Illuminated by the Faith of Easter

Third Sunday of Easter Year B

Most people are familiar with the post resurrection story of how our Lord appears to the two disciples who are making their way home to the village of Emmaus. Unbeknownst to them, it is the One whom they believe had abandoned them by getting Himself killed who walks along with them; it is the Living Word who now explains the meaning of the written Word to them; it is the One who is the Way, the Truth and the Life who confronts their ignorance and despondency by showing them the Way, revealing to them the Truth that will ultimately lead to Eternal Life.

The two would have taken hours to reach their destination and when they had arrived, it was already dark. The Lord having broken bread with them - a clear allusion to the Eucharist - the scales from the eyes of these two disciples fall away and they finally recognise the One who had walked along with them and spoken to them as none other as the Lord, the One who died and is now Risen. Without waiting for dawn, they speedily returned to Jerusalem where they had come from. Imagine that … walking in the dark of night, without fear of brigands or risking a treacherous path in the dark. That was because their path was now illuminated by the new faith of Easter burning within their hearts, showing them the Way home.

This is where we find ourselves in today’s gospel. The two disciples were back with the community of disciples from whom they had abandoned, excited to share news of their amazing encounter with the Risen Lord. But our Lord’s sudden appearance would take the surprise out of their story telling. The disciples would not only have to rely on the second-hand account of these two but get a direct experience of the Risen Lord in the flesh.

And the first words of our Lord are simply these: “Peace be with you!” These words may sound consoling. But they were actually meant as a trigger, to shake the disciples out of their cocoon of despair, fear and anxiety. Our Lord was confronting their current experience. And what was their experience at that moment? It was a volatile cocktail of emotions and experiences. The days surrounding Jesus’ resurrection were anxious times for His followers. For them, His life had ended on that first Good Friday. They were afraid that because of association with Him their lives would soon end too. Further, they were dealing with the anxiety that comes with crushed dreams and uncertainty about the future. They were afraid – for their lives and their future. They were anxious – they had no idea what to expect next. Their stomachs were in knots, their hope was gone, and their blood pressure was up. Amid it all, our Lord challenges them with this common but seemingly inappropriate greeting: “peace be with you”.

This is where we find a common underlying theme which unites all three readings. Our Lord’s greeting and gift of peace is by no way just a means of “keeping the peace,” that is maintaining good relationships with His disciples at the expense of the truth. Any relationship, to be authentic and deep, has to be based on the truth rather than a lie. Falsehood, error, and sin must be confronted and resisted. The problem is that most of us often believe that it is un-Christian to confront our brother or sister when they are in error. Confrontation is often viewed as a negative action that seeks to embarrass or humiliate the other person. But this is where we get it entirely wrong.

In the first reading taken from the Acts of the Apostles, St Peter lays down a list of accusations against the Jews whom he refers to using their ancient name, “Israelites.” They are guilty of handing over, disowning, falsely accusing and killing the very One who was chosen and glorified by the “God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of our ancestors.” And it is no excuse nor defence for them to plead that they were ignorant of their actions. Peter lays the blame entirely on them, even though he argues that it was just as scripture had foretold. And the only remedy is this: they “must repent and turn to God, so that (their) sins may be wiped out.” Without such confrontation, St Peter understood, his fellow Jews would remain and perhaps die in their guilt.

Likewise, in the second reading, St John explained why he had confronted his audience - it is to stop them from sinning. But confrontation would not be enough if it is not accompanied by the support offered to help them amend their ways. And so, John tells them that we have an Advocate in Jesus Christ whose sacrifice had taken away our sins. John also reminds his audience that there must be integrity with our profession of faith and the manner in which we live our lives which must be in conformity to God’s commandments. Anyone who claims that they have a relationship with God but continues sinning is living a lie. Ultimately, only the truth can set us free.

