Over Us, With Us, Ahead of Us (Christ the King.C)

The readings for the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, our parish feast day, make my head spin.

The first reading, about King David, reminds us that Jesus is a shepherd-king—a king who leads his people like a shepherd leads his flock. It is a gentle and consoling image.

But then the Gospel reading tears us away from green pastures and shows Christ as a crucified King, hanging on a cross, not seated on a royal throne.

In between, St. Paul sets off theological fireworks in today's Epistle. First he celebrates not just the King but the Kingdom, which we share with the saints, our refuge from the powers of darkness. Jesus is not just “the” King, he is “our” King, since we belong to his Kingdom.

Then the Apostle tells us who Christ is: the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. He is before all things, because all things were created in him.

And through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things—by the shedding of his blood on the cross.

What does all this mean to us? How can we apply these truths to our own lives?

I found this difficult, until I opened YOUCAT, the beautiful youth catechism that actually speaks to people of all ages. YOUCAT starts by giving us part of today’s second reading in plain language: “Jesus Christ is Lord of the world and Lord of history because everything was made for his sake. All men were redeemed by him and will be judged by him.”

Those are words with consequences, YOUCAT says. Because he is Lord and King of the Universe, Jesus is over us, with us, and ahead of us.

“He is over us, and the only One to whom we bend the knee in worship;” no-one and no thing is greater than Jesus, and no-one and no thing can rightly take his place in our lives.

“He is with us as head of his Church, in which the kingdom of God begins even now;” our King is not ruling from afar, but in our midst.

“He is ahead of us as Lord of History, in whom the powers of darkness are definitively overcome…” Christ’s reign looks to the future as well as the past and present—we have the assurance that he will never abdicate or be toppled from his throne. His rule is everlasting; it encompasses all that is still to come. We don’t fear a dark age without God; however godless his children may become, God continues to reign over them.

And eventually “He comes to meet us in glory, on a day we do not know, to renew and perfect the world.” Christ will one day bring to an end all earthly kingdoms, fulfilling creation and making of it an offering to his Father. (n. 110)

Knowing that this loving shepherd-king is over us and ahead of us and coming to meet us should give us great confidence and hope.

But what about God “with us?” The youth catechism says “He is with us as head of his Church, in which the kingdom of God begins even now.” How do we meet Christ the King with us?

YOUCAT gives a one-sentence answer that offers an ideal way to take stock of our parish on its annual feast day.

YOUCAT says that we can experience Christ with us “especially in God’s Word, in the reception of the sacraments, in caring for the poor, and wherever ‘two or three are gathered’” in his name.

So let’s look at Christ the Redeemer Parish in light of these four points. Of course, our community experiences Jesus in the Word of God proclaimed in the liturgy; it is clear from what you tell Father Xavier and me that you listen attentively at Mass and want to hear a clear and biblical message in Sunday homilies.

Attendance at Bible studies and adult faith programs is another positive sign that we seek God’s presence in his living Word.

Christ is near to us also in the sacraments. The Eucharist, of course, is chief among them, and our parish has tried to celebrate Mass in a way that helps us experience our Lord’s nearness. A great number of parishioners have also encountered Jesus very personally in the Sacrament of Penance, while others have felt his healing touch in the anointing of the sick. Jesus is never nearer to us than he is in the sacraments: our King dispenses grace and mercy with royal benevolence.

YOUCAT says we experience his nearness in caring for the poor. This has become a central experience for many parishioners at Christ the Redeemer. The efforts of the St. Vincent de Paul Society, the Believe Street Meal, STA food drives, and other initiatives aimed at helping the Door is Open, Sancta Maria House and Covenant House, among others, make the Kingdom of Christ more visible. And those who serve its King with such generosity find him easier to know and to love.

Your support for Syria, and the even greater support for the Philippines that has already started to pour in, is still another sign that this parish knows that its King is often encountered hungry, poor, and persecuted.

Finally, the youth catechism says that we find the Lord of the world near to us wherever two or three gather in his name. Our parish community is not perfect, but no-one can doubt that we gather in the name of Jesus, whether it is the faith study one young parishioner recently organized with four friends or a full church at Christmas or Easter.

We gather to worship, to study, and sometimes just to enjoy each other. But every time we are together, Jesus is with us and most of the time we realize that.

The Year of Faith ends today. We have celebrated this special year—begun by one Pope and finished by another—by sharing the gifts of faith God has showered on our community. One after another, parishioners young and old, male and female, bravely stood at the front of  the church to bear witness to God’s work in their lives.

