keep have moving because people catch up with them eventually. They begin to make more money and they realize why are we staying here? We really have talent. Let’s go for the big time. So they moved to Palo Alto, California where they enroll as auditors at Stanford University. At Stanford, their big thing is to figure out some big scam because I think they know the Bay Area is the center of big scams in the United States. So they’re going to these classes then they’re networking, they finally meet this kid who’s very bright is in some sort of engineering, you know, it’s one of those, alright, and they realize that he has a serious alcohol problem. So they managed to get lots of information out of them till finally Orson says, look, what we need this guy to tell us is we want an electronic device that will make people happy, because that is the surest way to get everybody on board. So they’re with this guy and he says, oh, yeah, I made this prototype. And it’s this little thing that they can put it on their head, and it has magnets and zaps. Look at it like you’re getting electric shock therapy at home. Alright, so they try it and they’re delighted with it. It doesn’t have much effect but kind of temporarily, you’re feeling better and all of that.

So they get in Brunker and they get him to sell over the patent rights that he doesn’t have to this thing. And then they begin to raise money. And Ezra’s point in all of this is you need to go to people who think they aren’t happy and have a lot of money and want to make themselves happy. So they ingratiate themselves with number of wealthy people on the peninsula in San Francisco, and they get people to begin to bank roll the bliss machine and they begin to market all over the country. It’s a massive success. People are putting on this thing. Celebrities are coming to testify. There is never been anything like this to make you happy. So it keeps happening people in there, you know, oh we’re deliriously happy. And this this thing keeps snowballing so that they have to make bliss machine too, because people are getting bored with lists, machine one. And lists machine three is on the books while they’re starting their own ranch to give these special sessions in bliss. And all of this will then you know eventually the FBI catches up with them these things happen. All things must come to an end. And so Ezra is put in one prison and Orson in another and Ezra is just tortured in this prison. Until one day there’s been a massive prisoner transfer and Orson arrives and is put in the same cell as Ezra and they look at each other both of them a mess, and Orson says Are you ready to make people happy again, and the scam begins.

Now, I found it interesting it began and ended in a prison but alright. They managed to cultivate an immense following by promising the one thing everybody wants, which is happiness. Okay. It’s a rather intangible, but it’s what they promise. Today in the gospel. We have Jesus who wanders along the Sea of Galilee. And says, You, you follow me? You, you follow me? And these people who are in the middle of a work day, get up and go. Now why do they go? It is not answered there. I mean, I think this is it’s fairly telling that we don’t know why they go. Our presumption is that they think, Well, this is Jesus and he’s a great guy. And, and, of course, I’ll follow him. The subtext This is the key, this will make me happy. Okay, so they leave everything behind the number of them seem to have families, okay, and off they go. Now, what is interesting here is that this promise of happiness is never made by Jesus to the disciples. He doesn’t tell James, John and Andrew and Peter, come along, I will make you happy. Isn’t say your lives will be wonderful and joyful and you’ll never have a moment of boredom or disappointment or sadness again. You will be in bliss.

But Jesus does not do that. In fact, Jesus doesn’t tell them anything of the plan, except that you will be fishers of men, whatever that made me. And in this moment, something happens for the disciples. What is it that happens? The disciples who have been at work, who have been doing the thing that they have been doing for years and years and years, hear a voice that liberates them from what it is that they have seen as their whole of their life and their destiny? Are they happy? Who knows? Are they free? Yes. In that moment, they are free.

What happens in the Gospels is a story of the continuing freeing of them from the limits of the world which they have seen. They don’t leave because they’re bored, and they don’t leave. It seems to make a fortune, although several of them think that they will, when they understand that Jesus has something to do with this kingdom of heaven that they don’t understand. But what happens to the disciples throughout and what happens to the people who are the recipients really of Jesus word and Jesus’s healings is that they are free. The paralytic is not made happy, he rejoices, but his joy is not in being happy. Happiness is temporal. Happiness comes and goes. It’s good. We like it. There’s nothing wrong with it. But it is not the end. It is the feeling they associate with liberation. When the paralytic can walk his life opens to new possibilities. Yes, he’s not paralyzed, but he’s going to have to work for a living now. But he’s open to new possibilities. And all of the people who are healed when demons are cast out of them, they are not made happy. They are made free and freedom is the prerequisite for everything else. I don’t move from happiness to freedom. I move from freedom to every other possibility. So that for the disciples, the following of Jesus is this sense that in this call, they are liberated from the things that they are worried about. The only things that they perceive can make them happy in this life. Whether it be the job, the house, the children, the family, whatever. The call here liberates. For what we don’t know.

