Let my eyes shed down tears night and day, and let them not cease. Sermon of April 10th, on Passiontide

5^th Sunday of Lent, Year A

April 10^th, 2011

John 11:1-45

And Jesus wept.

In these final two weeks of the season of Lent, the Church enters into the period which in former days was called Passiontide. It is the time of the Lord’s Passion, a time when the whole focuses most intently upon the suffering and death of our Savior.

Throughout the whole of Lent we have engaged a spirit of contrition and of sorrow, sorrow for our sins and for those of the whole world. Now, in these final days, we turn our attention toward the results of sin, toward what it took to blot out those sins: The Passion of the Christ.

In the season of Passiontide, the whole Church weeps for her suffering Lord. Every Christian is meant to mourn the death of the Savior. Throughout these two weeks, the saints tell us, we are to weep constantly and to be filled with sorrow.

Some of the spiritual doctors go so far as to direct us not to think of anything happy or joyful – even desisting from considerations of the Resurrection or of Heaven. Rather, they say, we are to be totally immersed in the Passion of our Lord. We think of nothing other than the sorrows of Jesus our Savior and, our hearts and minds being filled with his wounds, we are called to have compassion on our good Lord whom we have so poorly treated.

We are instructed by the saints to be so focused on the sufferings of the Lord that, from the first moment when we wake in the morning, we ought to banish from our thoughts anything which is joyful or humorous and ought rather immediately turn our attention to some aspect of the death of Christ. Perhaps we may consider one of the Stations of the Cross or one of the Sorrowful Myesteries of the Rosary.

Yet, as I am sure you are probably thinking, there is a certain difficulty in all of this. As we live in the world and must go about the daily business of our affairs, it is not clear how we can incorporate this spirit of profound sorrow into our daily lives. Indeed, I am quite certain that many of our non-Catholic neighbors would be very confused if all the Catholics in town walked around teary-eyed and frowning for the next two weeks!

So, what are we to do? Obviously, our spiritual life must be integrated well with the real and concrete elements of our vocation. All true spirituality is rooted in the vocational calling to which we have responded.

While it is probably true that we cannot go about exteriorly consumed with sorrow for the next two weeks – certainly, there are many circumstances in which it would not be appropriate to express the inner movements of our hearts – we may nevertheless be totally immersed in an interior mortification.

While we go about the exterior motions of our day in a manner which draws to us no special attention, we may still carry Jesus crucified in our hearts. This is our task for the two weeks of Passiontide: To make a space in our hearts to carry Christ, and him crucified.

A simple example will suffice: Any time we look upon ourselves in a mirror or see our reflection in a piece of glace, we may consider the face of Christ as it was in the Way of the Cross. Consider how his face was disfigured with bruises from the many blows he had received. His holy face was now made dirty and covered with spittle. And then, the holy woman Veronica came to our Lord. She offered him such a small act of compassion, but the love which motivated her was divine. Join St. Veronica and compassionate your Savior so poorly treated by men.

Yes, these next two weeks will be difficult – in many ways they are the most difficult period of Lent. Our hearts will become very heavy with grief and we will be downcast. But, in order that we may not lose hope or become despondent, Holy Mother Church puts before our hearts and minds today a final consideration of the glory of the Resurrection.

We do not hear of Christ’s Resurrection itself, but instead we hear of the promise of the general resurrection of the dead at the end of time. The Lord says to the prophet Ezekiel in our first reading, I will open your graves and have you rise from them, O my people! It is the promise of life, a promise which gives us hope.

The same is reiterated by St. Paul in the second reading. In the Gospel, however, we turn from promise of the general resurrection to the resuscitation of Lazarus. In order that his disciples might have hope in him and might not despair at his death but instead may believe and look for his Resurrection, Christ our God raised Lazarus from the dead.

Yet, even here, in this wonderful miracle of the resurrection or resuscitation of Lazarus, we see something most interesting. For St. John tells us that Jesus loved Lazarus and his sisters. And, precisely because he loved them he waited two days before going to Bethany. Precisely out of love for Martha and Mary and Lazarus, Jesus waited and allowed Lazarus to die and the sisters to be filled with sorrow.

