The Resurrection by Sebastiano Ricci, circa 1715. Oil on canvas, Dulwich Picture Gallery.

Pharisees and scribes frequently confront Jesus in the Gospels, but in this passage, Sadducees question him. The Sadducees were the Palestinian aristocracy who took the name of their party from Zadok, the high priest at the time of David and of Solomon.

The Jewish historian Josephus tells us that the Sadducees claimed that the soul perished along with the body at death. St. Luke confirms this point describing the Sadducees as, “those who deny that there is a resurrection” (Luke 20:27). The Sadducees favored the first five books of the Bible, and denied the existence of angels (Acts 23:7–8).

The Sadducees confront Jesus with a dilemma story, which they use to disprove the resurrection. According to the laws of Levirate marriage (Genesis 38, Deuteronomy 25:5–10), if a married man died childless, his brother was required to marry his widow and to produce a male child. “The firstborn son she bears shall continue the name of the deceased brother” (Deuteronomy 25:6).

This type of marriage was a popular as means of caring for widows and securing property rights. Arranged marriages at this time had more to do with land, inheritance, and kinship bonds, than with mutual love.

Using the laws of Levirate marriage, the Sadducees present an absurd dilemma to trap Jesus. What would happen if a certain widow married a second time to her bother-in-law, and then he in turn died childless? In the Sadducees story, the widow eventually marries seven brothers, each of whom dies childless. Finally, the woman herself dies.

Attempting to make their point, the Sadducees ask, “Now at the resurrection whose wife will that woman be? For all seven had been married to her.” The Sadducee’s believe this line of argument proves that the resurrection is a ludicrous idea.

Jesus counters by first pointing out that the dead who rise will “neither marry nor are given in marriage.” Again, reaching across different cultures, the primary purpose of marriage in the ancient world was the production of children. The dead who rise will no longer die, so Jesus says they will be ‘like’ or ‘equal to’ the angels who also never die and have no need to produce children to perpetuate their kind.

What does Jesus mean when he says the resurrected children of God are like angels? In popular culture, it is common to tell someone who has recently lost a love one that they “now have an angel in heaven.” God created angels as beings of pure spirit. Unlike angels, humans have a body and a soul. Although our body temporarily separates from our soul at death, this is not our final state. At the resurrection of the dead, our souls will be reunited with eternal resurrected bodies.

Although our transformed bodies will be very different from our present bodies (1 Corinthians 15:35–58), we will still spend eternity not as spirits but in bodily existence. Jesus says we will be like angels because we will never die, not because we become angels. Since we will no longer die, marriage is not necessary in our heavenly existence.

Jesus then uses Scripture to answer the Sadducees. He could have quoted Daniel 12:2-3, which is a clear reference to the resurrection, but since the Sadducees especially reverenced the traditions of Moses, Jesus makes his point from Exodus. In the narrative at the burning bush the Lord says, “I am the God of Abraham  . . . of Isaac . . . and of Jacob.” (Exodus 3:2–6). Jesus says God “is not God of the dead, but of the living, for to him all are alive” (Luke 20:38).

What does this encounter with Jesus mean to us today? First, many people in our modern world treat religious doctrine and dogma, as an infringement on their personal right to choose whatever beliefs they want. They simply seek to be ‘spiritual’ in their own way. Does it really matter to Jesus what we believe about the resurrection? Based on this Gospel, we would have to say; “Yes, the resurrection matters to Jesus.”

St. Paul writes to the Corinthians, if Christ is not raised from the dead, our faith is in vain (1 Corinthians 15:16-18). Without the resurrection our faith is a fraud and meaningless! Why is this the case? The resurrection teaches us three central things about our faith. First, the resurrection demonstrates God’s love for us. Secondly, it is through the resurrection we have eternal life, and finally the resurrection holds us each accountable before God’s judgment.

Christ demonstrates both his desire for connection and his personal vulnerability, by taking the initiative in sharing his love with us. God’s love is a gift, which we do not have to earn. St. Paul writes, “But God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).

