For the next two weeks at Mass we’re reading selections from the Book of Genesis we could call its Jewish phase (Genesis 11-50). The first 10 chapters of Genesis described the origins of the world and the beginnings of the human race. Then, the various peoples multiply and go out to parts of the earth God assigns them. 

Chapter 11 begins with the call of Abraham. A Jewish tradition suggests that the peoples of the earth became so unmanageable that God decided to concentrate on one nation, the Jews, with the hope that they will bring all the other peoples together. 

God calls Abraham and his family to take possession of the land God will show them, but that won’t be easy. It’s going to be a mysterious, difficult and messy journey. Abraham and his wife Sarah are old and childless. How can two old people take possession of a land without anyone to follow you?

They have to trust in God and not themselves. We can see that trust in the story of Abraham and his nephew Lot. They can’t all go on together, too much conflict between them, so Abraham tells Lot to pick out the land he wants. Abraham will take whatever God wants him to have.

He trusts in God. Of course, the supreme act of trust is when Abraham is told to sacrifice his son, his only son after many years.

Our lectionary readings for the next few weeks relate some key events from the story of Abraham and Sarah and their descendants. Jews recognize this as their history and Christians see it as theirs too. 

It’s a messy journey. Our lectionary omits many dis-edifying parts and details from the accounts of the patriarchs and their wives and their times, which the Bible doesn’t hesitate to recall.  That might be a weakness in reading the scriptures from the lectionary and not the bible itself.

The bible is not a story of human achievement and human courage and human trust. It’s the story of God’s grace moving humanity on its journey, where human weakness knows the power and love of God. 

From the beginning, God creates the heavens and the earth and all that is in them.

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.”

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.

by Orlando Hernandez

In this Thursday’s Gospel (Mt 6: 7-15) our Lord Jesus introduces the “Our Father” to His followers. This prayer is certainly a pillar of our Catholic faith. I find the Lord’s Prayer so comforting and yet so challenging, even disturbing. At times it feels like a downward slide from Heaven into the heart of life’s darkness.

In the previous day’s Gospel (Mt 6: 6) Jesus describes prayer as a private, secret moment with God in our “inner room”. This is the kind of prayer I always yearn for, full of gratitude, no petitions, not even words, just basking in the loving light of God, present within, and all around me. It feels like a vacation from life. To feel loved like that!

Unfortunately, this does not happen every day. There are times when I feel so dry and lost in darkness, where the fire within me has dwindled down to a small, smoldering ember. There are times when I feel so frustrated with the situation, or so anxious, that I don’t know what to do. It is always in these moments that I find myself going back to the Lord’s Prayer. It never fails to begin to put me back on track, with my Lord. It is my way back into the Light. I find myself praying the “Our Father” several times during the week. This prayer is no vacation from life. It strengthens us to confront the dangers of life, but it is not easy.

I try to pray it in a quiet place, slowly and carefully. It has such a blissful beginning. I feel so close to Jesus, praying with me, teaching me. Sometimes I even imagine myself with Him, on a Galilean hill, beneath the rim of the Milky Way, surrounded by the universe, in the presence of Abba, the tender Father. In my mind’s eye, Papa has blue eyes, like my handsome earthly father, Orlando, when he would hold me in his arms as a toddler. I feel so loved and protected. I am indeed in Heaven, with my loving God.

And I am not alone, but with all of humanity, saints and angels “hallowing” , praising, recognizing the goodness, the beauty, the truth of “His name!” Wow! This Kingdom is a kingdom of love and hope. The Will of the Father is all mercy and happiness for me.

Then, it seems, maybe not completely. I realize how much is required of me, so many difficult tests, so many painful experiences that might come. I must accept what God has in store for me. I say “Yes,” even knowing how prone I am to letting Him down.

In asking for “our daily bread,” I imagine Jesus, the Bread of Life. I can almost taste Him. I love Him so much. But somehow He reminds me of humanity’s constant challenge to find the daily bread, the basic things that we need to survive. I pray for my family, my friends: may they not lose their jobs. We have it so good in our country, but the threat of having to rely upon a food pantry or a homeless shelter is not so far away for most of us. I pray for the hundreds of millions of people without adequate shelter, nourishment, even water. I think about how little I do to be God’s instrument for the fulfillment of this petition— send money to relief agencies, work at St. Vincent de Paul, give $20 to a homeless person? Does that even make a dent? I find myself feeling helpless and guilty.

Then I ask forgiveness once again for the many sins I constantly repeat! My heart breaks when I imagine His Son on the Cross, because of these sins. I realize how undeserving I am. I remember my grudges and secret resentments. Can I forgive? I pray for so many brothers, sisters, parents and children in my own family, who cannot forgive each other. I pray for humanity, caught in a cycle of offense and counter-offense. Am I an instrument of God’s peace?

I am filled with the fear of giving in to so many temptations within and without me. Come on! Where is my confidence? Father, help me, help me! Deliver us from the evil inside of us. Help us to control ourselves!

