It’s A Miracle!

OK, you caught me.  I confess.  When I wrote yesterday’s post, Saints Preserve Us, I intentionally avoided the question of miracles.  It’s not that I don’t believe in miracles.  I do, maybe more than most.  The truth of the matter is that miracles are hard to explain, and the post was already long enough, so I skipped the miracles.  Well, my friend Peter called me out on it and raised some good questions.  While I would have preferred to discuss these with Peter over a glass of locally-produced wine, I’ll do my best to answer them here in case others among you share his questions.

One of the more controversial practices in the Catholic canonization process is the requirement that two miracles be attributed to the proposed-Saint’s intercession.  Note that I say “attributed to the proposed-Saint’s intercession.”  Saints do not cause miracles – only God causes miracles.  We look for the success of a Saint’s prayer to God on our behalf (the Saint’s intercession) as proof that the person is, in fact, in heaven.  I guess it shows that the person must be within earshot of God, so to speak.  The Church usually requires two miracles:  one for the person to be declared “blessed” and a second for the person to be declared a Saint.  The miracles attributed to the intercession of Pope Saint John Paul II were the healing of a French nun who suffered from Parkinson’s disease, which JP II also had, and the healing of a Costa Rican woman with an inoperable brain aneurysm.  There was only one miracle attributed to the intercession of Pope Saint John XXIII:  the healing of an Italian nun who suffered a gastric hemorrhage.  Pope Francis waived the requirement of a second miracle because of the great affection generally held for John XXIII, and because the Church fathers called for his canonization at the close of the Second Vatican Council, which John convened. 

Now onto Peter’s questions.  First, “What is a miracle?”  The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines miracle as “a sign or wonder, such as a healing or control of nature, which can only be attributed to divine power.”  (CCC glossary)  In my view, there are two ways to look at this definition.  One way would see miracles as events that surpass the laws of nature, so they can only be attributed to God’s intervention.  From this understanding, miracles are, so to speak, out of this world.  Albert Einstein is credited with a great explanation of the other way to look at this definition:  “Either everything is a miracle, or nothing is a miracle.”  I ascribe to Einstein’s point of view because I view things like the birth of a child and the regeneration of the world each spring as miracles, even though biology explains them perfectly well.  That said, in the making of Saints, the Church is generally looking for the unexplainable type of miracle.

Second, “How is one – at least in modern times – proven?”  Miracles are proven through testimony, to establish the facts, and by the review of scientific experts.  A proposed miracle undergoes several layers of review:  first by a local bishop and his experts; next by the individual charged with advancing a person’s sainthood cause and his or her experts; and last by the Vatican’s Congregation for the Causes of Saints.  All of this evidence is placed before the Pope, who makes the final call.

Third, “What is the role of a miracle in the present day, when our scientific knowledge is so much greater than it was even 100 years ago?”  Well, in my opinion, the tremendous advances in our scientific knowledge make miracles all the more miraculous.  I recently read that most of the miracles attributed to future Saints are healing miracles.  Because medical science is so advanced, the Church gives great weight to the opinion of medical experts – if a group of expert doctors is stumped by the healing, it must be a miracle!  One would think that with the advances in our knowledge of the world around us, there would be fewer Saints made for lack of miracles.  But that’s not the case.  Pope John Paul II, who reigned from 1978 – 2005, canonized more Saints than any other Pope in history. 

Lastly, and I’m paraphrasing, “How do we balance our hope for a miracle with our need to take care of ourselves?”  With this question Peter cites his devout, Irish grandmother who refused physical therapy after a fall in the expectation that God would heal her if he were inclined to do so.  Believe it or not, this attitude is very common, and is often paired with a profound sense of divine rejection if God does not deliver on the miracle.  I don’t know why some miracles occur and others do not.  I do know that God loves us all equally and more than we can imagine.  God doesn't have favorites.  As I explained in Pray Without Ceasing, “God sees the whole picture – the whole plan – and knows the best way to get to the final destination.  God’s in the driver’s seat.  We have to sit back and trust that God loves us; that he always wants what's best for us.”  If a miracle is the best way to get to that destination, God will grant a miracle.  Now, as for waiting for a miracle instead of helping ourselves, I’m reminded of a story of a seminarian who was flunking all of his theology classes.  One day, his professor called him aside and asked what was going on.  The seminarian proudly and faithfully said, “The Holy Spirit, in his time, will provide the inspiration to help me with my classes.”  The professor sternly replied, “Well, I hope the Holy Spirit inspires you to spend more time in the library.”  God gave us the smarts that has led to wonderful advances in the hard sciences, the social sciences and the arts.  He expects us to use them.  He’ll fill in the gaps when needed.

