Homily: 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Readings: Amos 8:4-7; Ps 113; 1Tim 2:1-8; Lk 16:1-13

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An angel appears at the faculty meeting of a large Catholic university and tells the academic dean he’s come to reward him for years of devoted service. He tells the dean to choose one of three blessings: infinite wealth, infinite fame, or infinite wisdom. Without hesitation, the dean asks for infinite wisdom. 

“You got it!” says the angel, then disappears.

All heads turn toward the dean, who sits glowing in the aura of wisdom. Silence fills the room, but finally, one old professor leans over and whispers to him, “Say something wise.”

The dean looks out at them all and says, “I should have taken the money.”

I guess academics can occasionally be funny.

Some years ago, when I was working at a Catholic college, I was involved in a conversation about the Gospels with an English professor. An agnostic, he claimed he'd lost his faith because he found the Bible “too depressing.”

“There’s no humor in the Bible,” he said, “even the Gospels. Everything is about sin and damnation. And Jesus never laughs. I can’t worship a God who doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

Well, before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “What do you mean? He created you, didn’t he?”

Ok, it was neither charitable nor well-received, but it was one of my better one-liners. Of course, I regret it to this day…kind of.

In truth, Scripture is full of humor; just read the book of Jonah. It’s a very funny book. And we actually encounter a lot of humor in the Gospels. I’ll admit, much of it is subtle – after all the four Evangelists weren’t stand-up comics – and recognizing it demands some knowledge of the culture and the times on the part of the reader.

The parable in today’s Gospel passage from Luke is a good example. It’s really a very funny story. Jesus surely meant His listeners to laugh at this steward, a complete scoundrel – lazy and dishonest, until it all finally caught up with him.

Although his boss fired him, he first demanded a full accounting of his stewardship.

Despite his dishonesty in business, the steward was remarkably honest about his own capabilities. He didn’t deny his sinfulness, and he recognized his limitations. How did he put it? Too weak to dig ditches and too proud to beg. But over time he’d evolved into a pretty clever crook. Looking to the future, he ingratiated himself with his boss’ debtors by reducing their debts.

Jesus doesn’t applaud the dishonesty of the steward, and the steward doesn’t get his job back. No, Jesus praises him only for acting shrewdly in response to his personal crisis. The punch line of the story is where Jesus says:

“…make friends for yourselves with dishonest wealth, so that when it fails, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.”

In other words, take your assets, your gifts, your cleverness, your self-knowledge, and your drive for self-preservation and spend it on that which is lasting -- that which has true value -- that which can’t be stolen or taken away by others.

Jesus isn’t telling us to imitate the dishonesty of the steward. Not at all. No, Jesus is telling us that to navigate our way in this world successfully, we must use our wits, the gift of our intelligence. We must focus on the important, lasting, holy road to salvation, a road paved with acts of love.

It’s the same message we find in John’s Gospel where Jesus tells us to act fully in the world, but not to be of the world. Jesus is telling his disciples, and He’s telling us: Use money, tainted as it is, to win friends, and thus make sure that when it fails you, they will welcome you into eternity.

Is He referring to the fair-weather friends who are sure to appear when we throw our money around? No, do we really think they have the power to welcome us into the Kingdom of God? Not hardly.

Neither is He referring to the parable’s dishonest merchants, the kind who work on the “you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours” principle.

So, who are these friends that we should cultivate and who will welcome us into God’s Kingdom? The answer’s right there in today’s first reading from the Prophet Amos.

Amos, not one of the professional prophets, was a simple fig-farmer and shepherd in Judea when God called him to prophesy to His people in the wealthy northern kingdom of Israel.

There he focused God’s message on these wealthy folks, on those who played a hypocritical role in the ritual worship of God, while at the same time ignoring God's will and exploiting the poor.

Amos uses powerful language, accusing the exploiters of buying up the poor as if they were just another commodity to be traded.

Yes, he told them, God sees what you do and will not forget your deeds.

Amos lived almost 2,800 years ago and yet his words have lost none of their impact.

The Gospel proclaims the same message, what the Church calls the preferential option for the poor.

How fitting that the first to hear the Good News were the poor shepherds of Bethlehem.

Yes, Jesus announced the Gospel first to the lowly, not to the great and powerful, and His public ministry continued that pattern.

He consistently sought out those on society’s outskirts: the poor, the helpless, the public sinners, the lepers, the despised, the world’s rejects and outcasts.

His Church, that’s us, struggles to do the same today, continuing His ministry to the poor and outcast of the world.

And the "poor" are not simply those deprived of material goods.

The poor are those who have no defense, those who cannot help themselves, those who have only God…and God's people.

Of course, Jesus ministered as well to the rich and powerful, but more often than not, it was to correct them, to tell them to let go of their greed, their pride, their hypocrisy.

And to remind them that everything they have is a temporary gift, one that belongs to God, not to them. They are mere custodians, stewards of God’s creation.

Yes, Jesus spent most of His time with the poor and calls us to do the same.

It is among them that his continual ministry of healing is mainly carried out.

It’s through this ministry that He continues to encourage them and console them and heal them.

And so, the friends Jesus is telling us to cultivate are the poor and helpless of this world, for it is they who will welcome us into the Kingdom.

