Sin?

(For someone who said I never talk about sin)

What is sin?

When we think about sin, usually the first ideas that come to mind are things like the Ten Commandments, the seven deadly sins (lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride), and other obvious examples.

The thing is, sin isn’t limited to those great scarlet sins of commission.

Because sin isn’t about any specific list of “thou shalt nots.” Sin is really about the effect that something has on us.

I’m talking about what sin does. And what sin does is separate you and me from the One who loves us best. Sin gets between us and God. That is what makes something a sin.

The lists of “thou shalt nots” are part of that.

The Ten Commandments, pride, envy, all those things? Those are just universal problems that plague every single one of us.

The thing to know is that sin doesn’t stop with a list of “thou shalt nots.”

The truth about sin is much more subtle, and much more dangerous.

Because anything that can do the job for us, anything that is capable of getting between us and God? That is a sin, for us.

That’s why anger can be a sin. Because it can get between us and God.

That’s why resentment can be a sin. Because it can get between us and God.

That’s why fear can be a sin. Because it can get between us and God.

That’s why bitterness can be a sin. Because it can get between us and God.

That is how you and I have to look at it.

Because anything that is capable of separating you from God? That, for you, is a sin.

That’s true, no matter how small or harmless it may look.

It’s also true, even if it’s not sin for someone else.

For me? There’s a reason why I don’t gamble.

For most of us, gambling is innocent entertainment. Good for you. Thank you for supporting our bingo night.

But for me? It wouldn’t take long for gambling to get out of hand. It wouldn’t take long for gambling to come between me and God. That’s why gambling is a sin for me. So I avoid it.

That is the truth of sin. 

Because anything that is capable of separating you from God? That, for you, is a sin.

If you’re honest, you know what those things are for you. So does God.

God knows everything about you, including how those things that separate you from Him mess with you. How they leave you feeling stuck or anxious. How they leave you fearful or angry. How they leave you empty.

And that is what Reconciliation – confessing our sins – is about. Not because God wants to beat you and me up about our sins.

But because that’s not how God wants you to live. God did not make you to live feeling stuck or anxious, fearful or angry. God did not make you to live empty.

God made you to live joyfully, overflowing in His love and abundance.

The first step to getting there? Let go of the things that are coming between you and God. Let go of your sins.

Push them away from you. By name, hand them over to the God who loves you.

In the Sacrament of Reconciliation, priests are in persona Christi, holy instruments of God’s grace and mercy waiting to be poured out just for you.

Not to blame or shame, but to absolve you and to rejoice with you.

Because that is the secret of Reconciliation. One of the greatest joys on this side of eternity is the feeling in your heart after a good confession.

This Lent, make time for you, for your spiritual health. Take a moment to let go of all of the things that are coming between you and God. Hand over all of your sins. Hold nothing back.

Because the God who loves you too much to let anything come between you and Him, delights in mercy and is waiting with open arms to forgive you.

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Admitting the truth

Be honest with God. Pour your heart out. And watch the Father run to you.

Sounds great. Until you actually try to do it.

What makes it hard is that actually doing it admitting the truth, that you don’t have it all together. That you can’t do it on your own. That – no matter what you’ve been telling yourself – you need help.

I know it is for me. And I know I’m not alone. 

It’s the reason why so few people go to Reconciliation.

Because we can’t imagine that God would actually welcome us with open arms, if we really were honest. On some level, we feel like God is going to treat us like we would treat us. And we want nothing to do with that.

Which shows how little understanding we have of who God really is.

Again, if you want to know who someone really is, their actions tell you more than their words.

Today’s readings are all about St. Peter. The Prince of the Apostles. And the king of overpromising and underperforming.

The first Apostle to understand who Jesus really was (“you are the Christ, the Son of God”), the same person that Jesus chose to be the first Pope?

Is the same person who took his eyes off Jesus – and failed at walking on the water.

Is the same person who first attacked the people who came to arrest Jesus – and then ran away.

Someone whose lived experience of coming back after his greatest failure, of being honest with Jesus after denying he ever knew Him, shows us what really happens when we are honest with God.

Forgiveness.

Not judgment. Not “I-told-you-so.”

Not condemnation. Not bringing it up later to manipulate you.

Just forgiveness. In all its fullness.

From the heart of the One who has always loved you.

That’s who God really is.

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The best penance

Let me tell you about my last confession.

My sins? They’re the sorts of things that you would expect from someone who is fundamentally not a good person.

The first time I ran into Evelyn Waugh’s moment of clarity about himself (“You have no idea how much nastier I would be if I was not a Catholic. Without supernatural aid I would hardly be a human being.”), all I could say was “same.”

But that’s not what this is about.

This is about what the priest said. And the best penance I’ve ever been given.

I don’t know about you, but every time I go to confession? When I finally go, it happens after a bunch of times that I “don’t make it.”

That is, I decide to go. But then I don’t. Over and over. For any number of reasons.

But the reasons aren’t really the reasons. All of them are really just my anxiety about admitting that that I’m not as wonderful as I wish I was. And my fears about the vulnerability of confession.

Which is why it meant so much to me when – before I could even say a word – the priest started talking about how people are intimidated by confession, how they let their fears talk them out of receiving God’s forgiveness.

I’ve known some priests who could read hearts. Maybe he was one of them.

Or maybe anxiety about confession is so common that it’s his stock opener.

Either way, it was just what I needed.

