Category Archives: Musings

Off the rails

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As we move closer to the events of Holy Thursday and Good Friday, a cloud of darkness this way comes. For the past week of so we have been hearing about members of civic and religious leadership plotting to kill Jesus. The dark clouds have been on the horizon for some time. In today’s gospel, a scene from the Last Supper, the betrayal is becoming more public.

Judas had spent years with Jesus, witness to the miracles and the goodness they brought and represented. He had heard Jesus’ call to holiness in his talks and parables. He had shared table fellowship with Jesus. And now he is in the process of betraying Jesus to the authorities. Why? I will leave that speculation to others.

Opposites attract, so they say. And “they” are insightful. We see it all the time in life in couples we know and in so many other ways. And certainly as the events of Holy Week unfold, when Goodness (with a capital “G”) will offer his life for our salvation, Evil (with that capital “E”) also draws near.

For many decades I was deeply involved in RCIA (now OCIA). It was my experience that as the time of their baptism drew near, the cleansing waters of salvation awaiting, life would begin to go off the rails for the Elect, those being initiated into the Church at the Easter Vigil. So many people would describe turns of event which brought doubt, thoughts of “maybe next year” or more subtle lures – business opportunities, requirements, or the call of a relative or friend in need. It has happened too often for me not to think that evil is not attracted to the holiest night of the year.

As the events of the Last Supper unfold, at the institution of the Eucharist, should we be surprised that evil rears up and appears among the disciples?

As our celebration of Holy Week unfolds, plan to celebrate fully and don’t be surprised if things begin to go off the rails a bit. Goodness, supreme Goodness, draws near.

Image credit: “The Last Supper,” by Ugolino da Siena, circa 1325-30, Italian. (Metropolitan Museum of Art) | Public Domain

The Chrism Mass

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The word that reflects the deepest identity of Jesus is “Christ.” It is not a name, but a title. The Greek word Christos translates the Hebrew word moshiach or messiah. All those words mean “the Anointed One.” When we call upon Jesus Christ, we invoke the fact that Our Lord is anointed.

Throughout the Bible, anointing means the application of oil to someone’s body. Sometimes, it refers to simple grooming (Luke 7:46). But most of the time it means a special consecration.

People who were anointed were set apart for a sacred task. They were fundamentally changed and divinely equipped for their mission. Through the action of anointing, God gave them a share of the holiness that is divine by nature.

Jesus’ anointing was more radical. He was anointed not with oil, but with the Holy Spirit (Luke 3:22, 4:18-21).

And that is the anointing he has shared with all Christians through the sacraments.

This week bishops in all diocese will celebrate the Chrism Mass. This liturgy takes place every year during Holy Week, and it is an important moment in the life of the local Church. During the Chrism Mass, Catholic priests renew the promises they made at the time of their ordination. They promise to respect and obey their bishop, and to live the chaste life that is proper to the clergy.

But the Chrism Mass gets its name from another action that occurs only on this day. During a special rite, the bishop will bless three different oils to be used in sacraments. He’ll bless holy chrism, the oil of catechumens, and the oil of the sick. The first is used in the sacraments of confirmation and holy orders. The second is used in baptism. The third is used for anointing people who are ill or infirm.

After the Chrism Mass, these oils will be distributed to every parish in the archdiocese. As the bishop sends out the oils, he symbolically renews his connection with every parish under his care. Through those oils he will take part in thousands of sacramental moments throughout the year. He will be there with the priest who visits a parishioner’s hospital bed. He will be there with the deacon who baptizes a baby. He will be there to welcome adult converts who are confirmed on Easter Vigil. In all these sacraments, the clergy apply the oils — they anoint. And so they make Christians, and they strengthen Christian identity, in a way that is true to the root meaning of the word anointing. They make every Christian into another Anointed One, another christ.