There’s a perfect echo of this in chapter 25 of the Gospel of Matthew: Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers that you do unto me.

Here Jesus specifically identifies Himself with the poorest of the poor. He makes it the clear duty of the disciple to serve his master by serving them.

Now we can serve them, by sitting down in our comfortable homes and writing checks to Catholic Charities. And that’s a good thing to do. After all they need the cash.

But how about really serving the poor, by getting up-close and personal with the least of our Lord’s sisters and brothers?

That doesn’t come natural to a lot of folks, but even if we’re a long way from being at ease with everyone, I can promise it’s well worth it, for them and for you.

The soup kitchen, the food pantry, our outreach ministries, our jail and prison ministry, our Eucharistic ministry to the sick and homebound, and so much more.

Ronald Knox, the English convert and theologian of the last century, referring to this Gospel parable, wrote:

“This parable is only meant to emphasize a single point – that we must make proper use of our worldly goods while we have still time to do it.”

And in this parish, many of us don’t have a lot of time – the time to gain the only thing that matters in the end: the kingdom of God. We are in the time of grace; we are in the time when God has mercy on us and gives unsparingly. But when the time comes, at the end of our lives, for us to appear before God, the time of grace will have ended.

Mary, our Blessed Mother, prophesied in her wonderful prayer, her Magnificat, that Jesus would lift up the lowly. And to Mary we acknowledge our sinfulness when we surrender “the hour of our death” to her care. We will then face the moment of divine justice and mercy.

But unlike the steward in the Gospel, we don’t have to wait until the last minute. We can and should begin today.

If Jesus can love those who are despised by the world, then so can we.

If Jesus can speak words of encouragement and healing to those who need it most, then so can we.

If Jesus can touch the leper and forgive the sinners He encounters, then so can we.

The Faith of the Left

I didn’t know Charlie Kirk. I’d neither met him, nor corresponded with him. I caught him a few times on TV, usually as he was interviewed by newspeople, or as a guest on a few opinion shows. Intrigued by this young man, I later watched the online video coverage of one of his interactive visits to a college. This was several years ago and I can’t recall the college or university involved, but that really doesn’t matter. I suspect Charlie Kirk dealt with all others in much the same generous, warm-hearted way, regardless of the venue. What truly impressed me, and I suppose surprised me, was his openness, his willingness to listen to a wide range of opinions, many of them absolutely crazy, and debate them graciously, respectfully, and kindly. And yet he never backed down. He never denied that which was most important to him. Charlie Kirk was remarkably consistent and open in his beliefs. And those beliefs all derived from his deeply held Christian faith. This was apparent whenever he spoke about what I’ll call his mission in today’s world.

Now, in our traditional American culture, one would think that someone like Charlie Kirk, who openly and strongly supported our Constitution's First Amendment — its protection of religion, speech, the press, and the right to assemble peaceably — would be almost universally praised. But no, a significant minority of Americans despises Kirk, and continues to despise him, even in death. They have habitually called this young man, who celebrated religious freedom and free speech, a Nazi, a fascist, and the reincarnation of Adolf Hitler. No rational person can overlook the irony here. That those who glorify the intended silencing of Kirk through a political (really a religious or spiritual) assassination have the temerity to call him a fascist is remarkable, and yet understandable considering its source.

What’s behind it all? Well, you might not agree with me, and that’s okay. But I believe all the hatred directed toward Charlie Kirk and so many others has its roots in a visceral hatred of God and in particular of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. You see, the left, even those who claim to be believers, have seemingly turned away from the one, true God and instead turned their ideology into a little god. Their leftist ideology has become that which they worship, that which must be accepted by all. Anyone who rejects this ideology must be stopped. How best to stop them? Use language. Call them the worst things imaginable: Hitler, fascist, Nazi… This allows them to respond to an almost predictable assassination by saying, “Well, what did you expect? He deserved it!” Yes, indeed, they plant the seeds, turning language into a weapon, one gladly picked up and used by their cadre of “useful idiots”, thoroughly brainwashed via the very worst of social media. 

If you know history, you’ll know Marxists have always hated the God who created them, especially the God who redeemed them from their sinfulness, Jesus Christ. They have tried to exterminate God from the world, a fruitless task, by destroying believers. But as Tertullian reminded the early persecuted Christians, “The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church.” 

Charlie Kirk was right, and so is his grieving widow, Erika, who only two days after his death courageously exposed the stupidity of the left to the world. The haters don’t know what they have unleashed. Charlie Kirk and the vision he brought to life will continue and will grow in ways never imagined. God bless Charlie, his family, and those who will carry his vision forward. Oh, yes, continue to pray for our country, asking God’s will be done, for it is always good. 

Paddy Cole, R.I.P.

It's not often you meet someone, quite accidentally, enjoy and hour or so with them, and then later discover they're really quite famous. Now Paddy Cole might not have been a leading celebrity here in the USA, but in Ireland he was well known across multiple generations. Of course, when Diane and I met him, under the most casual of circumstances, we simply thought he was wonderfully pleasant, a kind and humble man, far more interested in learning about us than telling us about himself. 

Back in September 2012, Diane and I traveled to Ireland to spend a week or so with our dear friends, Nancy and Dave Lee. The primary purpose of the trip was to attend the Navy-Notre Dame football game being played in Dublin that year. (Dave and I are both Naval Academy graduates.) I won't discuss the game, which was more than a little one-sided, but still made for an enjoyable day.

