Homily: Tuesday, 2nd Week of Lent

Sometimes, after I've prepared a homily, the priest will let me know that he'd like to preach. And that's OK, never a problem. It's good for me to prepare so I can appreciate God's Word even more. The below homily is the one I didn't preach today, but thought my tiny band of readers might find it of some benefit.

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Readings: Is 1:10, 16-20; Ps 50; Mt 23:1-12

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I have to admit, listening to today’s Gospel passage from Matthew always causes me to cringe a little.

Jesus, of course, was talking about the Pharisees and Scribes and their hypocrisy, and warning the people, especially His disciples, about following their example. As we see throughout the Gospels, these spiritual leaders of the Jewish people didn’t really hide their hypocrisy too well. It wasn’t just obvious to Jesus, but we suspect everyone saw it.

Indeed, Jesus offers us a sad litany of their offenses, everything from grasping honor and privileges for themselves to making life unbelievably difficult for others. But Jesus is also letting His disciples know that they, too, can fall prey to these same failings, and so the warning extends across the centuries to us as well. And there’s one sin -- and I think we can safely call all these failings sins -- that strikes me with the greatest force. It’s when Jesus says, “For they preach but they do not practice.”

You see, as a deacon, a man once declared by my bishop to be a true “servant of God” – he actually said that to all of us at our ordination. Anyway, when I hear Jesus say this about those Pharisees, I find myself wanting to hide behind that “seat of honor” over there.

It’s a very obvious seat isn’t it? Comfortable too. Yes, indeed, no matter how crowded the Mass, I’ve always got a great seat don’t I? Heck, the parish even gives me a parking place, so the old deacon doesn’t have to tire himself out.

But it’s really that preach and practice thing that troubles me. I’m preaching right now, and soon enough I’ll probably be telling you how to live your lives during this season of Lent. I did just that at a couple of Masses this past weekend.

And yet, like you, I too am a sinner. Most of the faults I address in homilies and the remedies I preach have their source in my own behavior, or in that of those I love and know best. Yep, it’s always easier to identify the sins of family and friends, isn’t it? We know them so very well, just as they know us.

Anyway, as I dig deeper into my own conscience to uncover my faults, I realize how different I am from the man I was 30, 40, or 50 years ago. I guess my spiritual life, my struggle toward some degree of holiness, has actually progressed, not as far as I’d like, and certainly far below the Lord’s hopes…

On a wall in our home, hangs a rather large portrait of Jesus – it’s the Divine Mercy image – and I’m serious, but sometimes when I glance at it, Jesus seems to be shaking His head at me…Maybe it’s just my aging vision, but I think it’s more than that. He’s just showing me I have a long way to go.

Lent, though, is a good time for introspection, a time to take a good, hard look at ourselves – a time to let God reform us, to transform us, into His ways

It’s also a time for simplicity, a time to turn away from the busyness of the world and its false attractions and promises.

But perhaps most importantly, it’s a time for sacrifice. So often we try to avoid any kind of sacrifice because sacrifice often means suffering, and yet it’s there, in our sacrifices, where Jesus Christ comes to meet us.

It’s there, when we bear our everyday crosses, that He comes to us and carries them with us.

Jesus never said that living the Christian life would be easy; but He did promise we wouldn’t be alone. He would join us.

Yes, I suppose I’m guilty of a touch of hypocrisy, but thanks to Jesus’ words, at least I know it, and can repent. Maybe some of those Scribes and Pharisees also came to recognize their hypocrisy when they listened to Jesus, and then they too repented.

Perhaps they, too, heard Isaiah’s message, one they would have known well:

“Wash yourselves clean!...[and] set things right”

And how do we do that? We change, for that’s what repentance means.

“Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes; cease doing evil; learn to do good. Make justice your aim: redress the wronged, hear the orphan's plea, defend the widow.”

Oh, yes, so let me leave you with another thought:

Don’t be too critical of deacons and priests, of bishops and popes, for we too are human and subject to the whole range of human failings.

How much better simply to pray for us, as we pray for you.

  

Homily: 2nd Sunday of Lent (Year C)

Readings: Gn 15:5-12,17-18; Phil17-4:1; Lk 9:28b-36

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As I prepared this homily and thought about our parish and its demographics, I finally concluded that we’re all pretty old. And given all those years behind us, I’m sure we’ve all witnessed a lot of transformations in our lives, changes in people and places.

Back in the early 1950s, just a few years after the end of World War II, my family spent a year in Germany. I was only 7 or 8 years old, and my father, an Army officer, wouldn’t live in Army housing or send us to Army schools. We lived in a tiny walk-up flat and went to German schools.

It was a remarkable time, for the destruction caused by the war was still very evident. In fact a house close by had been completely destroyed. In some cities, almost everything was gone -- homes, apartment houses, shops, small businesses, large factories – all had been turned into unrecognizable piles of brick and smashed concrete.

But thanks to the Marshall Plan and the power of the human spirit, rebuilding had already begun. And by the time I returned ten years later, Western Europe had been completely transformed. It was a vivid example of the human spirit, in its darkest hour, rising to accomplish remarkable things.

But human events like this resurrection of post-war Europe pale in comparison to what God has promised us – the miraculous restoration He will accomplish in our resurrection from the dead. In our 2^nd reading St. Paul reminds us:

"…our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we also await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will change our lowly body to conform with His glorified body."

And today's Gospel passage from Luke gives us a glimpse of what Christ's glorified body is like. Before His Resurrection, Jesus' body was just like ours, subject to hunger and thirst, pain and pleasure, weakness and strength. After the Resurrection, Christ's body was glorified, transfigured by His divine nature. And because His Spirit lives within us, God will do the same for us.

The eternal life God has promised those who love Him isn’t merely some sort of spiritual existence. It will include our material bodies, but bodies very different from what we now have. More than that we cannot say. What really matters is how our faith in the resurrection affects what we do in our lives today.

This is why the surprising event Luke describes, the Transfiguration, took place. For the Transfiguration was not only a manifestation of Jesus’ divinity, but also a glimpse into the future that God has planned for us, and a wake-up call for the here and now. Indeed, it really was a wake-up call, for Peter, James, and John had been asleep. How did Luke put it?