Not only is the resurrection a proof of God’s love, it is also the means of eternal life for us. Jesus humbled himself taking on human flesh so that he might become “obedient to death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:8) and after this to rise to newness of life and to share that life with us in baptism (Romans 6:4).

Finally, if death is simply the end of our existence and there is nothing else, then there is no accountability. Without the resurrection, who cares! We simply cease to exist.

On the contrary, we confess in the creed, “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.” Love is always our starting place, and even though we were each chosen for adoption as God’s children before the foundation of the world (Ephesians 1:4), we are still held accountable for our own freely chosen actions in this world.

In truth, nothing could be more central to our faith than the resurrection. God reveals his love and manifests his power to save us on the cross and through Christ rising from the dead.  Duty may induce us to some actions, but love will move us to selfless sacrifice. “For the love of Christ impels us, once we have come to the conviction that one died for all; therefore, all have died. . . . so that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised” (2 Corinthians 5:14–15).

Deacon Scott McKellar is pastoral associate at St. Therese Parish, North.

For this Sunday’s scripture readings and readings throughout the year, visit the USCCB website.

The post Proof of God’s Love appeared first on Diocese of Kansas City-St. Joseph.

Pic: The Pharisee and the Publican – mosaic, Basilica di Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, Ravenna, Italy, 6th c.

This week’s Gospel, Luke 18:9-14, highlights the importance of humility. It’s the Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector. The spiritual masters often call humility the foundation of the Christian life. It’s the fundamental attitude for approaching God. 1 Peter 5:5 says, “Clothe yourselves, all of you, with humility toward one another, for ‘God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.’” The parable this week illustrates that very point. So why is humility so vital and what does it look like? That’s what we’re here to find out.

Who were the Pharisees? Pharisees dedicated themselves to interpreting the Mosaic Law, living according to it, and making sure others did, as well. Throughout Israel’s history, big problems came from people being unfaithful to God’s commands and failing to follow the Law. The Pharisees were all about setting that right, which is not a bad intention. They just approached it wrong. For the Pharisees, Israel could only remain faithful to the Law by being separated from the Gentiles who lived all around them. Their name even means “the separated ones.” Separation and Jewish national identity came through cultural symbols like circumcision, keeping the Sabbath, observing the laws surrounding food, and giving tithes. These rituals and precepts set Israelites apart. They were signs of Israel’s status as God’s chosen people. However, the Pharisees were so caught up in the exactness of external observances, they missed the real meaning of the Law—justice and mercy. From the outside, they looked perfect and followed the Law in trivial detail. But on the inside this perfection led to sinful pride, resentment, and disdain. Their zeal for God’s Law led them to sin…and to missing their own salvation.

Now, it’s easy to judge the Pharisees, but it doesn’t take much to fall into this trap. Have you ever seen someone that looked out of place at Mass and thought, “What are you doing here?” Maybe they aren’t dressed well, or they don’t seem to know what they’re doing. Perhaps they talk during the consecration, look at their phone, or act distracted.

When I was a parish Director of Religious Education, one of my jobs was preparing parents for their child’s baptism. Most of the time, parents were coming to us before the birth so they could baptize the child right away. That’s the way you’re supposed to do it, right? Every Catholic knows you baptize your baby after a few weeks…a month at the most. But sometimes we encountered people who weren’t on the right “timeline.” They had waited a few years (maybe even 8 or 10). There were many different reasons, but usually they just got busy with life and stopped attending church. The point is, they were outside the norm. Some baptismal prep catechists had a hard time welcoming these “irregulars.” They wanted to shake them and say, “What are you thinking? Why did you wait so long? Why haven’t you been living the perfect Catholic life? You need to do that before we can baptize your child!” But the Church sees Infant Baptism as a special time of conversion, and baptismal prep as a time to welcome the lost, even if they are irregular.

Anyone can develop this attitude. There’s a tendency to view the Church as a club for those who have arrived. The people who belong are the ones who do all the right things. They go to Mass every Sunday. They say their prayers. They tithe. They baptize their babies a few weeks after birth. But really, it’s a hospital for the spiritually sick. Who belongs there? Only sinners. If you’re not a sinner, there’s no place for you in the Catholic Church.

