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B. Isenbarger Prayer, Reflection

Asking for the grace of Boredom

Perhaps at this point in the summer – you find yourself in a similar place to me. With the extra free time summer often affords – maybe you find yourself tired of the monotony of scrolling through endless news articles or being paralyzed by the unending choices of movies on Amazon Prime. Whatever the case – you know the feeling – boredom. Even in the midst of the endless entertainment and the various diversions which are readily available, I often find myself with a sense of restlessness and hunger for something new. Recognizing this is a great grace – and a grace I think we should ask for more often. 

Why so? The more readily we are able to recognize our own boredom with the passing things of this world, the more readily will we be able to focus on the One who is ever new. After all – boredom is a singularly secular phenomenon. There is no boredom in heaven – for the unending desire of the human heart is eternally fulfilled in the heavenly reality of pondering the Triune God. Moreover, this also reveals an extraordinarily magnificent reality of our human condition: even now amid the passing things of this world, the desire for eternal fulfillment is already present. This is at the very root of our boredom. The infinite desires of our hearts cease to be satisfied by the finite things which are offered now. Famously, this is why St. Augustine says our hearts are restless until they rest in the Lord. 

In short, asking for the grace to see our boredom is asking the Lord to reveal our greatest desire – namely the desire for Him alone. This is a dangerous endeavor, though. For the more we ask for Him and only Him, the less we will depend on all other created goods. And though we were made with eternal desires for God Himself, as humans with bodies – we still have very real and necessary desires for these same created goods. Thus, we quickly find ourselves in a strenuous process of purification – until all of our desires are rightly re-ordered to our ultimate Destiny. In short, this puts our relationship with God over the very gifts He gives; namely, the Healer over the healing, the Giver over the gifts, and the Savior over the saving. 

Understandably, this is a daunting proposal. 

But I guarantee you will never be bored. 

M. Hellinger Catholicism, Community, The Faith

A Year in the Eternal City

It’s hard to believe, but almost a year has passed since I last saw my beautiful homeland (the United States) and came to Europe. A lot has changed in that brief year, and I found myself reflecting on a particular aspect of life that I had a vague idea of before, but now see pretty clearly. To put it simply, a year of getting ingratiated into a different culture is a good preparation for thinking about life as a Christian.

Sounds a little weird, or not really connected, but hear me out.

Ask anyone who has had to spend any considerable time away from home, and I am sure that they will tell you that there was some sort of culture shock that was part of their experience. Even when people go on short trips abroad, they pick up on the ways in which the different culture functions, or at least draws them out of their comfort zone or their “normal.”

In Italy, for example, there are hundreds of ways this American has been challenged to see the world from a different perspective, or even just learn to enjoy something that isn’t done the way I would think it should be done. From not being able to have a cappuccino after noon, to riding a bike in high traffic in Rome, to learning the way idiomatic expressions are made in Italian, to not having AC except in the occasional store or shop, there are many experiences a different culture can offer to help you see the world just a little differently.

Why am I talking about this?

This whole experience got me thinking, the same is true for our life as Christians. Part of being baptized in Christ means that we are made new, something completely different. We no longer can live for ourselves, but (as Paul says), but it is Christ who lives in us. This means that we need to immerse ourselves into the culture that is the Mystical Body of Christ. This means that the way we see the world should change, the way we talk should change, what we find acceptable and what we are willing to do for others should change.

One thing that stands out in particular is the issue of language. We need to learn the native language of the Body of Christ. By learning a new language, we not only learn a new way to say the same words we already use, but more so, we learn a new way of seeing life, a new way of seeing how to express an idea or how to name an object. By way of example, in Italian you do not say “I spent time.” Time is not a commodity that is spent. Rather, you would say that you “passed” time. The idea here is a little different. It’s these subtle ways that things are different that really draw us out of ourselves to see a different way of seeing the same things.

To really enter into the Body of Christ and live there like a native, we need to learn the language. Not only that, we need learn how the natives live. How do we do this? Prayer, community, service, etc. Above all, in the Liturgy we learn the language, the culture, and the worldview that is native to the Body of Christ the best. Scripture, teaches us as well. Community with fellow citizens of the City of God also helps draw us towards a better living and understanding.

We are of course free to not enter into the culture of the Body of Christ, just like there are plenty of tourists in cities all over the world who resist the shocking change of foreign cultures. You can, of course, survive for short trips that way, but if you really want to make a place feel like home, you have to be willing to change and be changed.