"Jesus took Peter, John, and James and went up the mountain to pray…"

Then, just moments later, Luke tells us:

"Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep."

Of course, this was nothing new. In fact, the disciples spent a remarkable amount of time asleep, and when they weren’t asleep, they were afraid, oblivious, blind, or hiding away. Jesus often had to wake them up, open their eyes, calm their fears, and bring them out of hiding.

By the time Peter, James, and John went up that mountain to pray with Jesus, they had seen Him heal the sick and cast devils into the sea. They heard unclean spirits shriek and watched while a paralytic simply picked up his pallet and walked away. They had seen him walk on water and change water into wine.

In the past few months, Jesus had challenged all their fears; He’d revealed and forgiven all their sins. They found themselves eating with sinners, laughing with tax collectors, talking to lepers and harlots and thieves. They’d left their predictable, comfortable lives behind, and set out on the adventure of a lifetime.

And yet…and yet despite all this – despite all their waking up and growing up and sitting up in wonder, when they followed Jesus up that mountain, they still fell asleep. Only eight days before the Holy Spirit had moved Peter to declare Jesus to be "the Christ, the Son of the Living God." (Mt 16:16) But when Jesus spoke of His passion and death…well, Peter and the others would have none of it!

On that mountaintop, though, flanked by Moses and Elijah, the Law and the Prophets, Jesus is transfigured before them. As His divinity is revealed, Peter, James, and John awaken, and their own transformation begins. Peter wanted to stay there. He wanted the moment to last forever. Is it any wonder? Just imagine what it must have been like.

But God tells them, No. Not now. You must return to the world. You must do my work. You must take my love and my Word to all. You must do what my beloved Son tells you.
“Listen to him”, the Father’s voice demands.

Listen, do as He’s commanded you, and you will share in the glory you see today.

Listen…and be transformed.

Yes, Jesus tells them, He has sent Me to announce Good News to the poor, to proclaim release for prisoners, and give sight to the blind; to let the broken victims go free.

Listen…and be transformed.

Do not be afraid. From now on, you will be fishers of men. Make disciples of all nations. And I will be with you even until the end of time.

Listen…and be transformed.

I haven’t come to invite the righteous, but to call sinners to repentance. Your sins are forgiven you. Go and sin no more.

Listen…and be transformed.

Blessed are you who accept your spiritual poverty, for the kingdom of God is yours.

Blessed are you who show mercy, for you shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall receive comfort beyond your imagining.

Blessed are you who are persecuted because of me, for your reward will be great.

Listen…and be transformed.

Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. If you love only those who love you, what credit is that to you?

Listen…and be transformed.

Take and eat. This is my body given up for you. Take and drink. This is my blood, shed for you and for many, so that your sins may be forgiven.

The Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ nourishes us on the way to our heavenly destiny. In a few moments, as we process to receive Jesus, we symbolize a people together on a journey. We proceed in communion with each other to enter a deeper communion with Jesus Christ. And our firm "Amen" to the Body and Blood of Christ is a sign of our faith in the promise of Jesus:

"Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have life eternal and I will raise them up on the last day."

Yes, sisters and brothers, listen to the Word of the Lord, and be transformed.

But just like Peter, John, and James, we too seem to spend a remarkable amount of time asleep. We spend so much of our lives afraid, oblivious, blind, and hidden away – hiding from the God who loves us.

This season of Lent, Jesus wants us to awaken and open our eyes. He wants to calm our fears and bring us out of hiding. How many of us spend Lent fretting about what we’ll give up? Desserts, movies, coffee, a favorite TV show? And on Fridays we trade pepperoni pizza for fish and chips.

But today's Gospel reminds us that, above all, Lent is a season of transformation, a time to be transfigured by God Himself.

It’s a time to wake up, to open our eyes so that like the three Apostles, we can see Jesus in his glory.

It’s a time to listen, so we can hear His voice calling us to be fully aware and fully alive – to live our faith every moment of our lives.

Lent is a time to take your place beside Abraham, to look up at the sky and count the stars, if you can.

Lent is a time to stand beside Moses and tell stories of liberation; for that's what Jesus gave us – freedom – freedom from sin, freedom to do the Father's will. Like God’s chosen people, we’ve been brought out of slavery, but we’ve been redeemed at a great price, by the blood of the Father’s only Son.

Lent is a time to come out of hiding and walk with Elijah, to spread the Good News fearlessly to all who will hear.

Lent is a time to listen, to hear the urgency of Christ's message to each one of us – a message of love He never tires of repeating.

Lent is a time for prayer, for it’s in and through our prayer life that we are most open to God’s Word.

Yes, brothers and sisters, Lent is a time to listen, a time to be transformed by God Himself. 

Don’t let it go to waste.

Hello Again...Pardon My Confession

"Rejoice in your hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer." (Rom 12:12)

It's been a while since I've posted anything...almost two months. My excuse? Diane and I were in Italy helping to lead a parish Jubilee Year pilgrimage during late January, and since then have been quite ill trying to recover from a nasty virus. We were actually sick before the trip, but had recovered (we thought) and had been given an OK for travel by our respective docs. Anyway, we're healthy once again and trust we will remain so, at least for a while.

If you know me at all, you'll realize how grumpy I can be whenever I'm ill. And this time around was no exception. Most often I turn to God and, forgetting everything I preach to others, grumble about why He has allowed me to get so ill. Then I inevitably get a little sanctimonious and remind the Lord that by confining me at home He's keeping me from doing His work in my tiny corner of the world: "Don't you understand how much I do for You?" (It's amazing how often we think and say such foolish things to God.) As a confessor told me years ago: "Being a sinner is a fulltime job."

This attitude usually rules for only a few days until I realize that by putting myself at the center of everything, I'm separating myself from reality. Yes, indeed, it's hard to be humble when you're always focused on yourself. Humility, of course, is simply reality, the true understanding of who we are in relation to God and others.

So, eventually, as always (I'm a notoriously slow learner), I began to accept God's will, even though I didn't understand it. And that's when His blessings and His gifts became evident. I realized first that I had become somewhat overwhelmed in my ministries. I used to say "burned out" but that always led me to feel sorry for myself. Truthfully, though, at 80 perhaps I need to slow down a bit and focus my remaining energy on how I can best serve God and His people. Once again, this demands a hefty dose of humility, a willingness to let the Lord take the lead and point me in the right direction. So often He calls us to our weaknesses, not to what we believe are our strengths -- another hard call to humility. The antidote? Prayer, prayer, and more prayer -- listening prayer -- and an openness to God's working through others to show us His will.  