The Chrism Mass is a beautiful moment when the unity of the Church — clergy and laity — is most visible.  We have many anointings, but “there is one body and one Spirit … one Lord, one faith, one baptism” (Ephesians 4:4-5).

“You have been anointed by the Holy One, and … the anointing which you received from him abides in you” (1 John 2:20, 27).

Adapted from Archdiocese of Los Angeles

Extravagence

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Today’s gospel for the Monday of Holy Week is the well-known story of Mary of Bethany, anointing the feet of Jesus with “a liter of costly perfumed oil made from genuine aromatic nard.”  In Jesus’ time, the washing on someone’s feet carried with it meaning. While a host would offer water to a visitor for the visitor to wash their own feet, otherwise, only a servant or slave would wash someone’s feet. The same applied to anointing of the feet, considered a soothing treatment after a long day or journey. Because of these connotations, those who voluntarily washed someone else’s feet showed they were devoted enough to act as that person’s slave. The act of anointing Jesus’ feet, when taken in its literary and cultural context, displays Mary’s utter devotion to Jesus.

Many commentators, with good reason, identify Mary of Bethany as the sister of Lazarus the man Jesus had just raised from the dead. Many scholars hold that in the cultural norms, one does not anoint the feet of a living person, but one might anoint the feet of a corpse as part of the ritual of preparing the whole body for burial. In this view, hold that Mary’s action constituted an anointing of Jesus’ body for burial, and thus she performed a prophetic action.

What all agree upon is that the ointment used was very expensive. Since there is no indication that Mary belonged to one of the wealthier classes, as the meal was served by Martha rather than a servant, the ointment was indeed a major expenditure for this family. In this case, one could see the actions as one of the expression of the deepest love.

Prophetic action, expression of love, utter devotion to Jesus – all are probably true at the same time. Such is the life of a disciple – a life that is but a reflection of the One we follow. Mary’s extravagant gesture points to what Jesus is about to do: the absolutely radical giving away of self.  It is an action that is not calculated or pretentious; it is not done so that others might see her devotion. Her action flows from the deepest place in the heart.

At the climax of his life, Jesus will give himself away totally, lavishly, holding nothing back.

Her gift. His life. Both are extravagant.

Such is to be the life of discipleship.

Image credit: The Ointment of the Magdalene (Le parfum de Madeleine) by James Tissot, c.1890, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Reminders

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The gospel reading for today has a rather odd phrase: Jesus answered them, “Is it not written in your law, I said, ‘You are gods’”?  I think there is a tendency to be mystified and at the same simply think, “OK, Jesus said it…. That’s enough for me.”  And then move on. But there is a lot going on in John 10, of which this gospel selection is just a portion. The whole of John 10 offers several questions, one being whether Jesus is the “good shepherd” promised in Ezekiel 34, but the one that concerns our reading today is whether Jesus is the unique Son of God, and conversely, whether God is in a very unique way his Father.

For the last several days, the gospel at Mass has raised the question of the authority and source of Jesus’ works. What more can he offer as proof than his works done through the Father? Works that are themselves the Father’s revealing words? But Jesus’ adversaries will not believe that Jesus and the Father are one: “The Father and I are one” (v. 30). The Jews’ reaction to this great assertion is the extreme one of trying to stone him. They regard Jesus’ words as blasphemy, and they proceeded to take the judgment (Lv 24:16) into their own hands

And then comes our strange verse: “Is it not written in your law, I said, ‘You are gods’ (v.34) Jesus is directing their attention to Scripture. Psalm 82:6 is the immediate reference: “Gods though you be, offspring of the Most High all of you…”  The psalm is referring to the Judges of Israel (written about in the Book of Judges) and the expression “gods” is applied to them in the exercise of their high and God-given office. If Scripture itself refers to humans as “gods” Jesus is making the point why the Pharisee should object to the reference “Son of God?”

