THE LITURGICAL YEAR

Sermons, hymns, meditations and other musings to guide our annual pilgrim's progress through the liturgical year.

Sunday, January 29, 2017

SAVE US LORD, WE PERISH!

A SERMON FOR THE FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY


About a hundred years ago, the great Pope St. Pius X went to visit one of the colleges of Rome, where men were being trained for the holy priesthood.  And as he passed through the ranks of the seminarians, he stopped at one point, and asked one of them: “How many marks has the true Church of Christ?”  “Four, Your Holiness,” replied the seminarian.  “She is one, holy, catholic, and apostolic.”  “Very good,” said the elderly Pontiff.  “But there is another mark, the Church’s most conspicuous mark, the clearest of all the ways by which men may know the Church of Christ.  Does anyone know what it is?”  And no one answered.  “Well,” said the Pope, “I will tell you.  It is persecution.  We read in the Gospel: ‘If they have persecuted Me, they will also persecute you.’  Persecution is for us Catholics our daily bread, it is the surest sign that we are the disciples of Christ.”

So it is, and so it has always been.  Throughout the many centuries since the crucifixion, Holy Mother Church has been able continuously to echo St. Paul’s words, “I bear the wounds of Christ in my body.”  The Church bears the same stigmata as her Lord and founder—the disciple is not above the master.  She is persecuted and hated, just as all those who bear the truth and seek to restore morality to our society are persecuted and hated.  In the past few months we have seen a massive outbreak of this kind of hatred in our own society. 

For now at least, the hatred is being more or less confined to the political arena.  It is perpetrated by those whose fundamental goal is the total removal of God from society, whose fanatical creed is one of self-gratification, and whose sacraments are abortion, multi-culturalism, political correctness, feminism, same-sex marriage, climate change and euthanasia.  All of these are in conflict, directly or indirectly, with the teachings of the Church.  The propaganda against religion has already begun, especially in the media and the entertainment industry.  The attacks are becoming more direct, and we should expect that eventually it will be the Catholic Church that will receive the brunt of the persecution.  Pope Francis is doing his best to ward off this persecution—but that’s not a compliment.  By compromising the eternal truths, by instructing clergy and faithful to avoid polemics, especially when dealing with the evils of abortion and homosexuality, by writing encyclicals on global warming, by his passion for inclusiveness, by embracing the Muslim invasion of Europe—his methods show a single-minded intention not to defend the Church, but to betray it.

The Barque of Peter is rudderless in the storm she sails through today.  We must not become complacent in this new dawn of political change in Washington.  Just as great as our relief and our hope for a new future is the shock and dismay of the devil and his children.  The shockwave of hatred that was launched against the new President since the election is surely indicative that the devil must fear something from the tidal wave of change that seems to be sweeping across the political and cultural landscape.  The incoherent rantings of evil people, the unbridled and increasingly inarticulate hatred of their words, the incitements to violence and refusal to accept the constitutional laws of our land, all this indicates a certain desperation by the forces of evil at the sudden reawakening of truth and moral reason.  Where will this hatred end?  Are there any limits to how far these people will go?  The inevitable result of their surrender to hate will be open violence against decent people.

We should indeed place some hope in God’s answer to our prayers and the external improvements to our society.  But our hope must be cautious hope.  Personally, I have never seen the devil and his children so upset.  When the devil has a temper tantrum this bad, when his carefully devised plans to destroy our civilization are so unexpectedly thwarted, we can only expect that the men and women—and “others”—who follow him will launch a major offensive.  Satan’s last stand.  Our ship may have steered away from the rocks, but we still sail in stormy weather.  In fact, we may just be in the eye of the hurricane, experiencing a brief lull.  We must expect that at any moment, the great storm will resume its fury, and we may yet perish.

In answering our prayers last November, God reminds us that he is not asleep.  Not in any sense of the idea.  We have the word of our Lord that a sparrow cannot fall from the tree without the knowledge of our heavenly Father, and that our value is far greater than a sparrow. 

But this world needs to learn a lesson, and it was an evangelical Protestant who perhaps best explained what that lesson is.  Billy Graham’s daughter was being interviewed on the Early Show a few years ago.  It was just after Hurricane Katrina had caused such devastation in New Orleans and along the Gulf Coast, and she was asked how God could let something like this happen.  Here’s what Anne Graham replied: “I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out.  How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?”

The world doesn’t want God.  The world has NEVER wanted God.  On the contrary, the world has always persecuted those who follow him.  And in the 1960s, when John XXIII and his Second Vatican Council “opened the windows of the Church to the world”, they let the world into the Church, and drove Christ out.  Since then, our good and patient Lord has been waiting.  Sleeping if you like, but ever watchful, ever vigilant nevertheless.  He is waiting for us to come to our senses, to see that we are in peril, and to call upon his Name and act according to his truth and according to the charity which he commands.  “Save us, Lord:  we perish.” 

So we must repeat and repeat the words of the disciples as they were about to sink into the raging waters.  “Save us, Lord; we perish!”  And when we pray these words, let us not do so because we are men of little faith, as our Lord reprimanded the disciples.  Let’s pray these words with the full trust, knowledge and confidence that he that keepeth Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps, and that he who created the wind and the waves can calm them and restore them to their natural balance. 

A lot of people think that when God “wakes up”, he will come and destroy cities, and nations, as he once did Sodom and Gomorrah, for having defied his laws, that San Francisco will be reduced to rubble in a great earthquake, and that Hollywood will be swept out to sea.  Perhaps that will happen.  But in today’s Gospel, when the disciples called upon our Lord and woke him from his sleep, “he arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a great calm.”

After all the darkness, all the turmoil, all the division and arguing and fighting and striving to do what is right and stay afloat in this sea of iniquity, for the sake of our immortal souls let us pray for that great calm to descend upon us once more as we cry out to the God who hath made heaven and earth: “Save us Lord, we perish.”  Let God choose the right time when he will finally arise and rebuke the wind and the waves and restore true peace to the world.  “O Lamb of God, that takest away the sins of the world, grant us thy peace.”

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