In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus talks about a need for reconciliation.

“Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar,

and there recall that your brother

has anything against you,

leave your gift there at the altar,

go first and be reconciled with your brother,

and then come and offer your gift.”

But what if my brother or sister aggrieved me greatly?  What if what they did was unforgivable?  And isn’t it a sign of weakness on my part for me to give in to them and forgive them?

I know that I always come back to a reminder of that for which we were made.  I always seem to point out that we are made to become more and more conformed to Christ that we might be given union with the Trinity in the next.  That we might be partakers in divinity.  Today’s Prayer After Communion at Mass asks “that what we celebrate in sacramental signs…we may one day behold unveiled.”

Because we are called to union with God, we are also called to forgive like God.  In the Our Father prayer, we pray, “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”  Peter was told by Jesus to forgive seventy-seven times.  This was a number that a first century Jew would have understood to mean infinitely many times.  This is how we are called to forgive.

For God, there is no unforgivable sin, there is only the sin for which forgiveness is not wanted by the sinner.   If we are called to be like God, then the magnitude of the injustice does not relieve us of the obligation to forgive.

God is not a God of weakness.  God is all-powerful, or omnipotent.  Forgiveness is not a sign of weakness.  It is a sign of strength.  When one forgives, they are forgiving the debt owed because of the injustice committed.  Forgiveness is not holding on to resentment.  It is showing strength over resentment (and over the injustice) by letting go and moving on with life.  Forgiveness is not condoning the injustice.  It is not forgetting about it.  It is not pretending that it did not happen.  It is not necessarily a restoration of trust or of the prior relationship.  Prudence might dictate otherwise.  It is being able to set aside the burden of resentment. 

Forgiveness may not even benefit the one who committed the injustice.  They might not know.  They might not care.  But it always benefits the one who suffered the injustice and who forgives. 

Who, or what, have I refused to forgive in my life?

In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus says, ““Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets.  I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.”

Jesus comes to fulfill all of God’s promises.  Specifically, with the law, he comes to fulfill that law.  He does not come to annul it or to replace it.  He comes to point toward its proper orientation and to fulfill it.

The Ten Commandments, as we call them, were given to Moses on Mount Sinai on the stone tablets.  To provide a fence around the Commandments to protect them, God had Moses give the people many other rules or laws.  There were 613 in total.

However, in following these laws, many of the Jewish people generally turned in on themselves and became scrupulous in their adherence to these laws.  They saw them as an end of themselves rather than as an aid provided by God to lead them to God.  And they failed to share God’s message to the rest of the world.

Their laws mostly prescribe external actions to be done.  They say little about the internal state of the heart that drives our actions.

Jesus uses the Beatitudes and the New Law as part of a call to repentance and to conversion of heart.  His focus is on the interior attitudes that drive our action.  This New Law is a law of grace that includes the Holy Spirit entering our hearts to make it possible to live in the way to which we are called.

If we live a life of love of God and love of others that is sanctified by the Holy Spirit, then we also live the Ten Commandments.  If we live a life of abandonment to God’s will and oriented toward the good of others rather than selfish desires, then we avoid sin.  Sin is not just a violation of the Commandments, it is an indication, hopefully small, of a way in which we have not given everything to God.  It is also usually a sign that we choose something of this world for ourselves over the good of others.  Sin is a decision to choose against God and neighbor.

As we hear more from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, notice how Jesus is calling us to an interior conversion of the heart.  Notice how he goes beneath the exterior surface of an old law to the interior state that leads to its fulfillment.

Today’s Gospel is the famous passage from the Sermon on the Mount that tells us that we are the salt of the earth and the light of the world. 

“But if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned?

It is no longer good for anything…”

Every time that this passage comes up at Mass, I am reminded of the insight of Trappist Father Simeon Leiva in his great commentary on Matthew.  He points out that the Greek word for “loses its taste” has a literal meaning of “to become foolish.”  Whenever I see an alternate translation (or especially a more literal different translation) for a word or phrase in the original text, I ask how the passage might be understood if that alternate translation were used.  Sometimes, the other meaning of the word or phrase can bring additional depth to an understanding of the passage.

So, I ask how could salt become foolish?  How could we as salt become foolish?  And good for nothing, or at least not able to do what we were meant to do?  It seems that the answer is when we lose our identity.  If we forget who we are, we become foolish. 

