Homily: Tuesday within the Octave of Easter

Readings: Acts 2:36-41; Ps 33; Jn 20:11-18

_______________________

Our Gospel passage from John is among my favorites, but today it has risen to a new level of importance for me. Let's just revisit it.

Overwhelmed by grief, Mary Magdalene made her way to the tomb. And we understand it, for she had lost her Jesus, He who had saved her. In a very real sense, Jesus, who had expelled her demons, had brought her back to life, raising her to new life. But now He was dead.

She couldn’t deny it. She had seen Him breathe His last. She’d followed as they carried His lifeless body to the tomb. Yes, indeed, her Jesus was dead. She had come there that morning to anoint His body, something she couldn’t do on the Passover Sabbath. But now in the early morning of the third day, she found the tomb empty. Adding to her grief, then, was confusion. Who could have taken Him? It was all too much for her, and she wept, seeing but not yet understanding.

Don’t you just love Mary Magdalene? It’s hard not to. She’s just so very human. She proves that as God leads us to holiness, He doesn’t let holiness overwhelm our humanity. How easy it is for Mary, and for you and me, to miss the Lord when our focus is elsewhere. Yes, Mary is looking for a dead Jesus, not a risen, living Jesus. We witness this even in her dialog with the angels. Did she recognize the angels in the tomb as angels? I don’t think so. She knew only that neither one was Jesus. 

Sitting there in the tomb of the risen Jesus, probably with smiles on their faces, they asked her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” What a question! Who are these men? “Someone’s taken my Lord. Where have they put Him?” So, she turned around, and there was Jesus, right in front of her. But she thought He was the gardener. 

I’ve always liked that. After all, God’s relationship with humanity began in a garden, a garden He created for our first parents. Yes, our God has always been a kind of gardener, providing us with everything we need for eternal life. Mary, then, wasn’t far off, was she? For what is a gardener, but one devoted to bringing forth new life from the ground.

And yet, to mistake the risen Jesus for a gardener? He must have looked so very ordinary in His humanity, and yet so very different that she could not recognize Him. Jesus, the Gardener, repeated the angels' question, didn’t He? “Woman, why are you weeping?” and followed it with another “Whom are you looking for?” Still clueless, Mary almost accused the would-be gardener of taking Jesus.

But it took only one word from our Lord. He called her by name, and at once she recognized him. I suspect that with this very personal revelation of the Resurrection, Mary instantly understood it all, as if the pieces of a puzzle suddenly flew together, forming a perfect. clear picture. She now grasped it all -- everything He had done, every look, every Word, every gesture -- and she knew the truth: Jesus lives! And like Peter, she now knew that He is "the Christ, the Son of the Living God" [Mt 16:16]. And it is to Peter and the brothers that she would take this wondrous news. She had seen the Lord!

And that’s all well and good, but how about us? We, too, believe it, but do we really live it?

I was writing this homily on Good Friday morning because I knew I‘d have a busy weekend, with little time for homily writing. But I put it aside, half-written, to get ready for the 3 pm service. Later, as I drove to church, I went through the Lynnhaven gate and turned onto Rainey Trail. That's when I saw him.

He was young, in his 20s. He had a scraggly beard and wore perhaps the shabbiest clothes I’d ever seen in The Villages. Filthy sweatpants with big holes in them, a well-stained, torn sweatshirt, sneakers falling apart. He was a mess. And he had just fallen down on the other side of Rainey Trail - half in the street and half on the grass. 

I stopped the car, lowered the window, and asked if he were OK. He just said, “No. I hurt. Can you take me to the store up on 301?” 

So, I called him over. He got to his feet, limped across the road, and climbed into the passenger seat. He smelled about the way he looked, but it wasn’t that bad. I’ve smelled worse.

I asked him his name and he responded with all three: first, middle, and last.

I asked if wanted me to call 911 or drive him to the fire station. “They can help you there.”

"No," he said, "just take me to the store."

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes, that's all I want."

So, I drove off to the convenience store-gas station, only a mile away.

"Are you from the area," I asked.

"Yes."

"Do you have family here?"

Again, "Yes."

Not sure what to say, I just told him, "Today's Good Friday, you know." He said nothing. And so, I added, “It’s a special day. Reminds us of how much God loves us.” 

He just said, “That’s good.”

I asked if he needed a few bucks. No response. Then I realized I had no cash on me, only a debit card. So, I told him. He didn’t seem to mind.

