Editor’s note: This homily was given Nov. 17, as the Church approached the end of the liturgical year. Deacon Najarian granted permission for its publication as a reflection during the penitential season of Lent in preparation for the joy of Easter.
“The sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from the sky … . And then they will see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory” (Mk 13:24-26).
Deacon Stephen Najarian
Holy mother Church presents for us in this Gospel Jesus’ prediction of the destruction of Jerusalem and ultimately the end of the world and his coming in glory to judge us.
Some rather frightening images are described: mighty signs like the darkening of the sun and moon, and the stars falling from the sky. Jesus gives us this teaching through his Church not to frighten us, but to reassure us that God saves us even in the midst of what seems like catastrophe. It’s clear that Jesus intends the moment of death and judgment to not be one of terror, fear and trembling, but a moment to be anticipated with longing, hopefulness and joy. And this longing and joy without fear is the fruit of a life of faithfulness.
Mark Ji Tianxiang was born in 1834 in southeastern China to a Catholic family. He grew up to become a respected physician and member of the community. In his mid-30s he developed a stomach ailment and treated himself with opium, one of the only things available in his day for treatment of pain. Unfortunately, he became addicted. He fought hard against this addiction and prayed for deliverance. He went to confession frequently, but after a few years his confessor denied him absolution, apparently not understanding the nature of addictions and the loss of free will which lessens moral culpability.
In spite of this, Mark Ji continued to faithfully attend Mass and practice his faith as best he could without the benefit of receiving the sacraments. Between 1899 and 1901, there was a movement in China by a group known as the Society of Righteous and Harmonious Fists to eliminate all foreign and Christian influence. The members practiced a form of Chinese martial arts, and the movement became known as the Boxer Rebellion. During this two-year period, more than 32,000 Chinese Christians and 200 foreign missionaries were killed. In 1900, these Chinese nationalists arrested Mark Ji, along with dozens of other Christians, including his son, six grandchildren and two daughters-in-law.
During the mock trial, Mark Ji was given the chance to deny the faith but refused. On July 7, 1900, he and his family members were led to their execution. His grandson asked fearfully where they were going, to which Mark Ji answered, “We’re going home.”
Mark Ji insisted that he be killed last so that his family would not have to die alone. And as he awaited his own execution, he sang the Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary. He was beatified as a martyr by Pope Pius XII in 1946 and canonized a saint by St. John Paul II on Oct. 1, 2000 — the martyr saint who unwillingly endured his addiction but willingly suffered for Jesus Christ. His crown of glory came not from his victory over his weakness, but from his faithfulness unto death in the midst of his weakness.
Most of us live obscure, hidden lives, spending our days in work that is often monotonous, and only occasionally exciting. But this is precisely the means God uses to save us. By cooperating with his grace in our daily tasks, large and small, he develops in us the virtues that prepare us for eternal life. Our sanctity depends not so much on our worldly or even spiritual successes, but on our faithfully continuing the struggle. As put so well by St. Teresa of Kolkata, “God does not call us to be successful, but faithful.” And this faithfulness, this persevering, is not the same as achieving moral or behavioral perfection, which eludes most of us. Faithfully persevering means making the effort, in continually trying in the midst of many failures.
Achieving the goal of heaven, of being a saint, is in a certain sense like climbing a steep, high mountain. We begin, and succeed, one step at a time. God is doing most of the work by pulling us up by the support rope, and we do our part by making the climb. We make strides, and then there are rockslides and a loss of progress; there are sometimes avalanches and a great fall. But we keep trying, keep making the effort, keep holding on to the rope, and eventually reach the summit. The Christian life is not usually one success after another, one large growth in virtue after another, one more victory over our faults after another, but one of slow progress with a lot of setbacks, each marked by the effort to begin again. We sin, we repent, we confess, we fall, we get up, we fall, we get up again with God’s grace, with trust not in ourselves, but in God’s strength and mercy. The only real failure is in not making the effort, in giving up, in succumbing to terminal discouragement, in not trusting that the Lord will see us through.