God desires us to make His home our home. He is already chasing after us and He desires that we conform our lives to the new culture of our Heavenly calling. Let’s not be tourists in the City of God, but let’s make our home there. When we do that, and when we are changed by the culture of true, self-giving love that sums up the whole place, then we will be ready to draw others there, too.

Fr. T. Zehr Easter, Jesus Christ, Lent, Salvation, Uncategorized

The Harrowing of Holy Week

I know this is a little late, but we’re still in the Easter season, so (at least for me) I think that it’s important to reflect on the most sacred time in our Catholic Faith.

This was my first Holy Week as a priest, which was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. Holy Week, from as early as I can remember, is one of my favorite times of the year (I guess if we are excluding Christmas)!  As a seminarian it is an especially joyful and exciting time; being able to follow the bishop around and help serve at the different masses and liturgical services is really beautiful.

I had a tough Lent this year. Long hours sitting in the confessional, turmoil with some of my relationships and my ever-continuing battle with sin made for a desert journey of sorts through Lent. So I was looking forward to Holy Week to bring that crazy Lent to a close and rejoice with the Resurrection and the beautiful liturgies of Holy Week.

The day of the Easter Vigil, Holy Saturday, I spent the day with some good friends of mine before the Mass that would begin around 9pm. For some reason there was something that was just irking me all day long; something that made me feel anxious and unsettled. While I was with my friends I was irritated and anxious in a place which usually gives me peace and relaxation. As I was leaving my friends’ house, I recognized that it was simply the devil attempting to steal my peace and joy (which he was partially successful in doing). First I acknowledged that, then I tried to gear myself up to celebrate the Easter Vigil liturgy.

This lack of peace and anxiety continued well into the liturgy until I came to the point where I was to sing the Easter Proclamation (the Exsultet). The Exsultet is a long chanted song that beautifully recounts the great deeds of the Lord during the events of the His passion and Resurrection. As I was singing this ancient hymn, there was a beautiful, almost cathartic, movement within myself as I proclaimed the power of Jesus Christ, the risen Lord, the King of Kings, and the conqueror of Death! My singing of that hymn was me telling the world, “I choose you Jesus Christ and I reject the lies and temptations of the evil One!” And I began to sing this song as a prayer:

“Let all corners of the earth be glad knowing an end to gloom and darkness (I can rejoice because Jesus has brought light and life to me)!”

“Who for our sake paid Adam’s debt to the eternal Father and pouring out his own dear blood wiped clean the record of our ancient sinfulness (Jesus wiped out the sin that would bring me to hell, and gave me a chance to choose him).”

“This is the night when Christ broke the prison bars of death and rose victorious from the underworld!”

Christ has already conquered the evil one, there is no battle left to fight but my choice to live and follow Him. Jesus conquered sin, broke its power over humanity and has given us an opportunity to live in His love. My singing the Exsultet was as if Jesus ripped the Devil’s dirty fingers off of my restless heart and pounded him with a sledge hammer straight back to Hell! I know that my Redeemer lives and that he has saved me from a miserable life as a slave to sin.

That is what this Easter Season is about. “Let the trumpet of Salvation sound aloud our Mighty King’s Triumph!”resurrection2007

M. Hellinger Jesus Christ, Reflection

“What can you do?”

On John 6: 30-35

When someone is trying to sell us something, the natural questions that arise go along the lines of, “why do I need this?” “how will it improve my life?” “how much does it cost?” All of these questions really hinge on the essential question: what can it do?

What an item does for us is of supreme importance, because it determines how much we value it. Our value determination regulates our investment in something, and therefore has an effect on our lives to a varying degree.

What an interesting thing, then, that in the Gospel of John the crowd asks Jesus: “What sign can you do, that we may see and believe in you? What can you do (6:30 NAB)?” A better translation of that word “do” in this situation might be “perform” (RSV), but the point remains. The crowd treats Jesus like he is selling something, like the life he is proposing is some sort of diet or life advice. “Ya, the Bread of Life and the Kingdom is cool and all, but what can you do for me?”

But the point is not about the doing. It’s about who Jesus is not what he does. In fact, the crowd betrays themselves when they immediately follow their question with a Scriptural passage: “As it is written: He gave them bread from heaven to eat.” They’ve missed the point.

They are focused on the giving, the doing. What they’ve missed is that the bread was given to them and was sustenence precisely because it was from heaven. What matters is what it is, secondary is what it does.