So, when the Pharisee goes to the Temple to pray he says (and I’m paraphrasing), “Thank you, God, for making me who I am, a righteous man who follows your every law, and not a dirty sinner like that tax collector” (ooh, fail). Why is that wrong? In verse 9, it says the Pharisee relies on himself for his salvation. He’s thanking God but really, he’s just boasting about his own greatness. He’s prideful and that pride leads him to look down on everyone else. Since he doesn’t need any help from God (he’s got this holiness thing wired) he remains in sin…unforgiven and unjustified.

The tax collector says, “God, be merciful to me a sinner” (Luke 18:13). This is the right attitude in prayer.  Why? Because we’re all sinners and right off the bat he acknowledges this. Not one of us has it ALL together! And, we must recognize this when we come before God or he can’t work with us. The tax collector acknowledges his spiritual sickness and need for God’s help and healing. He knows he can’t save himself and so he relies on God.

Catechism 2559 says, “But when we pray, do we speak from the height of our pride and will, or ‘out of the depths’ of a humble and contrite heart? He who humbles himself will be exalted; humility is the foundation of prayer.” Humility is acknowledging you are broken and need God’s help to be whole. It’s the willingness to let go of what you know and take on the mind of God. It’s the recognition that you can’t save yourself and must rely on him. Empty yourself and be open to receiving God’s mercy. Rely on the grace of the Holy Spirit instead of relying on your own superior ability to have it all together. Allow yourself to be led by God and watch your life change for the better.

Marc Cardaronella is the Director of the Office of Catechesis and Faith Formation.

The post ‘If you’re not a sinner, there’s no place for you in the Catholic Church’ appeared first on Diocese of Kansas City-St. Joseph.

This Sunday’s reading from Luke’s Gospel is a very familiar story. Ten lepers approach Jesus and are healed, yet only one returns to give thanks. We can easily see the themes of healing, faith and gratitude, but there are other aspects to this story, which touch on all of our hearts. Lepers are not the only ones suffering from rejection, loneliness and feelings of unworthiness. Have these feeling ever touched you?

Leprosy in the Bible covered a wide variety of skin conditions, but none of them is what we mean by this disease today.  While we do not know what kind of skin conditions these men had, we do know that, according to Jewish law, they were required to isolate themselves from normal society.

The social isolation and their subsequent rejection as “unclean” would have been more painful than the disease itself.

The rate of cure from these skin diseases was very low, in fact, first-century rabbis thought that the cure of a leper was as difficult as raising a person from the dead. If a leper recovered, they could only be restored to normal society after the priest examined them and after they had offered the prescribed sacrifice for purification (Leviticus 13–14).

Clearly, Jesus’ miraculous healings came to the attention of these ten men, and the promise of this good news brought them out of isolation. While they desired healing, they needed to have considerable courage to overcome the rejection they would have felt in their community. The lepers “stood at a distance” (Luke 11:12) and “raised their voice” to Jesus (17:13) so that they could keep respectful distance.

A disease caused the plight of these lepers, but their emotional circumstances parallel many people in our world today. Modern researchers have demonstrated that each one of us is hardwired neurologically for connection with others. A sense of secure connection with others is one of our highest needs.

Many people suffer from the fear of being disconnected from others. They often secretly fear that there is something about them, which if revealed to others, would cause other people to reject them because they would not be worthy of connection. The name we give to this fear of disconnection is shame.

The truth is that each one of us has from time to time experienced the feeling that “I’m not good enough.” The “good” which we are measuring with these feelings can vary widely. Some common themes might be the thought that I am not thin enough, rich enough, beautiful enough, smart enough, successful enough, promoted or appreciated enough. As a result, we often secretly fear that we are unworthy of connection with others.

Researchers tell us that shame is pretty much universal. Shame seems to play a digital track in our mind that says, “I’m never good enough” or if we get past this, “who do you think you are?” A leading relationship researcher, Brené Brown points out, that no one wants to talk about shame, and the less you talk about it, the more shame holds you in its grip.