What followed was as kind and gentle a conversation as you could imagine. Inviting me in, making it safe for me to drop all of the garbage that I’d been holding on to. Everything that I’d let pile up between me and God.

When it was time for my penance, he gave me some prayers to pray. About what I had confessed and in thanksgiving for God’s forgiveness. Good stuff. Needful. But pretty standard.

Then he told me to pray those prayers again.

But this time, to pray for everyone who needs the grace of the sacrament but who’s intimidated by confession. For everyone who’s fears are talking them out of receiving God’s forgiveness.

It’s the best penance I’ve ever been given.

I just wanted to share that with you. In case you’re worried about what’s waiting for you in confession.

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Blotted out

Today’s Gospel is the parable about a wasteful steward, a bad manager. One who is about to get fired.

The manager’s big idea? Before he gets fired, he calls in the people who are in debt to his soon-to-be-former employer. And writes off their debts.

He makes sure they know that he’s the one who gave them a break. So they’ll be willing to help him out. When he shows up next week looking for a job.

Some worldly wisdom by the wasteful steward to be sure. But there’s some other worldly wisdom in this parable as well – and we see it in the people whose debts are written off.

None of them go back to the steward’s former employer and ask to have their debts reinstated. To a person they are all happy to take the gift they’ve been given.

And the steward’s former employer? He doesn’t try to have their debts reinstated. He never speaks of the debts again.

Why would he do that? Remember, this is a parable. Which means that there is a lot more going on here. For his part, Origen sees a beautiful image of God’s forgiveness in this.

Thinking of all the idiot things that you and I do to separate ourselves God, Origen says, “if you transgress, you write in yourselves the handwriting of sin…”

“When you have approached the cross of Christ and the grace of forgiveness, your handwriting is fastened to the cross and blotted out in the fountain of forgiveness.”

“Do not rewrite later what has been blotted out, or repair what has been destroyed.”

This is what happens in Reconciliation.

After God forgives us, He blots out the records of our wrongdoing and destroys the evidence.

After God forgives us, He doesn’t remind us of what we did. Or hold it against us.

After God forgives us, He never thinks about our sins again.

Something to remember, the next time you and I try to beat ourselves up over something that God has already forgiven.

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It takes time

Nothing starts the way it finishes.

Nothing that matters, anyway.

The important things in life start off unimpressive, unnoticed, unimportant. And then slowly grow and change – almost imperceptibly at times.

We love the idea of the quick fix, the flash of inspiration, the overnight success.

But reality is more like the old quote (one that’s been attributed to Jeff Bezos, Tom Clancy, and a dozen other people) – “overnight success takes about 10 years.” At least.

That’s how life really works. And that’s the principle that Jesus is showing us in today’s Gospel.

It’s a truth that’s easy to see. And hard to live with.

Especially when it comes to the things that really matter to us. Whether we’re trying to improve our health, battle an addiction, build a relationship, get out of debt, or just trying to be better human beings.

It’s not going to happen overnight. It takes time.

And that gets frustrating. Because it’s more than just slow going.

For most of us, it’s not a straight line, a steady rise over time. More like two steps forward-one step back. On a good day.

The point of Jesus’ parables about the mustard seed and the yeast? That God knows this about us.

God knows that we’re not always going to get it right. That sometimes we get stuck. Sometimes we head off in the wrong direction.

And even if we are headed in the right direction, sometimes it looks like nothing is happening.

God knows this about us. All of it.

But there’s something that you and I need to know about God.

God loves you enough to wait for you. And God loves you too much to let you to struggle alone.

It’s why God will always help you pick up the pieces and try again. If you’ll let Him.

If you’ve ever wondered why the Sacrament of Reconciliation is infinitely repeatable, this is why.

Even if you’ve lost track of it all. Even if it looks like nothing will ever change. Even if you’ve given up – on you, on God, or both.

God is calling you to start again. With Him.

Because God knows that the important things in life start off unimpressive, unnoticed, unimportant.

And God loves you too much to give up on you.

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Afraid

(this seems to happen again and again, which is wonderful!)

One of the joys of being Catholic is helping others return to their faith.

I’d been talking for several months with someone who drifted away. Discussing her problems with the Church. Mostly, it’s been related to her divorce. Not relationship issues but dry, technical stuff. Centered on annulments, etc. (the last time this happened, it was bioethics).

Important. But, at least in the way she seemed to approach them, also kind of impersonal.

Which was why it surprised me when she started asking about Reconciliation. Most of it was pretty basic. Stuff she already knew.

After a few minutes, I realized that her questions weren’t really the questions.  

I know, call me slow. So, I started listening to her. Not just her questions. 

She was afraid.

Of what would happen in Reconciliation. Of what the priest would think of her. Of what he would say. 

She knew all the technical stuff. How to prepare for it. What to do. What to say. 

But what she didn’t know? What was waiting for her in the confessional. And she was scared.

If you want Reconciliation to do all the good it can do for you. To deal with the things that are coming between you and God. Then you have to be honest.

Open. Vulnerable. 

Anyone would be worried about something like that. Even more so if you don’t know what’s going to happen. Or haven’t been in a long time. 

Exactly what is waiting for you in the confessional? Just a moment when a priest is most like Christ. 

Listening in love. While it all comes tumbling out.

Just like Christ.

Offering gentle guidance back to God.

Just like Christ. 

With nothing but God’s love and forgiveness.

With the heart of last Sunday’s Gospel (“Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.”). 

Just like Christ. 

Reunion with the One who loves you unconditionally.

That’s what’s waiting for you in the confessional.

