Who Should Pay What?

As doubtless everyone knows, Congress is currently considering how to amend the federal tax code.  Some of the proposals being considered will fall heavily on those who can least afford it, while giving breaks to those with more money than they can possibly spend.

In today’s Gospel reading from Luke Jesus notices offerings being made both by some wealthy people and a poor widow.  Doubtless the wealthy put many more coins into the treasury than the two small coins contributed by the widow.  Yet, Jesus comments (a comment intended more as a criticism of the temple tax system than praise for the widow):

I tell you truly, this poor widow put in more than all the rest; for those others have made offerings from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has offered her whole livelihood.

It is true that in dollar terms wealthy Americans pay most of the income taxes collected by the government.  But it is good to remember that whatever amount they pay is still only a portion of their surplus.

In real terms, those on the lower end of the scale are paying more.  It would be good for us (and Congress) to remember that as tax “reform” is debated.


A Prayer for Unity

Today is Thanksgiving Day, a day on which we – individually and communally – give thanks for all we have been given.

It is the communal aspect of our gratitude that made me think of a prayer of Thomas Merton’s.  In our divisive times – times that discourage unity and pit so many people against each other –  perhaps we could pause on this day of Thanksgiving and pray as Merton prayed:

O God, we are one with you.
You have made us one with you.
You have taught us that if we are open to one another, You dwell in us.
Help us to preserve this openness and to fight for it with all our hearts.
Help us to realize that there can be no understanding where there is mutual rejection.
O God, in accepting one another wholeheartedly, fully, completely, we accept You, and we thank You, and we adore You, and we love You with our whole being, because our being is in Your being, our spirit is rooted in Your spirit.
Fill us then with love, and let us be bound together with love as we go our diverse ways, united in this one spirit which makes You present in the world, and which makes You witness to the ultimate reality that is love.
Love has overcome.
Love is victorious.

Wishing you and yours a blessed Thanksgiving!

Standing Firm in the Face of Suffering

Today’s first Mass reading from the Second Book of Maccabees tells the story of the strength of Eleazar, described as one of the leading teachers of the law.

Upon the persecution of the Jewish people by King Antiochus IV, Eleazar refused to eat pork as part of a ritual sacrifice.  The consequence of doing so was  death and torture.  Because those in charge of dealing with the Jews who refused to eat the ritual meal thought well of Eleazar, they urged him to bring his own meat and pretend to be eating some of the meat of the sacrifice prescribed by the king.  He refused to do so saying

At our age it would be unbecoming to make such a pretense; many young people would think that 90 year old Eleazar had gone over to an alien religions.  Should I thus pretend for the sake of a brief moment of life, they would be led astray by me, while I would bring shame and dishonor on my old age.

Eleazar was immediately, we are told, put to torture and death.

In thinking of his stand, I am reminded of something Mahatma Gandhi said:

Nonviolence in its dynamic condition means conscious suffering.  It does not mean meek submission to the will of the evildoer, but it means the pitting of one’s whole soul against the will of the tyrant.  Working under the law of our being, it is possible for a single being to defy the whole might of an unjust empire to save his honor, his religion, his soul and lay the foundation for that empire’s fall or regeneration.

The question for us is: Will we follow Eleazar’s model of perseverance in the face of suffering?  Will we hold fast to God’s plan in the face of temptation to do otherwise?

The Deepest Desire

We were in Knoxville all of last week to see our daughter Elena perform both in an opera (the role of Countess in Marriage of Figaro) and in her graduate recital.  The recital had three sets, the third of which was a song cycle by Jake Heggie titled The Deepest Desire: Four Meditations on Love.

The composition came out of Heggie’s work on the opera Dead Man Walking, and the time he spent with Sister Helen Prejean while working on the opera.  Heggie was deeply inspired by Sr. Helen’s faith and energy and wanted to explore that musically.  When he asked her about her sense of spirituality, she talked about shedding things she found unnecessary and looking into the deepest core of her being to find her purpose, the “deepest desire of [her] heart.”  Heggie the asked her to write some some thoughts on the subject, in response to which she sent him six meditations.  Heggie arranged and modified them, paring them down to four meditations, forming the text for the song cycle Elena sang in her recital.

The whole cycle is beautiful – both music and words.  The third speaks most directly to Sr. Helen’s movement from school teacher to advocate for those on death row.  The words invite us to explore our own deepest desire.

I thought I knew my heart’s desire:
To love God, To be with God in heaven
A bud unfolding, a dutiful prayerful nun.
I pleased God, I thought by being obedient
It made me feel holy.