Again and again, we find ourselves in the position of facing an evil — sometimes obvious, sometimes subtle — and not quite knowing what to do about it. Of all the works of mercy, probably the most thankless and despised is admonishing the sinner, and yet it is the most needed. Nobody wants to do it, and nobody wants it done to them. But admonishing the sinner, however, is not an act of Pharisaic pride, but of true charity. If we truly love someone and wish the best for the person, we must be ready to correct their mistake and error, even at the detriment of ruining our relationship with the person. True peace can only come by fully embracing the truth about ourselves, and our relationship with God and with others. Living a life of sin would be a clear contradiction of our claims that we are Christians.

Yes, admittedly it is unpopular and difficult to admonish the sinner, to confront delusional thinking, or to correct the error. But remember - Christ did it, and it got Him nailed to a cross. For admonition means looking somebody in the eye, and speaking truth in love to him rather than tiptoe around the subject and pretend that everything is hunky dory. It means addressing a fellow human being as a person, rather than an object of derision or gossip. It means speaking about things that are awkward and uncomfortable. And in our post-truth world, it means having some unalterable values and convictions even if we risk losing friends, family, job, and reputation. Ultimately, to confront the sinner is to call him to cast off the mask of sin and to become who he really is, a child of God in the image of Christ. Admonishing the sinner is to bring light into his life, so that his path may be illuminated by the new faith of Easter burning within his heart, showing him the Way home.

The Asceticism of Love

Ash Wednesday

For many, today’s date is unmistakable and if you have a loved one, forgetting that it’s Valentine’s Day is unforgivable. But even if today doesn’t happens to be Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, our liturgical calendar actually honours two other saints, St Cyril and St Methodius, and not the eponymous St Valentine. Valentine’s Day has been largely relegated to a secular feast of mushy romantic ideals and practices.

Chocolates, flowers and candlelight dinners are things we normally associate with the secular representation of the feast of this Catholic saint who is patron of marriages and romance. The ascetic practices we practice in Lent and which we have heard in our gospel today, hardly sounds romantic at all, if anything, they seem utterly Spartan and ascetically bleak. But love is actually at the heart of these Christian ascetical practices. Love is never about seeking our own happiness but the happiness of the other even at the cost of sacrificing our own. It is this ascetical aspect of love which is missing from so many modern conceptions of relationships resulting in selfish individuals looking for love but finding none, at least none which perfectly matches this self-absorbed notion of romance.

Asceticism? “Isn’t that like wearing hair shirts and whipping and punishing yourself? Does the Church still teach that?” Simply put, asceticism means self-sacrifice. It means denying yourself physical pleasures and conveniences even when you don’t need to. What the Church requires are spiritual athletes not couch potatoes. Christians do not practice asceticism because we see physical goods as evil. On the contrary, asceticism guards against valuing the goods of Creation so much that we disdain the Creator. Like all spiritual practices, asceticism should be motivated by love. Asceticism does not spring from some form of sick masochistic self-hatred, but rather it is the sacrifice offered out of love for our Lord Jesus who showed the extent of His love for us by dying for us.

As we begin our Lenten ascetic practices of prayer, fasting and alms giving, let us be conscious of the true reasons for our actions.

First, asceticism combats habitual sin. If you struggle to control your desire for something you tend to abuse (food, drink, sex, comfort, etc), practising self-denial is like building your spiritual muscles against it. St Paul writes, “I discipline my body and make it my slave” (1 Corinthians 9:27). The word here for “discipline” carries violent overtones, literally meaning “to beat” or “to batter.” We’re called to show our body who’s boss. The purpose of fasting, for instance, is so that one can train his appetites by habitually telling them “No,” even in regard to lawful earthly goods, like food or conjugal relations. That way, when a sinful temptation stirs up the appetites, the body has been well-trained to obey its master, the sanctified rational mind.