Another blessing was a related and treatable eye infection that I might well have picked up on one of the flights to and from Italy. As a doctor friend once remarked: "Airplanes are perhaps the perfect Petrie dish for the cultivation and transmission of all kinds of nasty bugs." The infection made it difficult to read and use the PC. (I'm not a touch-typist, but hunt and peck at high speed.) So I actually had time to think and pray more than usual. This, then was another of God's unexpected gifts since it led me to thankfulness, quite a change from my earlier grumbling.

Diane and I also grew closer to each other as we flip-flopped in our roles as caregiver and care receiver, depending on who happened to be worse off on any given day. As you might have guessed, I tend to be the neediest, but Diane never complained and took wonderful care of me. I tried to do the same. After 56 years of marriage, we still find new ways to love each other. Diane's well-being is something else I must consider as I examine my way forward in the diaconate. Our mutual needs are more important. After all, those matrimonial promises and vows were made 30 years before holy orders.

I could go on, but there's no need. God is the great Teacher, always leading us to a deeper love for Him and each other. Some of us have to be retaught again and again, but His patience knows no limit and He continues to find new ways to help us grow in holiness.

God's peace, sisters and brothers...

Homily: 7th Day in the Octave of Christmas

Readings: 1 Jn 2:18-21; Ps 96; Jn 1:1-18

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Here we are on the last day of the year, ready to say, “Goodbye” to 2024, for which we thank God, and look forward to the beginning of 2025.

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Have you ever noticed that there are no road signs in The Villages that say, “Dead End”? You’ll see them everywhere else, in Leesburg and Wildwood and Lady Lake. But in The Villages the relevant signs read “No Outlet.” My guess is the developer decided that signs proclaiming “Dead” and “End” might not be very well-received in a large retirement community advertised as the “beginning of your new life.”

I really have no problem with that, because for a faithful Christian there are no dead ends. Indeed, the end is always the beginning of something immense and wondrous.

Mary Queen of Scots, who for centuries was treated horribly by most historians, is today undergoing deserved rehabilitation. Anyway, I once read that shortly before her execution she embroidered these words:

“In my end is my beginning.”

For the Christian, then, the life of faith is always the beginning; there really is no end. 

Anna, the Temple prophetess, demonstrated this in yesterday’s Gospel passage. Although she was at the end of her life, she was “looking forward,” not back. We see this, too, in today’s passage where John starts the Prologue to his Gospel with the words, “In the beginning was the Word.…” But in our other reading from John’s First Letter, he begins with the end…

“Children, it is the last hour…"

For John, “the last hour” is also a “beginning.” Of course, to John it's really all of one piece, just as it should be with us. Yes, indeed, God is the beginning and the end...the alpha, the omega...and He’s active through it all.

I think we sometimes forget that. Oh, yes, we know God made the heavens and the earth, but then far too many today go through their lives as if He’s no longer involved with His Creation, no longer involved with us. For we, too – each one of us – are His Creation, and His involvement with us couldn’t be more intimate, more involved, more pervasive than it already is.

John wants to ensure we understand this: the fullness of God’s love for us manifests itself through His Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ. “Fullness” is the correct word, too, because God’s love begins with Creation, redeems us through the Incarnation, and leads us into eternity with His merciful Judgment…and that’s about as full as it gets.

Throughout it all, Jesus is the Word.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” [Jn 1:1].

And the Word of God is creative, for "all things came to be through Him..." And when God speaks, things happen:

“Then God said: Let there be light, and there was light.”

The Father, then, speaks through His Son, the Word, and all is created. But when you or I speak, we’re lucky if anything happens. Heck, even my little dog, who left us last year, obeyed me only when it suited her.

And then John shares those words that mean so very much to us:

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us…”

Yes, Jesus became one of us, blessing our human existence with His Divinity, infusing us with His glory, if only we accept it.

Today, then, as we consider making New Year resolutions, perhaps we should just start anew.

I remember reading about a monk who confessed how he used to complain about the number of steps in his abbey. As he aged, he found that climbing those steps wore him down.

“I used to count them as I climbed,” he wrote, “just to help me get through them. But then, one day in prayer I realized my spiritual life needed, again and again, to start at the beginning. Now, as I go up the steps, I count each step aloud, “One, one, one…”

Consider today and every day a new beginning, asking God to come into our hearts and lead us as we struggle to follow Him on the Way.

Sisters and brothers, Sacred Scripture has depths beyond our understanding, and I often pray after our weekly Bible Study that I haven’t misapplied them or mangled them too badly as I try to share them with others. But, as we read God’s Word, and pray it, and live it, we become like the two on the road to Emmaus, because Jesus walks with us, from one beginning, not to the end, but to a new beginning.

God love you all...and Happy New Year.

Friday Daily Mass

In the sacristy this morning, a few minutes before Mass, my dear friend, Fr. Glen, in his normal kindly way pretty much insisted I preach. I was not assigned to preach and I’m one of those preachers who likes to be prepared, so this was a challenge. And as I age it’s become a growing challenge.

Years ago, after a similar experience, I decided always to prepare a homily whenever I assist at Mass. I usually make detailed notes even when I’m not expected to preach.  But last night I slept horribly and really didn’t get to sleep until almost 2 am. When I awoke, as usual at 5 am, I was simply too tired even to consider my regular homily preparation. I consumed huge amounts of coffee and just looked over the readings and took a couple of minutes to jot down a few notes. I then trusted in the Spirit — usually the best approach.

I’ve embedded the video of this morning’s Mass below. The Gospel and Homily are a little over 18 minutes into the video if you have a hankering to check it out. Even though unprepared, I hope it might spark a glimmer of hope as we look forward to the new year.

(Note: probably best to view the YouTube version.)

Blessings and God’s peace.

 

Generations and Generations

Okay, one of my readers -- and, believe me, she is one among a tiny band of followers -- informed me that I've been entirely too serious lately:

"Every so often you would post amusing or interesting little tidbits about your family, your childhood, and modern society. I always enjoyed them, but you don't do that anymore." 