We ought not make a peace treaty with sin, with mediocrity, but at the same time, our essential progress in virtue and holiness, our deeper union with God, may not be so much in the absolute victory over our defects, but in the crown that comes from an undying perseverance, with faith and trust in God’s sovereignty. We pray that our Father will welcome us to our place at the eternal banquet secured for us by Christ, even as he knows well our many failures, for our efforts are more important than our successes, and his mercy is greater than our sin.
We often find it easy to be critical of ourselves and our flaws, and especially critical of others in their failures, and miss the point that the merit there is from making the effort. I think the Lord is so very pleased with our effort, our will to do the good, our desire to be a saint, even as we fail in our actions because of our many weaknesses. For it is in our failures that we come to rely ever more on him and his strength and his grace.
The late, great Teddy Roosevelt –– politician, statesman, soldier, conservationist and naturalist, historian, police chief and 26th president of the United States, writing from a secular standpoint but with a lot of wisdom, put it this way: “It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.”
Our destiny as Christians is not to be with cold, timid souls, but in the courageous company of the saints, in the warm glow of the fire of God’s love, before the throne of the heavenly Father, in the presence of our savior, Jesus Christ, in the eternal peace and joy of the Holy Spirit. This is our worthy cause. It is for union with the most holy Trinity that we strive valiantly. It is for this crown of eternal glory that we spend ourselves and keep pressing on in the midst of our failures. It is to attain life on high that we strive to remain faithful. And if we do, at the frightening sight of the sun and moon going dark and the stars falling from the sky, we will not have fear, but will wait with a joyful expectation and peace of heart, to see the “Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory.”
For us who have tried to be faithful, what an awesome sight indeed!
Deacon Najarian ministers at St. Charles Borromeo in Minneapolis. He can be reached at deaconsnajarian@stchb.org
Relying on God’s strength and mercy
Deacon Stephen Najarian
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Editor’s note: This homily was given Nov. 17, as the Church approached the end of the liturgical year. Deacon Najarian granted permission for its publication as a reflection during the penitential season of Lent in preparation for the joy of Easter.
“The sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from the sky … . And then they will see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory” (Mk 13:24-26).
Holy mother Church presents for us in this Gospel Jesus’ prediction of the destruction of Jerusalem and ultimately the end of the world and his coming in glory to judge us.
Some rather frightening images are described: mighty signs like the darkening of the sun and moon, and the stars falling from the sky. Jesus gives us this teaching through his Church not to frighten us, but to reassure us that God saves us even in the midst of what seems like catastrophe. It’s clear that Jesus intends the moment of death and judgment to not be one of terror, fear and trembling, but a moment to be anticipated with longing, hopefulness and joy. And this longing and joy without fear is the fruit of a life of faithfulness.
Mark Ji Tianxiang was born in 1834 in southeastern China to a Catholic family. He grew up to become a respected physician and member of the community. In his mid-30s he developed a stomach ailment and treated himself with opium, one of the only things available in his day for treatment of pain. Unfortunately, he became addicted. He fought hard against this addiction and prayed for deliverance. He went to confession frequently, but after a few years his confessor denied him absolution, apparently not understanding the nature of addictions and the loss of free will which lessens moral culpability.
In spite of this, Mark Ji continued to faithfully attend Mass and practice his faith as best he could without the benefit of receiving the sacraments. Between 1899 and 1901, there was a movement in China by a group known as the Society of Righteous and Harmonious Fists to eliminate all foreign and Christian influence. The members practiced a form of Chinese martial arts, and the movement became known as the Boxer Rebellion. During this two-year period, more than 32,000 Chinese Christians and 200 foreign missionaries were killed. In 1900, these Chinese nationalists arrested Mark Ji, along with dozens of other Christians, including his son, six grandchildren and two daughters-in-law.