Second, asceticism builds the virtue of temperance. Temperance is the virtue that balances our desires for physical goods. When our desires are out of balance (a condition of Original Sin called “concupiscence”), we need to reset the balance with self-denial. Our Lord Jesus teaches us: “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth…but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21)

Third, asceticism protects you against the excesses of the culture. Like the culture the early Christians lived in, our modern culture has deified entertainment, luxury, and physical pleasure. While Christians can give lip service to resisting these temptations, the truth is that we’re immersed in this culture and it’s difficult not to be transformed by it. Asceticism helps us to set our hearts on the greater goods and to resist laxity of heart and open our hearts to be transformed by grace.

Fourth, asceticism moves our hearts away from selfishness. We live in air-conditioned comfort, even in our cars. We get used to having entertainment literally at our fingertips. Everything in our lives is built around convenience, entertainment, and comfort. Self-sacrifice prevents our modern lifestyle from sinking too deeply into our hearts.

Fifth, asceticism can be an act of love. If fasting and making other sacrifices are going to make you more cranky and irritable, if you continue to judge your neighbour for their lack of devotion or dedication to these ascetic practices as you have, then you have missed the point. These practices should enlarge our hearts, not shrink them. To know whether we’ve been doing it right is to examine the fruits of our practices. Have we grown in our love for God and neighbour?

Sixth, asceticism should lead us to interior conversion rather than multiply our practices as a kind of performance. Let us pay heed to the warning of our Lord Jesus Christ in the gospel, that we should not practice asceticism so that “men may see you” but rather, be content that “your Father who sees all that is done in secret will reward you.” Asceticism provides us with new lenses to see things unlike how the world sees. St Paul puts it this way: “We do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:18)

In our consumeristic and materialistic culture, this programme of spiritual exercise is both unpopular and difficult. If these practices sound intimidating, think of the physical regiment many people keep to stay fit and healthy. If one can endure such hardships for a temporal good, a healthy life, one must then appreciate the value of spiritual exercises that will gain us, with God’s grace, eternal life. These habits of self-denial, which include prayer, fasting and almsgiving can strengthen us, by God’s grace, to aim our desires at unseen realities and reap the radiant joys of heaven, even now. When done out of love, instead of burdensome obligation or as performance, these ascetic practices will do much to help us advance spiritually. This is the path of spiritual athleticism and Lent is as good a place as any, to start our training.

Admonish the Sinner

Twenty Third Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A

Minding our own business seems to be a useful thing, a most basic survival skill. We’ve been taught since young: if you see a fight, walk away. If you see trouble brewing or coming over the horizon, walk away. If you see your colleague engaging in something illegal, walk away. If you hear someone spewing lies and untruths, walk away. Tell yourself: “it’s not your fight. Just walk away!” As pragmatic as this piece of advice may sound, is this really what we are supposed to do? Yes, in the name of self-preservation, it may be the best option. But in the name of Christ and our moral duty to our neighbour, walking away betrays a lack of charity. As the old adage erroneously attributed to the Irish philosopher Edmund Burke goes, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing,”

Minding our own business or shirking our social responsibility is as old as Cain. When interrogated by God as to the whereabouts of his brother whom he had murdered, Cain’s answer has become a rallying cry of all those who sought to avoid sticking your nose into other people’s affairs: “am I my brother’s keeper?” This question is ludicrous since he was fully aware that he was responsible for his brother’s death. In the first reading, God gives this warning to Ezekiel: “If I say to a wicked man: Wicked wretch, you are to die, and you do not speak to warn the wicked man to renounce his ways, then he shall die for his sin, but I will hold you responsible for his death. If, however, you do warn a wicked man to renounce his ways and repent, and he does not repent, then he shall die for his sin, but you yourself will have saved your life.” In short, we would not be faulted if the other refuses to heed our warning but God would hold us accountable if we fail to issue that warning in the first place.

Our social responsibility to our neighbour is spelt out in the third spiritual work of mercy. It is one that few of us like to engage in: “admonish the sinner.” In fact, many today erroneously believe the opposite - that it is an act of mercy to bite our tongue and refrain from correcting others.