By now we were at the convenience store. As I pulled into a parking place, I just said, “Call your family."  

"OK.” With that he got out of the car, said, “Thanks,” and limped into the store.

Minutes later, as I pulled into the church's parking lot, Mary and the Gardener forced their way into my thoughts. I don't believe in coincidence, never have. God works in our lives in the simplest and the most marvelous ways. And so, I was led to wonder: 

With whom did I just spend those few minutes? 

That's when I recalled Jesus’ words: 

“Whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.” [Mt 25:20]

And it hit me...hard. I hadn't done very much, had I?

Brothers and sisters, it's not enough just to know about Jesus,

We have to know Him, know Him personally.

We have to meet Him, to meet Him and see Him in everyone we encounter.

And then we have to love Him.

Resurrection: A Poem by Jennifer

Our parish is blessed to have many people who want to deepen their lives of faith through the study of God’s Word revealed in Sacred Scripture. We now have over 130 parishioners participating in our parish’s Bible Study. To accommodate so many people we offer three weekly sessions. As the usual facilitator, I occasionally cannot attend a particular session and must call on one of our parishioners to fill in for me. Most often I turn to Jennifer Smart, who kindly and ably takes the reins and actually does a far better job than yours truly. A lifelong student of the Bible and ancient history, Jennifer has also spent a considerable amount of time in both Egypt and Israel and brings to our sessions valuable first-hand knowledge of the Middle East and its people.

Jennifer is also a poet who some years ago wrote the following poem, Resurrection, which she recently shared with our Bible Study participants. It seems fitting to include it here as we begin Holy Week. I trust you will enjoy reading and meditating on these verses:

_______________________________________

                    Resurrection 

 “He is not here, but know that He is risen,”

The gathered mourners heard the angel say;

We marvel how this deathless gift was given

To those who witnessed that first Easter Day.

The rock that sealed Christ’s chamber seemed a portal

To darkness shrouding hopelessness and strife;

Instead it was a door to God Immortal

And passageway to everlasting life.

We join in Easter fellowship with others

To share the angel’s words the world has known;

Whenever we reach out to one another,

We link our hands and roll away the stone. 

_____________________________________

Thank you, Jennifer; and a blessed and fruitful Holy Week to all.

Homily: 5th Sunday of Lent (Year B)

Readings: Jer 31:31-34; Ps 51; Heb 5:7-9; Jn 12: 20-33

When I was a kid in suburban New York, during the spring and summer months, my mom would sometimes ask me to help her weed her gardens. I always grumbled because she usually called me away from really important stuff, like playing stickball…but I obeyed. If you don’t know what stickball is, just ask someone who grew up in New York.

Anyway, Mom had two gardens, a small vegetable garden in the backyard and a rose garden out front. I’d usually end up in the rose garden, getting attacked by the thorns. I refused to wear the gloves she’d given me because they were pink girly gloves with flowers all over them. Out in the front yard, I couldn’t risk being seen. Some things are more important than pain and suffering.

Mom had names for her two gardens: Eden and Gethsemane. One day I asked, “Why those names?”

“The Garden of Eden,” she said, “far more than our little vegetable garden, was filled with wonderful things to eat, all kinds of fruit and vegetables that God provided for Adam and Eve. It was a very nice place. 

"But our beautiful rose garden, as you’ve discovered, can also be a painful place. I’m sure the Garden of Gethsemane was beautiful with its ancient olive trees, but for Jesus it became a place of deep suffering.”

“Perhaps tonight,” she said, “after supper, we can read about these two gardens in the Bible” – Mom’s way of opening the Scriptures to us.

Thorns Protect the Rose

This memory of long ago came to mind as I read the readings with which the Church blessed us today.

First, we heard the prophet Jeremiah, as he revealed the purpose of all that had come before, the fulfillment of the promises, the covenants God made with Abraham, Moses, and David. All will be fulfilled, Jeremiah tells God’s People, through a New eternal Covenant, very different from the Old. The Holy Spirit revealed to the prophet that God will pour His Law into His People and write it on their hearts. “All will know me,” says the Lord, ”from the least to the greatest.” This is the New Covenant fulfilled by Jesus, the eternal High Priest, the Son of God who offers Himself in sacrifice for the salvation of all, the salvation of everyone, from the least to the greatest.