Even when Christ arrived in Bethany, he did not immediately work the miracle and raise Lazarus, but first he entered into the sorrow of Mary and Martha and the other Jews as they mourned for Lazarus. Jesus was so filled with sorrow at the death of Lazarus that he himself wept – and here we have the shortest verse in all of Scripture, And Jesus wept.

It was only after entering into that period of mourning and of sorrow that Jesus worked his great miracle. First he wept bitterly and was greatly perturbed – entering fully into the spirit of true compassion, suffering with Martha and Mary – and only later did he wipe away every tear and call Lazarus back to life.

This is our task in these days: To join Christ in his sorrows, as he has joined us in our sorrows. To compassionate the Savior who has been so compassionate toward us. To weep with him who has wept for us, to mourn for him who mourned for us.

By joining our God in his dolorous passion, may we soon be brought to the glories of life everlasting.

Don't be a Pharisee, go to confession this Lent. Sermon of April 3rd

4^th Sunday of Lent, Year A

April 3^rd, 2011

John 9:1-41

If you were blind, you would have no sin; but now you are saying, “We see,” so your sin remains.

In seminary training, beyond the many hours of academic courses focused on theological formation, the young men training to be priests receive also some classes in more practical matters of priestly ministry. Among these courses directed towards pastoral work, homiletics – the instruction in how to write and deliver a good homily or sermon – certainly has a central place.

Now, in these homiletics courses, the professors tell the seminarians of what may be termed the “golden rule” of successful sermons. This essential axiom goes something like this: A long Gospel means a short homily. J

Indeed, there is much truth to this statement: The Church, in giving us this extremely long Gospel (which is surpassed in length only by the Passion accounts), desires that we should meditate upon this passage throughout the week. The task of the homilist, then, is simply to point out a few key themes – the Holy Spirit will do the rest as we ponder over these words in our hearts through the next several days.

I want to focus specifically on these Pharisees: These men who were so wise and lerned in the Scriptures, the religious leaders of the day; who yet find themselves, at the end of the passage, in utter blindness. What was it that led these men to reject the Christ, only to cast themselves out into the darkness?

The root of their error is in their approach to sin. These Pharisees did not deny that sin exists, but rather chose to point out the sins of others, instead of admitting their own brokenness. It is not so much that they claimed to be perfect – I am quite sure that the Pharisees would have all admitted that they had at least some little things to work on – rather, they chose to direct attention away from their “small” imperfections by pointing out what they considered to be the grave sins of others.

“Sure,” the Pharisees tell us, “we are not perfect. But at least we are not so bad as the rest, at least we aren’t so great of sinners as that blind man is! Look, he was blind from birth, he was born in sin, he is steeped entirely in sin! We may not be perfect, but we are not that bad – at least not compared to him!”

Sometimes, we also do this. When we say to ourselves, “Well, I know I’m not perfect, but I’m not nearly so bad as Hitler or the Nazis, or Stalin.” As though our measure were genocide and mass murder!

Or again, without referring to history but sticking with our own day, we might try to deflect attention from our personal sins by pointing out the sins and weaknesses of politicians or businessmen – “They are all just a bunch of greedy, self-centered scoundrels! I’m so glad that I’m not a sinner like them!”

Finally, when all else fails and we are really under pressure, we may stoop so low as to say… “True, maybe I do have some small faults, but at least I’m not as bad as Charlie Sheen!” J

This is a very dangerous path, however. We recall that Jesus came not for the righteous, but for sinners. If we are set on pointing out how other people are so much worse than us, we are actually removing ourselves from the redemption accomplished in Christ. If we are not sinners, we have no need of a Savior. If think that we are basically good, then we have cast ourselves out from the Church – because, the Church on earth is made up of sinners who look to the Savior for healing, mercy and forgiveness.