Who are we?  We are, first and foremost, children of God.  We are God’s beloved.  We are followers of Christ on a journey that leads to eternal life.  That is who we are.  If we lose sight of that, we become no longer good for what we are meant to do.  We are no longer capable of sharing the Gospel message with others.  We no longer live the life that we are meant to live.

Holding on to this core identity is so important. 

As we go through this graduation season, our hearts go out to those graduating without the normal celebrations of graduation that the rest of us experienced.  No senior prom.  Graduations are either virtual or socially distanced on the football field with limited guests. 

Despite those disappointments, these graduates have a great opportunity to set a course for their future that is consistent with this core identity.  Many of us who are older have needed a conversion that returns us to a life consistent with that identity.  But the opportunity to live that identity from the outset of one’s adult life is priceless.  I pray that they take advantage of it.

Today’s Gospel passage is the very beginning of Matthew 5.  The very beginning of the Sermon on the Mount.  Today, we hear the Beatitudes.

Jesus is the mediator between God and man…between divinity and humanity.  It is in the person of Jesus Christ that divinity touches humanity.  His humanity puts a face on divinity. 

Jesus goes up the mountain…not a mountain, but the mountain.  Moses had gone up Mount Sinai.  He went up to receive the Ten Commandments from God.  But Jesus does not go up to get something.  He goes up to give something.  He ascends the mountain and then sits, taking the traditional posture of a teacher.  Jesus speaks with the authority of God.  God the Son is the teacher.  His disciples, but not the whole crowd, come to him. 

The Gospels give us Jesus’ teaching.  But the Sermon on the Mount is the core of the New Law that he brings.  And the Beatitudes are the heart of the Sermon on the Mount.

“Blessed are” can also be translated as “happy are.”  The word “beatitude” can be translated as “ultimate blessedness.”  But it can also be translated as “a state of utmost bliss.” 

When we embrace poverty of spirit and reject attachments to things of this world, we find happiness.  When we mourn because we see the emptiness of this world, we also know that we will find complete happiness with God.  When we become merciful, we forgive from the heart because we have become more conformed to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. 

The Beatitudes point away from the things of this world that do not bring fulfillment.  Power, fame, wealth, comfort.  We have some of those things, and we only want more.  They never satisfy us.  Instead, the Beatitudes point toward God, in whom we find what we are seeking.

Moses went up the mountain to give us the Ten Commandments to show us how to align our external actions.  Jesus went up the mountain to teach us how we are given true happiness with a full conversion of our interior selves.  He shows us the disposition that allows the Holy Spirit to enter our hearts and share the grace that we need.

Are we still seeking happiness in the things of this world?  Are we willing to instead detach from the things of this world so that our hearts will become more conformed with the heart of Christ? 

In this is true happiness.  In this is utmost bliss.

God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,

so that everyone who believes in him might not perish

but might have eternal life.

For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world,

but that the world might be saved through him.

Whoever believes in him will not be condemned,

but whoever does not believe has already been condemned,

because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God.

This Gospel reading is only three verses in John: Chapter 3, verses 16-18.

They tell us of the pinnacle of salvation history. 

God created this world.  All three Persons in the Trinity together brought about creation.  Some try to name the three Persons as Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier.  These titles overlook the ways in which all three Persons work together to bring things about.  And what God made was good.  Very good.

But we chose sin.  Our world became corrupted because we chose corruption for ourselves.

And so, we needed to be saved.  We could not save ourselves.  Our debt was one that we could not pay.  Our salvation was out of reach by ourselves.  We needed help.  A lot of it.

So, by the Father’s plan, the Son entered our world.  A divine Person who helped to create the world took on the form of one of the creatures within that world.  In order that we might be redeemed.  In order that the path to salvation might be open again for us.  The cost was the death of God the Son on the cross.  A cost that we did not pay.  A cost that God the Son paid for us.

This was done out of God’s love for us.  There was no obligation on the part of the Father, Son, or Holy Spirit that this be done.  But it was done.

Do we let this message into our hearts?  That by the Father’s plan, the Son came to save us in a joint mission with the Spirit?  Do we understand that this is the depth of the love of God?  This is the depth of the communion of love that is the Trinity and into which we are invited to enter?  Do we allow ourselves to know of this love?  Are we open to being loved?  Or do we reject this love?  Do we reject this gift?  Do we condemn ourselves because we refuse the invitation?