While Diane and I stayed at a local B&B, the Lees had booked a room at one of Dublin's nice hotels. As it turned out their hotel happened to be hosting a fundraising event for a Catholic parish, complete with food, drink, entertainment, and dancing. 

Before the festivities began, Diane allowed me to quench my thirst, and we sat down at a one of the hotel's outdoor tables. As I sipped my Guinness, a man approached and asked if he could join us. Of course we agreed. And thus, we met Paddy Cole.

Here's a photo I took that day as Paddy played his saxophone and entertained an enthusiastic crowd: 

Paddy Cole Entertaining us in Dublin

It was obvious Paddy knew we were Americans and just launched into a subtle Q&A about our lives. When we asked about his, he mentioned he was there to play the sax, sing, and otherwise entertain for the parish fundraiser. This led us to ask more about his music and background, and we soon discovered he'd had quite a history as an entertainer not only in Ireland, but also in Las Vegas. After a few years, however, he decided Vegas was no place to raise a family and wisely returned to Ireland.

Before he left us to take the stage, we swapped email addresses and phone numbers. As you'd expect, I googled him that evening and learned all about this remarkable man who was a legendary showband superstar in Ireland.

Although we met him only once, I did go on to correspond with him occasionally over the years, usually just brief emails. We'd write about things he'd mentioned on his radio show (I was able to listen to it online) or he'd mention something I wrote about in my blog. Ours was by no means a close friendship, and in the years since our first meeting in 2012, we might have swapped about a dozen emails. 

I hadn't heard from Paddy in a year or so, but given all the busyness of my life, I thought little of it. Then a few days ago, looking for something else, I accidentally stumbled on an obituary in the Irish Times.

Paddy Cole died in January at the age of 85 as a result of lung cancer, diagnosed several years before. It was an honor to know this man, if only briefly and certainly not deeply. As a man of faith, he is surely safely held in our merciful God's loving embrace. 

Rest in peace, Paddy. It was great knowing you.

Homily: Tuesday, 20th week in Ordinary Time (Year 1)

Readings: Jgs 6:11-24a • Ps 85 • Mt 19:23-30

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Today’s readings always make me more than a little uncomfortable.

Our first reading from Judges really addresses something we’ve all encountered. No, we all don’t have to face armies of nomadic Midianites out to destroy us. But we’ve all experienced times in our lives when things seemed to be crumbling, when all that we hoped for seemed suddenly unattainable. Or when work problems or family problems or health problems just erupted and got to the point where we simply couldn’t handle them well.

And so, like Gideon, we turn to God and ask that question: “Dear Lord, You know I’m faithful; if You’re with me, why is this happening?”

We pray every day, we attend Mass, we read our Bible, we do what we can to serve the poor and we give freely of our treasure to those in need. How come God doesn’t seem to see all the good we’re doing?

And then, inevitably, when all seems to be going so wrong, God brings some level of healing into our lives. We come to realize there’s only so much we can do ourselves, that the only real solution is to let God handle it, most often by leading us to where we need to be.

Unlike Gideon, one of the Judges of the Israelites, God has never sent an angel to guide me – at least one that I could see. But He has sent me others – perhaps they were angels – but they were often the least likely people, and yet they inevitably showed me the way.

Looking back on my odd life, I find myself concluding that God is truly responsible for all the accomplishments I like to take credit for. But it’s not just my successes that are touched with pride. Even in my failures, I find it hard to admit that I was the cause…and that’s pride too.

Yes, it’s all pride. St. Augustine called pride "the love of one's own excellence." I’ve come to think that sums it up pretty well. When we’re doing well, it’s hard to admit that everything is a gift from God.

Then, we’re faced with today’s Gospel passage. After the sad meeting with the rich young man who could not accept Jesus’ invitation to be a disciple, Our Lord comments on the effects of wealth. In doing so, He offers us the wonderful metaphor that it’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God. Some say Jesus was referring to a narrow gate in Jerusalem’s city wall called the “eye of the needle.” But if so, that still means little, since He’s really telling us it’s next to impossible – except for God.

So, what does the Gospel mean by being rich? I think it means having a large surplus while around us are so many who lack the basic needs of life. With all that going on around us, but too often unnoticed, how can we claim to belong to the Kingdom, the reign of God, which is a kingdom of love and justice?

Later in his Gospel, in chapter 25, Matthew describes our judgment, at a time when Jesus equates Himself with those in deepest need.

“I was hungry, you gave me no food; I was thirsty, you gave me no drink; a stranger, you didn’t welcome me; naked, you didn’t clothe me; ill and in prison, and you did not care for me.”

When I hear this, and stop, and look inward, I see all the things that trouble me, everything that takes up my time, all the stuff I think is so very important…and discover it all has nothing to do with caring for "the least" of Jesus' brothers and sisters.

And yet, this is how we will be judged. It’s all about how we use the gifts God has given us. You see, it all belongs to Him, not to us. And so, we’re called to return it all to him, by serving those He loves.

Dear friends, God is omniscient; He knows and sees everything we do, and it gives Him great joy when we live the Gospel.

But for too many today, this is a hard thing to accept, a hard thing to do, especially here in our little Florida island of moderate affluence.