This was the error of the Pharisees: They were “basically good people” and they knew it! They didn’t think of themselves as sinners, so they balked at the idea of redemption – “What need have we of redemption? We are doing just fine. We can see!” Thus, they became utterly blind; and, lost in their spiritual blindness, they lose all hope of heaven.

Let’s be clear: The Pharisees are the type of people who don’t go to confession. The blind Pharisees of today are those Catholics who don’t even go to confession during Lent!  How could anyone neglect confession during Lent?!

If we are honest with ourselves and honest to God, we will get to the sacrament of Reconciliation, and we will frequent it often. We know we are sinners, and God certainly knows we are sinners – why remain in that blindness? Why remain in that sin? Christ has given us the sacrament so that we may be forgiven. The Savior gives us confession so that we might be more joyful!

Notice, in the Gospel, the Lord makes use of a very strange ritual in order to heal the blind man. Certainly, Jesus could have healed the man immediately, simply by a word or the slightest movement of his will. However, Christ doesn’t do it that way – instead, he spits on the ground and makes mud. Then he puts this mud on the man’s eyes and tells him to go and wash in the pool of Siloam.

Now the blind man could have said, “This is crazy! Don’t put that spittle on my eyes!” It is a very strange ritual indeed. But, if the blind man had resisted or refused the ritual, he would not have been healed. So, he does not complain – moreover, we mention that this little ritual is a small price to pay for the miraculous healing!

We also have a somewhat strange ritual. We line up outside a box, then (when our turn comes) we go in and tell our sins to a man who has been ordained a priest. Let’s be honest, it is quite strange. But it’s the ritual Christ has given us.

Certainly, the Lord could just forgive our sins immediately and without the ritual – but he chose to give us the sacrament, just as he chose to use the mud for the man born blind. How could we resist? What a small price to pay for the forgiveness of our sins!

Indeed, I admit that, when we look at these two rituals, we might prefer the mud-option (given the choice)! J But that’s not what Christ gave us. He gave us the sacrament. He gave us confession.

Why remain in the darkness? Why remain blind? Christ wants us to see. Through a return to the healing sacrament, the light of the Savior will illumine our hearts and lead us into the great joy of life everlasting.

Because salvation is from the Jews: How Judaism and Christianity differ from every other religion, Sermon of March 27th

3^rd Sunday of Lent, Year A

March 27^th, 2011

John 4:5-42

Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.”

The woman of Samaria is a type for all humanity – in her the whole human race is mystically present. And what is the first thing we learn about this woman? That she is thirsty. She has a physical thirst. This thirst is indicative of the thirst which all people have – a thirst for something more, something beyond themselves; it is a thirst for happiness and fulfillment. All human beings have a deep longing. We are not complete and whole in ourselves: it is what Dorothy Day called “the long loneliness;” St. Augustine spoke of the restless heart.

All of us have this longing, this desire for fulfillment. The woman was thirsting, and in her thirst she went to well of Jacob. The Samaritan woman seeks to satiate this inner longing with natural water; in this we are meant to recognize the human inclination to seek consolation and fulfillment in the things of this life. As the woman went to the well, all too often we seek fulfillment in worldly delights and natural consolations.

But, coming to the well and looking for natural water, the woman finds the Lord. Christ was there, waiting for her to come. She was not so much seeking him directly, as seeking satiation from her thirst – but, of course, the only true fulfillment will come from Christ. God alone can bring true joy to the human heart.

And here we have something upon which we might reflect: Do we seek our consolations and our joys more in the Lord or in the world? Where is our delight – in prayer or in earthly vanities? Now I do not intend to claim that we must utterly reject the world, or that we must take no joy whatsoever in the world. Rather, we rejoice first and foremost in the Lord, and then we take joy in other realities insofar as they are gifts from God. In this manner, even worldly delights lead us back to God and to the hope of heaven.

You will have to take my word for it, but I can testify that those who find consolation in the Lord alone above all else, these also are able to take greater joy in the world than any others. I am thinking especially of cloistered nuns – you have never met people so joyful, so happy, and quite frankly so delightful as nuns who have left the world and chosen the life of quiet contemplation!