During the mock trial, Mark Ji was given the chance to deny the faith but refused. On July 7, 1900, he and his family members were led to their execution. His grandson asked fearfully where they were going, to which Mark Ji answered, “We’re going home.”
Mark Ji insisted that he be killed last so that his family would not have to die alone. And as he awaited his own execution, he sang the Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary. He was beatified as a martyr by Pope Pius XII in 1946 and canonized a saint by St. John Paul II on Oct. 1, 2000 — the martyr saint who unwillingly endured his addiction but willingly suffered for Jesus Christ. His crown of glory came not from his victory over his weakness, but from his faithfulness unto death in the midst of his weakness.
Most of us live obscure, hidden lives, spending our days in work that is often monotonous, and only occasionally exciting. But this is precisely the means God uses to save us. By cooperating with his grace in our daily tasks, large and small, he develops in us the virtues that prepare us for eternal life. Our sanctity depends not so much on our worldly or even spiritual successes, but on our faithfully continuing the struggle. As put so well by St. Teresa of Kolkata, “God does not call us to be successful, but faithful.” And this faithfulness, this persevering, is not the same as achieving moral or behavioral perfection, which eludes most of us. Faithfully persevering means making the effort, in continually trying in the midst of many failures.
Achieving the goal of heaven, of being a saint, is in a certain sense like climbing a steep, high mountain. We begin, and succeed, one step at a time. God is doing most of the work by pulling us up by the support rope, and we do our part by making the climb. We make strides, and then there are rockslides and a loss of progress; there are sometimes avalanches and a great fall. But we keep trying, keep making the effort, keep holding on to the rope, and eventually reach the summit. The Christian life is not usually one success after another, one large growth in virtue after another, one more victory over our faults after another, but one of slow progress with a lot of setbacks, each marked by the effort to begin again. We sin, we repent, we confess, we fall, we get up, we fall, we get up again with God’s grace, with trust not in ourselves, but in God’s strength and mercy. The only real failure is in not making the effort, in giving up, in succumbing to terminal discouragement, in not trusting that the Lord will see us through.
We ought not make a peace treaty with sin, with mediocrity, but at the same time, our essential progress in virtue and holiness, our deeper union with God, may not be so much in the absolute victory over our defects, but in the crown that comes from an undying perseverance, with faith and trust in God’s sovereignty. We pray that our Father will welcome us to our place at the eternal banquet secured for us by Christ, even as he knows well our many failures, for our efforts are more important than our successes, and his mercy is greater than our sin.
We often find it easy to be critical of ourselves and our flaws, and especially critical of others in their failures, and miss the point that the merit there is from making the effort. I think the Lord is so very pleased with our effort, our will to do the good, our desire to be a saint, even as we fail in our actions because of our many weaknesses. For it is in our failures that we come to rely ever more on him and his strength and his grace.
The late, great Teddy Roosevelt –– politician, statesman, soldier, conservationist and naturalist, historian, police chief and 26th president of the United States, writing from a secular standpoint but with a lot of wisdom, put it this way: “It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.”
Our destiny as Christians is not to be with cold, timid souls, but in the courageous company of the saints, in the warm glow of the fire of God’s love, before the throne of the heavenly Father, in the presence of our savior, Jesus Christ, in the eternal peace and joy of the Holy Spirit. This is our worthy cause. It is for union with the most holy Trinity that we strive valiantly. It is for this crown of eternal glory that we spend ourselves and keep pressing on in the midst of our failures. It is to attain life on high that we strive to remain faithful. And if we do, at the frightening sight of the sun and moon going dark and the stars falling from the sky, we will not have fear, but will wait with a joyful expectation and peace of heart, to see the “Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory.”
For us who have tried to be faithful, what an awesome sight indeed!
Deacon Najarian ministers at St. Charles Borromeo in Minneapolis. He can be reached at deaconsnajarian@stchb.org
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