But our Lord in today’s Gospel passage lays down clear steps in engaging in fraternal correction. First, we do it privately instead of publicly. Something which is hard to do in an age of social media, public shaming and trolling. Second, if a private meeting fails to resolve the issue, bring in others for mediation. Lastly, if this still does not work, submit it to the adjudication of the community. When even this last step of reasoning and conciliation fails, that person should be treated like “a pagan or a tax collector.”

Many would construe this as a command to excommunicate the person. But let us consider how our Lord dealt with the pagans and tax collectors. He came to bring the gospel to them, heal them, reconcile and save them. Even should this last point be deemed a form of excommunication, the Church teaches that excommunication is not meant to be punitive but is regarded as an act of charity and a means of saving the soul of the person by demonstrating the eternal consequences of his action. Should a person die in mortal sin, he would be eternally separated from God. Excommunication gives a taste of this.

It is important to note that the Lord refers to the person as “your brother.” This highlights the fact that admonition is best done in the context of an established relationship. A person is much more likely to listen to a trusted friend or relative, rather than a street preacher holding a sign that says: “Repent! Sinners go to Hell!” While the message might be the same and true, it does not mean it will be effective. The question is not whether a billboard that says, “Hell is Real” is true (which it is); the question is, “what is the most effective method of ‘admonishing the sinner’ in the modern world?”

Saint Paul echoes these words when he writes, “If any one refuses to obey what we say in this letter, note that man, and have nothing to do with him, that he may be ashamed. Do not look on him as an enemy, but warn him as a brother” (2 Thessalonians 3:14). St Paul is reminding us that we need to look upon someone you admonish as a “brother” and not an “enemy.” Sometimes it is easy to see certain sinners inside and outside the Church as “enemies” and we make it our mission to “correct” them. We do not embark on our mission in a spirit of fraternal charity, but we do so as if we were going to war. To admonish the sinner is not to belittle or humiliate the person, but rather to alert him to the danger of a sinful course of action. It is rooted in love, not pride.

The obligation remains for us both to admonish sinners and to accept admonishment ourselves. So remember, to admonish the sinner begins by admonishing oneself. After all, we are all sinners. Humility is the virtue by which we recognise our sinfulness and our weakness, thus realising that we ourselves depend upon God's mercy to forgive us our sins and upon His grace to strengthen us to resist sin in the future.

To admonish others effectively, there are two other points we must keep in mind. First, we must practice what we preach. In other words, we have to be working at striving for holiness and avoiding sin in our own lives if we expect others to do the same. Our words have little value if we are perceived as hypocrites – not matching words to action. The second point is to avoid the terrible attitude of self-righteousness with its judgmental view of others. Self-righteousness puts a person into the mindset of the Pharisees who were quick to condemn sin in others but overlooked it in themselves. To carry out this work of admonishing the sinner, a person must have a sense of compassion for human weakness, and we can only learn that by recognising our own weaknesses. This requires humility and honesty.

We must remember that the goal is not to tell others how terrible they are; this is, after all, a work of mercy. Neither is the goal to win an argument or to feel superior. Rather, the goal is to win the sinner back from a destructive path, to announce the forgiveness of sins available to all who repent. The goal is salvation. Even greater than all our bodily needs, is the spiritual need to be set free from sin and receive the life of God. This is why admonishing the sinner is so important. To admonish sinners is to call lovingly to those in danger and draw them back from the edge of the abyss. To avoid doing this would only betray our real intention - we cannot bear the backlash that sometimes comes when we warn people who do not want to be warned. But if we yield to this fear, we are showing that we love ourselves too much and do not love God and others enough.

Non-judgmental Judging

Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Two Sundays ago, I mentioned that we were in for a rare treat. For the first time after a number of years, we would have the chance to listen to and consider, a set of readings which would otherwise be very rare. Today’s set is by far the rarest. The last time a priest would have preached on this text would have been in the year 2001, and I wasn’t even a priest then.