So, the woman of Samaria was thirty, in her thirst she sought natural water, but ultimately she found that her true joy and fulfillment could come only from the Lord. Up to this point, the story goes as we might expect.

However, there is an important element which must be stressed: Christ was also thirsty. Notice, Who is it who speaks first? It is Christ! The Lord first asks for water, and only later does he direct the woman to ask him for living water. The Good Jesus was thirsty too, and we may even go so far as to say that his thirst was the more intense. Yes, Christ had a natural thirst for water; but even more he had a spiritual thirst for the salvation of souls, and for the salvation of this woman in particular. This is why Christ said to the woman, Give me a drink; he desired her faith and her love. Our Savior thirsts for communion with us, so that we might not perish but might have eternal life.

This is what is so unique about Judaism and Christianity: We affirm that God so loves us as to even thirst for our salvation. God thirsts for souls, he thirsts for our salvation! The Good Lord loved us so much that he sent his own Son to die for us. And Christ, our God, he so thirsts for our salvation that he did not hesitate to endure every suffering in order that we might respond to his love.

This is the unique aspect of revealed religion: God thirsts for the human race. Every other religion witnesses to the thirst that humanity has for God – and every natural religion is a testimony to the human search for the divine. But only Judaism and Christianity have taught that God thirsts for man; that God is like a shepherd who goes out in search of the lost sheep.

Allah of Islam does not love humanity, nor less does he thirst for humanity. Allah would never become man in order to die for us. Precisely this doctrine of Christianity is what is most intolerable to Muslims: That God would humble himself and even die for us, out of love.

Moreover, the gods of the Eastern religions and cults have no love whatsoever for humanity. They do not thirst for you, they do not love you.

No, these other religions are signs of the yearning which human beings have for God, but they never attain to the highest teachings revealed to the Jews and then, through Christ, shared in the Church.

This is why Christ said to the woman of Samaria, Salvation is from the Jews. For it was first to the Jews that God revealed his love for the human race. This revelation was fulfilled in the person of Jesus Christ – and, through him, all people now have access to salvation.

Think on this: God thirsts for you, God loves you, God desires communion with you. Mother Teresa once said, “Until you know deep inside that Jesus thirsts for you – you can’t begin to know who he wants to be for you. Or who he wants you to be for him.”

How to persevere through Lent, Sermon of March 20th

2^nd Sunday of Lent, Year A

March 20^th, 2011

Matthew 17:1-9

Jesus took Peter, James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them.

Perhaps we might consider why it is that here, on the second Sunday of Lent, the Church gives us the Gospel account of the Transfiguration of our Lord. It may not be immediately apparent to us, but if we consider the meaning of the historical event for the disciples, we will quickly understand how our reflection on the Transfiguration will aid us in our Lenten discipline.

First, what was the significance of the Transfiguration for the Apostles? Notice that the event happened near the end of Christ’s public ministry – it is recorded late in Matthew’s Gospel, in the 17^th chapter. Early on, the Lord’s preaching was very successful – wherever he went, many people converted and nearly all accepted him. Of course, the Apostles were very excited in those early days.

But then, there is a change. At a certain point, our Savior begins to look toward Jerusalem, to focus more and more on the suffering and death that awaited him in the Holy City. This transition – from those early, happy years to the last period of rejection – hinges upon the Transfiguration.

Our Savior had just told the disciples that he would suffer and die, that the Cross was coming. But the Apostles could scarcely bare this news. They feared the Cross, they were terrified at the thought of persecution. And so, Christ needed to give them comfort and strength.

For this reason, he took Peter, James and John apart from the others and led them up the mountain. Now, as soon as we hear it is these three, our minds ought to move forward to that other time these three were separated from the rest – on that night in Gethsemane, when our Lord suffered his great agony in the garden. The whole event of the Transfiguration is a preparation for the suffering which is soon to come – Christ seeks to strengthen at least these three, so that they might remain faithful through the Passion.