            I told you that explaining miracles takes a lot of space.  If any of you have actually made it to the end of this post, well, it’s a miracle!

For those of you who can't get enough of miracles, click here for Barry Manilow's "It's a Miracle."

“Saints Preserve Us!”

          That’s what my Grandma Gallo (née O’Boyle) would exclaim with a wry smile when she got her Irish up a bit. Though a very devoted Catholic, she was quiet about her faith. You would find her at Mass every Sunday but she didn't talk about her faith much unless one of her inquisitive grandchildren peppered her with questions. I didn't think much about it at the time, but it seems that Gram had a particular devotion to the Saints too. She drove around with a Saint Christopher medal in her car (which my mother nervously gave me when I started traveling for work), she had a beautiful statue of Mary in her apartment, and she never missed an occasion to venerate the patron saint of her parents’ homeland, particularly with a beer on Saint Patrick’s Day. Gram had a tough life, so I suspect that she must have turned to the Saints for strength, comfort and wisdom. That’s what they’re there for. The Saints preserve us.

          In light of the canonizations of Popes John XXIII and John Paul II, there have been countless articles published over the past few days about the popes, Saints in general and the canonization process. To be honest, very few of these articles were worth reading. Most of the articles tried unsuccessfully to explain the role of the Saints in the Catholic faith; one proposed that Saints are an anachronism that should be done away with; and one article argued that neither pope deserves to be a Saint. I’d like to respond to each of these themes.

          First, let’s make sure we understand what we mean by the word Saint. A Saint is any person who is in heaven. The word “saint” isn't restricted only to those people whom the Church has canonized (declared to be a Saint). So there are probably millions and millions of Saints that we don’t (and probably won’t) ever hear about. For example, I’m convinced that Grandma Gallo, my father and so many other friends and relatives have earned the crown of sainthood, even though Holy Mother Church may never have the occasion to consider their sainthood cause. I don’t have the power to declare it (yet), but I believe it.

          With that in mind, it’s easier to understand the role that Saints play in the Catholic faith. For Catholics, Saints are our role models. They’re our heroes – the people who won the race, who succeeded in our common goal of making it to heaven. Modern society has a lot of heroes – the people we admire and put on a pedestal, the people we say we want to grow up to be like. Well, Catholics have Saints for the same reason. That’s why we look up to the Saints. We try to emulate them so we, too, can live good lives and make it to heaven. That’s exactly why Saints are not an anachronism. We need the Saints and we need them now. We need good role models who experienced the same challenges we face in this life, who remained faithful to the truth through it all. We need examples of love and courage and faith. Their examples help us face the challenges of this world; they encourage us, sustain us and preserve us.

          Now onto the tougher issue. Whether a particular person deserves to be declared a Saint by the Church isn't an easy question to answer. The fact of the matter is that only God makes Saints, so the exercise of figuring out from our earthly perspective whether a person has made it to heaven is near impossible. The other complicating factor is that every human being is flawed. We’re not always very saintly in this life. Although we expect our heroes to be perfect, they aren't. That’s why the Church spends years studying the causes of potential Saints – the experts review reams of document to weigh the good they have done with the not so good. They’re trying to look at the whole picture of the person’s life. The Church looks at a bigger picture because God looks at an even bigger picture than that. And thank God he does. If we were judged solely on our faults, none of us would make it to heaven. If the sum of our existence is the wrong that we do, what would be the purpose of doing good in the first place? And if we had no reason to do good, well, Saints preserve us!

“What Happened?”

 
        “I love this statue.” That’s what I tell my pastor every Easter when I walk into our freshly decorated Church for the first time. It’s an Easter decoration that’s modeled after a painting by Peter Paul Rubens called The Resurrection of Christ, but that’s not why I love it. I love the face; I love the expression on Jesus’ face. To me, the face says it all. It speaks simply and clearly of how Jesus must have felt at the moment of the Resurrection. In his face I see breathless bewilderment, absolute amazement and sheer joy all at the same time. It’s a very human face. It makes me think that Jesus’ first words after the Resurrection must have been, “What happened?”