On your behalf, I thank all of those who spoke, and I ask God to continue to strengthen them in faith.

We’re about to hear the last of these beautiful testimonies, and I must admit I wish they could carry on for another year. But I know that the inspiring words that we’ve heard—and are about to hear from Roy Gordon—will challenge all of us to become bolder witnesses not only in church, but in our daily lives.

Virtue Arms Us to Endure (33.C)

When was the last time you thought of the Second Coming?

Be honest—it was probably this time last year. The only reason I can answer “yesterday” is that I had to write this homily!

And yet Jesus makes it easy for us to think about the end of the world. He lists the signs that the end is coming: wars, revolutions, earthquakes, famines, plagues, and the persecution of Christians.

When was the last time you thought about those things? Unless you spent the week in the woods, you’ve thought about them non-stop. The calamity in the Philippines is the most recent example, but we have plenty of others.

I had trouble with today’s Gospel when I was younger. Since all the signs seem present in our world all the time, how come the Lord has not returned to judge the living and the dead? But the more I studied the more I understood that people have been asking that question since the time of Jesus: after all, he predicts the destruction of the Temple at Jerusalem, which took place less than forty years after his death.

And Jesus seems to caution us against using these signs and portents to create a timetable for the end of the world. Notice what he says: “these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately.”

So what is Jesus telling us with these dire predictions—and what do they have to do with the Second Coming, which he describes in the verses that follow those we read this morning?

Scripture experts say that “a positive message runs through what our Lord is saying."

First, Jesus promises God’s help: Although we must endure terrible things before his coming in glory, “divine providence takes into account all these difficulties, severe though they may be.” God permits them, since in his power he can use them for our good.” [The Navarre Bible: New Testament, 336.]

Second, Our Lord also promises special graces to those who suffer. Those under attack will be given the words and wisdom to defend themselves. We do not need to rely on our own resources in facing the challenges of Christian life in a hostile world. Whether we’re talking about martyrs standing before emperors, or pro-life advocates standing before judges, or average Catholics being challenged in the lunchroom at work, the Holy Spirit provides the words we can use to witness to our faith.

Third, and most important, is the promise of victory. Jesus says “not a hair of your head will perish” and “you will gain your souls.”

The path to victory is the path of virtue. Virtues are good habits that dispose us to perform good actions. We speak of faith, hope and charity as theological or supernatural virtues, part of the Christian life of grace after Baptism. But there are also natural or human virtues “which every good person needs.” [Evangelium: Participant’s Book, 37.] Chief among these are prudence, fortitude, temperance and justice.

Today, Jesus speaks of endurance, which is closely connected to the virtue of fortitude, which strengthens us to do the right thing even when it is difficult. And fortitude requires patience. Both St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas say that patience allows us to withstand suffering without loss of heart—that is, without sinking into sorrow.

St. Thomas explains very well why Jesus says that endurance will allow us to gain our souls—because it is through patience that we remain the master of our souls. It is through patient endurance that we are able to root out the worry and alarm that would deprive our souls of peace. (Summa, 2-2, 136, 2 ad 2, quoted in Navarre Bible, 337.]


The end is coming, that’s for certain. But Jesus wants us to live in the present moment with exactly the same confidence and courage that the Last Days will require. St. Augustine says “Let us not resist his first coming, so that we may not dread the second.” In plainer language, the lay evangelist Ralph Martin says “Remember the reward for perseverance is heaven!”

Since perseverance is really another name for endurance, I’d like to end with a prayer from Ralph Martin’s booklet “Don’t Give Up,” which we handed out to the parish a few years back.

Lord, thank you for teaching us about the importance of perseverance. Help us to break with sin and keep our eyes on the joy of heaven. Help us to keep on believing, keep on hoping, and keep on loving, no matter how difficult the circumstances become. We know you’ll never allow us to be tempted or tested beyond our strength. Help us to keep our eyes on you, to draw on your strength and your power and your constancy, so that we might, by your grace, by the power of your blood and mercy, persevere until the very end. Amen.

Children of the Resurrection (32 C)

On Easter Monday, 1917, the second day of the Battle of Vimy Ridge, a Canadian soldier was hit by machine gun fire. When the smoke cleared after the fierce fighting, his body was placed with many others to await burial.

The soldier had a brother in the next regiment, who was duly notified of his death and given his few personal effects.

The next day a company of soldiers was marching along the road beside the pile of corpses. Suddenly a soldier shouted out and pointed to the bodies—one of them was moving.