Moments from now, Father will take the chalice in his hands and proclaim the words of consecration, Jesus’ words at the Last Supper:

“For this is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the New and Eternal Covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

Did you catch all that? The New Covenant is sealed in the Blood of the Son, the Blood of the Lamb of God, Blood poured out for us. Why?

“I will forgive their evildoing and remember their sin no more.” We are redeemed.

As Mom explained to me, “It began in Eden, in that garden filled with good things. But sin brought it all to an end, which led to more sin, to illness and pain and suffering, and to death itself.”

Those weren’t very happy words to throw at a ten-year-old kid, but Mom always spoke the truth to us. Then, pointing to the crucifix, she said: “God made a promise. Jesus, who is God Himself, died for us on that Cross, so we might be forgiven of all of sins, and live forever with Him in heaven.”

Well, pretty good catechesis. It hit the high points and heaven sounded better than suffering and death. So, I asked, “What about the rose garden?” Her answer?

“Jesus spent the night before He died in the Garden of Gethsemane to prepare Himself for the Cross. He saw all the bad things people had done…so hard for Him that His sweat became like drops of blood. And those band-aids on your hands are just a tiny sign of what Jesus suffered for you and me.” Then like every Catholic mother in those days said to her kids when they companied, “Offer it up!”

Olive Tree in Gethsemane

In John’s Gospel, speaking to Andrew and Philip, Jesus looks to His Passion, and His humanity is there in His words:

“I am troubled now. Yet what should I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? But it was for this purpose that I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.”

…and again, we’re reminded of this in today’s 2^nd reading from Hebrews:

“…He offered prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save Him from death.”

Yes, Jesus knew He would have to suffer. But it’s also in Hebrews where our unknown author makes an astounding theological claim:

“God made His Son perfect through suffering”

We ask ourselves, “How could God’s Son need to be made perfect? And why through suffering?” But that’s not all. Hebrews goes on to tell us, “He learned obedience from what He suffered.”

What does it all mean? For Jesus to be made perfect doesn’t mean He was ever morally flawed. No, He freely chose to take on human nature in its fallen state, with its weaknesses, pain, and death; and through His suffering to perfect His human nature in holiness. In the Garden and during His Passion, Jesus allowed the evil of the world to pour over Him, and out of this to create the most perfect act of love, trust, and obedience to God that could ever come from a human heart. It was in this furnace of suffering that His human nature was refined to perfection, transformed for His entrance into divine glory through His Resurrection.

To make us holy, Jesus had to become one with us. As St. Paul reminds us, our salvation comes from God, Who lowered Himself to share our very being, in all but sin. Jesus, then, Son of God and Son of Man, is not ashamed to call us His sisters and brothers. Indeed, He’s overjoyed, for He became one of us in the most radical way: He became our blood relative.

All of this sets a pretty high standard for you and me. How did He put it in the Sermon on the Mount?

“So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.” [Mt 5:48]

Again, what does it all mean for us? Let’s look first at ourselves, then turn again to the Gospel.

Here we are, most of us retired, living comfortable lives in central Florida. From a global perspective, materially, we’re probably in the top 10%. And for those of you still working, thank you. Thank you for funding our social security.

Yes, indeed, we have lives worth living, don’t we? But are they lives worth loving? 

Jesus speaks:

“Those who love their life lose it, those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

For Jesus, loving earthly life means placing it above all else. To hate our life in this world just means it must never outweigh our striving for eternal life. Yes, unless the grain of wheat dies, it cannot bear fruit. Can we die to this life? Can we, too, accept our suffering, the thorns in our lives, that lead to the perfection God desires of us.

How many today make the pleasures, comforts, wealth of their earthly lives ends in themselves? Indeed, we live in a world that preaches the denial of mortality, that offers a thousand ways to ease physical or mental pain, that promises youth even to the oldest among us, yet leaves us spiritually dead.

Some weeks ago, while visiting a parishioner in the hospital, I had a brief chat with the patient who shared his room. His first words to me: “My wife died years ago, but now because of my heart, I can’t play golf anymore. It’s made my Ife no longer worth living.”

How very sad that nothing in his life was more important. Yes, “those who love their life lose it.”

What, then, is more important than our life in this world? Jesus provides the answer:

Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

Yes, our confession of faith is necessary, but also insufficient. We must live our faith. We must serve.

