The Answer in the Bookends of November

When I lived in the Northeast, I often connected November with a significant change of seasons.  The leaves dropped from the trees and the daytime skies became increasingly gray.  The days, or at least the length of daylight, got shorter and shorter.

In November, the liturgical year winds down.  The month begins with our honoring all the Saints in heaven, the canonized and those whose presence with God is known by him alone.  We also pray for the souls in purgatory who are on the path to eternal life.  

As I looked at the November Church calendar, I was struck by the two things that serve as its bookends. The first deals with what can be perceived as the uncertainty of death.  Reflecting on the fate of our deceased loved ones makes us ponder our own mortality.  What happens when we die?  Is there really eternal life?  If that is my fate, who else will be there?   

These are not uncommon nor insignificant, questions.  Most human beings, if not all, have asked these questions at some point.  These questions really plague every person who ever lived and will plague every person who will live in the future.  In fact, all major religions attempt to answer these questions,

Christianity has its answer in the person of Jesus Christ. He is my second bookend of November.  The last week of November begins this year on November 23rd, which will be the last Sunday of the current liturgical year.  It is the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.  The uncertainty of early November finds its response in late November. The fears of our mortality and its apparent finality find solace in the great victory of our King. Death does not get the final answer. Our God loved us so much that he sent his only son to us for the primary purpose of defeating sin and death.  There is nothing that can separate us from that reality; that second bookend of November.

And so as each of us deals with death; the death of a loved one and one day our own death, we have nothing to fear.  I recall the death of my own mother at the age of fifty-seven.  As I stood in the funeral home and family and friends came through with words of sympathy that fell short of responding to the uncertainty of death and the feeling of loss, I knew the answer would only be found in my faith.  This faith was not in some wishful thinking that everything would be okay.  It was and is faith in a reality that the victory belongs to Jesus Christ and to those who believe in him.

For so many, the November of life pauses at the uncertainty of the early part of the month.  For some, they never get beyond it.  For those who live the gift of faith, the end of November, with the victory of the King and the promise of a coming new liturgical year, are real reasons to give thanks on Thanksgiving Day.  We have reason for our hope.

- The Servant

 

30^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Luke 18: 9-14

 

Several years ago in the middle of Lent I received a call from someone I know.   He asked with some concern, “Hey, Friday is St. Patrick’s Day.  Do we get a dispensation from abstaining from meat so we can eat corned beef?”  I told him that thus far the bishop hadn’t granted such a dispensation.  We chatted briefly and the conversation ended.  As I hung up the phone, I shook my head and muttered to my wife, “He never even goes to Mass, but he’s worried about eating meat on St. Patrick’s Day.”

 

As soon as I uttered those words I knew that I had become the Pharisee in today’s gospel.  I had sinned.  I had the audacity to think that I was better than him.  I totally failed to respect the fact that his concern was an expression of his faith.  His concern about abstinence was his way of showing respect to God.  The fact that I attend Mass regularly didn’t make my expressions of faith superior. It didn’t make God love me more than him.

 

On one level today’s gospel is clear on its face:  Don’t be arrogant, conceited or self-righteous like the Pharisee; be humble like the tax collector.  There’s a deeper level, though.  Think about what the Pharisee said – he wasn’t greedy, dishonest or adulterous.  That’s good, right?  He fasted twice a week.  That’s a good thing.  He paid a tithe on his whole income.  Well, that’s good, too, right?  And, what’s more, he started his prayer by thanking God for making him the person he is.  A prayer of thanks to God?  You can’t do better than that.  So, what’s the problem?  Well, the problem arose when he said, in so many words, “At least I am not like this tax collector.”  At that point he made it all about himself – not God, or God’s commandment to love one another.

 

On the other hand, the tax collector totally and unconditionally placed himself in God’s hands.

 

Whenever we do or say anything that separates us from another, we push God away.  The first reading today (Sirach 35:12-14, 16-18) begins with the line, “The Lord is a God of justice, who knows no favorites.”  God doesn’t love the Pharisee any less than He loves the tax collector.  When you come down to it, as soon as we focus on the Pharisee’s self-absorption and rudeness (to the tax collector) and say something like, “What an arrogant fool!” we’re doing exactly what the Pharisee did.  We’re judging and we’re taking our focus away from God.  As much as it is a good thing for us to want to change ourselves and become better people, it is impossible to do that without God’s help.    Only through God are we truly transformed.  Only in God are we truly justified.

 

 

“Call Me Ishmael”