In today’s Gospel, the widow puts two small coins in the Temple treasury.  Modern translations usually try to tie the amount to modern currency.  The actual amount back then would have been 1/64^th of an agricultural or common worker’s daily wage.  Yes, American currency was not in use by first century Jews.  But the point is that the amount was relatively small.  Undoubtedly, most people filing past the collection box would have contributed significantly more.  Perhaps her two small coins would have made a distinctive noise falling into the collection box.  And this would have drawn unwanted attention to her.

There are two key takeaways from this part of the passage.

One is that those spending church funds need to remember all the modern-day versions of this widow who contribute to the point of great sacrifice.  Those who use church funds (including myself) need to be good stewards of these resources.  This is true whether we spend funds directly or use resources paid by those funds.  Being mindful of the contribution of the widow here helps us to understand the great sacrifice that many have made to contribute to the Church and to its ability to fulfill its mission.  Such contributions need to be conserved to maximize the impact that these sacrificial offerings can have. 

Second is that Jesus calls all of us to such sacrificial giving.  Church staff here and faculty in Catholic schools dedicate a lot of hours to service of the people of God.  They almost always do so for significantly less pay than they might receive from secular employers.  They do so because of their love for the Church and for all of us.  Their work helps all of us to respond to our call to be saints.  Their livelihood is wholly dependent on the generosity of the faithful.

Sacrificial giving requires trust in God.  The widow showed that trust.  Jesus highlighted that trust for all of us.  Many of us give from our surplus.  Some of the largest contributions given today for various causes are but a small fraction of the income of the people giving them.  That was not the case for this widow.

How do we approach our charitable giving?  Do we give sacrificially?  Or do we give a portion of our surplus?  What is Jesus calling me to do here?

At Mass yesterday, I talked about the paradigm shift that happens with deep conversion.  There is a shift from the things of this world to a focus on God. 

Paradigms are important to us.  We often learn by relating something to new to something that we already know.  I know that I do that all the time.  This new thing is like this other thing that I know in these ways.  It is different in these few small ways.  That is how I comprehend things.  To teach me something new, one almost needs to start with the words, “This is like…”

The Jewish people of the first century were awaiting the Messiah.  The Old Testament gave them sufficient clues that one would be coming.  But those passages sometimes (or even often) framed the Messiah as a successor to King David or as the fulfillment of the Davidic kingdom.  So, they related this new Messiah to that which they already knew something about – King David. 

Despite his flaws (see Bathsheba and Uriah), King David was known as the one whom God especially loved, and his kingdom was considered as the pinnacle of the earthly kingdom that the Jewish people once knew. 

So, the Jewish people of the first century looked for a new King David.  Someone who would restore the earthly kingdom of Israel.  One who would throw off the yoke of Roman occupation and restore their country to the power that it once knew.

That was their paradigm.

Instead, Jesus came to establish a different sort of kingdom.  Not an earthly kingdom but the Kingdom of God.  A kingdom of the spiritual realm that starts in our own hearts.  This was a kingdom preached by someone from the least likely background.  He was not a priest, a scribe, or any other sort of religious leader.  He was not even from Jerusalem.  He was the apparent son of a craftsman from Nazareth in Galilee.  He did not gather intellectual experts around him.  He gathered fishermen and even a tax collector.  He was, as one contemporary author writes, a “Marginal Jew” because he came from the margins of Jewish society.

For many, their paradigm impeded their acceptance of the Messiah.  Because he did not fit their preconceived notions, they rejected him.  He was a square peg that would not fit in the round hole.

Are we open to God as he is?  Or do we try to force God to be the God that we want?  Do we ask God to reveal himself to us? 

Today, we hear Mark’s account where Jesus gives the Greatest Commandment.  When asked by a scribe for the first of all commandments, Jesus does not select one of the Ten Commandments.  Whichever one he might have selected, there would be an ensuing debate about the choice.  Instead, Jesus points to parts of the famous Jewish Shema prayer. 

“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.

The second is this:

You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

Hearing Jesus’ response, the scribe says that obedience to these commandments “is worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.”  And Jesus commends his response.

God does not want external actions like sacrifices if they are offered with an empty heart.  God wants our hearts themselves.  He wants us to love him above all else.  Love of God with our entire being.  Yes, we show our love of God by doing his will in following the Ten Commandments.  But it must be founded in a total love of God.  If we love God completely, we will necessarily love our neighbor as ourselves.

If we are fully in love with God with no reservations, then we are answering the call to holiness that we all have.  This is our primary vocation…a vocation to holiness.  This is the basis for all else.  If we are answering this first call, then we can properly discern secondary vocations to marriage, priesthood, religious life, or single life.  And we can also properly discern other decisions about occupation, place to live, etc.