The disciples don’t all follow Jesus in their way own way there with him as who they are as individuals. But what happens to them together is that they remind each other, that he is there to free them from the bonds of Satan, from the things of this world that they believe are crucial to getting through this life. These moments of happiness, the occasional joy, the success that makes other people jealous of them. And so their response is one of love and service to follow the Lord because when they are with him, as Peter says, To whom else will be go for you have the words of grace, of freedom of everlasting life.

January 14, 2024 (Second Sunday in Ordinary Time)

by Fr. Xavier Lavagetto, O.P.

[This is the text composed by the homilist prior to delivering the homily.]

We are easily trapped between our desires and our fears. … We have a dream, but fear stops us, so we are snared by distraction and delay. … Sound familiar?

How many students dream of coming to Stanford, but once here, anxiety makes them feel like impostors? … How many chose a major only to discover they feared it as a career? … For that matter, how many JDs have never practiced law?

Two sobering stats: 25% of collegiate graduates say they did not learn the skills they needed, while 54% never worked in the field of their major.

Jesus’ question is as important now as ever. … What are you looking for? … What are you really looking for? … Sadly, we are mimetic. Are our desires ours, or are we imitating someone else? … What do you really seek? …

This question isn’t just for the young. Too many live dissatisfied lives but are afraid to change. What fears shape you? … What are you afraid of?

When people fail to face these two questions, they often dull the disappointment with distraction or procrastination. They are caught in an unhappiness they refuse to escape. … What fears control you?

The issue isn’t new; the Hebrew scriptures knew that fear traps us; they tell us 365 times: Be not afraid. … God wants you to live boldly. God made you unique; will you embrace that uniqueness?

One way to conquer fear is to fan the embers of that your God-inspired dream into a blaze that spurs you into action. … It is not enough to dream; it has to be translated into a positive plan for growth, … even if it is only one step. That first step creates the possibility of a second.

Three questions face us: (1) What do I seek? (2) What are my fears? (3) What’s my plan? What skills must I practice consistently to make my God-inspired dream real? … This is true for your academic and professional lives and your relational life.

I cannot count how many times I was asked while a pastor in San Francisco by a successful young adult, “How do I meet a beautiful girl, a handsome guy?”

What’s wrong with this picture? … I’m a celibate! I have been trying not to bait the hook. … After they laugh then, I offer some practical tips.

But what was the problem? … Too many didn’t practice the art of relationships; they feared entanglements would get in the way of study and profession. … They imagined the 30s are the new 20s! … Not! … They failed to practice intentionally the skills of friendship and relationship. … They hadn’t reflected, shared, and learned from their experiences to identify the skills they needed to practice. … Rampant individualism denies us the insight and support we need to become whole. We only become ourselves through friends and community.

This is no less true with our relationship to God. These are the lessons of today’s Gospel.

Andrew had a dream, Israel’s dream for a Messiah who would put creation right and restore Israel. … He took a first step and went to hear John the Baptist. … Overhearing John, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” Andrew took a second step, a reluctant one, by following Jesus at a distance. That gave Jesus the space to ask: “What are you looking for?” Jesus asks each of us: “What are you looking for?”

Andrew answers, “Where are you staying?” … That seems lame. … This Greek is richer. John uses the word throughout his Gospel with the sense of dwelling, the mutual indwelling of the Father and Son, the mutual life of Jesus and his disciples, and the mutual friendship of the disciples. Andrew was asking for more than a location; he was asking: “Jesus, where (or should I say, who) are you coming from?”… Andrew wanted to connect with Jesus.

Have you ever met a person and discovered you wanted a friendship? … Andrew’s question was actually saying, I want to get to know you, Jesus. … Jesus returns the compliment: “Come and see!” Or maybe better, “Come and you will see!”

Will you follow like Andrew and make room for Jesus’ friendship? … Friendship stretches us, or do you think it was easy for Andrew to make friends with an apostle who was a hated tax collector and another, a threatening zealot? Friendship with Jesus will stretch you to become more than you imagine. …First, practice friendship skills.

Most of us are too timid, forgetting that friendship is the greatest gift you will give. … Jesus invites you into his friendship, “Come and you will see.”