And the evil from outside? The danger of violence, disease, accidents, natural disasters? The morning news remind us of so many ruined lives. I think of my atheist friends asking, “How could a loving God permit this?”

And then, abruptly, the prayer ends. Am I ready to say “Amen?” Do I believe with all my heart that God will actually answer all our pleas? I find myself forcing my eyes away from the not-so-far-away abyss of doubt. I frown. I approach the abyss. I jump and cry, “Lord!” And God always catches me in His loving hands. I begin to feel this strange peace, this hope that our God has the best plan for all of us. I believe that Supernatural Grace has touched me once again. Lord, why do You love me like this? Thank You, Beloved, King of Peace!

I sometimes think of this prayer as Jesus’ battle hymn. Yes, it has a somewhat bleak ending, but it “works”, it strengthens, it comforts. The extra ending that our Church fathers added explains why: “Because Thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory.”
You better believe it! Amen!

Orlando Hernández

“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)

You have heard that it was said to your ancestors,

You shall not kill; and whoever kills will be liable to judgment. But I say to you, whoever is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment, and whoever says to his brother, Raqa, will be answerable to the Sanhedrin, and whoever says, ‘You fool,’ will be liable to fiery Gehenna. Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift.

Settle with your opponent quickly while on the way to court with him. Otherwise your opponent will hand you over to the judge, and the judge will hand you over to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison.

Amen, I say to you, you will not be released until you have paid the last penny.

In Matthew’s gospel today, Jesus calls for more that keeping a law forbidding killing someone physically. He asks for loving others by the way we think, speak or act toward them. He speaks of anger, a neutral emotion that can push us to do good or do harm. Laws can’t legislate anger; anger goes beyond law. 

Anger can lead to hatred and disrespect. Thoughts can kill, words can destroy. The commandment “You shall not kill” goes further than killing the body. Watch the way you think and speak about others, Jesus teaches. The commandment not to kill goes far beyond a law about murder. 

Jesus doesn’t dispute the need for laws in society in Matthew’s gospel, nor does he call for replacing Jewish law for laws of his own. His words, directed to the Jewish-Christian church represented in Matthew’s gospel, affirms the place of the Torah, the Jewish law. Unfortunately, the English word “law” often used to describe the Torah, restricts its meaning. A law like “Thou shalt not kill” is not meant to be reduced to a law against murder.

Jesus saw the Torah as a guide to something more. 

In his Sermon on the Mount Jesus acknowledges his teaching is not totally new. He assures his followers that he’s following teachers and prophets before him.  “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law and the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.” ( Mt 5, 17, Wednesday, Week 10 ) 

I repeat James Tissot’s painting in today’s blog for a number of reasons. Seeing those people dressed in clothes of long ago, some might say: “That’s old, we’ve gone way beyond all that.”

Some teachings are never out of date and so it’s wise to pay attention to old laws and prophets from long ago. The last 20 minutes is not the only reality in life, nor am I the only expert on life. We learn from human experience over the ages. Jesus did.

Some might think the Jewish tradition found in the Old Testament not worth looking at, but that too would not be wise. Jesus was an observant Jew, Matthew’s gospel makes clear.  He learned from his tradition, its prayers, its observances, its teachers, its life. Our lectionary wisely offers selections from the Jewish scriptures to study and learn from. Jesus told his disciples to do this. 

We should learn from other religious traditions too, especially those that have formed the peoples of Asia and Africa. In the global world we live in today, we are meant to share in their wisdom and good works.

JUNE 12 Mon Weekday 2 Cor 1:1-7/Mt 5:1-12 

13 Tue St Anthony of Padua, Memorial 2 Cor 1:18-22/Mt 5:13-16 

14 Wed Weekday 2 Cor 3:4-11/Mt 5:17-19 

15 Thu Weekday 2 Cor 3:15—4:1, 3-6/Mt 5:20-26 

16 Fri  SACRED HEART OF JESUS Solemnity

Dt 7:6-11/1 Jn 4:7-16/Mt 11:25-30 

17 Sat  Immaculate Heart of Mary Memorial 2 Cor 5:14-21 (364)/Lk 2:41-51

18 SUN ELEVENTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME

Ex 19:2-6a/Rom 5:6-11/Mt 9:36—10:8 

We begin reading this week (wk 10) from chapter 5 (the Beatitudes) of Matthew’s gospel and continue reading from this gospel till the 21st week of the year.   

Matthew’s gospel presents us with Jesus the teacher in Matthew’s gospel. In our readings there’s little about his miracles or his travels to other places. He makes his place on a mountain in Galilee to teach in a land where people sit in darkness and the shadow of death. He brings light and the promise of life to them, and to us.

The Sermon on the Mount summarizes his teaching and of his life. I think that’s why the first of the beatitudes is “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Jesus became poor, to bring us to life. He “ took the form of a slave, being born in human likeness, and so he humbled himself even to death, death on a cross. God exalted him.” (Philippians)

St. Anthony of Padua, a popular saint, is celebrated this week. The Feasts of the Sacred Heart and the Immaculate Heart of Mary also occur.