There are two ways to understand the reference: (1) if the Psalm speaks of men as gods, then Jesus can use the term of himself in common with others, or (2) if in any sense the Psalm may apply this term to men, then much more may it be applied to him whom the Father sanctified and sent into the world. The latter is a “how much more” argument.  Leon Morris points out that this is Jesus’ way of accepting the charge made against him. He does not deny the charge, but he denies that the Jews are right in their understanding of the situation. They thought he was making himself God. He held that he was not making himself anything. He was what he was: “the one whom the Father has consecrated and sent into the world.”

The gospel reminds us who Jesus is: the Son of the Living God. But we should not lose sight that it is a reminder of who we are called to be: people who exercise our high and God-given office – not as judges – but as evangelists who announce: “the one whom the Father has consecrated and sent into the world.”

Image credit: Jesus Christ Pantocrator | detail from the deesis mosaic in Hagia Sophia, Istanbul | PD-US

On baseball and Catholicism

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by John L. Allen, Jr. , Boston Globe and Cruxnow.com | may he rest in peace.

Easter is my favorite holiday, not only because it recalls the central event in the Christian account of salvation history, meaning Christ rising from the dead, but also because it coincides with baseball’s Opening Day.

A few years ago I published a list of nine reasons – with the number, obviously, chosen to represent the innings in a typical game – why Catholicism is to religion what baseball is to sports. In honor of first pitch this year, here’s the list again:

  1. Both baseball and Catholicism venerate the past. Both cherish the memories of a Communion of Saints, including popular shrines and holy cards.
  2. Both feature obscure rules that make sense only to initiates. (Think the infield fly rule for baseball fans and the Pauline privilege for Catholics.)
  3. Both have a keen sense of ritual, in which pace is critically important. (As a footnote, that’s why basketball is more akin to Pentecostalism, since both are breathless affairs premised largely on ecstatic experience. I’d go into why football is pagan, but that’s a different conversation.)
  4. Both baseball and Catholicism generate oceans of statistics, arcana, and lore. For entry-level examples, try: Who has the highest lifetime batting average, with a minimum of 1,000 at-bats? (Ty Cobb). Which popes had the longest and the shortest reigns? (Pius IX and Urban VII).
  5. In both baseball and Catholicism, you can dip in and out, but for serious devotees, the liturgy is a daily affair.
  6. Both are global games especially big in Latin America. The Detroit Tigers are thought to have one of the most potent batting orders in baseball, featuring two Venezuelans, a Cuban, and six Americans of diverse ethnic backgrounds. Take a look at the presbyterates in many American dioceses, and the mix isn’t that different.
  7. Both baseball and Catholicism have been badly tainted by scandal, with the legacies of erstwhile superstars utterly ruined. Yet both have proved surprisingly resilient – perhaps demonstrating that the game is great enough to survive even the best efforts of those in charge at any given moment to ruin it.
  8. Both have a complex farm system, and fans love to speculate about who the next hot commodity will be in “The Show.”
  9. Both reward patience. If you’re the kind of person who needs immediate results, neither baseball nor Catholicism is really your game.

I threw in a bonus item, which was my argument as to why the American League is actually more Catholic because it permits a designated hitter. The National League’s refusal, I contended, smacks of a quasi-Calvinist fundamentalism, while the American League better embodies what Cardinal John Henry Newman once called the development of doctrine.

I conceded the irony that both the Padres and the Cardinals play in the more “Protestant” National League, which was seized upon by Catholic critics who found my case for the designated hitter almost heretical. I’m not sure I’ve ever written anything else that generated quite as much blowback.

Baseball and Religion

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Today is the opening day of the 2026 Baseball season. Lots of people consider baseball in the same or similar way in which they view religion. F. Scott Fitzgerald famously called baseball “the faith of fifty million people.” Susan Sarandon’s opening lines in the movie Bull Durham: “I believe in the Church of Baseball . . . For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary, and there are 108 stitches in a baseball.” The comedian George Carlin noted: “In football, the object is for the quarterback, otherwise known as the field general, to … hit his receivers with deadly accuracy … With short bullet passes and long bombs, he marches his troops into enemy territory … In baseball, the object is to go home and to be safe.” Rather like the objective of heavenly rest.