I, of course, disagree. I'm still remarkably amusing and ever so interesting, but perhaps I haven't shared this with you as often as I should. So, I will try to soften my posts with an occasional "tidbit" to amuse or interest. 

As we come to a thankful end of 2024, I thought it might be helpful to clearly define the boundaries of the many generations we encounter today. I neither assigned the names of these generations, nor established their boundaries based on birth-years. Who makes these decisions, I do not know. To me some of the generational names seem rather odd and the dates rather arbitrary, but we must always respect the word and decision of the "experts" who continually bless the world with their wisdom. 

Here, then, is the generational breakdown offered by these experts as they divide today's population, based on years of birth:

1901 - 1927: Greatest Generation

1927 - 1945: Silent Generation

1946 - 1964: Baby Boomers

1965 - 1980: Gen X

1981 - 1996: Millennials

1997 - 2012: Gen Z

2013 - 2024: Gen Alpha

2025 - 2040: Gen Beta

Naturally, I'd known or had heard of most of these generational titles, but I find a few things troubling, or at best, questionable.

For example, my parents (both born in 1909), along with both of Dear Diane's parents, fell into the Greatest Generation. I suppose in many respects this generation could be considered great, but I'm just not sure they should be called the "greatest." Yes, they did their share of great things, especially during World War Two, but when they assumed political power after the war, they also set in motion policies that caused many of the problems facing us today. I also believe it a bit presumptuous to label anything the "greatest" while history continues to play out. After all, those Gen Beta kids just might turn out to be even greater. Then what do we do? Rename everything? Perhaps we should wait until the end of the world and let God decide who was greatest.

Because I was born in 1944, I am a member of what someone has labeled the Silent Generation. Another few years and I would have been a Baby Boomer, like Dear Diane. But that was not to be. Earlier today, when I informed my lovely wife of 56 years of my membership in this generation of silent ones, she burst out laughing. Why, I don't know. Maybe when she stops, she'll tell me. Let me check...Nope, still laughing.

All four of our children were born in the 1970s, which makes them Gen-Xers. I did not know this. In fact, I had never thought of them in generational terms. To me, they are our grown children. They look a lot like us, think somewhat like us, and act a little bit like us, but are still so wonderfully different from us. I think that is a good thing. But I still don't understand the why of the Gen X title. Perhaps someone can help.

I have never really understood the starting and stopping dates of Gen-Xers, Millennials, and Gen-Zers. I had thought I understood why the Millennials were given that title until I noticed their assigned birth years. I had assumed it applied to those born on or shortly before or after the new millennium, somewhere around the year 2000. But, no, Gen Z claims that period. Perhaps it's because many of the Millennials actually came to age with the beginning of the third millennium. 

We have no Millennials in our immediate family, since eight of our nine grandchildren are Gen-Zers born in the first decade of the 21st century. Our ninth grandchild was born in 2013, making her a Gen Alpha child. Alana, then, is unique, at least in our family.

I haven't a clue why any of these later generations were tagged with such non-descript names: Z, Alpha, and Beta...even X. Why these names? Perhaps the naming powers, who themselves remain unnamed, simply assigned these arbitrary titles as placeholders and intend to rename each generation once it makes its mark in our world, thus earning a more descriptive title. 

As for me, I will continue to maintain my low profile and live up to my membership in the Silent Generation. Then, again, maybe I'll just forget the whole thing and continue to see and love each person as an individual child of God whom He created in a unique act of divine love. I think that might be best.

Pope Benedict on Truth and Relativism

At this time of year, as we approach its end, we inevitably hear all kinds of odd things from the media. We are subjected to overviews of the previous year and predictions of what the next year will bring. 

For example, flipping through the channels yesterday evening I encountered a synopsis of the entertainment industry in 2024. At least from my perspective (and I don’t claim my point of view represents that of the majority of Americans), the industry’s annual highlights seemed more like horrifying lowlights. 

This brief coverage depicted a radically self-absorbed industry. We are presented with a world like few others, a dystopian-like world inhabited by far too many ego-centric celebrities. It’s a world in which money rules and defines almost everything. It’s a world where all is relative, especially truth. It’s a world lacking any standards of human behavior where the lines separating good and evil are increasingly blurred. 

It’s certainly not a good world, but one that apparently appeals to many, especially young people. And this is its real danger, that it will infect future generations and lead them to accept what Pope Benedict XVI called a “dictatorship of relativism."

Indeed, Pope Benedict, perhaps the greatest scriptural and theological scholar among modern popes, wrote and spoke often about truth and relativism. In a series of interviews with European journalist, Peter Seewald, Pope Benedict had much to say on the subject. (The interviews were published as a book in 2010 — Light of the World: The Pope, The Church and The Signs Of The Times)

I've included some of what the pope said below. I realize it's rather lengthy, but we can all benefit from his wisdom, especially on this subject. Here goes...

It is obvious that the concept of truth has become suspect. Of course, it is correct that it has been much abused. Intolerance and cruelty have occurred in the name of truth. To that extent people are afraid when someone says, “This is the truth”, or even “I have the truth.” We never have it; at best it has us. No one will dispute that one must be careful and cautious in claiming the truth. But simply to dismiss it as unattainable is really destructive.

A large proportion of contemporary philosophies, in fact, consist of saying that man is not capable of truth. But viewed in that way, man would not be capable of ethical values, either. Then he would have no standards. Then he would only have to consider how he arranged things reasonably for himself, and then at any rate the opinion of the majority would be the only criterion that counted. History, however, has sufficiently demonstrated how destructive majorities can be, for instance, in systems such as Nazism and Marxism, all of which also stood against truth in particular.

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...we must have the courage to dare to say: Yes, man must seek the truth; he is capable of truth. It goes without saying that truth requires criteria for verification and falsification. It must always be accompanied by tolerance, also. But then truth also points out to us those constant values which have made mankind great. That is why the humility to recognize the truth and to accept it as a standard has to be relearned and practiced again.

The truth comes to rule, not through violence, but rather through its own power; this is the central theme of John’s Gospel: When brought before Pilate, Jesus professes that he himself is The Truth and the witness to the truth. He does not defend the truth with legions but rather makes it visible through his Passion and thereby also implements it.

