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The Essentials
The first reading today begins with a very strong claim: “Unless you are circumcised according to the Mosaic practice, you cannot be saved.” That is not a small disagreement; it is a statement about who counts—about what is necessary to belong to God. And the early Church takes it seriously. The apostles gathered, listened and discerned because at stake is something fundamental: What is essential to being saved—and what is not?
Now, we might be tempted to think: “That was a first-century problem. That doesn’t apply to us.” But it does—just in a quieter, more subtle way. Because even today, we can fall into similar patterns of thinking. We may not say, “Unless you are circumcised…” But sometimes we imply you are not really a serious Catholic unless you pray the Rosary every day, the Divine Mercy Chaplet or some other devotion. You have to fast and abstain from meat every Friday even outside of Lent. You have to… and the list goes on. Unless you do these things you are not really committed. You’re not quite “there.”
Now, all of those practices are good. Some are very powerful. Many are strongly encouraged by the Church. But they are not the same as what the apostles are discerning in Acts 15. They are not the foundation.So what is essential? At the heart of the Church’s life are two inseparable realities: Orthodoxy (right belief) and Orthopraxis (right practice).
To be Catholic is to believe what the Church hands on: faith in the Trinity; faith in Jesus Christ, true God and true man; Jesus’ death and resurrection for our salvation; and the gift of grace (to name a few). To live that faith concretely, the essential elements include: participation in the sacraments—especially the Eucharist, a life of repentance and conversion, living according to the commandments, and loving God and neighbor. These are not optional or “extra credit.” These are the core of Christian life.
Devotions, spiritual practices, disciplines – everything else belongs to a different category. They are not unnecessary. Far from it. They are helps, aids, supports and good. They are like tools, or pathways, or languages of prayer that help different people grow closer to God. The Rosary, for example, is a beautiful way to meditate on the life of Christ. The Divine Mercy Chaplet opens us to trust in God’s mercy. Lectio Divina immerses us in Scripture. Fasting strengthens our freedom and deepens our dependence on God. But they are means, not the measure of whether someone is truly Catholic.
The danger comes when we confuse the two. When we take something good and quietly turn it into something required for belonging. That is exactly what was happening in Acts 15. Something deeply meaningful, i.e. circumcision, part of God’s covenant with Israel, was being elevated into a condition for salvation. The apostles, guided by the Holy Spirit, recognized that is not the Gospel. Because salvation does not come through adopting a specific set of cultural or devotional practices. It comes through Jesus Christ.
This is not just a theological point. It is a pastoral one. Because people come to the Church with very different spiritual paths. One person may pray the Rosary daily and find deep peace. Another may encounter God most powerfully in silent prayer. Another may be drawn to Scripture. Another to acts of service. The Holy Spirit does not form every soul in the same way. And that is not a weakness of the Church. It is a sign of her catholicity, her universality.
At the same time, we should be careful not to swing too far the other way. To say, “Nothing matters, everything is optional.” That is not the Gospel either. There are essentials. We are called to believe, to worship, to repent, to love. We are called to a real, concrete relationship with Christ in His Church.
So perhaps the right way to hold this tension is this: be firm about what is essential and be generous about what is helpful. Hold tightly to the faith of the Church. And hold lightly, though appreciatively, to the many ways people live that faith.
The apostles in Acts 15 refused to place extra burdens on people that Christ Himself had not imposed. And that remains a guiding principle for us. Because in the end we are not saved by adopting every good practice. We are saved by Jesus Christ and then given many good ways to grow in Him.
Let us ask for the wisdom to know the difference and the charity to live it well.
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Hold Dear
This coming Sunday is the 6th Sunday of Easter in Lectionary Cycle A. In yesterday’ post we concluded that the Johannine meaning of “commandment” is far broader than the Mosaic laws, rather encompasses the whole of Jesus’ life: words, deeds and the ultimate measure – love. Now that we have an idea about what we mean by “commandments,” what does it mean to “keep” (tereo) them? Continue reading
What is lacking
In St. Paul’s letter to the Colossians, he makes a statement that should give one pause: “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of his body, which is the church” (Col 1:24) The phrase “what is lacking” is hysterēmata which is not a complex word. It means “deficiency.” Paul uses the word seven other times and it has the same basic meaning.
In Col 1:24 the phrase and use of hysterēmata is jarring and the plain sense of the verse is that something is deficient in Christ’s saving work. The early Church Fathers were very alert to that danger, and they are remarkably consistent on one central point: nothing is lacking in the saving power of Christ’s Passion. All then go on to say what is “lacking” concerns our participation, not His redemption. From that shared conviction, they developed several complementary ways of understanding the verse.