This is even more so the case with Jesus. Often, we approach Jesus just like we would a salesman who’s selling a nice car or computer. “I’ve heard what you’re giving has done great things for people.” “The commands you’ve given have really helped a lot of people, maybe they can help me.” “If I live according to your commands and prohibitions, maybe you will give me what I ask for in prayer, or better yet, maybe if I give you some of my Sundays, you’ll let me into heaven.” It’s a subtle game of constantly asking the Lord, “What can you do?”

Jesus, however, both sees through our foolishness and desires to actually do so much more. His response is simple. “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst (6:35 NAB).” What matters first is who Jesus is. What he does is not there to convince us to join his feel-good club, it’s a direct result of who he is. Jesus calls us to himself, and it’s when we are in relationship with the Son of God that we expirence the effects of his presence in our lives.

Especially in our consumeristic society where we use people and love things, Jesus is calling us to first love people (first of all God) and from that relationship, things are done. We need to constantly assess how we respond to the proposal Christ is making to us so that our response is not “what can you do?” but rather, “who are you?” Because in the end, the thing that gives any credibility to the claims Jesus makes and the miracles he performs is that he is the Son of God. If he wasn’t that, then anything he did or performed simply doesn’t matter.

If Jesus is the Son of God, then his very being demands the totality of ours. That’s what the crowd doesn’t understand. This is not just another teacher or miracle worker, this is Someone who is totally unique at the level of his being. Belief preceeds the miracles. Assent to who he is comes before he does anything “for” you.

The question the crowd should have asked is the same question we should ask. Not “what can you do?” but “who are you?” The second answers the first.

B. Isenbarger Baptism, Eucharist

Graduation, Diplomas, and Degrees: What is your identity?

This time of year is always marked by transitions. Whether it be graduations, weddings, or simply traveling for the summer, we often find ourselves moving from one place to another, or from one state of life to the next. And what do we typically do? We seek to commemorate these things in some way. We have diplomas to certify our accomplishments, marriage certificates signed and sealed, and pictures taken in the places we have been. These are all great things, and indeed things to celebrate. It makes me think of the new college graduate who is able to display his fresh new diploma in a mahogany frame in his or her brand new cubicle. Certainly, moments such as these offer a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment.

So, what is the greatest accomplishment in your life?

Graduation? Your career? Athletic or fitness accomplishments?

Look at the walls in your home or office. What do they display most prominently?

It seems to me all of these things are a mere drop in the bucket compared to our identity as beloved sons and daughters of God. Degrees and diplomas are fine, but they cannot be our fundamental benchmark for success. Likewise, we can be the most athletic and fittest person in the room, but we all face the deterioration which comes with age. Even the most successful and stable careers are fleeting.

What is not, though, is your baptism as a son or daughter of God. On that day, whether you were an unconscious child or an adult, God the Father breathed His Spirit into you, configured you to His Son’s body, and claimed you for his own. In such an act, which we can do absolutely nothing to earn, God indelibly marked our souls for all eternity to indicate that we are His. 

So, I propose two means to reclaiming our identities as sons and daughters of God.

First, call the parish where you were baptized and ask them to send you a copy of your baptismal certificate. If you have been confirmed, received first communion, were married or ordained – all of these things will also be noted. Then, go buy a nice frame for it and hang it in a prominent place in your home or office. After all, this is not a mere diploma that attests to a degree, but rather a certificate that attests to your destiny with the Father in heaven. I can’t think of any greater reminder to hang on your wall. 

Once you do this, I suggest making a daily renewal of your baptismal vows first thing in the morning. Perhaps with a little holy water font next to your baptismal certificate, you could bless yourself with the holy water and recite the Creed, or simply say: “I am a beloved child of God. Thank you, Lord, for calling me to heaven.”

Lastly, as we look to Jesus in the Eucharist, let us not forget this fact: While we were adopted by God the Father in our baptism, through Christ’s most holy Body and Blood which mingles with our very own bodies and blood, we truly become sons and daughters of God by Blood. Our fragile bodies take on His own glorious Body, and our own blood mingles with the Blood of the resurrected Lord. In short, as we look at Jesus in the Eucharist, we see the clearest indicator of who we are now, and who we are called to be in eternity. 

That, my friends, is your truest identity.

B. Isenbarger Uncategorized

Haircuts and Heaven

This past weekend I was able to witness the marriage of a lovely couple professing their vows to one another in the presence of the Church. It was a most joyful day! 