That invite is always there. Whom did Jesus ever reject? Only God’s friendship can satisfy the deepest desire in all of us. But friendships take time and practice to forge the cords of connection.

In the age of the instant, we want without waiting, without effort, and without tenacity.

Tomorrow, we celebrate Martin Luther King Jr; we celebrate his dream.

“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

….

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!”

When will it become a reality? … Our country is ensnared by fear; afraid of losing position, status, and power, some can see the other as part of themselves. America has always been tempted by a desire for oligarchy that says some are better than others; they want democracy only for the few. And Dr. King’s dream waits, and people are wounded.

Pope Francis has words for them: “…we tell everyone: “Come and see”! In every human situation, marked by frailty, sin and death, the Good News is no mere matter of words, but a testimony to unconditional and faithful love: it is about leaving ourselves behind and encountering others, being close to those crushed by life’s troubles, sharing with the needy, standing at the side of the sick, elderly and the outcast. … “Come and see.” Love is more powerful, love gives life, love makes hope blossom in the wilderness.” [1]

Practice the skills of divine friendship … with everyone!

—
[1] Urbi et Orbi Message of Pope Francis, Easter 2014

January 7, 2024 (Epiphany)

“Pray Less in the New Year”

by Fr. Dominic DeLay, O.P.

[This is the text composed by the homilist prior to delivering the homily.]

Do you like to make resolutions at the beginning of the year? Maybe at the beginning of the academic quarter? Do you hate making resolutions? Do you feel obliged to make resolutions then feel bad that you don’t keep them?

Resolutions can be a sign of hope. Are you feeling the hope of Christmas? Or is hope buried underneath the burdens of life or the mountainous challenges facing humanity? Is your goal simply to make it through 2024, with the limping hope that the world and time itself last another year?

The magi, in the midst of whatever burdens they and their contemporaries faced, foolishly lived in hope. They nurtured dreams and, fueled by hope, journeyed long and hard toward realization of their dream to discover where the star led. These professional truth-seekers lived with their minds and hearts open, and so they’re the ones who saw the star. They followed the star, even though they didn’t know where it would lead them. They didn’t know how long the journey would be or what obstacles they would face along the way. But they went.

Now if the magi were so smart, why didn’t they use the old SMART acronym for making goals: specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and timebound. The magi’s dream, their journey, had none of those. They simply followed the star.

What is your star? As Christians, our brightest star is Christ. As Christmas Christians, we believe that star shines in our midst and within us. No need to be magi and study the stars. Instead, we pray. Prayer is a simple embracing of the ever-present epiphany of God with us and the greatest adventure we can set out on, an adventure that tantalizes us with the hope of ever-greater epiphanies.

I bet lots of you have the resolution or goal of praying more this year, of re-committing to this greatest of journeys. I imagine some of you are being capital S-M-A-R-T smart about it. Perhaps you’ve decided on our local favorite specific and measurable prayer goal, to pray 1% of your day, 14.77 minutes. And you’re even specific about what you’re going to do with that time. You’ve outlined an achievable prayer goal and a way of praying that’s seems relevant to your life and personality. You’ve even crossed the T at the end of SMART and made it timebound: I’m going to do this for one month, or through Lent.

Some of you smarty-pants might be using one of the newer acronymed alternatives to SMART that have incorporated research and are designed for particular situations. One of the problems with SMART goals is that they can make us feel like failures if we don’t follow through just so. Surprisingly, some people claim more effectiveness to vague goals like, “I’m going to pray more.”

SMART goals can also be inflexible, unadaptable to changing circumstances. Most striking, they can be limiting, inhibiting bold action. What about embedding a challenge in a vague goal? I heard an Olympic sprinter say he realized he was limiting himself by giving himself a specific time goal. Instead, he set out to find out how fast he could go. A Stanford Olympic pray-er might say they’re going to see how many days in a row they can spend at least a tiny amount of time with God, or they’re going to see how many tiny periods of prayer they can find or create in one day.

Some of us more disciplined pray-ers set the goal to pray in several different ways each day and sometimes find ourselves checking off the boxes more than praying. We let prayers get in the way of prayer. We need to pray less, or more simply, not more.