Homily: 20th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

Readings: Jer 38:4-6,8-10; Ps 40; Heb 12:1-4, 8-19; Lk 12:49-53

As a deacon and an old, retired Navy Captain, I’m often asked to conduct committal services at the National Cemetery in Bushnell. It’s a wonderful opportunity to minister to our veterans, their spouses, and their families…always a true honor.

Often, as I conduct a committal service, I’ll turn to chapter 12 of the Letter to the Hebrews, from which we receive today’s second reading. The chapter begins with the author telling us:

“We are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.”

This “cloud of witnesses” refers to the saints of the Old Covenant who paved the way for its fulfillment in the Incarnation of Jesus Christ. But there at the national cemetery I point to the graves of a different cloud of witnesses, the men and women who served our country faithfully and honorably in times of war and peace. Yes, indeed, “so great a cloud of witnesses,” that call us back to too many wars and conflicts.

Today’s readings, for example, brought Winston Churchill to mind. Sorry, but that’s the way my aging mind works. Things enter it unbidden. Anyway, in May of 1940, as the new Prime Minister of the UK, Churchill delivered his first speech to the House of Commons. An electrifying speech, it united the nation behind his leadership as it waged war against an evil, yet strong and determined, Nazi Germany, a speech in which Churchill uttered perhaps his most famous words:

"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat. We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many, many long months of struggle and of suffering."

These weren’t comforting words, but they were necessary words, harsh, motivating words – words of truth that, despite the metaphors, told it like it is.

We encounter something similar in our first reading. The prophet Jeremiah foretells the hard truth about the upcoming victory of the Chaldeans, the taking of Jerusalem, and the long captivity in Babylon. Many in Judah didn’t want to hear all this bad news – so harsh and blunt – so they try to kill God’s prophet, foolishly thinking that will change God’s Word.

In our Gospel passage, Luke proclaims Jesus’ Word. It, too, seems harsh, so harsh that some, even today, resist it, and come away puzzled.

How can Jesus, the Prince of Peace, tell us that He has come “not to establish peace on the earth…but rather division”? That’s not all. He also says He will be the cause of this division, He has “come to set the earth on fire.” Then He adds those remarkable words: “And how I wish it were already blazing.”

These are indeed harsh words, the kind of words many Christians try to ignore, thinking that maybe Jesus was just having a bad day. He really didn’t mean it. Did He?

Churchill was acceptable to his countrymen so long as he was waging war. Once the war ended, he was tossed out of office. For some Christians, and for too many others,  Jesus is acceptable only when He speaks of peace and love and forgiveness. They want their Kumbaya Jesus; but, in truth, Jesus meant everything He said.

Too often we see and hear only the Jesus we’d like Him to be, and ignore the real Jesus, forgetting that the God of truth and fire also speaks to us.

Remember last Sunday’s Gospel, how Jesus reminded us of the demands of discipleship?

"Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more" [Lk 12:48}.

These, too, were not easy words for us, indeed, for all Christians who are entrusted with so much. Today’s Gospel words are no different; but let’s look at them more closely, in the context of Jesus’ total teaching, and see what He’s really telling us. The first thing He says:

“I have come to bring fire to the earth.”

Does He speak of the fire of war and destruction? Well, we can’t deny war and destruction; it surrounds us today and plagues our world. And God certainly lets it happen.

But here Jesus is talking about something else. Here He speaks of a fire that cleanses and purifies, the fire of God’s light, the fire of God’s truth, the fire of God’s Holy Presence among us.

It’s the fire Moses encountered when he approached the burning bush on Mount Horeb. This fire that didn’t consume called Moses to discipleship and holiness; it’s a fire that forms and reforms us even today.

It’s also the pillar of fire that led God’s People out of slavery and through the desert on their journey to freedom, to the Land promised by the Father. It’s a fire that calls us and leads us to Him.

It’s the righteous, sacrificial fire the prophet Elijah called down on the altar of God at Mt. Carmel – a fire in which all present saw the greatness of the God of Israel, and the emptiness, the nothingness of the world’s false gods.

It’s the fire of the burning ember that touched Isaiah’s lips and removed his wickedness and purged the prophet’s sin so he could proclaim God’s Word to His people.

In every instance, it’s the unquenchable fire of the Holy Spirit, the same Holy Spirit who appeared as tongues of fire that inspired Mary and the first disciples as they prayed together in the upper room.

Yes, indeed, Jesus calls for fire, a fire of purification.

It’s a fire of a new creation, the fire that brings the Church into being at Pentecost and continues to cleanse and purify her, always calling her back to her holy beginnings.

It’s the Holy Spirit’s painful fire that calls us to repentance and conversion, demanding that we reject the world’s false promises. But it’s also a fire of liberation, a fire that frees us from our slavery to sin and leads us to the freedom of God’s Kingdom.

And then Jesus tells us:

“There is a baptism with which I must be baptized, and how great is my anguish until it is accomplished.”

These words, too, confuse a lot of folks.

Didn’t Jesus already undergo a Baptism when John baptized Him in the Jordan? Yes, but for Jesus His Baptism by John is an example for us; but it’s also a sign, a manifestation of the Trinity: Jesus experiencing the descending dove of the Holy Spirit and the confirming words of the Father. So, what kind of Baptism is Jesus talking about here?