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A new intolerance is spreading, that is quite obvious. There are well-established standards of thinking that are supposed to be imposed on everyone. These are then announced in terms of so-called “negative tolerance”. For instance, when people say that for the sake of negative tolerance [i.e. “not offending anyone”] there must be no crucifix in public buildings. With that we are basically experiencing the abolition of tolerance, for it means, after all, that religion, that the Christian faith is no longer allowed to express itself visibly.

When, for example, in the name of non-discrimination, people try to force the Catholic Church to change her position on homosexuality or the ordination of women, then that means that she is no longer allowed to live out her own identity and that, instead, an abstract, negative religion is being made into a tyrannical standard that everyone must follow. That is then seemingly freedom – for the sole reason that it is liberation from the previous situation.

In reality, however, this development increasingly leads to an intolerant claim of a new religion, which pretends to be generally valid because it is reasonable, indeed, because it is reason itself, which knows all and, therefore, defines the frame of reference that is now supposed to apply to everyone.

In the name of tolerance, tolerance is being abolished; this is a real threat we face. The danger is that reason – so-called Western reason – claims that it has now really recognized what is right and thus makes a claim to totality that is inimical to freedom. I believe that we must very emphatically delineate this danger. No one is forced to be a Christian. But no one should be forced to live according to the “new religion” as though it alone were definitive and obligatory for all mankind.

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But the reality is in fact such that certain forms of behavior and thinking are being presented as the only reasonable ones and, therefore, as the only appropriately human ones. Christianity finds itself exposed now to an intolerant pressure that at first ridicules it – as belonging to a perverse, false way of thinking – and then tries to deprive it of breathing space in the name of an ostensible rationality.

It is very important for us to oppose such a claim of absoluteness conceived as a certain sort of “rationality”. Indeed, this is not pure reason itself but rather the restriction of reason to what can be known scientifically – and at the same time the exclusion of all that goes beyond it. Of course it is true that historically there have been wars because of religion, too, that religion has also led to violence...

Indeed, the Church of today and tomorrow will need many heroic souls who possess the faith and the courage necessary to stand up for Jesus Christ in a world that despises Him. Brothers and sisters, the Church is far more than the pope and the bishops, far more than its priests and deacons and religious. You too are the Church! And together we must stand firm in our faith, even as the world, slowly and deceptively, tries to lead us astray. Our lives must also be prayerful lives, lifting up the generations that follow so they, too, will accept the Truth and follow the Way to the eternal Life God offers to us all.

By the way, get the book (see Amazon link above). It's a wonderful read and provides many unique insights as to how we should life our faith in a world which is largely hostile to all that it stands for.

Homily: Christmas Vigil

Note: This isn't a newly written homily. I wrote it some years ago, but tend to use if I'm called to preach at the Christmas Vigil Mass. This year I won't be preaching, but I thought some folks might enjoy my take on Matthew's wonderful genealogy of Our Lord Jesus.

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Readings: Is 62:1-5; Ps 89; Acts 13:16-17,22-25; Mt 1:1-25

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People often wonder why the Church includes this Gospel passage, this rather long genealogy, in tonight’s liturgy. It seems to be a strange selection, doesn’t it? All those names scattered across the generations from Abraham to Moses, then on to David and Solomon, then to the traumatic exile of God’s People in Babylon, and finally to Joseph and Mary and Jesus Himself.

Yes indeed, it might seem a bit odd to have us listen to all those names on the night we celebrate the birth of our Savior. After all, isn’t the name of Jesus enough? Isn’t it enough to know that Jesus is the Son of God? Is it really necessary to tell us about these human ancestors spread out over the centuries from the time of Abraham?

Well, actually, yes! It is. You see, Matthew is simply saying, “Welcome to God’s family! -- because Jesus’s family is also our family.”

Tonight we not only celebrate Jesus’ birth, but we also celebrate our own spiritual roots, deep roots that stretch back nearly 4,000 years to Abraham, our father in faith. You can trace that spiritual lineage from the priest (or deacon) who baptized you, through the bishop who ordained him, all the way back to the apostles and to Jesus Himself. And then you need only turn to these opening verses of Matthew’s Gospel and follow the path all the way back to Abraham.

And do you know something else? You and I share these roots. That’s right – we all have that same family tree. What a gift this is! It’s one of the key messages of the Gospel, a message that takes us deeply into those spiritual roots, and binds us in a living connection with Jesus Christ Himself.

Each of the four Gospels begins by telling us who Jesus is, but each tells us in a different way.

Mark, in his usual Sergeant Friday, just-the-facts-Ma’am approach, begins by saying:

“The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God…”

Yes, Mark wastes no time identifying Jesus.

Luke’s a bit more subtle. He takes half a chapter before he finally gets to Jesus, and then he lets the angel Gabriel do the honors:

“Therefore, the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.”

And John? He echoes the opening words of the Book of Genesis and proclaims the eternal divinity of the Logos, of Jesus, the creative Word of God.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

But Matthew is different. Writing to a Jewish audience, he offers them a very Jewish family tree of Jesus Christ, true God and true man. He begins by proclaiming:

“The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.”

Any Jew would recognize these titles, for they are Messianic titles. At the very start, Matthew is declaring Jesus to be the Messiah, the chosen one. Then, filled with the Spirit, he presents us with a family tree, one generation after another…right here in the very first verses of the New Testament. It’s as if God can’t wait to tell us all about His family.

Realize first that Matthew didn’t intend his genealogy to be complete. And his Jewish readers would know this too. No, Matthew wants to make a point. He wants his readers to understand and accept Jesus’s messianic roots. And so, he divides his genealogy into three sections of 14 names, or 6 sections, each with 7 names.

To the Jew 7 and 14 symbolized completion or perfection. And so Matthew completes his genealogy with the first and only name in the 7^th group of 7: the name of Jesus. For a Jew this was as perfect as you could get.