Perhaps this should be our focus during these final days of Lent.

I can’t tell you how God is calling each of you to serve. His call, what He expects of us, is the fruit of our own prayer life, our willingness to listen to God’s Word as He speaks to us. God calls some, like the rich young man in the Gospel, to sell everything, and give it all to the poor. And yet, He doesn’t ask that of everyone. But to all of us, God commands: “Follow me and serve!” Get you hands dirty, brothers and sisters…

Feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, visit the sick and imprisoned…and inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.

All of us aren’t called to be global missionaries, but how many lonely, despairing people in your neighborhood live forgotten lives? Do you know?

How many, like the Greeks who came to Philip, would like to see Jesus, to see Jesus in their lives, to hear His Word, to taste His goodness?

How many are waiting…waiting for you or for me or for someone else to share God’s love with them?

How many?

 

Life in The Villages

Here in The Villages Diane and I live in a neighborhood brought into being 20 years ago. We and many of our neighbors have lived here from the start. Some of our original neighbors have died, or moved away, or entered some form of assisted living. Other slightly younger folks have bought their homes and changed the neighborhood demographics somewhat. But time marches on, so the change is hardly noticeable. Just do the math and you'll realize we're an aged bunch. 

Because we’ve lived in this neighborhood for so many years, most of us tend to watch out for each other. After all, as Dear Diane and I often remind ourselves, “We’re just a bunch of geezers and geezettes, who sometimes need a little help.” Too often the help we provide, or try to provide, progresses in strange and circuitous ways. In many respects I’m probably the least helpful neighbor. My excuse? I’m just not at home very much. Ministries in our parish keep me on the move and too often away from home. Perhaps I should learn to focus more on that which is near to me. I’m trying to work on that, as I come to the understanding that others can do all that I do, and likely do it better. But enough self-analysis. Let me offer an example of neighbors helping neighbors by relating a series of events that took place a not long ago. 

One Saturday evening I had returned home from the 4 pm vigil Mass when I received a detailed text from a neighbor. She informed me an ambulance had arrived at another neighbor’s home, and soon after the EMTs placed someone in the ambulance and left, presumably headed for the hospital. She couldn’t identify whether the “patient” was a man or a woman. I had some questions, so she suggested I call the couple’s immediate neighbor who had been directly involved. So I called the other neighbor, who provided more detail. Apparently, unknown to me, the wife, suffering from pneumonia, had been admitted to the hospital the day before. On Saturday afternoon she’d tried to call her husband to ask if he would bring a few needed items to the hospital, but he hadn’t answered the phone. Understandably concerned, she called her immediate neighbor. That couple went next door and found the husband disoriented and unable to walk even a few steps. They called for an ambulance which ultimately took him to the hospital. 

Two problems arose. First, when she called the hospital, the immediate neighbor could get no information on the man’s condition — standard hospital protocol. They were told only that he was in the ER. Second, the hospitalized couple have a dog. The immediate neighbors fed the dog, took him out for a few minutes, then returned him to his own home. Later, at about 9 p.m., they discover the husband had definitely been admitted. So they called me and asked the big question: What to do with the dog? They were in the process of training their own new puppy, so really couldn’t introduce another dog into their home. No problem. Because Diane and I love dogs, we volunteered to take temporary custody of Scout, a little Shih Tzu. Scout knew and trusted us, had been a pal of our dear, late Maddie, and had been in our house several times. So I went to Scout’s home, let myself in, gathered some dogfood and a few other items, then took the little critter back to our home.

As it turned out, Scout’s owners each spent about a week in the hospital, then several more weeks at a local rehab facility. Throughout it all Scout adjusted well, slept on our bed, and accompanied me on my daily walks. He and I established a routine that worked well for both of us. It seems, however, he got rather attached to me. According to Diane, whenever I left the house, Scout would sit by the door until I returned. She, of course, was the one who fed him, so perhaps his loyalty was more than a little displaced. I just think he’s one of those “guy dogs.” I tell you all this so you won’t think Diane and I were inconvenienced. We weren’t, not the slightest. It was a joy. We had recently lost our little Maddie, and Scout’s “parents” were friends, so we were the logical candidates to care for Scout. All went well. Many other neighbors contributed in a variety of helpful and far more meaningful ways. Scout is now back home with his “mom and dad,” who are recovering well.