The officers realized that the body was not dead, and a medical crew was quickly called. The wounded man was rushed to a field hospital, where after many, many months he recovered, and returned to Canada at the end of the war.

That man, the man whom you might say came back to life, was my grandfather. If not for the sharp eyes of a weary soldier, neither my father nor I would ever have been born.

It’s a good story for Remembrance Day, isn’t it? In fact, one of my brothers turned it into a play with his grade six students, basing his script on my grandfather’s war diary, which he owns.

But compare that wounded man, thought to be dead but still alive, with Christ—Christ who was truly dead, but who returned to life in a glorious resurrection. Compare my grandfather, who did die in 1945, his life shortened by his war injury, with those Jesus calls “children of the resurrection”—those who cannot die any more.

The story of my grandfather pales by comparison to the story of Jesus; tomorrow is Remembrance Day, but today and every Sunday is Resurrection Day.

Today’s readings are not the kind a preacher likes to find when he opens the Sunday lectionary. The first reading is the short form of one of the most terrible stories in the Bible—it describes the torture and death of four of seven brothers. The whole story tells us that all seven died; before the youngest was killed his mother was told to speak to him and change his mind. She leaned close to him and said “Accept death, so that in God’s mercy I may get you back again along with your brothers.”

Anyone like to step up and preach on that cheerful text?

The Gospel is an odd one, at least if we read the long form that includes the woman who had seven husbands. And if you don’t read the long form you’re a bit of a chicken.

How to make sense of all of that?

Actually, it’s not that difficult if we zero in on one thing: the resurrection of the dead. These readings are not directly about the resurrection of Jesus; they’re about the resurrection of those he judges worthy to share in his resurrection.

The mother of the seven sons was able to watch her sons die rather than break the Jewish law because by this time in the development of Israel’s faith pious Jews had come to believe in the resurrection of the dead. She was serenely confident of seeing her sons again.

Think for a moment about the strength of her faith in the resurrection—because this is before the time of Jesus. How much stronger should our faith be, as disciples of the Risen One?

The wife of seven husbands is just someone made up by the Pharisees, so she has nothing to teach us. But Jesus turns their trick question on its head in order to show that heaven is a place we can’t quite imagine, a place that doesn’t fit into all our earthly ideas and experiences.

We only get glimpses of heaven here and there n the Bible, but Christ’s words in this text give us some idea of what we will be like in heaven. Of course we cannot die any more, that’s obvious, but also we will be like Angels and sons and daughters of God.

But the most striking thing Jesus says is that we will be “children of the resurrection.” Could anything greater be promised us?

In the Letter to the Romans, St. Paul says “if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory.”

The first reading and the Gospel tell us the same thing in more words. Those who are faithful to Christ will be given a place in the age to come, living forever beyond the reach of death.

No earthly suffering can rob us of our inheritance: on the contrary, when we unite our sufferings to Christ, we increase our claim to share his glory.

So these unusual texts have a simple enough message. Resurrection is not a word that only pertains to Easter Sunday. It’s a promise to every believer; it’s the hope of every Christian soul. It’s what encourages us when we’re living and consoles us when we’re dying. Faith in the resurrection of the body—a fundamental truth of our faith— allows us to accept the death of loved ones and makes grief easier to bear.

It’s a bit sad to think that we Christians could be less certain of the life to come than that brave martyr-mother who lived two hundred years before Christ rose from the dead. At this Mass, on Remembrance Day, and during the month of prayer for the Holy Souls, let us pray for a deeper faith in His resurrection, and in our own.

It's not where you start...

Long before Shirley MacLaine had become a New Age icon and an unexpected star on Downton Abbey, I took my mother to see her perform at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre.

Almost forty years later, I still remember one song from her show. The lyric went “It’s not where you start, it’s where you finish.”

St. Paul didn’t have much in common with Shirley MacLaine, but he would have approved of that line. In our second reading today, the Apostle looks back on his life with satisfaction, and looks ahead to eternal life with hope and thanksgiving.

His words are far more famous than any Broadway song: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”

Wouldn’t we all love to make those words our own?

Today’s Gospel says we can, even if we can’t compare ourselves to St. Paul. Jesus tells us what it takes to win the race: nothing more or less than a humble prayer for God’s mercy. The tax collector—a classic sinner in any story—wins the fight after losing many rounds to sin.

Even for Paul, victory is a gift. It’s the Lord who gave him strength; it is the Lord who rescued him from every evil; it is the Lord who saves.