Although some of these names sound a bit strange to us, they’re all real people and offer a glimpse into the entire history of God’s People. As we run through that list of names we encounter every aspect of human life, and not just the good parts, but also murder, treachery, incest, adultery, prostitution…

We also meet five women, something rarely encountered in ancient genealogies. The last of these is Mary herself, but the first four – Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba – are all Gentiles: 2 Canaanites, a Moabite, and a Hittite. Jesus’s family wasn’t so purely Jewish, was it? Those Gentiles among His ancestors highlight the fact that He came from all of us, and for all of us. How did Isaiah put it?

“Nations shall behold your vindication, and all the kings your glory; you shall be called by a new name, pronounced by the mouth of the LORD.”

It’s a global family, but it’s also a family of sinners. Tamar disguised herself as a prostitute to fool her father-in-law, Judah, and ending up giving birth to his twin sons. Rahab was a prostitute, and yet she becomes a faithful woman. And Bathsheba? King David watched her bathing from his rooftop, invited her in, seduced her, and had her husband killed, so he could marry her. Solomon, their son, started right with God, but then joined his many wives in worshipping idols. It sounds a lot like fodder for the tabloids. 

Some members, like Mary and Joseph, are extraordinary; others, Ruth and Josiah, are faithful; some, like Manasseh and Rehoboam, are despicable; others, like Eliud and Azor, are anonymous, nondescript, men about which we know nothing.

Welcome to my family, Jesus tells us, welcome to my world. It’s the world we encounter when we open the Bible and realize how forgiving our God is. Yes, Jesus’s family is a human family and like most human families, has its share of saints and sinners. But from this, we learn that God’s plan was accomplished through them all, and that He continues to work through us, His people.

Notice, too, throughout the genealogy it's all father to son, and father to son…except at the very end. Matthew completes the genealogy with the words:

“Joseph, the husband of Mary. Of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ.”

For Matthew doesn’t declare Joseph to be the father of Jesus. Jesus, the Christ, is born of Mary, the virgin, with God as His Father. Again, what a gift – to be members of God’s eternal family! Indeed, what a gift all of Revelation is!

Do you realize how blessed we are to be Catholic Christians? What we believe and how we worship are not things we’ve concocted. For Christianity is really a revelation rather than a religion. Christianity is God’s Word and Work, not something we came up with. It’s not a collection of man’s feeble attempts to placate some higher power.

It comes totally from God Himself. We believe God revealed Himself through the many generations Matthew enumerates in his genealogy.

It’s a Revelation that runs from Abraham to Moses to David through all the prophets and eventually to Jesus Himself – Who is the fulfillment of it all. Yes, it’s a revelation that reaches its climax in the Incarnation when Mary gives birth, as Matthew describes it, to “Jesus, who is called the Christ.”

You see, brothers and sisters, it’s all a gift. As St. Paul asked the Corinthians: “What do you possess that you have not received?” The answer, of course, is “Nothing!”

And right there at the top of the list of God’s gifts, is that which we receive through our Baptism: the gift of adoption. We became sons and daughters of the Father, part of the Family of God. And so, we join Jesus on that family tree described by Matthew. We are heirs and inherit the fruit of God’s promises made to Abraham and to those who followed him. But as members of God’s family, we must behave as any good son or daughter would behave. We must live in a way that honors the father, in a way that doesn’t dishonor the family.

Another great gift that comes out of this adoption is the privilege of eating at the table of the Family of God. Yes, we can take part in the Eucharistic Feast, the Mass. And what a gift this is! For here, at this altar, Jesus Christ, gives Himself to us, body and blood, soul and divinity, and allows us, the members of His family, to join Him in the most intimate way imaginable. Here, as we come forward to receive the Body and Blood of Christ, we also join each other in a unique Communion in which the Church is most completely herself. Eucharist – the word itself means thanksgiving – is like a great family dinner, Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners all rolled into one… and yet far more wonderful and fulfilling.

Brothers and sisters, we are sons and daughters of God! These roots are deeper, stronger, and longer lasting than any human family roots. Indeed, they’re so strong they’ll carry us all the way to eternal life.

And so tonight, as we rejoice in the birth of our Savior, let us also rejoice that our names are written in heaven, as members of the family of Jesus Christ.

Come, Lord Jesus!

 

Homily: 3rd Sunday of Advent - Year C

Readings: Zep 3:14-18a; Phil 4:4-7; Lk 3:10-18

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Gaudete Sunday – Today, smack in the middle of Advent, in this season of prayerful repentance and preparation, we are called to be joyful. It’s a time to rejoice, for that’s what Gaudete means: this Latin imperative: “Rejoice!” Hence, the color of our vestments and the candle we light today on our Advent wreaths – the color rose is offered as an outward sign of our joy.

But why? Why this focus on rejoicing? What’s its source? We rejoice today because our salvation is at hand. It’s especially fitting in anticipation of our celebration of the birth of our Savior on Christmas Day. Two Old Testament readings today, prophecies from Zephaniah and Isaiah, then a passage from Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, and finally the words of John the Baptist in Luke’s Gospel, all reminding Israel and us of God’s promise of salvation.

We’re told to shout for joy, to sing joyfully, to cry out with gladness, to exult with all our hearts, not to be discouraged, to leave anxiety behind, to fear nothing. Sisters and brothers, if you missed that message, you just weren’t paying attention.

In our first reading, Zephaniah completes his prophecy by telling us to rejoice:

“Shout for joy, daughter Zion! Sing joyfully, Israel...

But because he’s a prophet, inspired by the Holy Spirit, he speaks not only to the people of his time, but to those in the time of fulfillment, and that includes you and me:

"The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a mighty Savior…"

Zephaniah was also called to prepare God’s people by telling them how they are to receive their Savior:

“…I will leave as a remnant in your midst a people humble and lowly, who shall take refuge in the name of the Lord.”

Is Zephaniah speaking to us? To us, who have received a mighty Savior in our midst and continue to receive Him in His Eucharistic Presence? Yes, indeed, for Zephaniah’s words are God’s Word, inspired by the Holy Spirit and given to the Church for the salvation of all.

A remnant…a people humble and lowly? It that the Church? Is that us? Are we humble and lowly? 

My! That sure goes against the grain, doesn’t it? To be lowly in today’s world is to be a loser, because anyone who’s anyone strives to be a winner. Fame and fortune beckon and the lowly will be left behind. Yes, indeed, humility’s not something we see a lot of these days. As my father used to say, only partially in jest:

“Humility’s a strange commodity. Once you know you have it, you just lost it.”

