Saints are men and women of their own time and place, with all the limitations that brings. We can’t understand them unless we appreciate the world and times they lived in.

Some today might strongly object to some of our recent saints: John Fischer and Thomas More (June 22) They lived in the fierce world of the Reformation and English power politics,  Cyril of Alexandria (June 27) was bishop of Alexandria in Egypt when the city engulfed in factional rivalries. He was in there fighting with the rest of them, Junipero Serra (July 1) was part of the Spanish colonization of the New World. His statue was recently toppled in San Francisco as a subjugator of the native peoples. 

So, are these people really saints?

Saints, according to the The Second Vatican Council, are examples of the “whole mystery of Christ” and God’s power on earth. Their feasts “proclaim and renew the paschal mystery of Christ.” (Paul VI) The saints in our calendar recently are examples.

Pope Francis in his Apostolic Exhortation “Gaudete et exultate” describes ordinary holiness in our world, beginning with “the saints next door”.  “Their lives may not always have been perfect, yet even amid their faults and failings they kept moving forward and proved pleasing to the Lord. Amid their faults and failings they persevere.”

Canonized saints have faults and failings too, the pope says. “Not everything a saint says is completely faithful to the Gospel; not everything he or she does is authentic or perfect. What we need to contemplate is the totality of their life, their entire journey of growth in holiness, the reflection of Jesus Christ that emerges when we grasp their overall meaning as a person.” (22) We can’t judge them entirely from the perspective of our own times or an idealized time.

Later in his letter, Francis cautions about the dangers of modern day Pelagianism:  “When some say ‘ all things can be accomplished with God’s grace’, deep down they tend to give the idea that all things are possible by the human will, as if it were something pure, perfect, all-powerful, to which grace is added. They fail to realize that not everyone can do everything, and that in this life human weaknesses are not healed completely and once for all by grace. ” (49)

They are holy, not perfect. Living in an imperfect society they share in their society’s imperfections– as we do today. Yet, they were seen by many as their lives ended, not as unscrupulous political figures or colonial oppressors, but as people reflecting Jesus Christ and recipients of his mercy.

Not by chance are three of the saddest readings of the Old Testament– the Destruction of Jerusalem– read on a Thursday, Friday and Saturday of the week. The readings from the Book of Kings recall the tragic fall of the northern and southern kingdoms of Israel. On Saturday we read the Lamentations of Jeremiah over the city, sung also in our Good Friday liturgy.  How can we not see the mystery of the death of Jesus here?

Let’s not forget these events, because they point to an aspect of the mystery of the death and resurrection of Jesus we may overlook: kingdoms, nations, civilizations also experience this mystery  of Jesus. They rise and fall, they come and go. 

“Let my tongue be silenced, if I ever forget you!” We pray in our responsory psalm for Friday.

“For the glory of your name, O Lord, deliver us!” We pray in our responsory psalm for Thursday. 

Will the Lord deliver us? Is there a reason not to forget. Will the Lord bring life to the nations and civilizations that inevitably change and seem to pass away? Is there any reason to sing an alleluia these days before the gospel, after hearing of such destruction?

Not by chance do our gospel readings from St. Matthew these same days recall Jesus going down from the mountain after promising the blessings of a kingdom to the town of Capernaum, in Galilee, “the region of darkness.”

Matthew describes Jesus entering  Capernaum differently than Mark. In Mark’s account Jesus enters the synagogue first to confront the demon of death and darkness, 

In Matthew’s account, Jesus meets first the leper, an exile, outside the town. He cures him and gives him power to enter the town again, to be part of its life and future.( Friday) Entering Capernaum, Jesus meets then the Roman centurion, an outsider, whom he invites to banquet in his kingdom.( Saturday) Jesus brings the promise of life to more than one town and place.

We’re celebrating the 250 year of the birth of the United States on July 4th. We wonder about the future. Can our readings these last few days speak to the place of our country in the plan of God?

When we hear of the destruction of Jerusalem and the northern kingdom of Judea in the Book of Kings —our reading these last few days — we can’t help but think of the kingdoms of our own time. Can they be destroyed as well? The northern kingdom is described as corrupt through all its history. Judea has some good accomplishments and righteous years, but it too is marked by failures.

We’re celebrating the 250 year of the birth of the United States on July 4th. Is our country built on a rock that lasts forever? Is a world as politically unstable and filled with weapons of mass destruction as ours today safe from falling apart?  The accounts from the Book of Kings point to what we may also face.

The gospel readings don’t spare those who call out “Lord, Lord.” Evidently believers in Jesus who speak in his name are not safe either.

What can we do? 

Our liturgy responds with a psalm to the first readings at Mass. Today’s psalm is a desperate plea.:

“For the glory of your name, O Lord, deliver us.

O God, the nations have come into your inheritance;
they have defiled your holy temple,
they have laid Jerusalem in ruins.
They have given the corpses of your servants
as food to the birds of heaven,
the flesh of your faithful ones to the beasts of the earth.”

Tomorrow’s psalm is the cry of an exile holding on to the promise of a kingdom:

Let my tongue be silenced, if I ever forget you!

By the streams of Babylon
we sat and wept
when we remembered Zion.
On the aspens of that land
we hung up our harps.

No clever solutions or sure, certain fixes. The proper response in our present circumstances is a prayer for mercy.  

“Do to others what you would have them do to you.”  (Matthew 7:12)

It’s so simple, isn’t it? “Do to others what you would have them do to you,”  They call it the Golden Rule, because it can be so broadly applied. Though it’s found among the teachings of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount, which we’re reading today, it’s not just a Christian, or Catholic rule. It could apply to any religion, Moslem, Buddhist, Hindu– or no religion at all.