Whatever we do, we must do it as saints.  Or, at least wholeheartedly working, by the grace of God and with sincere prayer, toward sainthood.  There is no other legitimate option.  In Revelation, we are told that God does not want lukewarm believers: ““I know your works; I know that you are neither cold nor hot.  I wish you were either cold or hot.  So, because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth.”  We are not called to be lukewarm.  We are called to be on fire in love with God by the grace of the Spirit.

We are made by God for God.  We are given this life…so that we can live a life of holiness that leads to eternal life in the next. 

Do we genuinely want to love God with our whole being?  Are we ready to allow God’s grace to lead us toward sainthood?  Or are we holding back…or holding on to something of this world?

Saint Paul writes of the three theological virtues: faith, hope, and love.  He says that love is the greatest.  It is the one that endures.  Faith is belief in things unseen.  Hope is expectation of eternal life and for the grace needed to get there.  Once we are already there, we see it.  It is no longer faith.  We already have eternal life, so there is no hope or expectation for that which we already have.

In today’s Gospel, the Sadducees try to trap Jesus with a question about the wife of seven brothers.  It was traditional that a brother would take the widow of his late brother as his wife to provide for her.  A widowed woman without children was in a precarious situation in the first century.  This is why Jesus gave Mary to John for him to care for her as a son would care for her mother.

Of course, the Sadducees tell a ridiculous story.  After brothers #1 thru #3 all die, we must start wondering what brothers #4 thru #7 were thinking.  But, the Sadducees, who did not believe in eternal life, were missing the point of eternal life with God.

Much as faith and hope are no longer useful because that for which we have faith and hope has been realized, the goods of marriage are no longer needed in heaven.  The Church teaches two primary goods of marriage: procreation of/raising children and also the good of the spouses.  For a couple that has reached eternal life, what additional good could be possible?  If we are united with God and seeing God as he is, we have the fullness of all good. 

We know that heaven is good.  In our human nature, we like to see heaven as a place…a good place.  Sometimes we fail to realize just how good heaven is.  It is so good that we must be purified of sin to even be there.  Otherwise, it would be too much for us.  In the presence of God in a way that is complete and not obscured in any way, there is nothing else that we would possibly want.  We will have happiness for all eternity in way that we cannot even imagine in this life.  And yet, we sometimes start making a list of things that we must have in heaven.  Almost like a self-centered star making over-the-top demands for what must be in our dressing room. 

God provides.  In heaven, God provides so fully that we cannot even imagine what it would be like.  But do we trust God to do just that?

After Pentecost, we return to Ordinary Time.  It is not the same as our usual understanding of ordinary.  It is the liturgical season that takes us through the life of Jesus Christ, with a special focus on the time of his earthly ministry.  Because of that focus, it is anything but ordinary in the usual sense of the word.

In today’s Gospel, we hear Jesus questioned about whether Jewish people should pay the census tax to Caesar or not.  It is an attempt at entrapment.  Imagine trying to entrap God.  Jesus, of course, gives the famous answer: ““Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God.”

As they lead into this question, these Pharisees and Herodians say to Jesus, “Teacher, we know that you are a truthful man and that you are not concerned with anyone’s opinion.  You do not regard a person’s status but teach the way of God in accordance with the truth.” 

I remember seeing a story about a man who had converted to Catholicism.  He told God that he realized that all he needed in this life was the Eucharist.  If we were to be left alone with only that, it would be enough.  Unfortunately, he ended up being tested as he lost his job and his family abandoned him.  In the end, he was left alone with only the Eucharist.  And it was enough.

Are we too concerned with what others think?  Especially with what they think about us.  It is not that we should be totally oblivious to how we are perceived by others.  But are we inordinately concerned?  Or are we able to follow Christ alone?  Can we avoid being whipsawed by the whims of others’ opinions and simply focus on doing the will of God in our lives? 

We must be sensitive to others.  We must be aware of, and responsive to, their concerns.  But we cannot be inordinately concerned with their opinions of us.  We cannot allow other’s opinions to completely set our course in life.  Our focus on others should not be on what they think about us.  Rather, it should be on how we can do the will of God and respond to their needs with great love and sensitivity.  As Christians, we pursue life as a path of virtue leading to Christ and not as a continual popularity contest. 

It is very tempting to do otherwise.  Can we avoid the temptation?