But, as our Lord is transfigured before them, St. Peter cries out, “Lord, it is good that we are here … Let’s build some tents!” You see, Peter talks too much. J

The Prince of the Apostles speaks with the comprehension of a child – he cannot even begin to comprehend the mystery he beholds, for he is distracted by the fact that it is shiny. Peter considers the Transfiguration beautiful simply because it is bright.

If Peter had been more reflective, he may have noticed that it was Moses and Elijah who appeared on either side of our Savior – the two men who perhaps bore more suffering and hardship than any others in the Old Testament. Moses, who was so often rejected by his own people and who died in the desert. Elijah, who was hated by the political and religious authorities of his day – who alone stood up against the darkness of hell which raged in the time of King Ahaz.

Christ is transfigured before Peter, James and John; he shows them the glory of the Resurrection. The Savior does this in order that they might be encouraged, that they might not lose heart. Christ knows that the Passion will be a great scandal to his disciples, he knows that it will be difficult and that they will be filled with sorrows – but he desires that they should not despair, that they should not lose hope, but instead might remain faithful to him to the end.

But, alas, we know that James fled with the others, he abandoned the Lord. Peter was even worse – the man who had said, “Let us build tents and remain here with you,” when persecutions came not only abandoned the Lord, but denied his Savior saying, “I swear to you, I do not know the man.”

Only John remained faithful. The disciple who was most reflective, and even contemplative. John is quiet, reserved, steeped in prayer. And he alone, from among the Apostles, he alone stood by our Christ at the foot of his Cross. The mystery of the Transfiguration had already penetrated the heart of the Beloved Disciple, strengthening him against all adversity, giving him hope in the midst of terrible suffering.

Christ was transfigured in order that the Apostles might persevere through suffering and so come to the glory of Easter. It is for this reason also that the Church gives us to meditate upon the Transfiguration now. For we yet have a long time till Easter – there is much of Lent through which he have yet to pass.

For some, it may come as a surprise that we are only in the second week of Lent. “The second week?” you say, “Surely, we have made it to the forth of fifth week by now!” No, indeed, we are still only in the second week, and, what is worse, this Sunday is only the first day in the second week! J 

Only through imitating the prayerful nature of John will we be able to find the strength necessary to pass through Lent. We must meet Christ, transfigured and in glory – but it is only in our life of prayer that we can find him thus transfigured. Our daily meditation is the time when Christ is leading us up the mountain, to encourage us, to give us strength, and to show us his glory.

We have quite a ways to go this Lent. But the Church, as a good and loving Mother, does not want us to be discouraged. So, today, she gives us this small foretaste in the Resurrection. She raises our hearts and minds to the contemplation of Easter glory – for the Transfiguration is a participation in the glory which awaits us all in life everlasting.

We fast during Lent because we have sinned, Sermon of March 13th

1^st Sunday of Lent, Year A.

March 13, 2011

Romans 5:12-19

For if, by the transgression of the one [i.e. Adam], death came to reign through that one, how much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and of the gift of justification come to reign in life through the one Jesus Christ.

It is both with a certain anticipation and joy as well as with something of a nervous apprehension that we enter into the Season of Lent. We have joy and even excitement because we know that the Good Lord always has so many blessings in store for us during this holy Season. Moreover, even now, we begin to look ahead the full six weeks, preparing ourselves for the great feast of Easter.

Yet, if we are honest, there is probably also some struggle as we begin Lent. Perhaps already, just five days into the Season of Penance, we have begun to wiggle a little bit on our Lenten fast. Indeed, we may have even considered that very difficult and intricate question: What exactly constitutes candy? J

Certainly, there is something in the spirit of the modern world and even of the modern Catholic world, that makes it difficult for us to enter into Lent. And what might that be? What is it about Lent that is so hard for the modern man?