Shame is different from guilt. Guilt is the feeling that we have transgressed some moral norm by our actions. I did something that I regret or that was bad. Guilt can be a healthy emotion that helps us to readjust our actions and lead us to grow. Shame simply says, “I am bad.” It is focused on self rather than behavior. Like the lepers in this Gospel, we can feel shame without actually having done anything wrong. Shame does not lead to spiritual growth.

Why do some people experience paralyzing shame while others seem to overcome these emotions?

The ten lepers illustrate the solution. The lepers feel rejected by their community because they believe their disease makes them unworthy of connection. The nearness of Jesus causes the lepers to choose come out of hiding and to allow themselves to be seen in all in their weakness.

The name for this courageous act of allowing oneself to be seen is vulnerability. Many people assume that vulnerability makes you weak. It actually takes a great deal of courage and authenticity to be vulnerable with others.

Modern researchers have demonstrated that we are all capable of vulnerability, and that vulnerability is the key catalyst to forming secure human connections. Shame can only grow and thrive in secrecy and darkness. Vulnerably releases us from the paralyzing grip of shame.

Brené Brown explains, “Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our greatest measure of courage” (Rising Strong).

Although she does not use the word vulnerability, St. Teresa of Avila in her work, The Interior Castle, admonishes that the soul practicing prayer should spend much time in the room of self-knowledge. St. Teresa equates self-knowledge with humility.  No matter how advanced a soul is it always needs self-knowledge or an awareness of what we were, what we are by the grace of God, what we would be without Him, and of the constant danger of falling if we rely on ourselves.

St. Teresa observes, “Without humility all will be lost” (IC, 13).  Teresa warns that we must not only think of our own weakness but must “soar aloft in meditation” on God’s greatness. In prayer there are no secrets hidden from God, and he communicates his unconditional love to us.

In community, we must learn to accept who we are and be willing to let other see who we are. Having said this, of course this does not mean having no healthy boundaries, or privacy with others. It means the willingness to practice vulnerability.

There is also a danger of false humility or thinking that we are humble because of our weaknesses. St. Teresa observes that when the soul only thinks of its own weakness and never of God’s greatness there is a danger that we will not rise above our own nature by grace and remain burdened by cowardice and fear. Again, this sounds a great deal like a description of paralyzing shame.

Our Gospel today is a metaphor for our own journey with God in prayer. We need to be vulnerable first interiorly with ourselves and then before God. The presence of Jesus brought the lepers out of hiding. Being seen by Jesus allowed them to be healed. We need the courage to let our weakness be seen, and to allow ourselves to vulnerable.

Deacon Scott McKellar is pastoral associate at St. Therese North Parish.

The post The Vulnerability of Prayer appeared first on Diocese of Kansas City-St. Joseph.

Photo (detail): The Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus – Engraving after Sir John Everett Millais, 1864.

Will money condemn you? This week’s gospel reading, the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31) seems to say that. I admit to feeling a bit of delicious righteousness when I hear this parable. This is the “make your poverty feel better” parable. When I get jealous of rich people with fancy stuff, or super talented people who do everything right, I think about this parable. “See,” I say to myself. “You’re getting your reward now, but I’ll get mine later in heaven.” Not that I’m as poor and sick as Lazarus. Perhaps there’s people in real poverty saying the same thing about me. But is that really what’s going on here? Is Jesus condemning riches and giving most of us “middle-classers” a satisfying hope of comeuppance? Probably not. Let’s dig deeper.