John Chrysostom and Augustine of Hippo stress a distinction noting Christ’s Passion is perfect, sufficient, and once-for-all yet Christ continues to suffer in His Body, the Church which is a key theme of Colossians. Chrysostom held that Paul is not adding to Christ’s redemptive suffering, but sharing in the sufferings that still belong to Christ’s Body. St Augustine was more specific: “Christ suffers what remains, not in His Head, but in His members.”
The Early Church Fathers consistently read this passage through the doctrine of the Mystical Body in which Christ is the Head and the Church is His Body. The idea is that what happens to the Body is truly connected to the Head. Augustine writes: “Paul can speak this way because he is in Christ. The sufferings of believers are, in a real sense, Christ’s own sufferings extended in time.” The key idea is that Christ chose not to suffer “alone,” but to include His members in His redemptive life. This is not because He needed help, but because He willed a communion of participation.
Another line of understanding found in Fathers like Cyril of Alexandria focuses on the subjective dimension. The understanding is that redemption is objectively complete in Christ but it must be applied, lived, and embodied in each believer. In other words, what is “lacking” is not Christ’s work, but our full conformity to it. In Paul’s case, his sufferings help build up the Church and bring others to accept the redemption that thus be saved.
Across the Fathers, there is a kind of theological instinct in that they resist any interpretation that suggests insufficiency in Christ, and instead reframe the verse as revealing something astonishing: Christ allows His members to share in His saving work. This is not out of necessity; it is grace.
A simple single sentence might be: Nothing is lacking in Christ’s sacrifice; something is lacking in our participation in it.
Image credit: Jesus Christ Pantocrator | detail from the deesis mosaic in Hagia Sophia, Istanbul | PD-US
Love and Keeping Commandments
This coming Sunday is the 6th Sunday of Easter in Lectionary Cycle A. Jesus’ discourse (at this point) begins to move in a new direction by focusing on the ways in which belief “into Jesus” (v.1) empowers the believing community (v.12 ff). Jesus has emphasized that the works he does are not his own but are the Father’s; now Jesus begins to emphasize the link between his works and that of the believing community. Our gospel text describes two dimensions of the believer’s relationship with Jesus: (1) the inseparability of one’s love of Jesus and the keeping of his commandments (vv.15, 21, 23-24) and (2) the abiding and indwelling of the presence of God, even after Jesus’ death and departure with those who love him (vv.16-20, 22-23). Continue reading
Perfection in Jesus
There are many verses which we encounter which, if we paused and considered, we might think, “Well, that’s odd.” But the Word of God being what it is, we give the passage a “believer’s nod” and read on. Consider Hebrews 5:8-10:
“Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him, declared by God high priest according to the order of Melchizedek.”
What do you make of the phrase “when he was made perfect”? The Word of God, the Son of God, the second person of the Trinity wasn’t always perfect? We should naturally recoil at the idea. But then again, there it is. Perhaps it is just an awkward translation from Greek into English…nope. That’s not it. This is the point at which one explores the question or nods and reads on.
Interestingly, this is not the first place in Hebrews that perfection is mentioned in association with Jesus –
“For it was fitting that he, for whom and through whom all things exist [God the Father], in bringing many children to glory, should make the leader [Jesus] to their salvation perfect through suffering.” (Heb 2:10)
Again there is a phrase that Jesus (the object of this passage) is made perfect through suffering. The idea needs a little unpacking. The word “leader” is archēgos. Many bibles translate this as “author” but the New American (NAB) more fittingly translates the word as “leader” – and “pathfinder” would have also been a suitable translation; and to my mind closer to the sense of the passage. In any case, when used in the New Testament archēgos solely and always refers to Christ. As F.F. Bruce notes: “He is the Savior who blazed the trail of salvation along which alone God’s ‘many sons’ could be brought to glory. Man, created by God for his glory, was prevented by sin from attaining that glory until the Son of Man came and opened up by his death a new way by which humanity might reach the goal for which it was made. As his people’s representative and forerunner he has now entered into the presence of God to secure their entry there.” (The Epistle to the Hebrews,1990)
But what is meant by his being made “perfect” through his sufferings? We take it as a “given” that Jesus is perfect in that He is the fullness of his Father’s glory. What is being offered here is that the perfect Son of God has become his people’s perfect Savior, opening up their way to God. In order to become that, he must endure suffering and death. The pathway of perfection which his people must tread must first be journeyed by the Pathfinder. Only Jesus could, at the same time be the true representative of the people and at the same time be high priest in the presence of God. “In order to be a perfect high priest, a person must sympathize with those on whose behalf he acts, and he cannot sympathize with them unless he can enter into their experiences and share them for himself. Jesus did just this. Moreover, in order to be a perfect high priest, a person must learn the lesson of obedience to God; if he failed in this, he would really need a priest for himself, to enter into God’s presence for him with the assurance of being admitted there. Of Jesus’ obedience there could be no question.” (Bruce)
The high priest had one specially solemn service to perform: present an atonement to God on his people’s behalf. The high priest must have unreserved identification with the people and at the same time have perfect obedience to the God. There is only one who fulfills these conditions perfectly—the one whose obedience and death fitted him completely to be his people’s representative. He suffered not only with them but for them; his suffering was both voluntary and vicarious. He who suffered was the Son of God, and the “many” for whom he suffered are thus led to glory as sons and daughters of God in their turn.