          I’m sure that’s a question many of us share. Scripture tells us that there were plenty of witnesses to the empty tomb and that more than 500 disciples saw Jesus himself after the Resurrection. But no one saw what happened in that tomb. There were no tomb-cams in Jesus’ time, so we can only guess what happened. We can only imagine what it feels like to be dead, and then alive again – but not just alive: resurrected. Resurrection is different from resuscitation. Resuscitation returns us to the life we had before. Resurrection gives us new life. Through resurrection, we’re reborn into a life where humanity is united with divinity, where we’re no longer subject to the limits of time and space, where we live in God’s love and peace forever. Just imagine it. The moment of resurrection must be confusing, amazing and wonderful all at the same time, emotions that I think are captured perfectly in the expression on the face of this statue.

          I also love this statue because I've seen this face many times before. I've seen it on parents as they choke back tears at their child’s baptism. I've seen it on couples exchanging their vows at their wedding. I've seen it on adults receiving the Sacraments for the first time at the Easter Vigil. I've seen it on parishioners as they present themselves to receive the Blessed Sacrament. I've seen it in the old and the young, the rich and the poor, the familiar and the stranger. It’s a very human face.

It’s a face touched by grace. It’s a face that stands in awe and wonder before the throne of God. It’s a face that has experienced pure, perfect love. That look, that face, is often fleeting in this world, but it’s real nonetheless. Imagine, then, what our faces will look like at the moment of our resurrection, the moment we first realize that we were dead, but now we’re alive; the moment we see God face to face; the moment we know without a shadow of a doubt that we are loved unconditionally. Just imagine the bewilderment, the amazement and the joy of that moment.  I can't say that I'll have the words to express what I'm feeling at that moment.  If I can muster any words at all, I suspect they might simply be, "What happened?"

What’s Good About It?

A Jewish friend of mine asked if I could tell her what’s “good” about Good Friday.  Jesus died on Good Friday, what’s so good about that?  On the surface, that’s not good, especially since Jesus was betrayed by a friend, denied three times by his closest collaborator and abandoned by his followers, all in that one day.  So what’s good about it?  Well, Jesus’ death on the cross is the ultimate gift of self-sacrificing love.  Jesus freely accepted death on a cross to reconcile humanity and divinity, to free humanity from death by carrying humanity through death into eternal life.  Jesus was willing to undergo death himself so that we could live forever in the peace of God’s Kingdom.  In my opinion, that’s about as good as it gets.

You’re One of a Kind!

Pilgrim:  “Francis, you’re one of a kind!"

Pope Francis:  “So are you.  You're one of a kind, too!  There are no two people like you."

That brief exchange in Saint Peter’s Square this morning says it all.  It expresses in personal terms the principle that underlies God’s relationship with us and our relationships with each other – the dignity of the human person.  Because, we believe, we’re created in the image and likeness of God, we all have a dignity bestowed on us by God that can never be taken away.  Respecting that dignity is our way of honoring the source of our dignity and thanking God for that gift. 

The Pilgrim and the Pope are acknowledging each other as special in the eyes of God and, therefore, in each other’s eyes.  They’re respecting each other’s dignity.  But they’re also acknowledging each other’s uniqueness.  While we all have dignity, each of us also has unique gifts bestowed on us by God.  We are, in fact, one of a kind.  In return for these gifts, God asks us to use them for the benefit of others – to promote the dignity of others.  And there’s no shortage of opportunities to do so.  If you can knit, you can make hats to warm the heads of cancer patients; if you can make balloon animals, you can put a smile on a child's face; if you’re a great hugger, you can warm the heart of someone who is sad.  The list is endless. 

The exchange between the Pope and the Pilgrim made me think of all of the people who share their gifts with me.  Each person helps me in his or her own unique and special way.  I'm grateful to God for putting them in my life, and I'm grateful to them for ministering to me.  So I say to each of you, “Thank you!  You’re one of a kind!”

Click here to see a video of the Pope’s exchange with the Pilgrim.

Death is Done - Homily for the Fifth Sunday of Lent, April 6, 2014

          Death was no stranger to John Donne.  You remember him; he was the English poet, lawyer and cleric whose poems you probably read in high school or college.  What you may not know is that John Donne’s father died when he was only four years old; that two of his sisters died before he was ten; that six of his twelve children died before reaching adulthood; and that his wife died in childbirth.  As I said, death was no stranger to John Donne, but death didn't conquer him, and it didn't rule his life.  He wasn't afraid of death because he believed that death is done.  And that’s the point of today’s Gospel.