First, I want to point to the doctrine of the Particular Judgment. Everyone is judged immediately after death and rewarded, or punished, according to their faith and how they lived. Don’t confuse this with what we profess in the Nicene Creed—that Christ “will come again to judge the living and the dead and his kingdom will have no end.” That refers to the Last Judgment at the end of time. In this parable you see that individual judgment takes place right away and you go where you’re meant to go for all eternity—heaven (probably by way of purgatory) or hell. Boom! Just like that. Lazarus goes to a place of comfort and peace, the rich man to a place of torment and anguish. This is not Heaven and Hell…not yet. It can’t be because Jesus hasn’t yet opened the way to heaven by his saving sacrifice. Lazarus goes to “Abraham’s bosom.” This is another name for the Jewish place of afterlife, “Sheol” or the “Abode of the Dead.” It’s a place where the righteous awaited Christ’s redemption with blessed hope. Christ descended into this place after his death and before his resurrection to free these holy inmates and escort them to heaven. The rich man goes to Hades, which technically is not Hell although it doesn’t seem much better. Since they both have contact with Abraham, it’s possible this is also the waiting place…with previews of what’s to come. Nevertheless, there is a separation that can’t be bridged so no one is sneaking into the Bosom of Abraham from Hades…at least not if Abraham has anything to say about it.

Second, this parable teaches the inherent dignity of every person. Lazarus, poor and destitute, disgusting and full of sores, is still a human person and therefore of infinite worth. He’s not attractive or popular. He’s not influential. He doesn’t contribute much to society. He doesn’t have a huge social media following or tons of likes on Facebook. He’s nothing in society’s view. The refuse. An outcast reduced to begging on the street and even that doesn’t sustain him. But obviously he has a good heart and loves God. Every human person has dignity and worth in God’s eyes, as well as every Christian who sees with God’s eyes. Our worth is immeasurable despite the world’s appraisal, because we’re made in God’s image. We are all lovely because God loves us. We are worthy because God finds worth enough in us to die for. Our worth doesn’t depend on our beauty, talent, intelligence, wealth, power, or influence in the world. It’s not measured by what we do, but who we are inherently as sons and daughters of the Father.

So, what brought the rich man to such low estate after his death? Was it his wealth? Was it because he was rich and had tons of possessions? I don’t think so. Jesus never condemns wealth or the mere possession of goods. However, he has harsh things to say about those who are selfish and don’t think about others. The rich man is condemned because he fails to pay attention to Lazarus’ needs. Here is a man sick and starving to death right outside his door and he can’t even bother to give him the leftover food he throws out in the garbage. Never mind having to go out of his way to find someone to help. He literally steps over this guy every morning. No doubt he hates having to smell Lazarus when he passes him and wishes he was dead.

Are you your brother’s keeper? You bet you are! Pope St. John Paul II commented on this parable saying, “Riches and freedom create a special obligation. And so, in the name of the solidarity that binds us all together in a common humanity, I again proclaim the dignity of every human person: the rich man and Lazarus are both human beings, both of them equally created in the image and likeness of God, both of them equally redeemed by Christ, at a great price, the price of the ‘precious blood of Christ’ (1 Pet 1:19)” (John Paul II, Homily in Yankee Stadium, 2 October 1979).

So, will your riches condemn you? Probably not…but what you do with them might. Like it or not, we are all bound together. Our love for Jesus obliges us to love our neighbor as ourselves. You owe a debt of service to everyone you meet, which means looking out for their welfare and their needs. As well, you have a debt to help your brothers and sisters get to heaven. If your actions hinder that, you falter in your duty. Condemnation could ensue. If, however, your actions expedite another’s entry into blessedness, you in turn will be blessed. Something far greater than “Abraham’s bosom” awaits. How will you respond to the Lazarus’ you meet?

Marc Cardaronella is Director of the Office of Catechesis and Faith Formation.

The post On Wealth and Brotherhood appeared first on Diocese of Kansas City-St. Joseph.

Suffering. Into every life a little must fall…even Christian lives. Some think that shouldn’t be the case. Have you heard of the “Health, Wealth, and Prosperity Gospel”? It’s the notion some Protestant preachers put forth that being a Christian makes you exempt from such things. God is the best Father and gives the best gifts. He wants to bless his children…and blessings don’t include suffering and trials. What kind of father would that be?

However, this week’s second reading, Hebrews 12:5–7, 11–13, offers a different perspective: “My son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord, nor lose courage when you are punished by Him. For the Lord disciplines him whom He loves, and chastises every son whom He receives.”