In the early Church, and in many churches today, Baptism is a total immersion in its saving waters. Consider how the Church’s funeral rite begins…

“In Baptism, she died with Christ and rose with Him to new life. May she now share with Him eternal glory.”

Immersed in the waters of Baptism, we die with Christ and become a sign of His suffering and death. Rising from the waters of Baptism, we become a sign of His Resurrection, looking to our own resurrection on the last day.

Is this “Baptism” on the Cross the one to which Jesus must be baptized? His words answer the question.

“…how great is my anguish until it is accomplished.”

Finally, Jesus tells us:

“Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.”

Many are confused and alarmed by these words as well. Doesn’t the Gospel preach bringing God’s peace to the world? Doesn’t Jesus tell us to love each other? Aren’t the peacemakers the “children of God?” And perhaps, most alarming, could these words encourage Christians to reject peaceful solutions to the problems that divide us?

Sadly, such questions betray a lack of understanding, not only of Jesus’ teaching, but also of human nature itself.

With these words Jesus gives His disciples, including us, a prophetic glance into the future, showing us how the world will respond to the Good News of the Gospel, of Jesus Christ.

God doesn’t will such divisions, but it’s something that we should expect to encounter. Indeed, it began when Jews and Gentiles called for Jesus’ crucifixion. And it’s been going on ever since.

Christianity and its teachings have not simply been rejected by many, but are also seen as the greatest threat to the plans and schemes of those seeking to gain or maintain power in the world.

It began with the Pharaohs, the Canaanites and Philistines, the Scribes and Pharisee, Sadducees, Greeks and Romans. And it continues today with Communists, fascists, Islamists, atheists, secularists…you name it. Stalin once mockingly asked, “How many divisions does the Pope have?” And yet, ironically, it was the faith of persecuted Polish Catholics that began the liberation of Eastern Europe from the Soviet yoke.

Indeed, there were more Christian martyrs in the 20^th century than all previous centuries combined. Where there is persecution, there is tremendous faith. And it’s always been that way. Tertullian, the 2^nd-century Early Church Father, said it well: "The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church."

Perhaps most fittingly, the preacher in Hebrews concludes today’s passage reminding his 1^st-century Christians:

“In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding blood.”

Yes, “not yet” – perhaps the same thing can be said to us.

Today, while Christianity in the modern, oh-so-civilized West seems to be in decline, in Africa and Asia its growth is dramatic, and so too is the number of martyrs.

The Church, as it defends the truth, demands justice, calls to respect life and human dignity, and pleads for freedom – these will create division.

Jesus reminds us that being a Christian is never easy. Yes, the peacemakers are blessed, but so too are those who suffer persecution for the sake of righteousness. Jesus doesn’t separate the two, and neither can we.

 

Jim Lovell, R.I.P.

We lost a truly remarkable man on Thursday. Jim Lovell, Navy Captain, Naval Aviator, Gemini and Apollo astronaut, and all-around terrific guy died at the age of 97. I won’t go on about his many accomplishments since you can read all about them on any of the many online obituaries posted to the Internet. I’d rather just say a few words about how I got to know this man who is one of our nation’s true heroes.

Flying Recovery Helo for Apollo 13

I met Jim Lovell on the morning of April 17, 1970, when our crewmen hoisted him and two other astronauts aboard our Navy SH-3D helicopter not long after their Apollo 13 command module splashed down several hundred miles south of American Samoa in the South Pacific. At the time I was the helicopter’s co-pilot and Chuck Smiley, my Commanding Officer, was the pilot. Chuck, who died in 2016, was another of the great ones who had such an impact on my life.

Apollo13 Astronauts: Lovell, Swigert, Haise (L to R)

The Apollo 13 crew -- Jim Lovell, Jack Swigert, and Fred Haise -- had survived a near catastrophic roundtrip to the moon, a mission that forced NASA and this three-man crew to apply all of their knowledge and skills in ways never imagined. If you can't recall the problems that plagued the mission (or if were not alive back then), you can always watch the movie -- Apollo 13 -- or simply click here to read NASA's detailed description of the mission. 

Apollo 13 Splashdown (I took the photo from our helo)

Anyway, when we hoisted the astronauts aboard our helicopter I had never seen three happier men. We brought them aboard one-at-a-time and then flew them to the ship, the USS Iwo Jima (LPH-2), just a few hundred yards away. While their flight to the moon and back had been filled with life-threatening problems, the recovery went smoothly and trouble-free. The photo below depicts our crew (I'm second from left, all of 25 years old).

Crew of "66" -- Apollo 13 Recovery

Later that evening we had the opportunity to meet briefly with the astronauts, something we hadn't been able to do on Apollo 11 and 12, the previous moon landing missions. On those missions the astronauts were immediately isolated in a special housing, along with a NASA doctor. I suppose there was a concern for possible contamination from space-bugs.  

The next day we flew the astronauts to Pago Pago in American Samoa in three separate helicopters. Jim Lovell flew in our aircraft and I asked him if he'd like to take my co-pilot seat and join the Skipper in the cockpit. I'd just take the jump seat right behind them. He loved the idea, and I still recall the first thing he said as he sat down and looked at the instrument panel and the controls: "Wow, these helicopters are sure getting a lot more complicated." This from a man who'd just brought a spacecraft to and from the moon under the worst conditions imaginable.