And what a treasure trove we have today –everyone’s favourite topic – Is it Christian to judge? And I believe the congregation would be divided in giving an answer. I guess almost everyone agrees that being ‘judgmental’ is always necessarily a negative trait, but does that mean precluding all types of judgments? If it does, then would any discussion of morality in today’s context be considered judgmental? And since religion, including the Catholic faith, is pretty much about morality, would that mean that we are a judgmental lot? It was the Protestant best-selling author and mega-Church pastor, Rick Warren, who beautifully summarises the Catch 22 situation we face, when talking about morality today, “Our culture has accepted two huge lies. The first is that if you disagree with someone’s lifestyle, you must fear or hate them. The second is that to love someone means you agree with everything they believe or do. Both are nonsense. You don’t have to compromise conviction to be compassionate.”

Just a few weeks ago, someone at one of my RCIA sessions asked me why topics like abortion are almost never preached from the pulpit. He had made a valid point and I confessed that I had failed miserably in this area. My excuse was that the congregation may take things the wrong way, especially when a homily is a one-way communication, with no room for clarification. Here’s the Catch 22: Say nothing and people would plead ignorance. But say something and they accuse you of being mean, hateful and judgmental. There is really a deep-seated irony here. Never mind that the very ones who are telling us not to judge are enacting a moral law in their very act of banishing moral law; they are making a judgment in the very act of forbidding judgment. Logic and rational consistency do not seem to be necessary in times like these.

So, this begs the question, “Can we judge without being judgmental?” And the answer is “we most certainly can and we should”. Firstly, we make judgments all the time. It’s part of being human. If I see water falling from the sky, I make a judgment, “It’s raining.” If I see an attractive girl, I make a judgment, “Wow! She’s really beautiful!” All this is stating the obvious, of course. But we also make judgments with regards to what we consider “good” or “bad” for us or even others. I don’t smoke because I know it’s bad for my health. That’s a judgment. When you see your young child run into the street, you will stop her for fear that she may get hit by a car. That’s making a judgment. But let’s take this a step further. If I see my friend’s husband sleeping around with other women (provided that I have clear proof and not just making a conjecture or based my conclusions on hear-say), can I make a judgment that this is not good for his marriage and family and that it is not morally good for him too. Can adultery ever be a good thing or is it neutral? And if it is always a bad thing, wouldn’t that be making a judgment?

It is clear from these few examples, that making judgment is something necessary and is essentially what makes us human. However, though we may make judgments about things, situations and a person’s actions and words, we are in no position to judge their motive or the interior of a person, the heart. Only God can make that judgment. Our Holy Father, Pope Francis gives us an important reminder, “Each person’s situation before God and their life in grace are mysteries which no one can fully know from without.”

Today, we live in a culture that preaches non-judgmentalism, by which they mean one can never impose one’s own set of morality on another. We would agree that we should not be judgmental to the extent that we should not be judging someone’s intention or soul as we were privy to this. But to choose to suspend all judgment is simply wrong. Judgment is necessary especially when love demands it. And this is love: to will the good of another. Being free of sin and on the road to salvation is the ultimate “good” for the other. Sitting back and saying nothing, however, is not the loving thing to do. Indifference does not equal love. We can be nice and polite to people who make bad choices. We may even tolerate their decisions. But do we really “love” them? In the end, such a mentality of “tolerance” encourages us to be unconcerned about the people around us and neglect our responsibilities toward them.

But that’s not how our Lord lived. Jesus was anything but indifferent to others. He didn’t say, “well, it’s not my life … whatever works for them … different strokes for different folks!” No, our Lord shows us the two essential sides of love, a soft side of mercy, compassion, and acceptance, and a firm side that constantly calls us to conversion. Truth is not the antithesis of Love or vice versa. Charity seeks truth and truth serves charity. On the one hand, our Lord loved everyone, even in their weaknesses – He came for sinners. On the other hand, our Lord persistently challenged people to repent from their evil doings. And He did this because He loved them and knew they would be happiest when they live according to God’s plan.