Wait a minute. Disciplined? Punished? Chastised? Does that sound like a loving Father? Let’s take a closer look and find out.

The passage cited above is a quotation from Proverbs 3:11-12. Now, before you start talking about how the Old Testament God is different from the New Testament God, just stop. That’s not a thing. Besides, this is quoted and held up as explanation in the New Testament.

To understand this passage, we must do a little digging into ancient world culture. The Greek word translated as “discipline” in this passage is “paideia.” It refers to the educational system in ancient Greece and Rome…but it’s more than simply school as we know it. Paideia included the modern elements of the liberal arts (rhetoric, grammar, philosophy) but also sciences like arithmetic and medicine, as well as athletics and the arts. Paideia was only for the children of aristocrats. It was training for leaders, a vehicle for raising the perfect, well-rounded members of society. Paideia molded youth with a sense of excellence similar to the upbringing of medieval knights or English gentlemen.

Paideia wasn’t always sunshine and roses. St. Augustine, the bright son of a Roman nobleman, said he often didn’t study unless forced. A slave, his pedagogue, was assigned to make sure he did his lessons and sometimes that involved punishments. The ferula, or “master’s rod,” was the symbol of the pedagogue’s authority. He was present 24/7 to protect and care for his charge…and occasionally chastise when behavior called for it.

This “spare the rod, spoil the child” attitude isn’t vogue today. However, the point is still valid. The student in paideia was meant for excellence. Mediocrity wasn’t an option, and sometimes that required a firm nudging in the right direction or a correction in attitude. When we think of God in these terms, a different kind of father emerges. Not one willing to spoil us by indulging every whim, but one who sees our great potential and desires to bring it out. God’s discipline is not vengeful and pitiless, it’s paideia—education in excellence. God is an affectionate, yet firm, father who raises children to be the best they can be. This might involve divine teaching methods such as suffering and corrective chastisement that educate us and correct our paths.

I learned something about this when I joined the Navy. I went to Aviation Officer Candidate School (AOCS), a fourteen-week officer boot camp for Navy pilots. Each class had a Marine Corps drill instructor, and ours was Gunnery Sergeant Massey. He yelled more than he spoke and wove a tapestry of curse words that could almost be classified as art. During our first week, which was the hardest part of the whole program, a senior candidate about to graduate told us the drill instructors didn’t do things randomly. Everything had a reason. “Gunnery Sergeant Massey knows the program,” he said. That meant all the harsh words, ridiculous commands, and encouraging words were calculated for a certain effect. The fourteen weeks were planned out to make us the combat pilots we wanted and needed to be. “Gunny knows the program” became our mantra when things got hard and we were discouraged. Looking back, we could see that senior candidate was right. Massey had drilled things into us that seemed useless at the time, but later proved to be valuable skills.

Sometimes, when life is hard and I’m feeling discouraged, I think about my experience at AOCS. I realize that God is like a drill instructor—the perfect drill instructor. Everything he does is planned to make me the saint I want and need to be. My part is to trust completely that God “knows the program,” and whatever happens in my life is happening for that reason.

“God is treating you as sons; for what son is there whom his father does not discipline?” (Hebrews 12:7). Not just anyone went to paideia. The father in ancient Rome didn’t send a slave or an illegitimate child. He sent the son who bore his name. The special one. His chosen. “For the moment all discipline [paideia or education] seems painful rather than pleasant,” the author of Hebrews says, but later it gives way to “the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it” (Hebrews 12:11). If you can think of the Christian life is a paideia, spiritual training, you’ll be a much happier Christian. God is not an overly indulgent father, but one who wants the best for his children. He wants them to grow to spiritual maturity and perfection in the likeness of the Son, Jesus. How can we expect not to suffer when Jesus himself did? So, take heart! Don’t be discouraged! You are not an illegitimate child the Father won’t bother to educate. He treats you as true sons and daughters in the Son by giving paideia, discipline, so you are worthy to bear his name.

Marc Cardaronella is Director of the Office of Catechesis and Faith Formation.

Click here to view this Sunday’s readings on the USCCB website

The post Suffering as an Education in Christian Life appeared first on Diocese of Kansas City-St. Joseph.