Jim Lovell & Chuck Smiley Flying to Samoa

We had a great time on the flight and talked a little about their lunar mission. But Captain Lovell was more interested in learning about the work our squadron did when we weren't picking up astronauts. The flight went well, and we were greeted by a huge crowd of happy Samoans at the Pago Pago airport. Also waiting there was a USAF C-141 transport to fly the astronauts back home to the USA. 

Over the past 50+ years, I've probably conducted 200 or more presentations on the Apollo 13 recovery for all kind of groups, large and small. And in recent years, thanks to computers and PowerPoint I have the perfect means to include many of the photographs taken during the recovery. I've always been an avid photographer, and in those days, I was fortunate to own a wonderful Leica camera which I usually carried with me when I flew...hence the photos of the Apollo 13 recovery.

After the Apollo 13 recovery, our squadron got out of the Apollo business and headed west to Vietnam (there was a war going on) aboard the USS Ticonderoga. I had an opportunity to meet Jim Lovell on several subsequent occasions, all involved with spreading the word about the great things that had been done during those Apollo days. He was always pleasant and kind and interested in what had taken place in my very odd life. 

Few know that Jim Lovell was literally a rocket scientist, the perfect educational background for an astronaut. He was also a fellow alumnus of the U. S. Naval Academy, although he graduated quite a few years before my class of 1967. 

Jim lived to the age of 97, no doubt longer than I will live. He lived a long and very productive life, a life devoted to bringing knowledge to the world. But most importantly it was a good life. As a nation, we will miss him. 

May the Lord bless him and keep him always in His heavenly embrace.

Homily: 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

Readings Gn 18:1-10a; Ps 15; Col 1:24-28; Lk 10:38-42

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Over 21 years ago, shortly after we moved to The Villages, my wife, Diane, decided it would be good to help out at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen. And like a good deacon’s wife, she volunteered me along with herself. Yes, I was volunteered.

We ended up serving there for well over 15 years, with Diane as the Thursday cook and I doing whatever she told me. I also stumbled onto the board of directors where I served for a bunch of years. But with the onset of COVID, abetted by some physical issues and limitations, Diane and I decided to step away from the Soup Kitchen and let others continue running this ministry.

I used to say, only partly in jest, that on Monday I could lose all 200 of those who served at the Soup Kitchen and replace them all by Friday -- perhaps an exaggeration, but barely.

The Soup Kitchen is really a wonderful ministry, a true ecumenical ministry in which those in real need are served by dozens of volunteers representing upwards of 30 local churches.

Among the many things I learned from this experience is that people serve there for all kinds of reasons. I’d occasionally ask them: "Why are you here?" and was amazed by the variety of answers.

Some just loved being in the kitchen, and the opportunity to help cook a few hundred meals. While others were bored in all the free time retirement brought, and came just to stay busy.

Some were lonely. The soup kitchen was a kind of social event, a chance to form friendships. And a few felt guilty. Their affluence was a burden to them, and they hoped to ease that burden by helping those in need.

Some simply want to serve others, and the soup kitchen is a wonderful way to satisfy that need. They’d inevitably say, "It makes me feel good." 

But there were always some who told me they served out of love. They saw Jesus Christ in every person who walked in the door and were overwhelmed by a love for God and neighbor. These are the folks who follow the Gospel mandate to feed the hungry and welcome the stranger. Indeed, that was our guiding principle at the soup kitchen: 

“We don’t serve meals; we serve Jesus Christ.”

When it comes right down to it, it’s really a ministry of hospitality; and yet those who exercise this ministry are driven by so many different motives, often by multiple motives.

I couldn’t help but think of all this as I reread today’s Gospel passage from Luke. Jesus Christ, Son of God and Son of Man, the fullness of life and truth, walked into the home of a pair of sisters named Martha and Mary.

Both women immediately recognized the privilege of having Jesus in their home and set to work fulfilling the sacred duty of hospitality. But the two sisters had conflicting ideas of what that duty entailed.

Martha’s response is very recognizable, typical of how most of us would probably react. Open the best wine, the expensive stuff, or brew some good coffee. Get out the good china and silver. Use whatever food you have in the pantry to whip up your best assortment of hot and cold dishes. And pray He won’t want a dessert.

My mother’s name was Martha. When I was about 16, I asked her if she’d be like Martha in the Gospel if Jesus came to our house for dinner. Without a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Oh, no, I’d call a caterer.”

But while Martha was busying herself in the kitchen, Mary took a different approach to hospitality. For her, the greatest compliment she could pay, greater even than the best of foods, was to give Jesus her full attention. 

It’s interesting that we hear nothing from Mary in this passage, but we sense she somehow knew that Jesus, the fullness of truth, had come to her home to nourish, enlighten, and transform her. She saw Jesus as a gift, and not to receive and unwrap this wonderful gift was an insult to the giver.

And so, Mary listened.

She listened to the Word as He spoke the Word. Mary became to Jesus what no rabbi at the time would probably let any woman become…Mary became His disciple. 