In what sense, then, did the Son of God learn obedience “by what he suffered”? We know the sense in which the words are true of us; we learn to be obedient because of the unpleasant consequences which follow disobedience. It was not so with him. St. Luke tells us that as a child “And Jesus advanced wisdom and age and favor before God and man.” (Lk 2:52) In his earthly life he learned what obedience to God involved the sufferings that sometimes attended such obedience. Isaiah’s “Suffering Servant” always comes to mind:
The Lord GOD has given me a well-trained tongue, That I might know how to speak to the weary a word that will rouse them. Morning after morning he opens my ear that I may hear; And I have not rebelled, have not turned back. I gave my back to those who beat me, my cheeks to those who plucked my beard; My face I did not shield from buffets and spitting. The Lord GOD is my help, therefore I am not disgraced; I have set my face like flint, knowing that I shall not be put to shame. He is near who upholds my right; if anyone wishes to oppose me, let us appear together. Who disputes my right? Let him confront me. See, the Lord GOD is my help; who will prove me wrong? Lo, they will all wear out like cloth, the moth will eat them up. (Isa 50:4-9)
The Servant’s willingness to heed the voice of God teaches him that suffering will be inseparable from his obedience (cf. Isa 50:5, “Morning after morning he opens my ear that I may hear; And I have not rebelled, have not turned back”). The sufferings which Jesus endured were the necessary price of his obedience and were part and parcel of his obedience and the means by which he fulfilled the will of God. This is something Jesus points out at his baptism in the river Jordan when John was reluctant: “Jesus said to him in reply, ‘Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.’” (Mt 3:15)
Baptized along with sinners, Jesus placed himself unreservedly at God’s disposal for the accomplishment of God’s saving purpose and in doing so, he associated himself publicly with sinners, that was something which he was going to do throughout his ministry, until he was “numbered with the transgressors” on the cross. The pathway of public obedience which was inaugurated in the earlier baptism was crowned by the second baptism: the fulfilment of “all righteousness” in his Passion and Death.
The Christians for whom this letter was intended found that the maintenance of their faith and loyalty exposed them to trial and suffering which they could escape by renouncing their confession or dodge by drawing less public attention to it. But the question for them to face was: were they to fall back and lose everything or press on to salvation? Our author urges them to press on, in spite of all the suffering it may involve, and he sets before them the example of Jesus, who set his face “like a flint,” refusing to turn back, and was thus made “perfect through sufferings.” His example and his present aid might well encourage them too to persevere; no hardship could befall them in which he did not sympathize with them.
“Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him, declared by God high priest according to the order of Melchizedek.”
Jesus Christ Pantocrator | detail from the deesis mosaic in Hagia Sophia, Istanbul | PD-US
May 4th Greetings
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Context and Pericope
This coming Sunday is the 6th Sunday of Easter in Lectionary Cycle A. Following on from the gospel of the 5th Sunday, this gospel text is part of a larger section which includes the Last Supper and all that takes place after Jesus had washed the disciples feet, after Judas had left the table (“he took the morsel and left at once. And it was night” (13:30)), and after Peter’s protestations he would never betray Jesus. The section comes before the disciples see their master led away for trial; then be condemned to death on a cross. Their faith will be sorely tested. Jesus’ teaching, beginning in 14:1, was given to strengthen for the hours, days, months and years to come. O’Day suggests a broad outline of the context for our reading: Continue reading
What do you offer?