          In today’s Gospel, Jesus is revealed as the resurrection and the life, the one who fulfills the prophesy of Ezekiel in our first reading:  “I will open your graves and have you rise from them.”  Fulfilling a prophesy is a pretty big deal, so the raising of Lazarus can’t simply be a private favor that Jesus grants to his close friends.  It’s much more than that.  It’s “Jesus’ culminating self-revelation on the eve of the passion.”[1]  It’s Jesus’ revelation that he is the resurrection and the life.  Up to this point, Martha and Mary and many others certainly knew that Jesus was special.  He could heal the sick – all agree that if Jesus had been there, Lazarus would still be alive.  But they never imagined that Jesus would actually bring Lazarus back to life.  They never imagined it, because they didn't understand who Jesus really is.  They had no clue that Jesus was the one sent by God to raise the dead to new life.  They had no idea that Jesus could conquer death – that through Jesus, death is done. 

          But how can we say that “death is done,” when we still die?  Well, let’s take a closer look at our Gospel.  At the beginning of the passage, Jesus says that “[t]his illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”  When we speak of the glory of God, we have to understand that God isn't on an ego trip; he doesn't need our accolades.  God is glorified when he gives his own life to his people.[2]  God communicates his life to us through Jesus Christ, who is the resurrection and the life – the one who carries us through death into God’s eternal life.  By taking human form in the person of Jesus, God brought eternal life into this world.  So eternal life isn't something we’re waiting for.  It begins now.  And if eternal life begins now, then death is done.  Death is no longer an end; it’s a transition that serves God’s purpose of bringing all believers into the fullness of God’s eternal life.

          John Donne spoke eloquently of how death serves God’s purpose in the last sermon he gave just a few days before he died.  Donne explained that the Trinitarian God delivers us from death, by death and in death.[3]  [You knew you were getting an English lesson as soon as I mentioned a poet at the beginning of this homily, so brush off your prepositions].   Donne explained that God the Father, the God of power, rescues us from death by sharing his eternal life with us.   Sharing in God’s eternal life means that we will never be separated from God, even by death. 

God the Son, the God of mercy, rescued us by death when he entered death himself.   “The love that troubles Jesus and makes him weep at the loss of Lazarus also makes him go after Lazarus and free him from the imprisonment of death.”[4]  Just the same, Jesus’ love for all humanity makes him go after us to free us from the imprisonment of death.  By accepting death, Jesus brought God’s eternal life into the realm of death to free us from it, and so we were saved from death, by his death.  Finally, John Donne preached that God the Spirit, the God of comfort, rescues us in death by giving us the consolation at the hour of our death that we are loved infinitely by God and that death is not our end; it’s our entrance into the fullness of God’s eternal life.  That “[c]onsolation ultimately comes from realizing that love is stronger than death.”[5]  So God fulfills his purpose of bringing all believers into the fullness of eternal life by saving us from death, by death and in death.  I think we've run out of prepositions, so death must be done.  But I’m not.  

The challenge for us, then, is believing.  A lot of people live their lives under the philosophy that when we’re dead, we’re done.  They spend their lives counting the days, waiting for death, fearing death.  What a sad way to live.  But that’s not the Christian philosophy.  “Christians are invited and enabled to integrate the ever-ambiguous experience of death, that of loved ones and [our] own, into [our] faith vision.”[6]  That faith vision calls us to believe that Jesus is the resurrection and the life; to believe that God has rescued us from death, by death and in death; to believe that through the gift of eternal life, death is done.  Believing opens our hearts to the consolation of the Spirit that carries us through our mourning and our weeping, through our pain and our  suffering, and through death into eternal life.  Believing is a wonderful way to live.

John Donne believed, so even though he mourned the deaths of his loved ones, he wasn't afraid of death; it didn't rule his life.  In fact, one of his most famous poems confronts death head on.  It’s formally known as Sonnet X of the Holy Sonnets, but it’s more popularly known by the words of its opening and closing lines:

Death be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,

For, those, whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow,

Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me. . . .

One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

---

[1] Sandra M. Schneiders, Written That You May Believe: Encountering Jesus in the Fourth Gospel (New York, The Crossroad Publishing Company, 2003) at 174.

[2] John Shea, The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers, Year A (Collegeville, Liturgical Press, 2006) at 143.

[3] John Donne, “Death’s Duel,” (March 1631), Christian Classics Ethereal Library, http://www.ccel.org/donne/deaths_duel.html.

[4] Shea at 153.

[5] Id.

[6] Schneiders at 183.