This was pretty radical stuff back then. Women were expected to prepare and serve the meals, and wouldn’t be encouraged to take part in the discussions. But Luke, throughout his Gospel, stresses that Jesus takes women seriously, that He came for everyone, men and women, and that salvation comes to all who listen to His Word and act on it.

Luke doesn’t relate this incident to endorse laziness, just as Martha isn’t criticized because she simply did what was expected. In our first reading from Genesis, when God, in the form of three travelers, visits Abraham, it’s considered good that Abraham and Sara spare no expense serving them.

No, Martha’s hospitality isn’t the problem. The problem? She placed physical hospitality above discipleship. Her attempts at hospitality became an end in itself, a distraction. It turned Martha into what my mom would have called a fussbudget, so much so she actually got angry because her sister hadn’t joined her.

You can almost feel the tension and pressure building up until it boils over and Martha vents her frustration…but notice she vents it on the wrong person. Martha doesn’t attack Mary; she attacks Jesus Himself:

“Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone…”

How authentically human of Martha – to work out her frustrations on the wrong person, what Freud would have called displaced aggression.

Now, had I been in Jesus’ place, I probably would have said, “Hey, Martha, why are you blaming me?” But not Jesus. He turns to her, and repeating her name -- “Martha, Martha…” – and He calms her down. Then He quietly reminded her that she was “anxious and worried about many things.”

Jesus didn't rebuke Martha her for serving Him – not at all. He simply tells her there’s something better. He turns her to the truth: those who hear the Word of God and keep it are blessed.

I’m suspect more than a few of you out there have a history with the old Baltimore Catechism. Do you remember the answer to the question, “Why did God make you?”

Remember? “God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him forever in heaven.”

It’s still a very good answer. Before we can serve God, we must first know Him and love Him. After all, how can you love someone you don’t even know? If our lives are spent solely in activity – only in the serving – we can’t take the time to know our God through prayer and attentiveness to His Word.

It’s through prayer, listening to His Word, and through the grace of the sacraments, that we can come to know God, and develop the kind of personal relationship Jesus wants with us. Only through that relationship can we continue to deepen our love for God.

How did St. Paul put it in our second reading?

"It is Christ in you, the hope for glory" (Col 1:27).

You see, it’s through Christ in us that we come to see Him in others, and can accept the call to serve Him by serving them.

Our service, then, must be grounded in love; for it is love, and only love, that calls the Christian to serve others:

"…whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me" (Mt 25:40)

For Christians, then, the two great commandments – loving God and loving our neighbor – merge into one, a single, inseparable commandment of love. Yes, hearing and reflecting on the Word of God in prayer is a condition for the selfless, loving service of the Body of Christ.

Of course, Martha didn’t appreciate this…at least, not at first. And like so many of us, she worried. How human and how easy it is for you and me, just as it was for Martha, to become obsessed with busyness, to move those things – those accidental parts of our lives – to move them to the center of our lives. And in doing so to send the true center to the sidelines.

Brothers and sisters, this just cannot be.

The fullness of truth, the fullness of life, the fullness of grace deserves our full attention. Jesus can’t be merely a part of our lives. He must be the focus, always at the very center. 

In our excessively busy lives today, too often, like Martha, “we are anxious and worried about many things,” and ignore the quiet call of Our Lord. Every day He knocks on your door and my door, calling us to Himself through the lives of others.

Recall how Abraham pleaded with God Himself: “Please do not go on, past your servant.” In the same way, we must not let these others just pass by unserved.

We must let them into our lives, so that Christ too will be in us, and as St. Paul promised, give us “the hope for glory.”

Healing Service Homily: Tuesday, 15th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Ex 2:1-15a; Ps: 69; Mt 11:20-24

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Good evening, everyone…and praise God – praise Father, Son and Holy Spirit. It’s wonderful to see so many here tonight; all of you, open to God’s healing presence in your lives. Praise God, too, for this.

We’re gathered here in Jesus’ name, so we know He’s with us. Present not only in our presence, but here especially in His Eucharistic Presence. And where Jesus is, so too is the Father, for they are One, One with the Holy Spirit.

When we turn to Scripture, we find the Holy Spirit inspiring, revealing, anointing, and counseling. He does it all. As we proclaim in the Creed: He’s the “Lord and giver of life.” He is the fount of Truth and Wisdom, the sanctifier, the source of sacramental grace, the manifestation of God’s power in the world.

When Jesus rejoiced, He rejoiced in the Spirit. When He prayed, He prayed filled with the Spirit. And when he healed, the Spirit acted through Him. And so, tonight, confident that the Holy Spirit is here among us, present in His power and glory, we turn to Him, the Divine Healer, for healing is among the Spirit’s greatest works.

God knows how much we all need healing – healing of body, mind, and spirit; so He sends His Spirit into the world to heal all who come to Him.

Sacred Scripture, especially in the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, is filled with healings, but they’re all so very different. All kinds of people come to Jesus – men and women; young and old; Jews and Gentiles – all seeking His healing touch. He heals them all. Some come on their own, some are brought to Him by others, by family or friends, and some are healed at a distance. But for all of them it was through the power of the Holy Spirit that Jesus healed.

St. Peter confirmed this when preaching to the centurion Cornelius and his household, he said:

“God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power. He went about doing good and healing all…” (Acts 10:38)

Where Jesus is, so too is the Holy Spirit. And together they heal us all. What does this mean to us? Does Jesus offer healing to all of us? Well, yes, He does. But we must understand He offers us multiple kinds of healing.