There is a quiet misunderstanding that can slip into our spiritual lives. We can begin to think that what happens here at Mass is the real “holy part”… and everything else, the rest of the week just ordinary life. But the Second Reading today from 1 Peter challenges that notion. It says something that is sometimes downplayed in the Catholic tradition. It says something beautiful…and challenging.
“You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood…like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house…to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.”
This is the basis of what is called “the priest of the laity” or sometimes “universal priesthood of believers.” You might have heard the expression. Maybe you’ve given it some thought or discussed it. It is a concept discussed in the Catechism that is rooted in the understanding of the universal call to holiness and the participation of all baptized Christians in the mission of the Church. It is a commissioning imbued indelibly during Baptism. It defines who you are, how you live, and what you bring to worship.
Who you are: you are living stones, not spectators. “You are living stones… built into a spiritual house.” Notice what Peter does not say. He does not say: “You come to the building.” He says: “You are being built into it.” The Church is not just a place we attend. It is something we are becoming.
And even more, he calls us a “holy priesthood.” Through your baptism, you were not only welcomed. You were commissioned. Not to watch. Not to sit on the sidelines. But to participate in the offering of worship. That is what a priest does: offers sacrifice. And Peter is saying: that is who you are. This is your identity
So the question becomes did you come to Mass to watch the mystery of the Mass and Eucharist unfold like a play in three acts? Because if we are honest, it is easy to slip into spectator mode: watch, listen, evaluate, and leave. Did you come to fully and actively participate? I hope so. But did you come as someone who has something to offer?
How you live: Peter tells us: “Offer spiritual sacrifices.” Right “off the bat” we face the question: what are “spiritual sacrifices”? That phrase can sound abstract until we begin to think about it in the course of daily life. Spiritual sacrifices are not dramatic or rare. They are the ordinary moments of life, consciously offered to God:
- The patience you choose in a difficult conversation
- The work you do with integrity when no one is watching
- The forgiveness you extend when it costs you
- The suffering you endure without bitterness
- The quiet acts of love no one notices
These are the normal moments of life when you sacre fice, “to make holy” because you connect them with God’s call and His grace. Those are not interruptions to your daily or spiritual life. They are your life. They are the sacrifices you, as part of the holy priesthood, are called to offer. And here is the key: a sacrifice is not just something that happens. It is something that is given. Two people can go through the same struggle: one simply endures it; the other offers it. That is the difference the priesthood of the laity makes.
What you bring: And now that you have an idea of what “offer spiritual sacrifices” means, how are you called to live out your priesthood and offer spiritual sacrifices Monday through Saturday? Because now comes Sunday. The day you bring your life to the “spiritual house”. All these sacrifices of Monday thru Saturday, you bring them here to the community – other living stones – and together “let yourselves be built into a spiritual house.”
Every Mass includes an opening prayer: “Let us pray…” This is called the Collect; a prayer when the leader of worship, the ordained priest, calls for each one to call to mind the challenges, the personal prayers, the intentions and more and join them to the Sacrifice of the Mass.
Every Mass includes the Offertory when bread and wine are brought forward; gifts will become the Body and Blood of Christ. But what they represent is also more. They represent your life. Your week. Your efforts. Your failures. Your joys. Your hidden sacrifices. All of it is meant to be placed on the altar. Because here is the truth: The bread and wine do not come alone. They carry with them everything we have offered. The spiritual sacrifices that are taken up into Christ’s sacrifice. Our lives are taken up as well and offered.
This is the mission: not just to attend Mass, but to bring your life to Mass. To consciously place it before God and say: “Take this. Use this. Unite this with Your Son.”
“You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood…like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house…to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.”
- Identity: You are a living stone, part of a holy priesthood—not a spectator.
- Action: You offer spiritual sacrifices in the ordinary moments of daily life.
- Mission: You bring those sacrifices to the altar, where Christ transforms them.
And if we live this way, something changes. Mass is no longer something we “go to.” It becomes the place where our whole week finds meaning. It becomes the moment we remember daily life is part of worship. It becomes the place where our priesthood is lived.
And so, holy priests of God, when you come to Mass, what are you bringing? We are called to bring your presence and offerings, your spiritual sacrifices, your life. Because the priesthood of the laity means this: Your life is not just to be lived. It is to be offered.