But hetting to heaven takes a long time.
And dwelling far below was a voice calling:
“Lose yourself! Lose yourself upon the deeper

Then, I heard cries from the heart of the city: “Is there
life before death?” I saw. I heard. I followed.
I made my way to prison cells.
I made my way to death chambers.
I saw. I heard. I followed; I witnessed.
A desire for justice woke in me.
A fierce desire that will not let go.
The deepest desire.
The deepest desire of my heart.
“Come home!”

Elena fell in love with this music when she heard Joyce DiDonato sing it.  You can listen to the DiDonato recording here.

On an unrelated note: Thank you to the folks who have privately messaged me to check in that all was OK given that it has been several weeks since I have posted here.  I am grateful for the concern, but no worry.  It has just been an extraordinarily crazy month for a variety of reasons.

An Immigration Examen

The October 30 recent issue of America magazine, contains an article titled An Immigration Examen, written by Cecilia Gonzalez-Andrieu.

Starting from the premise that while Catholics cannot solve questions of immigration policy alone, they are called to be part of the the solution.  “Catholics are called to act and to equip ourselves with truth-telling tools to transform the polemics of immigration into a grace-filled response to human suffering.”

In order to aid in that effort, she offers a three-question examination of conscience on the topic of immigration.  The questions are:

(1) Do I understand who these vulnerable immigrants are and why they are here?

(2) Have I resisted the rhetoric that undocumented people are illegal and criminals?

(3) Have I understood the economics of this issue?

Her discussion of each of these is helpful, and I recommend the article in its entirety.  (You can find it here.)  But even without reading the article, the questions are useful ones to reflect on.

A Glimpse of What We Are Called to Be

Today is All Saints Day in the Catholic Church, so the saint was the topic for the Mid-Day Reflection I offered today at the University of St. Thomas.

I titled the program Don’t Call Me a Saint, a line that comes from Dorothy Day, who is said to have often quipped, “Don’t call me a saint; I don’t want to be dismissed that easily.”  She explained that when people call someone a saint, it means they are not to be taken seriously.

Since Day had a deep spiritual relationship with many saints, and she also firmly believed we are all called to be saints, what she was really objecting to in her line was (in the words of Robert Ellsberg) “was being put on a pedestal, fitted to some pre-fab conception of holiness that would strip her of her humanity and, at the same time, dismiss the radical challenge of the Gospel.”  What she wanted to avoid was the implication that the actions in which she engaged – living in poverty, feeding the hungry, going to jail for  the cause of peace – somehow came easily to her and were out of reach of ordinary folks.  As Ellsberg said, “She had no patience for that kind of cop-out.”

Kenneth Woodward, former Newsweek religions editor, once defined a saint as“someone through whom we catch a glimpse of what God is like – and of what we are called to be.”

One could say that we have all we need in Jesus to see what we are called to be.  And there is some truth to that.  Jesus Christ incarnated was fully human and is, of course, the supreme example of human holiness, the ultimate model for our lives.  My aim as a Christian disciple is to see as Jesus saw, to love as Jesus loved, to be Christ in the world.  And that is important.  But for all our proclamation of our belief that Jesus was fully human, it is too easy for people to say (or at least think even if they don’t say it out loud) – yeah, well easy for him – he was God after all.  So of course it was easier for him than for me.

And that is where I think the Saints are helpful to us.   They serve as examples about whom we can’t say – oh well, he or she was God.  No:  He or she was human – just like us.  These human beings heard Jesus’ call and followed it.  Saints provide examples to us, models, they give us strength for own journeys.

We had a great discussion during the session today about the saints that inspire us.  I shared some of those who stand front in center in my visualization of the communion of saints and then the participants shared theirs.  There were some overlaps, but a lot of different names that came up.

The variety reminds us that the saints help us understand how God works in the lives of individuals.  James Martin, in his book My Life with the Saints, writes: “Each saint was holy in his or her unique way, revealing how God celebrates individuality.”  And he cites C.L. Lewis, who wrote in Mere Christianity, “How monotonously alike all the great tyrants and conquerors have been; how gloriously different are the saints.”  Martin continues: “This gave me enormous consolation, for I realized that none of us are meant to be Therese of Lisieux or Pope John XXIII or Thomas More.  We’re meant to be ourselves, and meant to allow God to work in and through our own individuality, our own humanity.”

Who stands front and center in your visualization of the communion of saints?  Which saints inspire you.