We humans are pretty complex creatures. God gave us bodies, but as many of us here have figured out, these bodies just don’t last that long. So, He also gave us an immortal soul, that divine piece of our humanity that goes on forever, and carries us into eternity.

And from that we have an intellect and a will, so we can learn what God wants for us and of us, why we’re here, and then decide what to do about it.

It’s all pretty fantastic, isn’t it? Well, yes, it is, except when we decide to misuse our intellects by ignoring all that He teaches us; or misuse our wills by making incredibly wrong decisions. It’s really what Jesus faced in our passage from Matthew’s Gospel. Our Lord uses some pretty harsh words, doesn’t He?

“Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida!”

Yes, indeed, Jesus was upset! There’s no mistaking it – Jesus was definitely upset. You see, is wasn’t some impersonal, detached judgment on Jesus’ part. In fact, I think it was truly personal.

Matthew, writing this Gospel, uses the Greek word for “woe.” It’s an interesting word. In Greek it’s one of those onomatopoeic words – words like bark, or cough, or hiss – that sound like the things they mean. The Greek word for “woe” is οὐαί, a word that sounds like a lament, a cry of sorrow. And that was intentional. Matthew uses this word to show us that Jesus, in His humanity, is speaking out of grief.

Chorazin! Bethsaida! Capernaum! These were places Jesus had stayed, places He’d visited, where He’s ministered to their people – where He healed, taught, loved – and still, the people didn’t respond.

Yes, Jesus is divine, but He’s also human, and that kind of rejection surely hurt. It’s hard not to feel the sting of it all – how Jesus must have felt.

Of course, our initial reaction is to recall times when it’s happened to us – when we spoke the truth but were summarily rejected.

I’ll tell you a story. Years ago, I was director of customer satisfaction and focus for a high-tech firm. It was an engineering-driven firm, and at a key meeting, the product engineers introduced a major change to a major product. I realized immediately that our customers would not be happy. But I was unable to convince our management. One sales engineer had the courage to agree with me, but his concerns were also rejected. I’ll never forget what the head of engineering said, “Our customers will like it because we like it.” Of course, the customers hated it. But no one ever said, “You know, you were right.” No, they just dug in deeper trying to show our customers how wrong they were. It didn’t have a happy ending.

About that time, I decided retirement at 59 sounded pretty good, so Diane and I soon headed south to The Villages.

Did you notice, the example that came to my mind was a situation where I’d been rejected. I never even considered the times I’d rejected others, or worse, rejected God Himself. The Gospel should lead us to wonder about ourselves, about our actions, our thoughts and words, and their impact on others.

Today I find myself asking: Where has Christ already been present in my own life, and yet I’ve failed even to notice, or perhaps worse, I noticed but failed to respond? You know that our God does that. He places others, those in need, in our path, or inserts little slices of grace into our lives, begging us to recognize and respond.

And when I didn’t respond…maybe in someone I overlooked – just didn’t consider them all that important, or worthy of my time? Or perhaps it was a moment of grace I was too busy to recognize, too self-absorbed, too worried about my own problems, my own suffering, my own need for healing?

How often and why do we fail even to notice these Godly gifts? Usually we’re just too busy, so tightly wrapped up in our own human issues, that we pay little attention to others and what God is calling us to do. In the grip of suffering, and in our humanity, we turn inward, toward our suffering, hoping, somehow, for healing and relief.

And so we hear this Gospel passage, and mistakenly think it’s all about judgment. But it’s about much more than that. You see, in truth, it’s really an invitation. Jesus, in that paradoxical, counter-intuitive way of His calls us to turn outward, to look beyond ourselves, to turn to Him in faith and to others in love.

Remember the four men in Capernaum who carried the paralytic to Jesus and lowered him through the roof…You can read about it in Mark, chapter 2. How did Mark put it?

“When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Child, your sins are forgiven.’” [Mk 2:5]

Throughout the entire event, he paralytic never said a word. And after healing the young man’s soul, Jesus goes on to heal his paralysis, all because of the faith of others.

And so, to those here tonight who brought someone you love for healing, believe me, God thanks and blesses you. Your faith may well lead to healing. Take a moment. Look to the person sitting in front of you, beside you, behind you – they’re all here for healing too. Have you looked to them? Have you prayed for them? After all, if the power of prayer is so great; should we not be praying for each other, and not simply for ourselves?

Remember, the faithlessness and selfishness of so many people in those three cities didn’t stop Jesus. He continued His work, in the Gospel, throughout the ages, and He continues it here today. He still shows up, doesn’t He? He’s still present in our lives, in our work, in our families, in our conversations – yes, even in our sinfulness. He’s present in all those moments of chaos and fear…and in the moments of stillness, the moments when we open our minds and hearts to Him.

God knows exactly what we need, but do we know? What kind of healing do you need? What do I need? We’re so sure we know, aren’t we?

But like the young paralytic, we likely need spiritual healing first. So, seek the Lord and His amazing grace in the sacraments. Let your soul be healed in Reconciliation, receive the gift of salvation through the Eucharist.

Or as St. Paul said, “It is Christ in you, the hope for glory.” (Col 1:27)