Bread of Joy

 

Every Sunday this summer, the second reading at Mass has been taken from Saint Paul’s letter to the Romans. Today’s text [Romans 8:35, 37-39] is a rhetorical flourish, which concludes the first half of Saint Paul’s letter.

What will separate us, Saint Paul dramatically asks, from God’s love for us as revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord? His answer: nothing! Not that there isn’t plenty out there to get in the way of our experience of God’s love! Paul knows only too well what obstacles there are and how powerful they seem to be. He even enumerates a bunch of them: anguish, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril, the sword. We could, of course, add to that list - war, public and private corruption, political polarization and division, downward mobility, the death of the “American Dream,” chronic illness, aging, and any number of other social, political, and personal problems. Even the gospel account we just heard of the feeding of the 5000, [Matthew 14:13-21] a happy, feel-good story if ever there was one, begins with the potential danger posed by the murder of John the Baptist!

Paul’s point is not that these things are not real or that they don’t threaten us, but that God’s power is so much greater than the forces that oppose it – and so can overcome all obstacles that threaten to separate us from God and the salvation his love intends for us. Instead, in desperation (in Paul’s time as again in our own) people tend to turn to all sorts of falsehoods – spiritual falsehoods like cosmic forces and social falsehoods like political power - in order to cope with threats from present things and future things.

Paul’s conviction, based on the love of God revealed in Christ, is that God’s power is way greater than those threats. If, however, we really believe in God’s omnipotence and in his love for us as revealed in Christ, then we will react differently to the many stresses and challenges we might otherwise be beaten down by. In this threatening and dangerous world, an all-powerful God who didn’t also love us would only add to the danger. That was precisely what made Paul’s preaching seem so liberating to so many pagans then – and continues to attract people to the Christian message today.

If God had not revealed himself – and his love for us – as he has done in his Son Jesus, we too would be equally desperate, clutching at anything that promised to placate otherwise uncontrollable cosmic forces or perhaps more mundanely to marshal aggressive political power to protect us against real or imagined scapegoats.

God, however, has revealed his love for us – not as an abstraction, but as a person, Christ Jesus our Lord, whose heart is moved with pity for us and satisfies us with food we could never buy on our own.

There will always be an insurmountable gap between our meager human resources – our 5 little loaves and 2 fish – and what God can accomplish on our behalf. Once we are willing to put ourselves at his disposal, however, God’s great love for us, present and active among us in Christ Jesus our Lord, will transform us by his blessing and enable us to accomplish, on his behalf, what we could never ever have imagined doing on our own – to conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us.

And, so, the same Christ who feeds us whenever we assemble in his presence also commands us – as his disciples, as his Church –to reject pessimistic false alternatives and to join him wholeheartedly in feeding the world with the bread of joy and trust that comes from recognizing and perpetuating his presence in our world.

Homily for the 18th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Saint Paul the Apostle Church, NY, august 2, 2026.

Ignatius

 

Twenty-plus years ago, on a parish pilgrimage in Spain, I celebrated Mass at the shrine of Saint Ignatius at Loyola Castle, the famous site of Ignatius’ religious transformation while recovering from his battle injury. As I unvested after Mass, the Jesuit sacristan seemed to be yelling at me. Thankfully I knew enough Spanish to understand that he was complaining that we had not venerated the relic. “What relic?” I asked. “the Saint’s head,” he replied. “Where is it?” I asked. The sacristan looked around and realized his mistake. He rushed to a filing cabinet and pulled out the small reliquary with a piece of bone from Saint Ignatius’ head, while, I, for my part, ran outside and summoned everyone back into the chapel to venerate the Saint’s head!

I have no recollection of what I had said in praise of Saint Ignatius in my homily on that occasion. I could hardly have said it better than our first Pastor and Paulist founder, Isaac Hecker, did in a famous sermon in 1863: “The leader of this company was Ignatius Loyola, the Spanish soldier, who abandoned the sword for the more powerful weapon of the Cross. For enlarged conception, energy of execution, and boldness of design, he has not been surpassed, if ever equaled, in Church history.”  [“The Saint of Our Day, “March 19, 1863]

At a time when the Church was faced with the twin challenges of the Protestant Reformation and world-wide exploration and (what we now call) globalization, Ignatius, together with six others (among then Saint Francis Xavier), founded his Society of Jesus, to reinvigorate the Church’s spiritual life and serve at the Pope’s disposal, wherever and however needed in the global mission. His Spiritual Exercises have served as a guide for vocational discernment and personal spiritual renewal for generations ever since, while the Jesuit community has spread all over the world as missionaries, scholars, and teachers, from the era portrayed in the movie The Mission until the present day. The first U.S. Bishop was a Jesuit, as was the first U.S. Catholic college. Ignatius’ legacy continues to guide and direct individuals and communities within the Church in the perennial process of discerning the most apt responses to the complicated crises and challenges the Church faces today.