I’m not saying that SMART or other-acronymed goals or vague but challenging goals can’t be helpful in prayer, but maybe some of us could benefit by casting these methods aside this year, as much as we Stanford people love our acronyms. Might some of us benefit this year from the goal of spending time with God each day, whenever and however we choose? Many of you know my favorite way to spend time with God is to just be there with God in the quiet, not trying to reflect on scripture or a problem – although this kind of prayer might precede or follow reflection – not trying to conjure feelings of devotion or of being loved, just letting God love me in the quiet, whether I feel it or not, noticing when I start trying to grasp at God, at epiphanies that come to mind, or other thoughts or feelings and just being. There’s no apparent relevance to this kind of prayer and no expected outcome. We acknowledge the epiphany of epiphanies, the only one that ultimately matters, that God is with us. Then we just sit there with God, not doing anything. This is the ancient way of prayer called contemplation.

Another classic form of prayer is lectio divina, divine reading, chewing on a short scripture passage, perhaps from that day’s Mass or the coming Sunday. No epiphany is needed. We already have the one great epiphany that God is with us. And the scriptures are the presence of Christ. Lectio divina is what our small groups do. Now there’s a resolution or whatever you want to call it that I can’t recommend highly enough, a commitment to try a small group just once in the next week or two.

Another tried and true way of prayer that’s a favorite around these parts is the examen, looking back on where we saw or missed the epiphany of Christ in our day. There’s the possibility of praying a bit of the rosary, rich as it is with 20 epiphany-laden mysteries. There’s walking the ancient Christian pattern of the labyrinth at Windhover or on Fridays right here in Memchu. There’s journaling, walking, dancing, or singing. Some of you need to start with a little St. Joseph’s meditation. You can figure that one out if you look at the first couple chapters of Matthew and notice what Joseph is doing when God is speaking to him. There are an infinite number of ways to pray. Is there a unique way of prayer that God inspires you to try? The important thing is that we don’t do prayer but be prayer, just spend time with God in some way.

I can’t believe I’m saying this but maybe some of us would benefit from not resolving to practice a particular way of daily prayer, simply praying in the way we’re moved each day and having some go-to approaches for when we don’t feel moved. And I really can’t believe I’m saying this: some of us might benefit from not having a regular prayer time but rather resolving to create one or more times of being with God as the day unfolds.

We’re finding out that resolutions and other goals aren’t accomplished through will power so much as designing our lives to include prompts and easy practice. This is true for prayer as well. We can identify a place to pray such as a beautiful spot outside or the church, maybe in front of the blessed sacrament. We can create a place to pray in our room, or we can simply light a candle wherever we are to create a place of prayer. We can ask a friend or family member to text us one a day or once a week to remind us to pray. We can arrange times to sit with others in the quiet or to pray in other ways with them.

Where might following the star of Christ through prayer lead us? What is our Jerusalem, where, like the magi, we encounter obstacles, perhaps obstacles disguised as help? Are there many Jerusalems along the way? Typical obstacles to prayer include busyness, hurry, boredom, disappointment in the results, looking for results, and trying too hard. Yet we keep our eyes on the star. We keep believing that Christ our star journeys with us in prayer. We keep showing up.

What is our Bethlehem or Bethlehems, where we arrive, even if only for a moment, to the place where we notice that God is with us, that God has been guiding us all along the way, where we realize that God has been leading our prayer and leading us whether we pray or not, carrying us through life?

When they saw Christ, the magi were moved to bring gifts out of their treasuries. What gift might we make to Christ from the rich treasury God has given us? As some of our favorite Christmas carols remind us, the best and truest gift is ourselves. We give ourselves to God, first by giving ourselves to God in prayer.

Finally, the magi were warned, in a dream no less, to go home by another route rather than return to King Herod to report where they found this upstart king. How does God invite you to take the unexpected route in your prayer? Whenever we arrive at these Bethlehems of prayer where we realize once again that Christ is already and always with us, we’re tempted not to move at all, to stay and hold on to the experience. Or we get back on the road of prayer ad expect to conjure the same experience, the same epiphany. Yet God is always leading us with the Christ star to new, even if sometimes apparently unremarkable, encounters with that Christ made flesh within us and others. We follow the star that burns brightly in the eyes of the other and in our hearts. We show up for prayer and for each other and remember that Christ is always there.

December 3, 2023 (First Sunday of Advent)

by Deacon John Kerrigan

https://www.americamagazine.org/faith/2023/08/21/synod-synodality-nonpracticing-catholics-245853 >>

https://www.accompanimentproject.com >>