Lifted Up

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The first reading today is from the Book of Numbers 21:4-9:

With their patience worn out by the journey, the people complained against God and Moses, “Why have you brought us up from Egypt to die in this desert, where there is no food or water? We are disgusted with this wretched food!” In punishment the LORD sent among the people saraph serpents, which bit the people so that many of them died. Then the people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned in complaining against the LORD and you. Pray the LORD to take the serpents from us.” So Moses prayed for the people, and the LORD said to Moses, “Make a saraph and mount it on a pole, and if any who have been bitten look at it, they will live.” Moses accordingly made a bronze serpent and mounted it on a pole, and whenever anyone who had been bitten by a serpent looked at the bronze serpent, he lived.

The Book of Numbers is the title of the book in English, but the Hebrew title is, more commonly, bemiḏbar, “in the wilderness [of]”). “In the wilderness” describes the contents of the book much better than “numbers,” which is derived from the censuses described in later chapters. Our passage occurs after God has assigned them to wander in the desert for a generation because of their rebellion against the leadership of God. They seem to have to fight their way through the wilderness. 

In the midst of this larger narrative, the Israelites have just won a military victory but still clear of the Edomites as they navigate towards the promised land. Along the way, the exigencies of life in the desert once again caused them to complain – and not for the first time. Even in the face of victories the Israelites’ basic character has not changed. They complain against both God and Moses because of a lack of acceptable water and food. Once more these people show themselves to be out of touch with reality as they long for Egypt and talk as if they had a choice about dying in the wilderness (cf. 11:4–6; 14:2–4). In previous times complaints about food had brought a divine supply of their needs (11:4–35), but now the response of God is to send a scourge of fiery serpents that kills many people. Again as before, the Israelites repent (11:2; 12:11; 14:40) and ask Moses to intercede with Yahweh (11:2; 12:11–13). When he does, God instructs him to construct a copper image of one of the lethal snakes and to set it on a pole where it can be seen. No one is saved from being bitten, but if one is bitten and chooses to obey God by looking at the copper snake, one will be cured from the lethal effects of the bite.

There is much speculation about the snake (“fiery” likely because of the burning associated with its bite) and why mounting a copper image of it is the means of cure. There is no firm agreement, but here is at least one interesting speculation. The people were “threatening” to return to Egypt, turning away from God towards evil. The Egyptian god Apep (also Apophasis) was the evil god who lost in battle to the sun god Re. Apep was the god of death, darkness and an opponent of light – and interestingly, was also the god of medicine and healing. But there was one catch: worshippers were not to look upon the snake god. To raise their eyes and look on the snake was to receive the judgment of death from Apep and know eternal darkness. To keep one’s eyes cast down in worship was to know healing.

The command from Moses for those who had been bitten – and presumably guilty of turning away from God – was to look upon their snake god. They were facing certain death from the snake bit and knew that only the true God would save them. If they had faith in Yahweh and looked upon the image of the snake who was no god at all, they were healed: “anyone who had been bitten by a serpent looked at the bronze serpent, he lived.” If they refused to admit their guilt and kept their eyes cast downward in false worship, then they died, ironically suffering the very opposite fate that their former worship promised.

During the Communion Rite of Mass over the years I have noticed that when the priest elevates the consecrated host and chalice then says, “Behold the Lamb of God…” In a good and true sign of reverence many Catholics bow their heads. But then the liturgical command is “Behold” meaning “see, gaze upon, observe.” It is a time in the Mass when we are to raise our eyes to the Lamb of God and see in the Holy Eucharist the One who, raised up on the cross, has rescued and redeemed us from the wilderness of our sins.