In the midst of the hoopla, I began to look around and couldn’t help but notice how much attention was given to hair! All of the bridesmaids had their hair beautifully styled and the groomsmen looked well kempt. In fact, that morning I happened to get my own hair cut in order to look my best for the occasion. So, too, did a brother seminarian of mine who was also serving at the wedding. 

Certainly, this is not a shocking revelation. Most folks do get their hair taken care of before a big event. For instance, a new job interview, a wedding, holidays, etc. 

But what does this have to do with heaven?

Hair, after all, is nothing more than dead cells adorning our external bodies. And it’s certainly a great practice to keep ourselves looking presentable. But how much more important is our living and immortal soul? How often do we take the time to clean up our interior life to prepare ourselves for the ultimate wedding – the Wedding Feast of the Lamb (heaven  – see Revelation 19). 

The perfect place to do this, of course, is through the sacrament of penance (confession, reconciliation). Within the sacrament, what is dead and unsightly – sin – is cut off from within us and the beauty of our baptismal garment (just like a bride’s dress) is restored to its pristine purity. 

So, I make a simple suggestion:

When it’s time for a haircut, it’s time to make a good confession. 

From my experience, that’s about once a month, or in the event of a special occasion like a wedding. 

In the spiritual life, “weddings” happen a little more often. We’re invited to the Wedding Feast of the Lamb every time we go to Mass. That’s why Father holds up the host and says: “Behold the Lamb of God…blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.” 

In short, its important to stay in a consistent practice of spiritual upkeep to keep our souls looking good, especially for the reception of holy communion. However, sometimes we might find ourselves in serious sin – kind of like having our hair catch on fire or being the experiment of a three-year old with scissors. 

In that case, I’d recommend seeing a barber, a stylist, and/or a priest as soon as possible! 

Fr. T. Zehr Uncategorized

Martha, Martha, Martha!

Martha and Mary are two very different people. We read in the Gospel of Luke, the story of Mary sitting at Jesus’ feet while Martha is working away. Martha complains that Mary isn’t working and should help her, but Jesus says that Mary is doing the better thing. In this Gospel, the two sisters have a very different reaction to Jesus coming to Lazarus’ grave.

Initially Mary is back at home and Jesus meets Martha. Martha says, “Lord if you had been here, my brother would not have died, but even now, I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give to you.” We can almost hear in the tone of her voice, a hint of bitterness that Jesus wasn’t there, but more strongly a trust in the Lord’s plan.

Mary, who I would say is more struck by grief, says almost the exact same thing to Jesus. “Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died.” But what is the difference? There is a much greater sadness with Mary than with Martha. We can hear behind her words “Why weren’t you here, you could have saved him! I believed in you and your power, but you didn’t show up. I’m beginning to doubt in your love and care for me.” How many times have we felt like Mary here? “Why weren’t you here God? This doesn’t make sense. You could have prevented this evil from occurring. Do you even care what happens to me?”

Whereas in the previous story Jesus tells Martha that Mary has chosen the better part, here Martha has the truer faith and trusts Jesus. Mary is treating Jesus like a vending machine: if she has faith in Jesus’ power and has Jesus show up, then she will get what she wants. Whereas Martha has faith in Jesus’ power and in how he will use that power, trusting that Jesus will provide for what she NEEDS and not for what she WANTS. This is the faith that we must have.

I believe that Martha’s trust in Jesus’ plan is what brought about the miraculous raising of Lazarus. The Lord is always able to work great things through those who trust in him.

Martha is one of my patron saints. I was born on her Feast day, she is the patron saint of cooks (and I love to cook!), and Jesus is constantly telling me, like Martha, “You are anxious and worried about many things that are not me.” But what I love most about St. Martha, and something that I need to be reminded of daily, is her reply to the Lord, “Yes, Lord, I have come to believe that you are the Christ!” I have COME to believe – Not, “I believed the first moment I met you” But after a brawl of difficulties, being corrected, having experienced pain and suffering and loss, you have shown me, gradually, that you are truly and really my savior.

I believe Martha is the model of faith for us. We can say, “Lord I really wish you would have helped me here. But I know that whatever you do, you do because you love me. I have come to believe that you are the Christ and you can save me from my sins and pains.  Jesus, I trust in you, and in your plan for my life.”

St. Martha, Pray for us.

