In the Book of the Prophet Isaiah we find the announcement of the anointed of God, the promised Messiah. Eight centuries prior to our contemporary Christian era, the prophet Isaiah describes the mission of the Messiah, almost as if he was looking at the Messiah face to face. The prophet delivers a message with the promise of a future liberator, a message of hope.
Isaiah makes a wonderful depiction of the life and ministry of the future Messiah, but he doesn't use his own words, but he uses the words of God the Father saying, "Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen one with whom I am pleased, upon whom I have put my spirit; he shall bring forth justice to the nations, not crying out, not shouting, not making his voice heard in the street. A bruised reed he shall not break, a smoldering wick he shall not quench, until he establishes justice on the earth; the coastlands will wait for his teaching," (Is 42:1-4).
With these words and others, the prophet Isaiah describes the figure of the upcoming Messiah who is to come to be the light of the world, justice for the nations and freedom from the slavery of sin that oppressed His people. Isaiah describes the mission of the Messiah as someone who rebuilds what has been destroyed, as one who rescues His people from darkness, and reestablishes the lost harmony between the Creator and His people.
During this Jubilee Year of Mercy, these words of the prophet take on an even deeper meaning after Pope Francis' invitation to rediscover the redemptive mission of the Messiah, a mission of love, a mission of mercy. As we listen to the words of the prophet Isaiah describing the Anointed One of God, we immediately reflect on how these prophetic words are fulfilled in the Person, the life and ministry of Our Lord Jesus Christ – the quiet and humble servant since His birth, with a complete self-offering even to His death, death on a cross, (Phil 2:6-11). And Christ did all that to offer us the grace of redemption through the mercy of God.
It really jumped at me when Isaiah writes: "A bruised reed he shall not break, a smoldering wick he shall not quench" (Is 42:3). This verse is especially charged with a deep sense of the mercy and love of God, which is none other than His mercy. The bruised reed and the smoldering wick are metaphors for a weakened and wounded humanity, and they refer to the poor, the oppressed and the sinners. Part of that weakened humanity includes those lacking resources to live a life with dignity, those who have been excluded in our society – be it economically, politically or socially. This weak part of the human race is also composed of those oppressed by sin, personal and community sins, social sins; which happens when the Enemy leads people, communities and societies to fall in temptation and offend God. In general, our humanity is weakened and wounded by original sin, and its consequences are manifested in the different aspects of our daily living.
The Good News is that Jesus, the Christ, did not come to break this "bruised reed," our weak humanity, but He came to redeem it with the mercy of God the Father. Christ came to reestablish the lost harmony between God and man. Christ came to bring hope and break the chains of death and to open the doors of the Divine Mercy of God. "For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through Him" (Jn 3:17). Christ did not come into the world to burden our humanity, but He came into the world to relieve and to liberate it from the oppression of the evil one. "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Mt 11:28-30).
Such beautiful, consoling and forgiving words Our Lord Jesus Christ offers us! Our Messiah and Redeemer came to unburden us from the yoke and the inheritance of sin, and came to bring healing in His mercy and forgiveness.
During this Year of Mercy, let's not miss the opportunity to have an encounter with Jesus Christ, the Promised Messiah. Let's draw close to Him with sincere contrition for our sins, by making a good confession and by practicing the works of mercy: spiritual works of mercy such as instructing the ignorant, giving good counsel to those in need, consoling the sorrowful, forgiving offenses, praying for the dead, etc. And let's also practice the corporal works of mercy: Feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, visiting the sick and the imprisoned, sheltering the stranger and burying the dead. Let's show the world the mercy of God in Jesus Christ, Our Messiah and Redeemer.
May God bless you.
Father Fidel Melo is the vicar for Hispanic Ministry for the Diocese of Charlotte.