At the end of last week’s gospel, our Lord challenged us: “Be compassionate as your Father in Heaven is compassionate!” True compassion must always be at the heart of judging. That is why it is so important that we recognise and address the plank in our own eye before taking issue with the splinter in our brother’s eye. “Can one blind man guide another?”  Our Lord was not asking us to disqualify ourselves from making any judgment since no one is perfect. Our Lord is setting out a vision of the integrity between what we are and what we say, which is not merely for the good of others, but also for our own good. Being judgmental is actually being inconsistent. We claim the right to judge others but we refuse to be judged. If we face the truth about ourselves (the so-called “plank” in the eye) and acknowledge our own daily struggles with sin, we are less likely to set ourselves up in judgment over others in a “judgmental” sort of a way. If we recognise how much we need God’s mercy then our hearts will be much more compassionate when we encounter other people’s faults. St Bernard tells us that, “if you have eyes for the shortcomings of your neighbour and not for your own, no feeling of mercy will arise in you but rather indignation. You will be more ready to judge than to help, to crush in the spirit of anger than to instruct in the spirit of gentleness.”

We are called to be judges, but all too often we are unfit to judge. But nevertheless, we must judge between good and evil; we cannot shirk our duties to correct error and to rebuke sin in others. In fact, our Lord gave us an important cue with regards to making judgments – “every tree can be told by its own fruit” which repeats a theme found in the first reading. We can and we should judge, but if we are to judge, we do so based on the actions and words of the other rather than presume that we can read minds and hearts. If we are to judge, let us first judge ourselves. And just as we are called to correct, we must also be open to correction ourselves. Above all, if we are to judge, let us do so with compassion and love, knowing that all of us would have to meet our Lord on the Last Day, who sits in judgment over both the living and the dead, and He judges justly and mercifully.

Where two or three are gathered, there are bound to be fights

Twenty Third Ordinary Sunday Year A

Today’s gospel concludes with two promises from the Lord: the first, “if two of you on earth agree to ask anything at all, it will be granted to you by my Father in heaven,” and the second, “for where two or three meet in my name, I shall be there with them.” Both promises are magnificent, but the truth of the matter, as far as our own personal experiences serve as a measure, is that, it does not always work out this way!  Here is my own spin on the saying, “Where two or three are gathered, there are bound to be fights!”  In fact, G.K. Chesterton wrote, in his 1929 book The Thing, that “Catholics know the two or three transcendental truths on which they agree; and take rather a pleasure in disagreeing on everything else.”

One may be scandalised to note that conflict takes place within the Church too. Aren’t Christians supposed to be peace-makers?  Perhaps, but the truth is that conflict crosses all boundaries of religions, traditions, cultures and time. Even in the early Church, even in her earliest days there was conflict. The trouble is that most of us have difficulty dealing with conflict. Yes, there are a few among us that like to stir things up and then, either watch from the sidelines as others battle it out or else, jump right into the drama.  However, most of us find conflict uncomfortable. That is why so many choose to turn away or try to ignore the situation, metaphorically closing our eyes, and thinking that if we pretend we don't see the conflict then it won’t be there. Likewise, many would tend to pit discipline against love, often believing that it is unloving to correct an erring brother. No one wants to be a busy-body and we feel it is best to mind our own business and not meddle in other people’s affairs. In doing so, we hope to avoid conflict.

Our refusal to correct, however, may have less to do with charity than it has to do with a self-serving motive. In all honesty, it’s always difficult to correct because we don’t want to appear as the bad guy. We don’t want to sour existing bonds or ruin friendships. But silence and inaction are never the solution, and they both definitely do not flow from the well-spring of love.  St Paul, in the second reading, writes, “Love is the one thing that cannot hurt your neighbour; that is why it is the answer to every one of the commandments.” Almost everyone would agree that love is the answer but to interpret love as inaction and silence is ludicrous. Love, in fact, places a duty on us to confront the evil that our brother or sister has done. Ultimately, if we truly love them and others who may be hurt and misled by their actions, we must always wish and work for their salvation.