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The wrong side of the door

(by request my homily from Sunday)

Do you ever feel like you’re on the wrong side of the door?

Like there’s something that you want, or that you want to do, but somehow you just can’t. That you don’t belong.

Maybe it’s something in your circumstances that’s holding you back. Maybe someone did it to you. Maybe you did it to yourself.

The reason why really doesn’t matter. Because all of them are equally good at making us feel like we’re on the wrong side of the door. Like we’re stuck.

When you and I feel that way, nothing seems to work right for us.

Because that feeling of being stuck never stays put. Not for long. It spreads into other areas of our life. Until we start feeling stuck about everything.

And we start seeing more and more of our life in terms of being on the wrong side of the door.

Once we get into that way of seeing things, it’s hard to get out of it.

Does that mean when we get stuck, we’re just stuck?

That depends on who you and I are depending on.

Okay. But what does any of that have to do with the Epiphany?

To answer that, let’s back up one chapter in Matthew, right before today’s Gospel reading.

You remember that one from Christmas Eve. It’s the genealogy of Jesus. A 1,800-year list of people from Abraham to Jesus.

It’s salvation history. But it’s salvation, for the people on the list. This is their history.

It’s an amazing, heartbreaking, beautiful, tragic, holy history. Of someone else’s relationship with God. Not yours. Not mine.

You and me? We’re not part of that family. We’re not on the list.

You and me? We’re on the wrong side of the door.

That was the message, for 1,800 years. But it’s not God’s message. It never was.

God’s message? God’s message comes to us through the Incarnation and through the Epiphany.

The message of the Incarnation? God with us.

Not just on our side. But literally one of us.

The message of the Epiphany? God with all of us.

Not just the people on the list. All of us.

If you ever wondered why the magi, the wise men coming to visit the very Jewish Holy Family are from India, Ethiopia, and Arabia? This is why.

God with us, is God with all of us.

No matter who we are. Or where we’re from.

No matter how stuck we are. Or what side of the door we’re on.

God with us, is God with all of us.

But know this – this isn’t just history. Something that God sorted out 2,000 years ago.

This isn’t just the big picture. Something that looks good from 30,000 feet.

And this isn’t just a one-time fresh start. Something that can never happen again.

It’s a today thing. It’s personal. And it’s an everyday thing.

Every time you and I get stuck.

Every time you and I feel like we’re on the wrong side of the door.

Maybe there’s something in our circumstances that’s making us feel that way. Maybe someone did it to us. Maybe we did it to ourselves.

None of that matters to God. You know what matters to God?

Humility.

Are you willing to ask God for help? God has a plan for you.

Are you willing to let God lead? God will see you through it all.

How do you and I even do that? How do we trust God?

It starts with acceptance.

Not with accepting that God has a plan for you – although He does. Not with accepting that God will see you through it all – although He will.

It starts with (as Benedict XVI said), “accepting being loved by God.”

Before we can trust God, you and I have to accept being loved by God.

Not because we’re wonderful people and who wouldn’t love us?

Not because we’re doing great things and we’ve earned it.

But because that’s who God is. Better than the best mom or the best dad in the world, God loves you. And there’s nothing you can do to change that.

God’s love for you is a today thing. God’s love for you is personal. And God’s love for you is an everyday thing.

That’s why – no matter how it feels – you’re never stuck, you’re never on the wrong side of the door. If you’re depending on God.

Why do you think the Church has a Sacrament that’s all about fresh starts? Reconciliation is the Sacrament of the do-over.  

Because God is the God of the do-over. Today and every day.

God loves you too much to leave you stuck.

God loves you too much to leave you on the wrong side of the door.

God is the God of the second chance. And the third chance. And four hundred and eighty third chance.

Today and every day can be a new start with God.

All it takes is the humility to accept being loved, and the humility to ask.

God is ready for your new start. Are you?

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“I can’t believe in a God who sends people to Hell.”

(by request, my homily from Sunday)

“I can’t believe in a God who sends people to Hell.”

It was said smugly. As if it was unanswerable.

A roundhouse hit, right in the collar. Undeniable proof that Christianity is horrible and inhumane. A knockout.

I think that’s why he was stunned when I responded, “me neither.”

I don’t believe in a God who sends people to Hell.

Because God is not in the business of sending me to Hell.

That is my job. I can be in the business of sending me to Hell. If I’m dumb enough to do it.

If I do it enough. If I’m dumb enough to do it enough.

I can totally pull it off. I can earn the dumbest prize anyone ever won.

So how do you do that? It comes down to sin.

Not God punishing you or me for sin. The problems that come with sin are the natural consequences of sin.

Jumping into a pond has the natural consequence of getting wet. You can’t jump into a pond without getting wet. You earn it by jumping into the pond.

It’s the same way with sin. When I sin, I get the natural consequences of sin. I earn it by my sins.

When we think about sin, the things that come to mind are the Ten Commandments, the seven deadlies (lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride), and other obvious examples.

Those are definitely sins. The thing is, sin is harder than that. Because sin doesn’t stop there.

Sin isn’t about any specific list of “thou shalt nots.” Like I said at the Penance Service, what sin is really about is the effect that it has on you and me. What sin does.

And what sin does is separate you and me from the One who loves us best. Sin gets between us and God. That is what makes something a sin.

And sin is personal. I mean that two ways.

First, sin is personal because anything that is capable of separating you from God? That, for you personally, is a sin.

That’s true, no matter how small or harmless it may look.