You’re a good Catholic, right? You’re living your faith. You go to Mass on Sundays, have a regular prayer life, and even attend a Bible study at the parish every year. You’re good to go. Except…there are those pesky Scripture readings that come up every once and a while. You know the ones about the consequences of not using your God-given abilities and gifts to further God’s kingdom? They admonish those who don’t engage in ministries and help people in physical or spiritual need. There’s the passage in Matthew’s gospel about the servant who’s punished for not investing his master’s talents to make more (Mt. 25:14-30). There’s also the one that says if you ignore your brothers and sisters in need, you ignore Jesus (Mt. 25: 31-46). Then, there’s today’s gospel, Luke 12:32-48. In this one, the steward who oversees the household while the master is away mistreats his fellow servants while getting drunk and feasting on the master’s food. Not only does he fail to fulfill his responsibilities to run the household and help his fellow servants, he’s a jerk and a thief. The spiritual meaning is we are all stewards of God’s gifts with the responsibility to help others. If we squander our gifts and mistreat those we’re called to serve, there will be consequences. On the other hand, being a faithful servant has blessings. So, why isn’t it enough to just take care of yourself? Why is it necessary for a faithful servant to help others?

Baptism and relationship with Christ bring changes. When the Holy Spirit is active in our lives, we think and behave different. It changes the way we act and the way we react. We think with the mind of God. Our likes and dislikes become more attuned to his. This isn’t just for our own benefit. Ultimately, God forms us for mission. We’re not meant to remain spiritual children. We’re meant to be spiritually mature adults who take responsibility for the upkeep and growth of God’s Kingdom. St. Paul teaches in Ephesians, we are given spiritual gifts to “equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith…and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ” (Eph 4:12-13). We’re meant for spiritually maturity…the “whole measure of the fullness of Christ.” That means we cooperate with him in mission. What did Christ come to do? Save souls. In 2 Corinthians St. Paul says, “All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation…And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors” (2 Cor 5:18-20). As St. Teresa of Avila said “Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours…Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world.” You are Christ’s ambassador. As a baptized Christian in relationship with Christ, his mission is your mission. This is our baptismal call, to take up Christ’s mission and be his hands and feet in the world.

I know, I know. You’re busy. It’s hard enough finding time to take care of your own spiritual life, now you need to volunteer for a ministry. However, the truth is ministry and service aren’t merely essential to your parish. The parish, and the Church, need your contribution, but it’s more than that. It’s essential for you. I believe it’s impossible to reach spiritual maturity without giving back in some way. Being active in ministry is the natural progression of the Christian life and without it, you will stop growing. I know this from the experience of others, but especially from my own personal experience. When I started working for the Church and regularly exercised my charisms of teaching and evangelizing, my spiritual growth skyrocketed. You see, God is always pouring out graces on us. Once we’re filled, we’re supposed to return God’s grace. How do we do that? By ministering others, handing on his message, and leading people into relationship with him. That’s how he designed the spiritual life. Remember Matthew 25? We serve Christ by serving others in their need, both the physical and the spiritual needs. These are the Works of Mercy.

I’m not saying you should do ministry because the Church needs it (although it does). I’m saying you must do ministry because YOU need it. Do you feel like you’re not getting anything from the Church anymore? Is your spiritual life feeling stale? Is your once strong faith failing? Perhaps you’re not doing enough for others. Perhaps you need to give of yourself in ministry. Once you reach a certain point in the spiritual life, the only way to renew your faith is to give it away. The reason is, if you’re filled up with God but don’t return it to him, your supply dries up. He won’t continue to pour into you if you’re not giving back. It’s a feedback loop. The more you give away, the more he resupplies. So, if you want your faith to be re-energized, share it! Don’t hoard it! God will never be outdone in giving.

Marc Cardaronella is Director of the Office of Catechesis and Faith Formation.

Click here to view this Sunday’s readings on the USCCB’s website

The post God will never be outdone in giving appeared first on Diocese of Kansas City-St. Joseph.