I suppose that many would reply that it is fasting which is most difficult. However, I would offer that the modern secular world has a great respect, and perhaps even a reverence for a certain sort of fasting. Consider the diet craze – the way that so many celebrities and even common folk, discipline their bodies and undergo intense mortifications in order to look fashionable. Yes, there is, in fact, a great deal of self-denial in the modern world, but it is lacks the Christian character that is required for the Lenten Fast.

Speaking with the children at our Catholic grade school, I made this little comparison in the form of a question. I asked the children whether they thought that this would be a true fast: To give up dinner, to fast from the evening meal (something that requires a good bit of self-denial); but to do so only in order to eat an exceptionally large dessert. The children all quite emphatically told me that this wouldn’t be much of a fast at all! And, of course, they were right.

More than mere self-denial is required in order to have a Christian fast – there also has to be the proper interior disposition. This, I think, is what the world has such a hard time with: The reason behind Christian fasting.

And why do Christians fast? Why do we fast during Lent? We fast because we are sinners. We take up our Lenten discipline, because we have sinned and have rejected the God who is Love.

For the Christian, the Lenten Fast is a recognition of the reality of sin – both sin in itself, and also our cooperation in sin. If we do not understand the reality of sin, we will never understand the mystery of Lent. But if we lose Lent, we will also lose Easter. Without sin there is no redeemer, and without Lent there is no Easter.

This is why, in the first two readings of today’s Mass, the Church gives us to meditate upon the Fall of Adam. We begin Lent by considering the first sin – and also the original sin which we all inherit through our fallen nature.

But, of course, there is more than just that one sin of Adam; for, as St. Paul reminds us, the one transgression led to many other sins – and we have all participated actively in the reign of sin. If we are at all honest with ourselves, we know that we have sinned.

But we Christians don’t stop here. No, having admitted our sins, we confess also that Christ has come as our Redeemer. This is what proves the Love of God: That while we were yet in sin, Christ loved us and gave himself for us. Though we continue to struggle with sin and temptation, Christ does not abandon us.

But if we deny sin, we will end up denying the greatness of God’s Love. If we forget about sin, we also forget about redemption – and we lose sight of our Redeemer.

I often hear people say something like this, “Oh father, I am basically a good person.” Or, “I don’t really commit any sins. I really don’t have anything to take to confession.”

Far too often we pretend that we are sinless, or at least that we are not that bad. But I say, Look to the Crucifix! Look upon Christ, hanging dead on the Cross! That is what it took to save you and me! You and I are so wretched, so steeped in sin, that God himself had to become man and die in order to save us! If we are all so holy, so perfect through our own works; how is it that Jesus Christ, who is all good and all holy, how is it that he was offered up to a horrendous death in order that we might not suffer eternal death?

No, my brothers and sisters, this will not due. We must admit our sinfulness, we must confess our need for Christ’s redemption. This admission of sin does not leave us in despair or gloom; rather, we are then able to affirm the infinite Love and Mercy of God!

This is what Lent is really all about – It is a time of repentance. A time to turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel. We take up our fast as an acknowledgement of our sins; but as we feel the physical hunger brought on by our Lenten discipline, we recall that our deepest hunger is only satisfied in the Love and Mercy of Jesus Christ.

Build your house on rock through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Sermon of March 6th

9^th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

March 6^th, 2011

Matthew 7:21-27

Everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock.

When a professor is teaching a class, it happens on occasion that the students may not be paying attention. There is, I am told, one thing which the teacher can do, one thing which works for students from around the 5^th grade all the way up through to graduate school – the teacher or professor can regain the students’ attention by saying these simple words, “This will be on the exam.”

All of a sudden, the students perk up and are paying attention. They are taking notes and even checking with their classmates to make sure that they didn’t miss anything. I teach the 7^th and 8^th graders at our Catholic grade school, and I have never had to threaten with an exam yet – but, I hear it is something worth considering…

On a much more profound level, something like this occurs in today’s Gospel. Christ our Savior has come to the end of the Sermon on the Mount, the longest and most complete discourse on Christian morality; and he wants to make sure that we are all paying attention. For this reason he tells us, “This will be on the exam, this makes a difference for the final judgment.”