Whether it’s something you do, or something you say, or an attitude or perspective that you entertain.

It’s also true, even if it’s not sin for someone else.

Here’s what I mean. There’s a reason why I don’t gamble.

For most of us, gambling is innocent entertainment. Good for you. Enjoy. Thank you for supporting our bingo night.

But for me? It wouldn’t take long for gambling to get out of hand. It would not take long for gambling to come between me and God. That is why gambling, for me, is a sin.

Anything that is capable of separating you from God? That, for you, is a sin.

That’s one way that sin personal. 

The other way that sin is personal? When I say that sin separates you from God, I don’t mean that God is keeping a running total of the good and the bad and that your balance has dropped into the negative.

I mean that sin messes up your personal relationship with God.

It’s like this. The last thing my dad always says to me is “I love you.” I can’t remember when he started doing it (he’s been doing it for decades), but I know he why he does it.

So that if something happens, the last words I hear from him will be, “I love you.”

That is an amazing gift to give to someone.

And I always say, “I love you” right back to him. For the same reason.

Let’s say I stopped saying, “I love you” back to my dad. That would hurt. That would mess up our relationship.

Let’s say I stopped taking his calls. Again, that would hurt. That would mess up our relationship.

What if it was something less obvious?

What if my dad asked me to help him with something, and I said I would. But I never got around to it.

Or maybe, whenever there was something that was important to him, I never made time for it.

It’s not as in your face. I’m sure I had plenty of good reasons. But that would hurt too. That would mess up our relationship.

Why would it be any different with God?

And you’re thinking, “It’s the third Sunday of Advent, why are we talking about this stuff? Shouldn’t we be getting ready for Christmas?”

We are. Today is Gaudete Sunday. “Gaudete” means “rejoice.” And we should.

That’s why we’re wearing rose. Because rose is the color of rejoicing, the color of hope.

And that is what Christmas is all about – the reason to rejoice, the reason for hope. That is what John the Baptist is preparing people for in today’s Gospel.

Christmas is about God’s plan for restoring our relationship with Him. The whole “God with us” thing.

It’s God saying to you and me, “I don’t care what’s come between us. Let’s fix whatever it is.”

“Don’t worry about coming to Me, I’ll come to you. We’ll do this together.”

“No matter what it takes. Or how many times.”

The whole “God with us” thing.

Meeting you and me where we are. And loving us too much to leave us there.

Restoring your relationship with Him. That is how much God loves you.

That’s why we have the Sacrament of Reconciliation before Masses every weekend. It’s an opportunity to heal our relationship with God.

That’s why we had the Penance Service last week. Another opportunity to heal our relationship with God.

That’s why the front page of the bulletin has all that information about the plenary indulgence for diocesan year of the Eucharist. Another opportunity to heal our relationship with God.

Grace upon grace upon grace.

That is why I say that God is not in the business of sending anyone to Hell.

Because God holds nothing back in His mercy and love for you.

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Sin?

(by request, my reflection from Sunday’s Advent Penance Service)

What is sin?

When we think about sin, usually the first ideas that come to mind are things like the Ten Commandments, the seven deadly sins (lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride), and other obvious examples.

The thing is, sin isn’t limited to those great scarlet sins of commission.

Because sin isn’t about any specific list of “thou shalt nots.” What sin is really about is the effect that it has on us. What sin does.

What sin does is separate you and me from the One who loves us best. Sin gets between us and God. That is what makes something a sin.

The Ten Commandments, pride, envy, all those things? Those are the universal problems that plague every single one of us.

The thing to know is that sin doesn’t stop with lists and “thou shalt nots.”

The truth about sin is much more subtle, and much more dangerous.

Because anything that can do the job for us, anything that is capable of getting between us and God? That is a sin, for us.

That’s why anger can be a sin. Because it can get between us and God.

That’s why resentment can be a sin. Because it can get between us and God.

That’s why fear can be a sin. Because it can get between us and God.

That’s why bitterness can be a sin. Because it can get between us and God.

That is how you and I have to look at it.

Because anything that is capable of separating you from God? That, for you, is a sin.

That’s true, no matter how small or harmless it may look. It’s also true, even if it’s not sin for someone else.

For me? There’s a reason why I don’t gamble.

For most of us, gambling is innocent entertainment. Good for you. Enjoy.

But for me? It wouldn’t take long for gambling to get out of hand, for it to come between me and God. That’s why gambling is a sin for me. So I avoid it.

That is the truth of sin.

Because anything that is capable of separating you from God? That, for you, is a sin.

If you’re honest, you know what those things are for you. So does God.

God knows everything about you, including how those things that separate you from Him mess with you. How they leave you feeling stuck or anxious. How they leave you fearful or angry. How they leave you empty.

And that is what this Penance Service is about. Not because God wants to beat you up about your sins.

But because that’s not how God wants you to live. God did not make you to live feeling stuck or anxious, fearful or angry. God did not make you to live empty.

God made you to live joyfully, overflowing in His love and abundance.

The first step to getting there? Let go of the things that are coming between you and God. Let go of your sins.

Push them away from you. By name, hand them over to the God who loves you.

Around this church are priests who are in persona Christi, waiting to hear your confessions. Holy instruments of God’s grace and mercy waiting to be poured out just for you.

Not to blame or shame, but to absolve you and to rejoice with you. Because that is the secret of Reconciliation. One of the greatest joys on this side of eternity is the feeling in your heart after a good confession.

Take this moment to let go of all of the things that are coming between you and God. Hand over all of your sins. Hold nothing back.