It’s a rule that stands out among all the teachings of Jesus.

It’s more than just a rule for individuals, a norm for personal conduct. If it were adopted by the community of nations, it would bring peace to our world, fairness to the way we live together. It would bring equality to the present unequal world of ours. How could the strong exploit the weak? How could we go to war? How could we enslave others? How could we neglect those in need?

“How would you like it if someone did that to you? Thought that about you? Wanted that to happen to you? It’s a rule so simple, yet we shy away from it.

“Do to others what you would have them do to you.”  (Matthew 7:12)

John Fisher was born in Beverly, Yorkshire England in 1469, and entered Cambridge University at 14. Ordained a priest, he became chancellor of Cambridge in 1504 and Bishop of Rochester, the poorest diocese in England, that same year. He attracted some of the leading scholars of Europe to the university and his learning, holiness and pastoral dedication caused the young king, Henry VIII, to say there was no better bishop in all the world.

When Henry sought to divorce his wife, Catherine of Aragon, John Fisher strongly upheld the validity of their union. Furious at Fisher’s opposition to the Oath of Supremacy that stated Henry was the head of the English church, Henry had him arrested and imprisoned in 1534.  “Not that I condemn anyone else’s conscience,” Fisher said, “ Their conscience may save them, and mine must save me.”

While in prison, Pope Paul III made Fisher a cardinal. After 10 months in jail, he went to his death, carrying with him a copy of the New Testament. To the crowd gathered for his execution, he proclaimed his faith in the Catholic Church and asked for their prayers. Then he recited the Te Deum and the psalm “ In you I hoped, O Lord.”  He was beheaded on June 22, 1535.

His execution, two days before the Feast of the Nativity of John the Baptist caused many to see him following courageously his namesake, who condemned Herod’s attempted marriage to Herodias,  He was canonized along with Thomas More by Pope Pius XI on May 19, 1935. His feast, with Thomas More, is celebrated today by the Church of England on July 6.  

The Roman Catholic Church celebrates the joint feast of John Fisher and Thomas More on June 22.

On June 22, we celebrate two men of conscience, Thomas More and John Fisher.  More was born in London in 1478. He studied law at Oxford, received his doctorate and in 1504 became a member of the English Parliament. He married Jane Holt in 1505 and had four children, three girls and one boy– Margaret, Cecilia, Elizabeth and John.

The More household was a model of spiritual and intellectual life. More saw that his daughters were well educated, something unusual in those days, and led his family in prayer, study of scripture and discussion on the important matters of the day.  He welcomed into his home distinguished scholars like Erasmus and John Fisher, but also poorer neighbors whom he treated warmly and respectfully. His wife died, and More married a widow, Alice Middleton, in 1511. 

When Henry VIII became king he sought out More as a friend and advisor, making him Lord Chancellor in  1529. More functioned wisely and justly in that office. His friend Erasmus wrote: “In serious matters no one is more prized, while if the king wishes to relax no man is more cheerful…Happy the nations where kings appoint such officials.”

Shortly after More took office, Henry VIII began proceedings to divorce Catherine of Aragon. Because he could not agree with the king, More kept silent and eventually, in 1532, resigned from office. 

Without income and in disfavor, he spent the next few years writing and reflecting, living quietly with his family, “being merry together” he said. But in 1534 he was asked, with John Fisher, to take an oath to the king that he could not accept. He refused, and after 15 months in prison, he was beheaded on July 6, 1545, “the king’s good servant, but God’s first.” 

He is the patron of lawyers and politicians.

In prison More wrote to his daughter, “ I trust only in God’s merciful goodness. His grace has strengthened me till now and made me content to lose goods, land and life as well, rather than swear against my conscience.  I will not mistrust him, Meg, though I shall feel myself weakening and being overcome with fear. I shall remember how St. Peter at a blast of wind began to sink because of his lack of faith, and I shall do as he did: call upon Christ and pray for his help. And then I trust he shall place his holy hand me and in the stormy seas hold me up from drowning. “

St. Thomas More’s life was portrayed in a celebrated movie, “Man for All Seasons.”

“Lord, give us faith like Thomas More to do what is right and trust in you.”

Our readings from the 2nd Book of Kings end this week with the account of the Babylonian army under Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, brutally leveling Jerusalem, killing or taking away in chains its leaders and most of its population, leaving only some of its poor behind. (Friday)

A reading from the Book of Lamentations describes the devastation in grim detail. (Saturday)

The sad history of the Jewish kingdom beset by pride and greed, recalled in our previous readings these weeks, comes to an end.

Our readings from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount also end this week. Jesus comes down from the mountain with a large crowd following him. He heals a leper before entering Capernaum to begin his ministry.  (Friday)

As he enters Capernaum he heals the servant of a Roman centurion who is paralyzed. (Saturday)

Matthew describes the beginning of Jesus’ ministry in Capernaum so differently than Mark, who describes Jesus silencing a demon in the town’s synagogue as his first miracle. Matthew’s miracles point to God’s salvation offered to all: those society banishes, like the leper and enemies, like the Roman solider.  

Even though the first and second readings on weekdays are not chosen to connect, it seems to me our readings this week make sense together.

All the saints celebrated this week are  good examples to reflect on in these crazy political times. John the Baptist, (Tuesday) Thomas More, John Fisher. (Monday) 

For this week’s homily, please watch the video below.