Homily for the feast of Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Saint Paul the Apostle Church, NY, July 31, 2026.

Image: Emblem of the Society of Jesus.

Friends

 

One of the more distressing observations about life in our contemporary society is how many people seem to have very few friends, some say none at all. Aristotle long ago famously said that friendship is something that no one would choose to live without even if one possessed all other goods. In the New Testament, even Jesus had his special friends and strongly valued his personal friendships. Today, the Church commemorates three of those special friends, the sisters Martha and Mary of Bethany and their brother Lazarus. The Collect we just prayed mentions something specific to each of them. O God, Whose Son called Lazarus back from the grave and was pleased to be a guest in the home of Martha, grant us, we pray, that, faithfully serving him in our brothers and sisters, we, with Mary, may be found worthy to be nourished by the contemplation of his word.

Each is mentioned for the thing that he or she is most famous for - being brought back to life from the dead, serving as Jesus' super-conscientious hostess, listening attentively to Jesus' words. But we commemorate them together - together as a family, of course, but more than just a family - together too as Jesus' disciples, and, more than disciples, also as Jesus' faithful, much loved friends. It was Lazarus' loving friendship with Jesus that his sisters' emphasized when they sent Jesus the message that Lazarus was seriously sick. Presumably, it was Martha's also authentically close friendship with Jesus, which enabled her to confront Jesus so dramatically when he showed up late for Lazarus' funeral. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." We get the same feeling from Martha's other famous confrontation with Jesus in Luke's Gospel. “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving? Tell her to help me.” That is less a disicple talkign to her teacher than one good friend talking to another.

Both these scenes took place in Bethany.at Martha, Mary, and Lazarus' home, where Jesus was apparently a frequent visitor. Not all visitors are friends, of course. Hospitality to strangers was a very high value in the ancient world, as the The Odyssey movie has recently reminded us. But Jesus seems to have been a regular visitor at Martha, Mary, and Lazarus' home near Jerusalem, occasions for more than conventional hospitality but rather for deeply human experiences of mutual friendship.

In becoming human in Jesus, God has fully experienced our human life, sanctifying the sorrows and challenges of our ordinary lives but also blessing life's joys, among the benefits we receive from friendship.

Homily for the feast of Saints Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, Saint Paul the Apostle Church, NY, July 29, 2026.

Photo: Traditional Site of Tomb of Lazarus near Jerusalem.

The Elephants in the Room (A Book about Trump's Party)

 

Throughout this entire decade of Trump and Trumpism, numerous journalists have enriched our impressions of this president and the movement that has attached himself to him - most recently Regime Change: Inside the Imperial Presidency of Donald Trump (Simon & Schuster), by two New York Times journalists, Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan. After the journalists, inevitably come the political scientists, until finally in due course the historians will weigh in. Seth Masket is a Political Science professor at the University of Denver, a specialist in political parties, who has already attempted to address the Democrats story in this period with Learning from Loss: The Democrats 2016-2020 (Cambridge University Press, 2020), has now turned his (and our) attention to an important part of the Republican story with The Elephants in the Room: How Trump Voters Seized the Party from Republican Leaders (Cambridge University Press, 2026).

Masket starts from the fact that until recently both parties' presidential nominating processes "have followed a predictable set of rules." The Republicans, however, have changed "because the DC-based 'establishment' elites who used to run the party lost control of it to a populist, nativist grassroots faction outside Washington." It was Donald Trump who facilitated that faction's acquisition of power. "They don't see this as temporary madness; they see this as the movement that put them in charge and actually cares about the things they care about." Masket "uses the 2024 Republican presidential nomination as a lens for examining changes within the Republican Party and in the relationship between party insiders and voters."

What Masket calls populist conservatism has three key tenets: People-centrism, Anti-pluralism, and Moralized anti-elitism. He traces the history of the rise of this element in the party (at the expense of the previous "fusionist" consensus) through several stages:

1. 1960-1968 Learning from Nixon's Loss.                                                                                    2. 1970s The Rise of Primaries, the Fall of Gatekeepers.                                                            3. 1990s Pat Buchanan, Nativism, and Populism.                                                                        4. Mid-1990s The Gingrich Revolution.                                                                                        5. 2008-2012 The Tea Party and Obama's First Term.                                                                  6. The Rise of Conservative Media.                                                                                            7. Late 2000s-2010s The Demise of the Republican Establishment.