Because the God who loves you too much to let anything come between you and Him, delights in mercy and is waiting with open arms to forgive you.

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Forgive?

All of us struggle with forgiveness.

That struggle is a clue that our feelings and ideas about forgiveness are probably out of sync with reality and with what God actually wants us to do.

For me, I didn’t understand why I was struggling with forgiveness, until I realized that I was confusing forgiveness with reconciliation.

Forgiveness is the first step towards reconciliation. But it’s not the same thing as reconciliation.

Reconciliation is at the end of a long process that starts with forgiveness.

But the burden of reconciliation is on the person who did the wrong. Reconciliation requires them to own up to it, to admit it. Reconciliation requires an honest, genuine apology. Reconciliation requires them to repair the damage, to heal the broken relationship, if that’s even possible.

That is a lot of work. It takes a very mature, very humble person to do it. Which is why reconciliation is so rare.

All that reconciliation requires of the person who was wronged is to be open to the honest, good faith efforts of the one who did the wrong. Not to guarantee the acceptance of those efforts (only God does that, in the sacrament of Reconciliation). For you and me, we just need to be open to them.

Which means that reconciliation cannot be done by the person who was wronged. If you were wronged, you are not responsible for reconciliation.

If you’re being told to “get over” the wrong that was done to you, you absolutely should. Get the help you need to do it, including professional help. You deserve it.

But know that getting over it doesn’t mean that you have to reconcile with the person who wronged you. All you need to do, all you can do, is the part that you have control over - forgiveness. Because forgiveness is for the person who was wronged.

Forgiveness means letting go of the person who wronged you.

Not dwelling on how they hurt you. Not “what-if-ing” about it. Not replaying it in your mind over and over. Not wondering what you could have done differently. Not letting them live rent free in your head. Refusing to be held back by any of that.

Forgiving someone does not mean that they will ever be allowed back in your life again.

Forgiving someone does not mean that you will ever have a relationship with them again.

Forgiving someone means refusing to be held back by them, by what they did, by the impact that it had on you.

Forgiveness means taking out the trash.

That is why God commands us to forgive. Because God doesn’t want His beloved (you) weighed down with trash.

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Afraid

One of the joys of being Catholic is helping others return to their faith.

I’d been talking for several months with someone who drifted away. Discussing her problems with the Church. Mostly, it’s all been very technical. Centered on difficult questions about bioethics.

Important. But, at least in the way she seemed to approach them, also kind of impersonal.

So I was a little surprised when she started asking about Reconciliation/Confession. Most of it was pretty basic. Stuff she already knew.

After a few minutes, I realized that her questions weren’t really the questions.

I know, call me slow. So I started listening to her. Not just her questions.

She was afraid.

Of what would happen in Reconciliation. Of what the priest would think of her. Of what he would say.

She knew all the technical stuff. How to prepare for it. What to do. What to say.

But she didn’t know what was waiting for her in the confessional. And she was scared.

If you want Reconciliation to do all the good it can do for you. To deal with the things that are coming between you and God. Then you have to be honest.

Open. Vulnerable.

Anyone would be worried about something like that. Even more so if you don’t know what’s going to happen. Or haven’t been in a long time.

So what is waiting for you in the confessional? Just a moment when a priest is most like Christ.

Listening in love. While it all comes tumbling out.

Just like Christ.

Offering gentle guidance back to God.

Just like Christ.

With nothing but God’s love and forgiveness.

With the heart of last Sunday’s Gospel (“Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.”).

Just like Christ.

Reunion with the One who loves you unconditionally.

That’s what’s waiting for you in the confessional.

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Admitting the truth

Be honest with God. Pour your heart out.

Sounds great. Until you actually try to do it.

What makes it hard is that actually doing it admitting the truth, that you don’t have it all together. That you can’t do it on your own. That – no matter what you’ve been telling yourself – you need help.

I know it is for me. And I know I’m not alone.

It’s the reason why so few people go to Reconciliation.

Because we can’t imagine that God would actually welcome us with open arms, if we really were honest. On some level, we feel like God is going to treat us like we would treat us. And we want nothing to do with that.

Which shows how little understanding we have of who God really is.

Again, if you want to know who someone really is, their actions tell you more than their words.

Today’s readings are all about St. Peter. The Prince of the Apostles. And the king of overpromising and underperforming.

The first Apostle to understand who Jesus really was (“you are the Christ, the Son of God”), the same person that Jesus chose to be the first Pope? Is the same person who took his eyes of Jesus, and failed at walking on the water. Is the same person who first attacked the people who came to arrest Jesus, and then ran away.

Someone whose lived experience of coming back after his greatest failure, of being honest with Jesus after denying he ever knew Him, shows us what really happens when we are honest with God.

Forgiveness.

Not judgment or “I-told-you-so.”

Not condemnation or bringing it up later to manipulate you.

Just forgiveness. In its fullness.

From the heart of the One who has always loved you.

That’s who God really is.

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Mistakes and all

If you had been with me the last time I went to Reconciliation. If you heard the sins that I confessed, the things that I was struggling with.

And then you were with me the next time I go to Reconciliation. And heard the sins that I’m going to confess, the things that I’m struggling with.

There would be no surprises. It would all sound way too familiar. You’d be thinking, “wow, this guy is in a rut.” And you would be right.

The thing is, I’m not unique. Not at all.

All of us have areas that we struggle in. Where we wrestle with the same thing, over and over.