B. Isenbarger Uncategorized

Pain and the Resurrection: the route to Communion

Recently, a loved one of mine has been experiencing relentless pain. It all began with minor aches years ago which have gradually become worse and worse – to the point of interfering with his day to day life. The pain has even affected his ability to get consistent sleep. As you can imagine, this can quickly lead to a vicious cycle. 

The problem with pain, it seems, is that it sacks us of our independence and cements the certitude of the fragility of our human condition. In fact, it is this precise point which causes the human soul to feel pain. As creatures in the likeness of God, we are made for eternal glory amid the passing things of earth. Thus, we find ourselves in a constant state of tension – seeking to live the reality of permanent glory now, while enduring the pain and hardship of life encapsulated in the passibility of daily life. It’s no wonder we seek to attach ourselves to so many things like health and happiness, yet constantly find their impermanence in this world. 

In Christ’s sorrowful passion, death, and glorious resurrection, though, it is possible to see the transformation of this tension we call pain. In Christ, the eternal one Himself takes on the total passibility of human flesh. By nature of the incarnation, our Lord Himself became the paradigm of the tension of pain. In the most manifest way, this tension is raised up for the world to see in his saving work on the Cross: the God-man dead. 

It is in His resurrection, though, that we can begin to see the resolution to the problem of pain. In Christ, there was never a point in which He was not in communion with the Father and the Holy Spirit – even through his most horrific passion and death. Further, there was never a point following His incarnation that His divine life was not in communion with human flesh. In sum, the communion of Christ with the Father, the Holy Spirit, and human flesh is the reality of the resurrection, and ultimately our own humanity being seated at the right hand of the Father.

What does this do in regard to our problem of pain? It necessarily calls us into further communion – with both the Most Holy Trinity and with human flesh – namely, one another. 

As is so often experienced, pain seeks with reckless abandon to isolate humanity not only from God, but also from one another. Whether it is the skepticism we experience in ever finding healing, or the emotional isolation resulting from our own unforgiveness of our brothers and sisters, pain can be a reviling rival. 

But in the resurrection, Christ Jesus redeems pain and allows it to be transformed in the most ironic way: precisely through vulnerability. 

By becoming a tiny a vulnerable Child, Christ united humanity to Himself. By being stripped naked, beaten, and treated as a criminal who was put to death, Christ retained communion with humanity even through death, so that eternal communion with the Father and the Holy Spirit could be restored to human flesh. Most readily, Christ still continues to be with us under the appearance of a tiny piece of bread to be both handled and consumed. It’s not a coincidence we call this Holy Communion.

From this, it seems vulnerability is the very seed through which the final victory of Christ was grown. So, too, should it be with us. If we truly seek to overcome the problem of pain – we must become more vulnerable with both God and one another. 

I know it’s ironic, but so too is God becoming man and life being born out of death. The more quickly we present our painful wounds to the Trinity and to one another, the more quickly we will be enabled to grow in communion. And as we have seen so marvelously illustrated in Christ’s life, death, and resurrection – communion is the only permanence offered amid the impermanence of temporal life. 

The only reality of heaven on earth, the eternal in the realm of the temporal, is the glorified and vulnerable Christ present in the Most Blessed Sacrament. If we want to share in that impassible glory, we too must become vulnerable so as to enter into His communion. 

Christ always offers us this communion. 

Please, God, give us the vulnerability to accept it. 

M. Hellinger Community, Holiness, Reflection

Why You Need a Rule of Life

Socrates famously stated that the unexamined life is not worth living. After 2500ish years, those words still ring true. However, the Christian Event (the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus Christ) has changed things. We should be striving not only for an examined life, but an ordered life in Christ.

Jesus Christ brought order back to creation and part of our life as His followers is allowing Him to re-order our lives, our desires, and our actions. The disorder had its start in the first sin. After the Fall, things were no longer how they were in the beginning. For example, no longer do Adam and the dirt get along; Adam must toil for the land to bear fruit. Also, a fundamental disorder is shown in the relationship between Adam and the Woman. Adam does something he had not done yet (and probably didn’t think to do before) – he gives the woman the name Eve. In the perfect relationship they had before, he would not have done this because only God could have. Now disorder has entered and the way Adam and Eve relate is changed (not for the better).

But Christ undoes this disordering and invites us into His new life.

So… what does this have to do with a rule of life? Freedom, here again, rears its splendid head. If we want to enter into the life in Christ, we need to practice this reordering so that our hearts are made ready for God’s work. This is where a rule comes in. It is a tool intended to draw us to Christ by drawing us out of ourselves.