Image credit: The Forerunners of Christ with Saints and Martyrs; San Domenico Altarpiece | Fra Angelico | 1420s | National Gallery of Art, Washington DC | PD-US
Show us the Father
This coming Sunday is the 5th Sunday of Easter in Lectionary Cycle A. In posts over the last two days we considered possible understandings of the manner in which Jesus would return to prepare his disciples followed by the explanation the disciples sought. Jesus’ statement in v.7 (If you know me, then you will also know my Father. From now on you do know him and have seen him.”) is cast in the light of a deep human desire: to see and know God. Jesus tells the disciples – in knowing me, in seeing me, in my words, and in my deeds, you have seen and come to know the Father.
But Phillip is essentially asking for a theophany (v.8) – the visible manifestation of God – which raises the question of Phillip’s understanding of who Jesus really is. What comes next in Jesus’ reply is somewhat obscured by the translation of singular/plural second person pronouns, i.e., “you.” While not clear in English it is quite clear in Greek. Brian Stoffregen offers this clarifying paraphrase (vv.10-11):
“For such a long time I have been with y’all
and you have not known me, Philip?
The one having seen me has seen the father.
How are you saying, ‘Show us the father?’
Do you not believe that I am in the father and the father is in me?
The words which I am saying to y’all I am not speaking from myself,
but the father dwelling in me is doing his works.
[Y’all] Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father in me;
but if not, [y’all] believe through the works themselves.”
While this might indicate a lack of understanding and belief on the part of the disciples about the person and being of Jesus, it clearly shows their lack of understanding about the relationship between Jesus and God as Father. Jesus wanted the disciples to understand he was not just a prophet, not just a teacher, not just their disciple-master, not only the Messiah; he was the Word made flesh, God incarnate. To be in his presence was to be in the presence of the Father. And if you can’t do that on a personal level – then believe the works.
Greater Works than These. To know what this means we need first to understand what is meant by ‘the works’ of Jesus. This expression is used repeatedly in connection with Jesus’ ministry, and denotes (1) evangelizing the Samaritan woman (4:34); (2) healing the lame man at the Pool of Bethesda (5:20; 7:21); (3) healing the man born blind (9:3, 4); (4) Jesus’ miracles generally (7:3; 10:25, 32, 33, 37, 38; 14:11, 12; 15:24); (5) Jesus’ teaching (10); and (6) Jesus’ entire ministry generally (5:36; 17:4).
But what does it mean to do greater works that Jesus did? The word meizona does not mean greater in quantity, but is reserved as a qualitative assessment. No credible scholars hold that the disciples will later, in mission, perform works of a greater quality…however understood. Nor do they hold that the disciples/their works would more clearly reveal the Father. How are our works greater than Jesus’? Maybe it is as simple as the fact that our works come after the crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension – when Jesus has gone to the Father. The disciples’ work/ our works come during the new, eschatological age ushered in by Jesus’ “hour” of glory when those later works reveal the complete story of the Word made Flesh and hence the fullness of God’s love. By doing what Jesus does, the disciples of every age continue the glorification of God through Jesus that was the purpose of his own works (v.13; cf 5:44; 11:4; 17:4)
Image credit: Duccio di Buoninsegna (1255–1319), “Jesus taking leave of his Apostles,” ca. 1310 | Panel 4 of the Maestro, Museo dell’Opera del Duomo, Siena | Public Domain
Into the Unknown
Within my friar community, given my experience as a naval officer, these days I am the easily accessible subject matter expert on all things afloat in the current war in the middle east. The brothers ask questions because they are curious, concerned, and want to know how it will all end. I wish I knew.
The Apostles are concerned because in the gospel reading for today Jesus has told them He is going away. “Master, we do not know where you are going?” Already things seem to be going “off the rails” in these moments following the Last Supper. What will happen next? How will this all end?
In the first reading, St. Paul is doing “his thing” in Antioch. It is only the beginning of his missionary endeavors. There are another 15 chapters in the Acts of the Apostles. He has been arrested, transported and is now imprisoned in Rome. What will happen next? How will this all end?
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness” (Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities) Historian David McCullough named the unsettling reality of living in the tension between the darkness and the light. He called history “an unfolding drama in which the men and women of a given moment could not know how everything turned out.”
Except we do. Some days we just need to be reminded.
Jesus said to his disciples: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be.” (John 14:1-4)
Image credit: Duccio di Buoninsegna (1255–1319), “Jesus taking leave of his Apostles,” ca. 1310 | Panel 4 of the Maestro, Museo dell’Opera del Duomo, Siena | Public Domain
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