The Good Lord directs our hearts and minds to the final days, to judgment, to Heaven and Hell. “On that day,” he says, many will come and will cry out; but I will reject them, for they did not follow my commands. The teachings of the Sermon on the Mount are necessary for our salvation.

Perhaps we are a bit afraid when we think of the final judgment and the second coming of our Savior. Indeed, there is something terrifying and great about the end of time – for on that day, each of us will answer for our doings, whether good or evil. Moreover, we recall that Fear of the Lord is a gift of the Holy Spirit – it is the beginning of wisdom. It is good to fear the Lord.

However, the fear that we have ought not to be the fear of a slave, terrified that his master will beat him. Nor, less, should it be the fear of a dog, expecting punishment from his owner. No, rather the fear we have is the fear of a child who wants only to please his father.

We fear lest we should disappoint the God who has so loved us. Recognizing the goodness and the love of God, we fear lest we may separate ourselves from that Love through sin. We fear lest we should be separated from him who has so loved us.

Christ’s words are challenging, and perhaps even a little bit scary; but remember that the Good Jesus only wants you to be happy! That is what this is all about: Beatitude, eternal happiness, and joy even in this life. Thus, even the challenging teachings of the Sermon on the Mount – that we must love our enemies, that we must not have lust or anger in our hearts, that we must be free from attachment to worldly possessions since we cannot serve God and mammon – even these challenging teachings have been given for our benefit. Christ challenges us because he wants us to be happy with him, both here on earth and forever in heaven.

It is for this reason that the Good Lord tells us to build our house on solid rock, not on sand. The house is the soul, and the rock is Christ, but the sand is the passing delights of the flesh. We build our house by seeking after either the delights of heaven or the momentary gratifications of earth. We build our house by either following the commands of Jesus, or ignoring our Lord’s words and seeking pleasure.

If we seek our consolation and delight in the things of earth, these things which are passing away, we build our house on sand. And it is fitting that we compare this to building on sand; for just as sand passes through the grip of the fingers, so too the pleasures of this life pass away swiftly and are gone. If we think rarely of heaven, if we focus all our energy on the duties and demands of this life, we are fools who build on sand – our house will not stand long.

How then do we build our house on solid rock? How do we found our soul upon Christ?

This is to find joy and consolation in the Lord and in the hope of heaven. Next week, we begin the season of Lent, a time to re-found ourselves on Christ as our true rock. We build our house upon Christ through these three Lenten practices: Prayer, fasting and almsgiving. All three are necessary, together they will give us supernatural joy in this life, and eternal happiness in the life to come.

First, we consider prayer. Lent is a time of prayer, focusing on the things of heaven. Do you want to go to heaven when you die? Then ask the Lord for this grace! Every day, ask the Lord to bring you to heaven! Ask also for the graces needed to get you through the next day in the state of grace.

But we must also meditation – for how can we ask anything from the Lord, if we do not have a solid relationship with him? We must meditate daily on the mysteries of Christ’s life, death and resurrection. Daily meditation is necessary for salvation. During Lent, we have the opportunity to focus particularly upon the mysteries surround our Savior’s passion and death. Think of how much Christ loved you – he loved you so much that he died for you! Will he not give you everything else besides?

Then there is fasting. This is most necessary, for fasting is the body’s way of participating in prayer. We often pretend like we do not have bodies, we forget about the importance of fasting and mortification. The body works for our salvation too! It is not enough simply to pray with our minds – we need also to fast.

Remember, fasting is easy when done out of love. Christ became hungry out of love for you, will you not hunger for love of him?

Finally, there is almsgiving. Almsgiving covers a multitude of sins, and therefore is central to the mystery of Lent. Almsgiving can be part of an expression of sorrow for sin, especially during this time of repentance.

Moreover, almsgiving helps us to grow in charity. It frees us from mammon and opens us to the Lord. Simply put, without almsgiving we cannot be saved. Unless we love our neighbor and, especially, the poor; how can we ever hope to have a true love for Christ Jesus?