Having recounted this history, Masket moves into the present (the period after 2020). His methodology basically involves interviewing and surveying Republican party county chairs.  One might counter that county chairs and other formal party officials don't matter that much anymore, but that, of course, is precisely Masket's point.   "Trump did not win the 2024 nomination because party leaders were pulling for him and guiding party voters.  Indeed, many party leaders, including those who strongly supported him in his first term, were quite cool to a third Trump nomination.   They worried about his ability to win and the baggage he brought with him, and looked to a range of other candidates as possibilities. But they had no mechanism for picking such a candidates over the very strong preferences of party voters."

Masket concludes that neither party insiders nor donors rallied to Trump "until the party's voters made him the nominee." He had, after all, lost re-election, which is usually not rewarded in American politics. In particular, "the indictments caused many Republicans to rally behind Trump and defend him." Evangelical Christians are known to be among Trump's strongest supporters. "Opposition to an immoral person holding the presidency was one of the most commonly cited rationales among evangelicals for impeaching Bill Clinton in 1998-9, but less than two decades later, immorality was not a dealbreaker. Christianity did not undergo any major doctrinal shifts during this time; rather, its conservative adherents rethought the political implications of their faith."

Masket also examines the differences between Trump supporters and other Republicans. Trump's "supporters are considerably poorer, less educated, more conservative, and more likely to identify as evangelical Christian." They also share "a commitment to social order and hierarchy, endorsement of conspiratorial thinking, strong opposition to 'elite' rule in their party, a focus on immigration, and less acknowledgment of the existence of racial discrimination."

Masket concludes that the changes that brought Trump to power "are very much still present and aren't about to change back." 

God's Gracious Patience

When I was a kid growing up in the Bronx, New York City (sadly noted for its summer heat and humidity) tried to promote itself to tourists with the slogan “New York is a summer festival.” Festival or not, we certainly have had a festive summer, an exciting summer. We had the Knicks. We celebrated our semi-quincentennial – complete with tall ships, fireworks, and a celebrity wedding – and more locally our own Paulist Pilgrimage to Liberty Island in Support of Immigrants. And, of course, we have had the World Cup, which will come to its glorious conclusion later today in the final championship match between Spain and Argentina at the stadium across the Hudson.

 

Meanwhile, here in church this summer, we have been making our way, week-by-week, through Saint Paul’s letter to the Romans, the longest and most studied of all Saint Paul’s letters. Before I had ever formally studied it, however, my first serious personal encounter with the letter to the Romans occurred some 50 years ago, right around the 1976 bicentennial. It was in a Peanuts cartoon, in which Charlie Brown was moaning and groaning in his characteristic way, until finally someone said to him, “Stop sighing,” to which he responded, “It’s scriptural,” and then proceeded to cite Saint Paul’s words from the short passage we just heard today – in the more elegant, more traditional translation, for the Spirit helps us in our weakness, with sighs too deep for words [Romans 8:26].

 

Well, of course, there really is a lot to sigh about. Just listen to the news – or the poisonous brew that is social media. Paul’s words express the problem of the present, that is, the tension between, on the one hand, our obvious weakness and the sense of overwhelming futility that seems to characterize the world, and, on the other, our hope as children of God and joint heirs with Christ. We have, Saint Paul insists, been offered an alternative, already in the present. Hence, his stirring call to a total reorientation of our lives.

Even so, we remain burdened by what we have made of ourselves and our world, in the here and now. Left on our own, we would stay stuck. Paul, however, wants to alert us to something better and brighter than the present but which is already accessible to us now, thanks only to the presence and power of the Holy Spirit acting upon us, filling us, surrounding us, transforming us.

 

Similarly, the parables Jesus proposes in today’s Gospel [Matthew 13:24-43] all illustrate the slow – but inexorable – progress of God’s kingdom, transforming our pathetic present into God’s glorious future. God sows his good seed in the field of the world and patiently waits until the harvest before separating the wheat from the weeds. The weeds are very real and must be recognized and dealt with eventually. But God’s judgment is patient with the world – for our sake. Because, of course, God is not at all like us! As we just heard in the book of Wisdom, God’s mastery over all things makes him judge with clemency. He governs us with much lenience, thus giving us good ground for hope that he would permit our repentance [Wisdom 12:16-18].

 

God is not at all like us! In our frustratingly futile present, we lack patience – with God, with ourselves, with one another, with our world. But, again, God is not like us! Like the yeast which, when mixed with flour, leavens the whole batch, God is patiently filling, surrounding, and transforming our world with the presence and power of his Holy Spirit.

 

As the first fruits of the Spirit, we – the Church, Christ’s witnesses in the world – reflect the Holy Spirit’s leavening presence and power at work.  We are not quite there yet, of course, as the parable of the field so dramatically demonstrates. Wheat and weeds coexist in the Church – as they do in each one of us individually.

 

With the presence and power of the Holy Spirit acting upon us and within us, we are being aided to trust God’s process and make good use of the opportunity God’s patience provides us.

Homily for the 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Saint Paul the Apostle Church, NY, July 19, 2026.