Where we make mistakes, we do things we know we shouldn’t. So we go to Reconciliation. We seek God’s forgiveness. We make amends, make it right with the people we hurt. Tell ourselves we’ve turned a corner, that we’ll never do that again.

And then find ourselves right back in the same rut. Doing whatever it is that has been dragging us away from God. Yet again.

When we’re we’re getting stuck in that rut – again – it’s easy to go around feeling condemned, feeling guilty. Like there’s something wrong with us. Amazed (and not in a good way) that here we are, dealing with the same old garbage. Yet again.

When we’re in that place, it’s easy to tell ourselves things like, “this is how it’s always going to be,” “God’s going to get tired of this,” “I’ll never get this right,” “God’s going to give up on me.”

To drift into thinking that we have to clean up our mess, by ourselves, before God will forgive us. That we have to get everything right, do it all just so, or God won’t bless us. That God won’t love us, unless we turn in a perfect performance.

And that we shouldn’t even try, if we’re not going to do it exactly right.

This is what John is struggling with in today’s Gospel.

When he tells Jesus about the person who isn’t part of their group. Someone who’s messing things up, who isn’t doing it the right way. And yet, at the same time, is also trying to do good things in Jesus’ name.

John is having a hard time with this. And you can tell where John’s putting the premium – on perfect performance. Because he says to Jesus, “we tried to stop him from doing good things in your name, because he wasn’t doing it right.”

I love Jesus’ response. “Do not prevent him. There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name who can at the same time speak ill of me. For whoever is not against us is for us.”

Let’s be clear, this is not indifference on the part of Jesus. It’s not that Jesus doesn’t care.

And this is not the stereotype of a bad self-esteem program, where everyone gets a participation trophy.

There is a standard here, a benchmark that must be met. It’s just that it’s not the one that John thinks it is. It’s not perfect performance. So what is the standard?

The real standard? God’s standard? It’s a practical application of the fundamental nature of God. One that appears in countless places in the Bible.

One of the more poetic ways of saying it comes from Second Chronicles, “for the eyes of the Lord search the earth, to strengthen those whose hearts are turned perfect towards Him.”

This is the standard. This is what God is looking for. Not perfect performance. But perfect hearts, hearts that are turned towards Him.

And you’re thinking, this is just a different type of perfectionism. Trading one impossible standard for another.

No. Not at all.

You and I are going to make mistakes. We are going to get it wrong. We are going to sin. We are going to stumble and fall.

But if we have a perfect heart, a heart turned towards God? It means that even though we get it wrong, we have a deep desire to be with God, in a healthy, loving relationship.

And it means that when we do things to damage that relationship, things that strain our most intimate communion with the One who loves us best. There’s something in us that pulls us back. There’s something in us that wants to restore that right relationship. There’s something in us that’s willing to do what needs to be done, to bring us back to God.

That’s what it means to have a perfect heart, a heart turned towards God.

And you do. You have a heart turned towards God. Or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be paying attention to these things if you didn’t.

What’s frustrating is that even though our hearts are where they need to be, we still keep messing it up, we still keep getting it wrong. That’s because you and I are works in progress. Even when our hearts are turned towards God, it’s going to take a while for the rest of us to follow that lead.

And until we get there, there will be some disconnects. Our actions, our attitudes, our words won’t always track with our hearts.

Now before you start beating yourself up about it, just remember, God knows this about you and me. God knows that you and I are works in progress. God knows that this is going to take some time. That (at least for me) this is going to be the work of years, the works of inches.

The thing is, it’s not work that we have to do on our own. In fact, it’s better if we don’t do it at all. That is, if we let go and let God do it.

The smartest thing you and I can do, and also (at least for me) the hardest, is to let go. To let God work from that heart that he has given us. To let God mold us and shape us into who He has made us to be.

Not what I think needs to be done, but what God knows I need.

Here’s the bottom line – God doesn’t want someone with a cold, stony heart who always performs perfectly.

God wants you. Mistakes and all.

With that perfect heart, a heart turned towards Him. A heart that calls you back to His heart.

No matter how many mistakes you make.

No matter how many times it takes.

Because God wants you.

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The List

It’s easy to check out when the reading is a list of names.

Like today’s Gospel, which lists the names of the Twelve Apostles. Some of them are familiar. Others? Not so much.

Whenever there’s a list in the Gospels, it’s there for a reason. If not a number of reasons.

To me, the most compelling reason for this list? The list of the people that Jesus hand-picked as His Apostles? Is who they are. And who they aren’t.

To throw a few labels on them, we’ve got a bunch of fishermen. One of them is the king of overpromising and underperforming. Two more of them are completely full of themselves.

There are traitors to their own people – collecting taxes to fund a foreign power’s occupation of their land. Add in a revolutionary, a skeptic, and a thief.

If you were assembling a list of the best and the brightest. People with power and influence. People you would trust with something important. None of them would be on that list.

That’s who they were when Jesus called them.

We know from the rest of the New Testament how things will work out. About God’s call for their lives, and who they will become.

But we also know from the Gospels everything that they will mess up. All of the mistakes. All the times they’ll say exactly the wrong thing. And even the betrayals.

Everything that they will get wrong on the road to becoming who God called them to be.

Knowing all of this about them (because He’s God), Jesus calls them. Because Jesus knows something about them that they don’t – not yet.

That if they keep their focus on Him, when they stumble and fall (and they will), He will help them get back up. He will help them pick up the pieces.

Jesus will give them the grace and the strength to try again. To take another step closer to Him.