“And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. For 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.” (John 3:14-16)

Image credit: Moses and the Brazen Serpent | Esteban March (1610-1668) | Banco Santander Collection, Madrid |  PD-US

Possibility of New Life

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The scene in today’ gospel (a woman caught in adultery) is a mixture of zealous righteousness that seeks to enact the law without pardon or quarter, the leadership who want to trap Jesus between mercy and the Law, and a woman caught in sin, fearing for her life.  True righteousness would have some measure of concern for her soul. True righteousness would be free from deceitfulness, not hiding behind loyalty to Moses for other intentions.

This situation is apparently just an attempt to entrap Jesus (v. 6). If he is lax toward the law, then he is condemned. But if he holds a strict line, then he has allowed them to prevail in their merciless treatment of this woman and has opened himself up to trouble from the Romans, for he will be held responsible if the stoning proceeds. The leaders of Israel are putting God to the test in the person of his Son, repeating the Israelites’ historical pattern on more than one occasion in the wilderness at Meribah and Massah (Ex 17:2; Num 20:13).

When Jesus heard what the teachers of the law said, Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. This action has been variously interpreted. When the Pharisees and scribes kept on questioning him, Jesus straightened up and said to them, ‘If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.’ According to the law, witnesses to a capital offense had to cast the first stone when the accused was condemned to death (Deut. 17:7). Jesus regarded the teachers of the law as witnesses to the offense. Therefore, they should begin the execution if it were to go ahead. But Jesus’ words challenged the accusers, implying that none of them was without sin and therefore they were in no position to condemn this woman. What sin Jesus was implying they were guilty of is not clear. Perhaps they too were guilty of adultery. Perhaps they were malicious witnesses in terms of Deuteronomy 19:15–21, because they were not interested in seeing justice done, but only in trapping Jesus.

An optimistic reading of Jesus’ call for the one without sin to cast the first stone is “all the people” have been turned away from their murderous intentions onto the path of life as they withdraw to reflect on their own sinfulness before God. Those who came to condemn ended up condemning themselves by not casting a stone.

Jesus is left alone, sitting on the ground, bent over and writing, with the woman standing before him. As Augustine says, “The two were left alone, misera et misericordia” (“a wretched woman and Mercy”; In Augustine’s commentary John 33.5). He straightens up and asks for a report of what happened, as if he had been totally oblivious to what took place as he concentrated on his writing on the ground. He does not ask her about the charges but rather about that aspect of the situation most heartening to the woman: Where are they? Has no one condemned you? (v. 10).

But there is one left who could still execute the judgment–the only one present who was without sin and thus could throw the first stone. Is she hopeful at this point or still quite frightened? We can only speculate as to whether the woman was familiar with Jesus and his embodiment of the mercy of God. In any case, she becomes a memorable example of the fact that “God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him” (3:17). Jesus says to her, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin any more” (8:11). Jesus grants pardon, not acquittal. Here is mercy and righteousness. He condemned the sin and not the sinner.  But more than that, he called her to a new life. The gospel is not only the forgiveness of sins, but a new quality of life that overcomes the power of sin.

Without love, there is no forgiveness. With love, a whole new life is possible.

Image credit: Detail of “Christ and the Adulteress” Rembrandt, 1644 | National Gallery London | PD-US

This is the Way

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In today’s first reading we read from the Book of Wisdom which was written about fifty years before the coming of Christ, likely in Alexandria. That places the author in a deeply Hellenistic environment, where Jewish communities were immersed in Greek language, philosophy, and cultural pressures. It reflects a real tension between 

The author’s name is not known to us. The primary purpose of the author was to give moral support to fellow Jews in a time when they were experiencing suffering and oppression from secular society and especially from Jews who had left the faith because of the lure of Hellenistic thought and privileges that came from being part of the ruling class. It was their own version of “culture wars.”