You never hear saints talking about their humility, because for them humility is simply reality, the reality of our existence. We are all children of God, none better than the other, all loved into existence by our great God, Who created everything. Now, that's humbling.

Does this remnant of humble, lowly ones rejoice in God’s gift of salvation? Do evangelists of the last days prepare the world for the Son’s return? Yes, indeed, for God so often takes the weak and powerless, and through them does wondrous things. Or He allows us to be weakened, so we so come to experience true humility.

Some years ago, driving north, Diane and I stopped by Jacksonville to see dear old friends, a retired admiral and his wife, Scott and Marnie. I’d known Scott for years, and flown with him back in our Navy days. But now he was dying of cancer, and we wanted to see him once more.

That day, as we ate lunch together, Scott’s drawn face suddenly filled with peace. He smiled and said:

“You know, Dana, I’m so looking forward to seeing our Lord, I can hardly stand it. Isn’t that weird?”

Scott died exactly one week later. And that comment, made over a salad at a Longhorn restaurant, was a gift. Speaking with us several weeks later, Marnie said, “Scott saved me from a lot of grief because he was so joyful about the life to come.” We are to welcome the Lord with joy, however and whenever He might come to us.

We hear a similar message in our Responsorial Psalm. It’s really not one of the Psalms, but a prayer of praise, joy, and thanksgiving from Isaiah. We need only pray again our response:

“Cry out with joy and gladness: for among you is the great and Holy One of Israel.”

Accepting this, we believe our Savior is among us now, and that God is calling us to prepare the world for His ultimate return. We must, then, try to understand what God desires of us. And to find out, let’s revisit today’s Gospel passage from Luke.

Many picture John the Baptist as some odd zealot, dressed in animal skins, roaming about the desert, telling everyone to repent while they still have time – in other words, kind of a scary guy. John was certainly a bit fierce, mainly because he understood the holiness of God, the effects of sin, and so preached the need for repentance. And yet, he was among the sweetest of men – a saint of indescribable humility, and perhaps the most joyful saint in Scripture.

For John had met and acknowledged Jesus before both were born. Filled with the Holy Spirit, John leaped in his mother’s womb at the sound of Mary’s greeting – an unborn infant filled with joy at his Lord’s arrival. As Luke reveals to us: Called by the Word of God, John “went throughout the whole region of the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” We too are called to experience this same joy as we prepare for our own meeting with Jesus.

Did you notice that everyone John encountered, everyone he baptized, asked the same question: “What are we to do?” How should we live our lives? And John told them all – the crowds, the tax collectors, the soldiers, everyone who asked him – that they must live their newfound faith. They must prove it through works of charity, honesty, faithfulness, and justice.

Yes, indeed, “What are we to do?”

Well, God gave us a pretty simple command: Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength; and love your neighbor as yourself.

“What are we to do?”

About 25 years ago, ministering in another parish, I was asked that same question. A couple, in their early 40s, approached me after Sunday Mass and asked if they could meet with me. I didn’t know them. I’d been a deacon for only a few years, but I agreed to meet privately the next day.

We began the meeting with a brief prayer, then the man told me they were seasonal visitors, living in their new summer home. It seems they had just sold their business, a software development company, for over 50 million. My immediate thought? Oh, a big donation’s coming. 

But no, it was the wife who spoke next and said, “We’ve both been unfaithful, but want to save our marriage.” And with that, her husband looked at me and asked, “What are we to do?”

Hearing that question – What are we to do? – threw me right back into Luke’s Gospel, and caused me to ask myself, "What am I to do now?"

I first told them to go to the sacrament reconciliation and receive God’s forgiveness and taste His mercy. And because I’m no marriage counselor, I referred them to a faithful Catholic counselor, one whom I knew would help them. Then I just said: “Love, repentance, forgiveness, and mercy.”

That they were there, together, demonstrated their love for each other. Repentance, though, means far more than being sorry for our sins. The very word – repent – means to re-think, to change our thinking, and from that to change how we act. As St. Paul reminds us, repentance demands change.

“…put on the new self, created in God’s way, in righteousness and holiness of truth.”

Forgiveness and mercy…well, they go together, for they are the most vivid manifestation of God’s love, the same love we are called to imitate. We should, of course, begin in our own families, forgiving those who love us, those whom we love, those to whom we can sometimes be most unkind indeed. 

But don’t stop there. Do what John told the crowds as they prepared to meet their Lord: Give to the poor, not just from your surplus but from your own need. Be honest, loving, caring people.

Called by God as His messenger, John prepared the world to receive Jesus Christ, the Word of God Incarnate. John awakened those he encountered, pulled them out of their complacency, led them to repentance so they would understand Jesus when He came.

And it’s no different today. To shake the world out of its indifference, to heal the hatreds, the divisions, the Church needs us all to be true witnesses to God’s love for the world. Today, because our God calls us all to rejoice in our salvation, we need people of joy – not just on one Sunday of Advent, but every day.

St. Paul, in our reading from Philippians, said it best:

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice!”

And he wrote those words from a Roman prison, as he awaited execution. Yes, “Rejoice in the Lord always.”

I’m reminded again of the words of my dying friend, Scott:

“I’m so looking forward to seeing our Lord, I can hardly stand it.”

Here, indeed, is the peace of God that surpasses all understanding. And this, sisters and brothers, is the Good News of Jesus Christ. Live it! Share it!

 

Homily: 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Readings: Dan 12:1-3; Ps 16; Heb 10:11-14,18; Mk 13:24-32

About 30 years ago, as a group of us celebrated a friend’s 50^th birthday, her husband raised his glass and wished her happiness, health and peace, and then he added, "And at the end of your days may you go straight to heaven."

Her response? “I really wish you wouldn’t say such things. I don’t enjoy hearing about death and sadness on my birthday."

Okay, she said it with a little smile, but it seemed to be mingled with a touch of fear.

Her husband had offered a prayer of hope and future joy, but she received it instead as an unpleasant subject best ignored.

Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel passage may also seem unpleasant to some, but they, too, are really a message of hope.

And I suppose how we receive that message depends on the depth of our faith.

You know, I’ve always believed the opposite of faith is not despair, but fear. Despair is just a sort of side-effect of fear.