What is a Rule?

A rule of life is simple, it is a set of expectations that one lives by. Every religious order lives a Rule (most are in someway related to St. Benedict’s Rule, which is subtly one of the most influential documents in the history of Western Civilization). A Rule can be simple or complex, but it is intended to simplify life. It is really beneficial when you live in community because it becomes a standard that all strive for and answerable to. 

How a rule works can be seen by way of example in Lenten penances. Before Lent, we know that prayer, fasting, and alms-giving are the pillars of the season, so we make decisions about how we will live those more intentionally for the duration of Lent. Making that choice at the beginning of Lent actually gives us immense freedom. Instead of having to think of new ways to live those three pillars and choose to do it everyday, we know exactly how we are being called to act (assuming the choice of penitential acts were chosen with proper discernment). It frees us to grow by giving order and clarity.

In a very similar way, a Rule gives freedom because it frees you to die to self in a specific way.

So now the question is: how do I do this? I do not think it is necessary to plan out every moment of your day or every action. For people living a vocation to Matrimony, life is unpredictable in a lot of ways. Therefore, the best way to start is in general. What a Rule does is spell out the most important aspects of your life so that all other decisions are made based on the essential aspects of your life. So start there.

Here’s a suggested list to begin with:

1) Our family/I will go to Mass everySunday and Holy Day

2) Our family/I will go to Confession at least twice a year/once a month/every other month.

3) Our family II will eat a meal together at least __ times a week.

Or, you could also be more a little more specific like:

a) The TV and computer will be turned off in my home at 9pm each night

b) I will pray (or my spouse and I will pray) for at least 10 mins a day in (insert specific place)

The whole point is, once you have discerned and set out those things which are essential to your life, you are free to live instead of constantly having to choose in the moment. One example of the application of this: will the invite to this event make it hard or impossible to go to Mass on Sunday? Answer: I am committed to going to Mass every Sunday, so I can’t go to that event unless I can also get to Mass.

Start small, discern and pray about it. Then let the Rule free you as it shapes your life.

B. Isenbarger Healing, Lent

The Inoculation of Sin

I’m a very sick man. In fact, I knock daily on death’s door. You see, I inherited it from my parents, and it has been in the family tree ever since. My parents were told they would receive greater knowledge of good and evil and be like God if they ate fruit from a certain tree. But in fact, they only became self-absorbed and shameful human beings. And so it is for me. I am nothing else than a sick and sinful man – and it’s killing me.

But I also have a great Doctor – the best in fact. He chose his own Tree in his own garden and was able to graft its fruit onto that tree which infected my parents. As a result, that once fatal decision of my parents in the garden has actually lost its sting, and my Doctor has even ensured a surplus of his medicine to keep me from my final death.

Not only this, but my Doctor even used this sickness of sin to inoculate me from myself. Because all of us have been infected by this original sin, all of us are in the same condition – filled with sin and deserving of death.  And it is precisely this realization that is the first step to growing in holiness.

I once was at a retreat led by an old Benedictine monk, and he made the following quip: “The first step to holiness is recognizing the following: ‘I’m an ass. And you’re an ass. In that order’.” 

In other words, once we recognize our own sinfulness and selfishness, it doesn’t take too long to see the same in one another. But this is precisely the point in which the beauty of the Gospel and the tenderness of Christ breaks into the scene. None of us, so entrenched in sin, are entitled to anything except eternal death. Yet, in spite of all of this, Jesus Christ enters directly into our own misery in order not only to redeem it, but to actually make it a point of communion. 

So – when I look at the rest of my fellow sinners – from the worst terrorists to that annoying guy sitting next to me in class, I realize they are infected with the same disease that affects me – sin. While the effects of sin present in others often make me want to run the other way – Christ actually does just the opposite – he uses it as an entry point to bind up our broken humanity.

In this way, instead of sin being the poison of the great Divider (Satan) who seeks to isolate and shame, the healing remedy of Christ can transform it into a place of encounter both with him and with one another. 

In fact, isn’t this the mystery which we celebrate at every Mass. The result of our sin – the crucifixion of the Son of God – is re-presented to all of us. And in so doing, Christ enters directly into the abyss of our sinfulness, not only to redeem it, but also to bring us into communion with Himself and one another. 

It’s no wonder St. Ignatius of Antioch calls the Eucharist the “medicine of immortality.”

I happen to call it the inoculation of sin.