Since these events, just a month or so ago, several similar situations have arisen in the neighborhood. In each instance different neighbors have stepped in and cared for those in need. Some even took ill neighbors into their homes and provided temporary care. Christians and Jews, these good people live their faith and instinctively help others whenever needed. 

And yet, the neighborhood isn’t perfect, because all of us who live here are imperfect as well. Sadly, you and I are too often ready to focus of others’ imperfections or criticize them over petty issues. Perhaps we should look in the mirror and remove the beam from our own eye. Yes, we know our neighbors, or think we do. We hear the stories (the neighborhood gossip) and too often spread it around a bit. But at some point we must accept that no one, at that includes you and me, is perfect. We’re all sinners. But most of these imperfections we carry around with us are not horrible things; they’re just human things. And as we see in the Gospel, Jesus is remarkably tolerant toward them. He forgives, he loves, just as we must forgive and love.

God likes to keep things simple, while we’re the ones who complicate everything. God told us to do two things, and if we do them, all else just falls in line: Love the Lord, your God with your whole heart, soul, mind, and strength; and love your neighbor as yourself. If we all did that, just imagine the kind of world we’d have. And even though we live in a sinful world, we are blessed with an occasional glimpse of God’s love right here in our neighborhoods as we witness neighbor helping neighbor. 

Love your neighbor, sisters and brothers — love your neighbor as you love yourself. Perhaps that’s the problem today. Too many people don’t love themselves, so they can hardly love another. And if you don’t love yourself, just remember, God knows everything about you, and yet He loves you more deeply than you could ever imagine. Once you understand and accept this, and learn to love yourself, loving others becomes much easier. 

Homily: Tuesday, 3rd Week of Lent (Cycle II)

Readings: Dan 3:25,34-43; Ps 25; Mt 18:21-35

________________________

Years ago, when I was working at Providence College, an aged Dominican – he must have been at least 70 – gave me a copy of a prayer written by Venerable Charles de Foucauld. At the time, he had not yet been beatified, and I had never heard of him. Today, years later, Charles is a canonized Saint, having been beatified by Pope Benedict XVI in 2005 and canonized by Pope Francis in 2022.

St. Charles de Foucauld

This remarkable man lived an even more remarkable life. Charles had been a playboy, an Army officer, an explorer, and a Trappist monk. But for the last 10 years of his life, he lived as a hermit among the Tauregs, a Muslim tribe in North Africa. He made no converts, and in 1916, in the midst of World War One, he was shot dead, assassinated in his hermitage by a fierce group of marauders who were also fighting the British and French. His life didn't really bear fruit until after his death. As Jesus told Philip and Andrew, "...unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit." [Jn 12:24]

The prayer I was given by that kind Dominican is a prayer of abandonment. It’s rather brief, something I guess you’d expect of such a prayer. Here's the complete text:

Father, I abandon myself into Your hands. Do with me what You will. Whatever You may do, I thank You. I am ready for all, I accept all.

Let only Your will be done in me and in all Your creatures. I wish no more than this, O Lord.

Into Your hands I commend my soul; I offer it to You with all the love of my heart; for, I love you, Lord, and so need to give myself, to surrender myself into Your hands without reserve and with boundless confidence. 

For You are my Father. Amen.

For years now, I’ve tried to pray these words every morning, except when I'm in too great a hurry, or simply a bit lazy. When I first read it, I realized this kind of selfless faith was, and remains, very difficult for me.

Interestingly, that Dominican gave it to me on Tuesday of the 3^rd week of Lent. I know this because at Mass in the college chapel that day I heard the same reading from Daniel that Patrick just proclaimed here today.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego -- don't you just love those wonderful names? You know, after we were married, I suggested to Diane, "You now, if we had triplets..." Well, that went nowhere.

Anyway, all three were willing to die very painful deaths rather than worship the false gods of King Nebuchadnezzar. But before they were tossed into that blazing furnace, Azariah, as Abednego was called in Hebrew, led them in prayer. This, too, was a prayer of sheer abandonment. He then repeated its essence in a statement to the king himself.

Although speaking to the king, Azariah and his companions reveal their decision to abandon themselves to God’s will. They accept life or death, whatever fulfills God’s plan.

If our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire and out of your hand, O king, let him deliver us. But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods and we will not worship the golden statue that you have set up.

King Nebuchadnezzar, like so many who wield worldly power, disliked being challenged, and had all three tossed into the furnace. But unlike St. Charles, God granted them life.