It’s why Jesus so often tells us to “be not afraid,” but instead to accept the gift of faith.

Sadly, this wonderful gift that God extends to all is rejected by so many today. Let me share another encounter from my past.

I’ve actually retired several times in my life. But before my final retirement, I worked for a hi-tech firm in Massachusetts.

We had about 400 employees, and I was the oldest. Most were in their 20s and 30s.

One morning, having heard that a young colleague’s father had died, I stopped by his office and expressed my condolences.

His response was remarkable: “No big thing,” he said. “That’s what happens…death, then nothing. So, who cares?”

“We just have to enjoy life while we can. I do whatever makes me happy, whatever brings pleasure, no matter what."

Raised in a Catholic family, he now believed in what? The pursuit of ephemeral pleasure?

How unbelievably sad for him. He desired a continual earthly happiness that’s unattainable. Because he sees nothing beyond, his life has become essentially meaningless.

Beneath his cynical veneer one detects a deep despair, and an even deeper fear.

The great G.K. Chesterton once remarked that the problem with those who don’t believe in God is not that they believe nothing. It’s really much worse. They end up believing anything.

The early Christians encountered this among both pagan and Jews.

Today’s reading is from chapter 13 of Mark’s Gospel. In that chapter, Jesus refers to two very different events.

He had just predicted the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, something that occurred 40 years later when a Roman army under a general named Titus, fulfilled Jesus’ prophecy.

All that’s left standing can still be seen today – the single Western Wall of the Temple.

I supposed most of those listening to Jesus dismissed His prophecy as ridiculous ravings.

Imagine your reaction if on September 10, 2001, someone had told you the twin towers of the World Trade Center would not be there the next evening.

It's hard to conceive of such things happening.

But Jesus goes on, and begins to tell His disciples that they’re about to enter the final stage of God’s plan, the stage in which they will play a major role.

For they will fulfill the prophecy of Daniel we heard in today’s first reading:

“But the wise will shine brightly…and those who lead the many to justice shall be like the stars forever.” (Dan 12:3)

The destruction of Jerusalem and its Temple will be a sign that this change, this transition, is taking place, all beginning within a generation.

This change is highlighted too in our second reading from Hebrews. Here we’re told the Temple sacrifices of the Jewish priests cannot atone for sin.

Only Jesus’s “once-for-all” sacrifice on the Cross can do that. And every day, here and in churches throughout the world, we make present Jesus’ sacrifice on the Cross.

Yes, the sacrifice on the Cross and the sacrifice right here of the Eucharist are one single sacrifice.

And in truth you and I are made present to the Cross and receive the unlimited grace and power that flow from it.

Jesus is telling us that His passion, death, and resurrection fulfill the promises of the Old Covenant and initiate a New Covenant with Jesus as High Priest.

But Jesus also used His prophecy about the end of the Temple to tell His disciples about the end of time, about the end of the world as we know it.

When we first hear it, His message sounds like a message of fear, with its earthquakes, wars, famines, pestilence, and terrors in the heavens.

But it’s really a message of hope, not fear. Jesus gives us a real, tangible goal: to get to heaven, to gain the eternal life Jesus has promised us.

This is the mystery of our faith, the mystery we proclaim at every Mass:

We proclaim your death, O Lord, and profess your resurrection, until you cone in glory.

Today’s readings shouldn’t distress us because they’re not fearful; they’re hopeful.

How did Jesus put it? When these signs…"begin to take place, look up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near."

But what about today? What about us?

While waiting for Christ to come again, how should we act, how should we live?

Jesus tells us: watch and pray. Live as if He were coming tomorrow! Perhaps He is. We don't know.

Oh, there are Christians who say they have the inside story on the end of the world, and some believe it's right around the corner.

Their message is essentially the same: "The end is near! Repent!"

I suppose that’s not bad advice…but it’s slightly misplaced.

We’re not called to repent simply because we think the end is near. We’re called to repent and live accordingly because we’re Jesus’ disciples.

Jesus, of course, told us not to be deceived by those who come in His name telling us "The time has come."

Whether Jesus comes on Thanksgiving morning or two thousand years from now, we’re called to live as if He were arriving tomorrow.

Or better yet, as if He were already here. Because He is.

Yes, someday He will come in power and glory to place all creation at the feet of His Father.

But, today, He comes quietly, invisibly, wherever you and I are.

Look for Him not on a cloud surrounded by triumphant angels, and wearing the crown of a King.

No, as we wait for that majestic return, look for Him where He already is.

Look for Him seated all around you, beside you, in front of you, behind you, right here in the community of His faithful gathered together.

Here is the Body of Christ, His Church, and He is with us, for the Head cannot be separated from the Body.

Look for Him is His Word, for the Word of God is Jesus Christ. When you hear that Word proclaimed here at Mass, when you read your Bible at home, He is just as present to you as if He were right beside you.

As Jesus told us, “my Word will not pass away.” No, it never perishes, but remains to heal us, to nourish us, to give us strength.

And look for Him in the Bread of Life and His Precious Blood – here in His Eucharistic Presence, present here in a most special way – present in every way – Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity.

Look for Him at home on the faces of those you love, for He is present in them too.

And look for Him especially where He told us to look: in those who hunger and thirst, in the stranger, the sick, the homeless, the imprisoned, in the lonely, that person in your neighborhood who has no one.

You see, Jesus has given us plenty to do before He returns in glory as Christ the King.

And as He instructed His disciples, “It will lead to your giving testimony.”

The day will come, He warns, when they hand you over, when you are powerless, terrified, betrayed.

The day will come when you are tempted by lies and persecuted because of my name.  

The day will come, Jesus says, when all that you have left is your testimony.

That’s right; the day will come when all we have left is our witness to our Christian faith.

Are we ready for that?

As Jesus assured us in today’s Gospel, we are in that final stage of God’s plan and our generation has some work to do.

As Christians, as members of the Body of Christ, we’re called to prepare the world for the Lord's return, but we must first prepare ourselves.

How ready are we to receive Him?

Each of us will have his own end of the world, and for many of us here today that last day will come soon enough.

When we stand in His presence and say, "Here I am, Lord. Did I do your will?"

How will He respond?