It reflects a real tension between Jewish covenantal faith (rooted in Torah, righteousness, and fidelity to God) and a Hellenistic worldview, which could include philosophical skepticism about divine justice, materialism or hedonism (in some popular forms), and other tenets of that worldview. In addition, the ruling, wealthy and business class were of the Hellenistic world and so Jews might well feel pressure to culturally assimilate. It almost seems to be their version of “a culture war.”

The passage taken from Wisdom 2 presents the reasoning of “the ungodly,” who say things like: life is short and meaningless, enjoy pleasure now, oppress the righteous person, test whether God will save him. It has all the hallmarks of popularized versions of Epicureanism or maybe recast in our times, a caricature of moral relativism. It can feel like a “culture war” text, though with nuance. The “culture war” here is not just intellectual, it is moral and existential. The core question is will one remain faithful when righteousness is mocked as foolishness? One voice claims our world is sunsetting. Our faith tells us we are at the sunrise of an every new age.

In its time, it was a question for faithful Jews in a hostile cultural setting. In Christian reading it foreshadows the passion of Christ. Both these motifs are seen when the wicked plot against “the righteous one.” “Culture war” is a helpful modern analogy, but the book is doing something deeper. It is defending righteousness against nihilism, affirming divine justice against apparent injustice, and proclaiming immortality against despair. It proclaims faith in a just, purposeful cosmos vs. the temptation to believe that life is accidental and morally empty.

It is the challenge that Christian faithful have faced in every age. It is not a call to close oneself off from the world, to proclaim that you are one of the “faithful remnant.” It is a call to find your own voice to be a Book of Wisdom to a world that does not share our view of how we are called to live. 

Call it what you will, culture war or persecution, ridicule or derision, in every age we are still called to go to the ends of the earth with the Good News. This is the Way.

Image credit: Pexels

Patris Corde

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Today is the Solemnity of St. Joseph. Several years ago Pope Francis wrote the Apostolic Letter Patris Corde – With a Father’s Heart. It is a wonderful reflection of the attributes and characteristics of fatherhood – and also understands that St. Joseph serves as a model, not just for fathers, but for all who care for others. Click here to read the full text of Pope Francis’ Apostolic Letter.

The biblical record of St. Joseph is narrated by Matthew and Luke. Their accounts tell us very little, yet enough for us to appreciate what sort of father he was, and the mission entrusted to him by God’s providence. In so many of the scenes, Joseph is navigating his way through uncertainty, the unexpected, and events that seem to ask too much of him – and yet he is a just and righteous man seeking to do God’s will.

I think it notable that today’s celebration offers two gospel selections: (1) the account from Matthew wherein Joseph knows that Mary is already with child or (2) the child Jesus is lost in the Temple. In both accounts Joseph’s concern is for the other. In the first account, while he feels the need to end the betrothal to Mary he is concerned about Mary’s welfare, that she not be exposed to shame. In the second account, his is a natural concern for a missing child. I have often wondered what Joseph thought upon finding Jesus and the child says: “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” The text tells us neither he or Mary understood. But I wonder if Jesus’ word cut Joseph “to the quick.” Did Joseph feel diminished or dismissed? Pope Francis comments on all this:

Often in life, things happen whose meaning we do not understand. Our first reaction is frequently one of disappointment and rebellion. Joseph set aside his own ideas in order to accept the course of events and, mysterious as they seemed, to embrace them, take responsibility for them and make them part of his own history. Unless we are reconciled with our own history, we will be unable to take a single step forward, for we will always remain hostage to our expectations and the disappointments that follow. The spiritual path that Joseph traces for us is not one that explains, but accepts. Only as a result of this acceptance, this reconciliation, can we begin to glimpse a broader history, a deeper meaning.”

In those moments in our life when disappointment arrives and we are asked to set aside our own ideas, with the help of St. Joseph, may we recognize the movement of the Spirit calling us into the mysterious unfolding of God’s plan.

Image credit: detail of St Joseph with the Infant Jesus | Guido Reni, 1620s | Hermitage Museum St Petersburg Russia | PD-US