Three months or so I met a lovely woman who was away from the Church for some 60 years. She had decided after all that time to return to the practice of the faith of her upbringing. She came to the rectory for coffee and confession, and we discovered that my great-aunt had been her principal at a convent school, where my father’s sister was also a boarder.

She came back to church with visible joy, and the parish welcomed her warmly, thanks to a generous parishioner who drove her to Mass on Sundays.

When her ride arrived last Sunday, she failed to answer the doorbell. Barbara Reynolds had finished the race, and kept the faith. This week I will be celebrating her funeral.


This story has meaning for those of every age, because the Lord wants to save us here and now; he offers us the strength and peace that comes from faith at every moment of our lives; we only need to accept it.

I’m very glad that today we'll also hear the faith journey of a young person as part or Year of Faith series of parishioner's testimonies. Even if it’s not where you start but where you finish, Chris Ufford will tell us something about the beauty and joy of youthful faith, and the blessings that come when a young athlete runs the race with real conviction.

Today, whether young or old or in-between, let’s ask ourselves: are we keeping the faith—are we in training for eternal life?

Coming Clean (Thanksgiving Weekend, Sunday 28.C)

The title of this blog post is not the title of the homily that follows, even if it does bring to mind the "cleansing" or healing of the ten lepers in today's Gospel.

I'm coming clean about the source of my homily this Sunday. It is almost entirely paraphrased or quoted from someone else. When I read the commentary on today's readings from Father Mariano Perrón from Madrid, I liked his thoughts so much that I decided I couldn't improve on them. So all I really did was change the style of his comments to suit the spoken word.

(Needless to say, I'm responsible for the revised content--and hope that Father Perrón will forgive me the liberty I have taken!)

But I am not telling you this only for honesty's sake! The reason I was looking at Father Perrón's words in the first place is that I get his reflections every week by e-mail as part of a free Lectio Divina resource provided by the American Bible Society. Every Tuesday the ABS e-mails me the Lectio for the coming Sunday and even sends a reminder on Thursday.

Although the ABS is a largely Protestant organization, this resource follows the Lectionary Catholics use. (The text of the Gospel provided is from the Good News Translation, which the ABS publishes.) By chance, I was in Manhattan in 2010 when the Society launched this initiative with a presentation to the priests of the Archdiocese of New York.

I don't know anything about Father Perrón, but I've found his commentaries very challenging and fresh. They can either be used for the stated purpose of Lectio Divina (if you don't know what that is, click here or here or here) or just to prepare for Sunday Mass (or writing homilies!).

Subscribing is easy: there is a box on the website.

And now for the homily....

The first reading this morning is not our first meeting with Naaman, the commander of the Syrian army. He appeared in the Sunday Gospel last February, when Jesus mentioned him in his homily at the synagogue of Nazareth (Luke 4:16-30).

On that occasion, Naaman was a sign of God’s universal mercy, which was not limited to the people of Israel but embraced Gentiles as well.

And lepers aren’t new to our Sunday readings, either. Last year, one of the first signs performed by Jesus in Mark’s Gospel (4:40-43) was the healing of a leper, which showed that his presence meant liberation from legal impurity and social and religious isolation.

Nor are Samaritans unfamiliar to us. We heard the parable of the Good Samaritan back in July, where one of these foreigners was a sign of mercy and a model of compassion (Luke 10:25-37).

Today we meet a man who is both a Samaritan and a leper. This is a very bad combination in Israel. He is both officially unclean and outside. But like Naaman and the Good Samaritan, he has a lot to teach us.

The basic message, of course, is plain and simple: gratitude is the attitude God expects from anyone who has received a gift from Him. And what better time to hear that message than Thanksgiving weekend? The timing of these readings is a very happy coincidence.

However, the Gospel always offers more than a basic message if we spend a bit of time looking. Notice that Jesus is on “his way to Jerusalem.” We know what that means: Jesus is on his way to the place of his suffering, death and resurrection. By his parables and formal teaching and signs he intends to show who and what he is.

And notice where he meets the group of lepers: as he goes through the region between Samaria and Galilee. They are in “no man’s land,” rejected by the inhabitants of both territories. It’s that, as well as their physical illness, that moves Jesus to mercy.

The leper is more than grateful: he is a model of faith and understanding. He “gets it.” When he sees that he is healed, he understands what happened, and returns “praising God.” This is what the shepherds did when they saw the baby Jesus at Bethlehem (Luke 2:20).

Though ten lepers were healed but only the Samaritan is able to understand and respond in faith and gratitude. That is why Jesus tells him: “Your faith has made you well.”