That if they keep their focus on Him, Jesus won’t give up on them. No matter how many times they stumble and fall.

There are two things for us to know. First, this isn’t a special deal, something that happened once, just for the Apostles. And second, God’s call isn’t just for the Apostles. Or even clergy.

God calls each one of us. To draw close, into a deeper relationship with Him. To do the good that He has called us to do. To become who He made us to be.

From our perspective, that can seem kind of overwhelming. Because you and I know our own shortcomings and failures, all too well. We know that, if we’re trying to follow God’s call for our lives, at a certain point, we’re going to mess it up. We’re going to get it wrong.

But you who else knows this about us? God.

God knows all of this about us. And knowing all of that, God still calls us.

With the same love that flowed through His call of the Apostles.

God is telling us that if we keep our focus on Him, when we stumble and fall (and we will), God will help us get back up. God will help us pick up the pieces. In case you wondered what Reconciliation was all about.

God will give us the grace and the strength to try again. To take another step closer to Him.

If we keep our focus on God, God won’t give up on us. No matter how many times we stumble and fall.

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Holding you back

We all have times in life where we’re facing things that weigh us down. Where we can’t see how things will ever change. Or how we’ll even get through them.

Whether we’re talking about a relationship that’s on the rocks. Or the loss of job. A diagnosis that isn’t good. Or an addiction that we thought we were had under control.

Whether we’re talking about something that’s happened to us. Or something that we did to ourselves.

Whatever it is, we can’t see a way out of it. So we’re worried. We’re stressed out. We’re angry. We’re afraid.

But no matter what’s holding us back. One thing is true.

It’s holding us back, because it’s in the way.

And it’s in the way, because we put it there.

Think about this for a second. I have a friend who has a deep devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe.

She’s got the classic image of Our Lady of Guadalupe in her home, on her rosary. In her cube at work. And every other place she can put an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

Our Lady is the lock screen on her phone. If she’s wearing a t-shirt, you already know what’s on it – and you’ve never even met her. She’s even got a little statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe on the dash of her car.

I asked her about it one time, about why every square inch of her life was covered with Our Lady of Guadalupe. She told me about how Our Lady had gotten her through some of the worst times in her life. And then she left me with something that really stuck.

She said to me, “I want to see the world, I want to see Jesus, through Her eyes.”

As I’ve gotten to know her over the years, I really think she does. I think that more and more, she sees the world, she sees Our Lord, through the eyes of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

That impacts every part of her life. It’s making her holy. And it’s a beautiful thing.

Some of us are just as devoted as she is. Except, instead of putting Our Lady of Guadalupe everywhere, we’ve put something else in our home. In our cube. On our t-shirt. On the dash of our car.

Just like her, we’re seeing the world through it. It’s impacting every part of our lives. Only it’s not Our Lady of Guadalupe. And it’s not making us holy. We’ve filled our lives with things that are weighing us down. And holding us back. Things like worry, and stress, and anger, and fear.

And it’s not a beautiful thing.

(continued)

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Woe

“Woe to you Bethsaida! For if the mighty deeds done in your midst had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would long ago have repented.”

The names don’t mean much to us. But Bethsaida was the hometown of Peter, Andrew, and Philip. Where Jesus healed Peter’s mother-in-law. And restored a blind man’s sight. And fed 5,000.

When it came to stuff involving Jesus, Jesus’ ministry, the Apostles. Bethsaida was getting lots of it. Jesus was highly visible there, a regular part of things in Bethsaida.

What about Tyre and Sidon? Jesus never went there. But they didn’t just miss out. They had a reputation for wickedness. And had been condemned for it by the prophets.

What’s the point that Jesus is making? That the outright rejection of God’s grace isn’t the only way that we go wrong.

Sometimes, we end up in just as bad a place. Even though we’re surrounded by God’s grace. Because we take it for granted.

It’s a classic problem for us as Catholic Christians. God has blessed us richly, with the ready grace of the Sacraments, and the sacramentals. The renewal of Baptism. The forgiveness of Reconciliation. The intimacy of the Eucharist. The peace of the Rosary. The list goes on.

And instead of being overwhelmed time after time by all the ways that God pours out His love.

We become numb to it. We lose our sense of wonder.

And those occasions of grace? They become just another thing we stumble through. Or something on a to-do list.

So what do we do about it? First, don’t waste time guilting yourself. This something that we all do. As Aldous Huxley put it, “Human beings have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted.”

But what do we do about it? The cure is simple. But it’s not easy.

You want to restore your sense of wonder in the grace of God? You want the joy that overflows from the love that God is pouring out to you right now?

Gratitude. Simple thankfulness for all of the blessings of your life.

Nothing destroys the malaise of taking things for granted like gratitude.

Start by thanking God for every little thing. The moment you wake up in the morning.

Stating with thanking God for waking up in the morning. Not everyone’s going to get to do that today.

If you can see, thank God for that. And you’re thinking, “I would, if I didn’t have to put my glasses on to see.”

If you have glasses to put on, thank God that He has blessed you with the means to have glasses.

You see how it works?

Go small, go deep. Thank God for everything. Nothing is too tiny for us to be thankful for. Because all of it, literally all of it, is a gift.

Because the truth of the matter is this – you and I don’t have to have any of what we assume will be there. All of it is purest gift. So start thanking the Giver, God, for all of it.

Even the things you stumble through. Even the things on the to-do list.

Keep it up. It won’t be long, before you discover the joy of God. In (literally) everything.