That is what Ezekiel saw in his own prophetic vocation. Being a prophet meant being a concerned brother watching out for his brothers and sisters in the faith. A prophet was considered to be the conscience of the nation, and we know from experience that the conscience often pricks and convicts. Ezekiel, therefore, compared his role to that of a sentinel or watchman who searches the moral horizon for impending disasters and then sounds the warning so that others take heed. He did not relish being thought of as a busy-body who waits to pounce on every fault of his wayward brethren. His vocation flowed from his love of God and his love for his people. He was willing to be the voice of reason and Truth, and even be at the receiving end of hostility and misunderstanding, if only he could convince his brethren to cease following the route to self-destruction. 

In the gospel passage, the Lord provides us with a concrete illustration of how love is translated into fraternal correction. He provides us with a three step approach. First, we are to correct the sinner privately. We go to the person directly with the problem,  instead of sharing it with a multitude of persons – as that’s called complaining, or even worse, gossiping. Then, if he refuses to listen, we bring one or two others in.  Now, this is done not for the purpose of ganging up on that particular person. The purpose of taking a few others is to allow the person a fair chance to speak his mind and defend himself, and perhaps it would be easier for him to listen to the reasoning and advice of several voices, instead of just one.

Finally, if necessary, the sinner must be brought before the Church. If he refuses even the correction of the Church, and if the matter is serious, he is to be treated “like a pagan or a tax collector.” The last stage seems harsh and even at odds with the first two, but a careful reading would reveal that all three stages serve one single purpose. Perhaps, the key to understanding the words of Our Lord would be to see how He actually related with the pagans and tax collectors. If you recall, Our Lord sat and broke bread with both Gentiles and tax collectors. He is the Divine Physician who invites spiritually sick to repentance and wholeness. In the verses immediately preceding today’s text, Our Lord speaks of searching for the one lost sheep. In a sense, brotherly and sisterly correction should follow the same idea. Therefore, correction’s goal is not retaliation but reconciliation, that is, to lead back into the sheepfold the one who has gone astray and who has gotten lost along the way. Fraternal correction, therefore, is not punitive but as St Thomas Aquinas teaches us, “fraternal correction is a work of mercy” and he cheekily adds, “Therefore even prelates ought to be corrected.”

When the Church seeks to correct us, it is only because she wishes to inspire us to greater fidelity, not less. And when the Church extends the rod of authority, it is not to beat us into submission, but to gather us into the safety of the sheepfold. If the Church seeks to impose its sanction on us, it is only because she wishes to provide the moral parameters for our actions so that we may be guided back to the path of salvation. And that is why we should always be grateful that the Church continues to speak with the prophetic voice of Christ.  For her motivation is never spite or meanness, but Love.

St Paul was right to insist that “love is the one thing that cannot hurt your neighbour; that is why it is the answer to every one of the commandments.” In his book Wishful Thinking, Frederick Buechner says that love is the most powerful and powerless of all powers. He writes: “It is the most powerful because it alone can conquer that final and most impregnable stronghold which is the human heart. It is the most powerless because it can do nothing except by consent.” We cannot force reconciliation. We cannot force conversion or repentance. We cannot make someone love us just because we love them. We cannot force forgiveness even when we beg for it. But we can keep working to love someone, regardless.

Walking the path of love is never easy. The other path which is filled with bickering and jealousy, violence and revenge, hate and fear is often crowded, broad and smoothly paved. Few would always choose to walk the more difficult path of love.  Although few may choose to walk this path, let us be assured once again, “for where two or three meet in my name, I shall be there with them.” Yes, we never walk the path of love by ourselves. We are never alone. The One who loves us beyond all telling, the One who ate with sinners, pagans and tax collectors, the One who offers His enemies forgiveness on the cross, walks along with us.