For Naaman, too, his physical healing implied something more than just gratitude. From that moment on, he will not offer sacrifices “to any god except the Lord” and the loads of earth he takes with him are a sign of his allegiance to the God of Israel.

The Samaritan leper and the Syrian commander are standout examples of faith and thanksgiving, and they might make us feel weak and ungrateful by comparison. But our second reading shows that even if we are disloyal, forgetful and unfaithful, Jesus will never turn away from us or forget his promises. We can reject him; He cannot reject us. And that is a very good reason to be thankful.

How do we begin to receive the healing God wants for us? (Which most often is inner healing—the physical healings of the Bible are usually signs, not simply manifestations of God’s love.) The first step is to recognize and admit our sicknesses, addictions and shortcomings. All too often we ignore the roots of our problems or pretend they do not exist.

Naaman knew what the matter was. He knew his disease was incurable, but as soon as he heard there was a healing prophet in a foreign land, he started packing for the journey.

The ten lepers in today’s Gospel had more than one problem. They were both sick and discriminated against. But they were ready to shout for help, asking for a sign of mercy and compassion from Jesus.

Do we share their awareness about our own innermost “disease”? Do we approach the Lord with such boldness and confidence? When compared with the Samaritan, are we conscious of the gifts we constantly receive from the Lord? Or do we take for granted all the generous blessings that have been poured upon us in our lives? How often do we praise and say “thank you” to the Lord?

For the Samaritan leper, healing meant more than being born again to normal life; he was born again to faith in Jesus. He was a new man in every respect. Some of us may have experienced the kind of healing that left us feeling like a new creature—perhaps it was healing from a serious illness, or an addiction, or a deep crisis. But all of us have 1001 reasons to be thankful to the Lord, who has given us this life and promised that we will live and reign with him in the next.

Fan the Flames of Faith (27.C)

Have you ever tried to build a fire with wood that wasn’t quite dry? It’s tough going. You pile on the kindling, but fifteen minutes later all you’ve got is smoldering logs.

But with a fireplace bellows—or good lungs, if you’re making a campfire—you can blow on those logs until all at once they catch fire and the flames leap up.

The same is true when the blazing fire you’d built has burned down to embers. Fan those embers and you’ve got a real fire again.

This is the image St. Paul is using in our second reading when he reminds Timothy to “rekindle” the gift of God he already has. Fan it into a flame, the Apostle says. You already have what you need to be a Christian leader, but your gifts have burned down into glowing coals when they should be Pentecostal tongues of fire.

In today’s Gospel, the Apostles ask Jesus to increase their faith, because they want Jesus to do the work, which is fair enough because He hasn’t yet sent them the Holy Spirit. But from the day of Pentecost onwards, Paul’s words to Timothy are the answer to that prayer: rekindle what you have already received, the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Of course it’s not just the apostles who pray “increase our faith.” Which one of us doesn’t feel that our faith falls short sometimes? Who doesn’t envy the person in the next pew who seems so much more prayerful than we are?

So St. Paul speaks to us, too. Or maybe he asks us a question. What have you done to fan into a flame the gifts of God you received in baptism and confirmation?

This is a very concrete question for every one of us. And we can make it more concrete still by asking ourselves some questions. If you are a man, what did you do yesterday? Because if you missed the Man Alive! conference, you missed a mighty wind of God’s Spirit that would have rekindled the faith of a weary soul.

If you are a woman, do you have the archdiocesan women’s conference on your calendar for next month?

Did you pray yesterday? Have you gone to confession recently? Did you do any spiritual reading in the past week, or check out a good Catholic blog?

Were you one of those who came to the first night of our course on prayer and contemplation on Wednesday? Fr. Elton Fernandes sure rekindled for me much I already knew but need to practice.

Did you find time last week to do some act of love that didn’t come easy? Did you do some small penance on Friday?

The Alpha course that begins tomorrow night is a way to share the Gospel with someone who may not know Christ. Sharing our faith is definitely a great way to rekindle it. But even an active Catholic will find that the course can revive the power of the central truths he or she already believes.

On Thursday night, St. Stephen's Parish in Lynn Valley begins the Life in the Spirit Seminar. The eight-week seminar is a sure path to revitalized faith in Jesus Christ and a personal experience of the Holy Spirit’s power.

In all these ways we invite the Spirit himself to send gusts of grace to inflame our hearts and to awaken the gifts we have already received in baptism and confirmation.