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Shame

(by request, my homily from Sunday)

I’d like to talk with you about shame.

What is shame? It’s one of the most destructive feelings we have.

When we were growing up, shame was used to get us to try harder, to do better.

It may be obvious when you think back on it, because the word “shame” was used. You didn’t do something, or you did something wrong. And mom or dad let you know that they were ashamed of you.

For me, it was less obvious. Growing up, the worst thing that could happen to me was if my mom was disappointed in me.

I would rather have had her mad and reaching for a wooden spoon, than to have her disappointed in me.

Even though she didn’t say the word, she didn’t have to. It was the same thing. “Disappointed” is just another way of saying “ashamed.”

No matter how we were exposed to it. No matter where we learned it from. Over the years most of us have done a very effective job of internalizing shame.

You messed something up at work. And even though your boss isn’t telling you that they’re ashamed of you. They are.

At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

You forgot something important at home. And even though your spouse isn’t telling you that they’re disappointed in you. They are.

At least that how it feels.

And because that’s what you’re telling yourself, because it feels that way, they don’t have to do anything. Because you’re already doing it. To yourself.

It happens for any number of reasons.

You’re ashamed of yourself, because you got fired. You’re disappointed in you, because you slipped back into your addiction. You’re ashamed of yourself, because you got divorced. You’re disappointed in you, because you hurt someone who loves you. Again.

Whether you’re an innocent bystander, the victim of whatever happened. Or the one who caused the whole thing. In one sense, it really doesn’t matter. Because either one of those is enough to set you off, telling yourself how ashamed you are.

Here’s the thing about shame. Even though the point of shame was to get you and me to try harder, to do better. To get us to step up. That’s not the effect that shame has on us.

The effect that shame has on us? It’s a self-inflicted beat-down.

(continued)

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Afraid

One of the joys of being Catholic is helping others return to their faith.

I’ve been talking with someone who drifted away for several months. Discussing her problems with the Church. Up to now, it’s all been very technical. Centered on difficult questions about bioethics.

Important. But, at least in the way she seemed to approach them, also kind of impersonal.

So I was a little surprised earlier this week. When she started asking about Reconciliation/Confession. Most of it was pretty basic. Stuff she already knew.

After a few minutes, I realized that her questions weren’t really the questions.  

I know, call me slow. So I started listening to her. Not just her questions. 

She was afraid.

Of what would happen in Reconciliation. Of what the priest would think of her. Of what he would say. 

She knew all the technical stuff. How to prepare for it. What to do. What to say. 

But she didn’t know what was waiting for her in the confessional. And she was scared.

If you want Reconciliation to do all the good it can do for you. To deal with the things that are coming between you and God. Then you have to be honest.

Open. Vulnerable. 

Anyone would be worried about something like that. Even more so if you don’t know what’s going to happen. Or haven’t been in a long time. 

So what is waiting for you in the confessional?

Just a moment when a priest is most like Christ. 

Listening in love. While it all comes tumbling out.

Just like Christ.

Offering gentle guidance back to God.

Just like Christ. 

With nothing but God’s love and forgiveness.

With the heart of last Sunday’s Gospel (“Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.”). 

Just like Christ. 

Reunion with the One who loves you unconditionally.

That’s what’s waiting for you in the confessional.

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The best argument

A Moment Before the 4th Sunday in Lent

G.K. Chesterton said that “the best argument against Christianity is Christians.”

It’s an observation that always hits me hard. Both when I do something stupid. And when someone who is publicly identified as a Christian weaponizes their faith, uses it to hurt and to harm.

The thing is, the opposite is also true. The best argument for Christianity is also Christians.

It’s what St. Paul is talking about when he says that in Christ, our old lives are passed away. That we are new creations in Christ. That we are reconciled to God through Christ.

Because we have been reconciled to God, we have been entrusted with a ministry of reconciliation.

It’s a ministry that isn’t just for people with a collar or a title. The ministry of reconciliation is entrusted to each one of us who have been made new in Christ.

It’s a ministry that calls us to a life that is the opposite of a weaponized faith. It’s a life that shows out our reconciliation to God. In big things and small things alike.

By reaching out in love in all that we do. By letting the joy that flows from our reconciliation to God infuse us. And all that we do.

By not even trying to hold back or hide our joy.

When we make that ministry of reconciliation part of everything we do, the Spirit moving in our lives will show out. Our lives will become the best argument for Christianity.

And nonbelievers will question their disbelief in God.

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It will grow

When I was growing up, my grandparents grew their own vegetables, in something that was too big to be called a garden. Almost a truck patch. And it had a little bit of everything.

Whenever I asked my grandfather about some new thing I’d found in a seed catalog, and whether we could grow some of it this year, his answer was always the same. “If you plant it, it will grow.”

At the time, I thought it was kind of a boast. About how he could grow just about anything in his well-tended patch. I’ve come to understand that it’s actually a universal truth.

If you plant it, it will grow.

If you plant something in your life that you wall off from everything else. Something you demand to have. Something that you say “mine” about. Something you keep everyone else away from, especially God. It will grow.

And it won’t stay walled off. Not for long.

It will keep growing. Quietly pushing everything else in your life aside. Slowly separating you from everything and everyone dear to you, including God. Until it’s not just a thing in your life.

But the thing in your life.

All of us plant things. Usually without realizing we’ve done it. Or thinking about what we’re going to get from it.

Our only hope? Reconciliation. And the daily planting and replanting of the only thing that really matters in the end.

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