What we think is the right road
What is happiness? We are happy when we drink champagne, when our favorite team wins the Super Bowl, or we receive a high grade in a challenging class. We are happy when we are rewarded with a big promotion at work, or when we find recognition or fun in various activities. The dictionary says, simply, that happy means "feeling or causing pleasure." We have the right to the pursuit of happiness, just as it says in the Constitution.
But it's the wrong road
Actually, no, it ain't so: It's the Declaration of Independence that discusses the "pursuit of happiness" – and it's wrong. By "wrong," I mean that Thomas Jefferson probably should have mentioned that we must not pursue pleasure by any means or by every means, but let's cut him a little slack because, after all, his chief purpose was not to argue philosophy but to justify revolution.
In teaching philosophy or ethics to college students, I have found that the subject of happiness is a particularly difficult one to raise to abstract standards. Students just plain know when they are happy, and they initially defy the need for any analysis of it.
But upon reflection and interrogation (which is, after all, what philosophy is all about), they begin to admit that there have been occasions when they thought they were happy, but certain results, consequences and after-effects led to a sometimes agonizing re-appraisal.
So: sometimes we think we're happy when, really, we aren't? Would it be helpful if we could predict that what we were going to do would result in genuine, and not counterfeit, happiness?
Counterfeit happiness? That's the giddiness that often results after a few drinks. And the philosopher (or deacon) is obligated to say that the purposeful destruction of reason is (a) never a good thing and (b) always sinful.
But wait, you may object: How did you sneak in a homily here? What does "sin" have to do with all this?
Here, exactly, is fertile and fruitful ground for the Catholic philosopher, who goes on to say something like this: Have you ever thought that happy means blessed?
If you read Matthew, Chapter 5: 1-12, you encounter the Beatitudes: "Blessed are those..." But some sources give the translation not as "blessed" but as "happy." Suppose the philosopher then said: If you want to be happy, strive to be blessed – that is, to be holy.
But you may say that you "know" what it means to be happy, and holiness has nothing whatever to do with it. Until now.
Are you happy when you love your mom and dad? Your brothers and sisters? Or would you put certain bodily pleasures above such love?
Isn't the greatest pleasure the joy we receive from thinking and saying and doing those things we ought to (see the Catechism of the Catholic Church 1780)? ("Ought" may be the most important word in ethics, for it implies a standard beyond our own appetites and urges. Those are what I want; doing God's will is what I ought to want.)
So, you may object, you're telling me that to be really happy I have to be a "holy roller"?
No, not at all. But I am saying that to be happy we have to conform our ways and wills to God's. St. Paul tells us that in his Letter to the Romans (12:2). When we indulge our appetites despite knowing what we ought to do (from good education and formation), we will not be happy, we will be miserable. Maybe not immediately, but later, for sure. That's not being a "holy roller," it's being reasonable.
Think about this, too, please. I won't ask for your definition of freedom, but let me give you someone else's (actually, Archbishop Fulton Sheen's definition): Freedom is sinlessness. This definition is also in John 8:34. We do what we are, and we are what we continually do. (That's Aristotle.) Do-be-do-be-do. (That's Frank Sinatra.)
When we regularly sin, we condition ourselves to sin; we habituate ourselves to evil. Can evil bring anything except counterfeit happiness?
Shouldn't we try very hard to find the best thoughts, words and deeds – and practice them? Isn't it logical that these lead to real and lasting happiness, and that freedom means doing what we ought to do?
There is a close – a very close – connection among happiness, freedom and holiness. Joy ultimately means knowing, loving and serving God.
A long time ago, Dante told us that "In His will is our peace." Knowing and doing God's will-holiness-happiness-freedom-peace: it's of a piece. St. Thomas Aquinas, as is so often true, put it well: "Man cannot live without joy; therefore when he is deprived of true spiritual joys it is necessary that he become addicted to carnal pleasures."
And we can do better than that, can't we? Philosophy tells us we can. We should. We must.
Deacon James H. Toner serves at Our Lady of Grace Church in Greensboro.