For my own sake as well as for yours, I am glad that the readings today offer such a practical challenge: because the Christian who is not on fire is something of a contradiction. In the Book of Revelation (3:15) the Lord laments those who are “lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold.” And in the Gospels, St. John the Baptist promises that Jesus will come to baptize “with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

Yes, we do pray that the Lord will increase our faith. But he wants us to use the gifts we have—by discovering them, developing them, and displaying them.

If there’s one thing I hope for as the end of the Year of Faith approaches, it’s that my faith and yours will burn brighter—hotter—than it did at the beginning. I pray that the gifts of power and love and self-discipline that we already have will be guarded as a treasure but also invested in daily life.

The Daily "Audit": A Wedding Homily for Accountants!

Some folks think I must have given up blogging (or preaching). Not so, but I've been both away and very busy on my return. Wasn't sure how I'd find the time to write a homily for the wedding of a wonderful young couple today, since I was out at our wildly-successful diocesan men's conference for the first part of the day.  Happily, the profound Ignatian spirituality course that Father Elton Fernandes, S.J.of St. Mark's College launched at the parish this week gave me the inspiration for a slightly unusual wedding homily.

The "examen" (the popular name for St. Ignatius's examination of conscience in n. 43 of his Spiritual Exercises) deserves a deeper treatment than I could give it here.  You might like to look at one of the websites that treat this spiritual treasure: there's helpful information here and here and here. Even better, you can read The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything by James Martin S.J., which has a good chapter on it, or a whole short book, The Examen Prayer by Timothy M. Gallagher. O.M.V.



I'm very well qualified to be marrying a pair of accountants, since I come from a long line of them.
My grandfather was a chartered accountant. My father was a chartered accountant. And so were my uncle, great-uncle and cousin.

On the other hand, I haven’t balanced a checkbook since I was twelve. And even then I was overdrawn.

Qualified or not, I found myself thinking about the accounting profession as I prepared some thoughts for this happy day. In fact, I could hardly avoid it, since this morning’s scripture reading in my prayer book was the passage where the Apostle Paul talks like someone keeping a ledger:

“When I was at Thessalonica,” he wrote to the Philippians, “you sent something for my needs… It is not that I am eager for the gift; rather, my concern is for the ever-growing balance in your account.

Herewith is my receipt, which says that I have been fully paid and more.”

But my thoughts for aspiring  C.A.s didn’t run in the direction of finances; today I want to talk about auditing.

What’s an audit? Of course you know the technical meaning, but the word’s often used outside your profession not only for the scrutiny of accounts but for any thorough check or examination of something. So today I want to propose something to you both: why not plan to audit yourselves each day?

Such an audit—usually known by other names, such as an examination of conscience—has a long history in the Christian tradition. By regularly taking stock of our relationship with God and with others, we nip problems in the bud—and, just as important—we learn to recognize the good things we might otherwise take for granted.

One of the best teachers of this subject is St. Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Jesuit order to which Pope Francis belongs. Ignatius proposed a practical way of taking a look at how our day had gone.

The saint suggested we begin with thanks to God for the blessings we received before moving on to the events of the day and our response to them—where we’d done well and where we hadn’t. The prayerful exercise ends by asking God’s forgiveness for our faults.

Over the centuries, wise men and women have adapted St. Ignatius method to suit different temperaments and times. This week a young Jesuit taught a class in the parish where he offered a version that’s ultra-simple and more focused on the positive than the negative.

At the end of each day, we ask ourselves “Where did I receive the most love today?” And then “Where did I give the most love today?”

Wouldn’t that kind of audit produce a report well worth thinking about? Wouldn’t a daily tally of good things done and received strengthen the marriage of any couple, accountants or not?

But of course good accountants need to work with what are called Generally Accepted Auditing Standards so their evaluation is objective and accurate.

Keely and Kyle, the readings you have chosen for this Wedding Mass are an excellent standard with which to examine each day of your married lives. The first reading, from the Book of Genesis, presents God’s basic plan for creation and society—married life, man and woman created for each other.

The second reading sets a high standard—a standard of love—and offers numerous criteria against which you can judge your progress in married love, indeed your progress in loving your children and everyone else you meet in the course of our day.

And, finally, the Gospel we’ve just heard ties the Old Testament reading directly to the New Covenant of Christ. Jesus quotes the Book of Genesis, making the original plan of creation an intimate part of the new creation He has inaugurated.

Kyle and Keely, I pray that you will live each day according to the glorious vision of married love these Scriptures reveal—and may you do so with courage, conviction, and the daily adjustments needed to persevere.

God bless you both!