Perhaps such total abandonment, the offering of our lives in the face of imminent death, isn’t something you or I will ever be called to do. And yet, when we consider the direction our world is headed today, who knows? But real abandonment to God isn't reserved for martyrs. It's something we must all strive for, something that involves much of our everyday lives. 

We see an example in today’s Gospel passage, when Peter questions Our Lord about forgiveness. At this point in his own formation as a disciple, Peter is not concerned about abandonment to God’s will. No, he’s looking for a formula: “How much do I have to forgive? How long must I do things God’s way, before I can do it my way?"

Jesus’ parable provides the perfect answer, doesn’t it? He tells Peter and us that we must forgive as God forgives. Salvation is God’s business, but forgiveness, in imitation of God, is something we are called to do always.

Just consider how we commit ourselves to this In the Lord’s Prayer: 

Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

What a courageous thing to ask of God! Do we really mean it? Every time we pray those words, do we actually think about all that unforgiveness in our lives, just waiting for us?

Forgiveness, of course, is more than words; it also strives to restore that which separates us from each other. Our concerns, our hopes, should not be focused solely on ourselves, but on the good of the other person. Forgiveness is really the most human, the most intimate form of evangelization, a way we can help God lead others to Himself.

Yes, it can be frustrating on that human level when the others remain unrepentant. But you and I don’t save people. We are simply God’s instruments who are sometimes called to open the door so He can step in.

Once again, salvation is God’s business. And the actual healing often takes place long after you and I have done our little bit, have opened the window just a crack, so God’s Holy Spirit can rush in and do His work in the hearts and minds of those He places in our lives.

 

Homily: 1st Sunday of Lent - Year B

Readings: Gn 9:8-15; Ps 25; 1 Pt 3:18-22; Mk 1:12-15 

_________________________

Back in 1968, a few weeks after Diane and I were married, the United States Navy ordered me to San Diego; so, the newlyweds set out on the cross-country trip. 

One afternoon, driving through Arizona, we pulled off the highway and stopped the car, captivated by a distant thunderstorm moving across the desert, truly a remarkable sight. It was so distant, we could see the entire storm as sheets of rain poured down and bolts of lightning struck the ground one after another – a spectacular display, but so far away it just didn’t seem real.

This same sense of unreality can affect us when we’re confronted by distant events. Wars in Eastern Europe and the Middle East, terrorist attacks, the persecution of Christians in place like Nigeria, crime in our cities – yes, storms like these can also seem very distant. After all, they’re not happening here…at least not yet. A lot of us simply push it all aside, unmoved by what’s happening in the world. In a word, it’s easy for us to become indifferent.

But then there are those who look out at the world and its troubles and sinfulness and see nothing else. Wearing blinders of pessimism, they forget God is Emmanuel, who promised to be with us always. Indeed, in Genesis, we heard one of the first of God's promises – His covenant with Noah – a promise He’ll renew and expand throughout salvation history, anticipating the Incarnation of the Word of God among us. Yes, it all points to Jesus.

Dear friends, there’s no place in the mind and heart of the Christian for either indifference or pessimism; for the Gospel, the Good News of Jesus Christ, is a message of unabashed optimism, and certainly not one of indifference. This, sisters and brothers, is what Lent’s all about: a time of optimism, a time of renewal, a time to turn away from yesterday, focus on today, and look expectantly to tomorrow.

In today's Gospel passage, Jesus is driven into the desert by the Holy Spirit, by His Spirit, to do the will of the Father, His Father. Here we witness the work of our triune God. Yes, the Trinity is at work. So often we compartmentalize our God, forgetting that Father, Son, and Spirit are One. Jesus, sacrificially, willingly throws Himself into the heart of a spiritual storm. Why does He do this? Why subject Himself to Satan’s direct and personal temptations? He does it for us. For Jesus, it’s a time, in His humility, to suffer, to experience the same temptations you and I encounter. He becomes our model.

For Jesus, those 40 days were a time of prayerful communion with the Father, a time of radical formation to prepare Himself for His ministry and, ultimately for His passion, death, and resurrection. It was a defining moment in His humanity, sharply dividing His hidden private life and His public ministry. God has given us a Redeemer whose love for us is boundless. In our sufferings, pains, and temptations, He leads us, extending mercy and forgiveness, since He too has experienced it all. Listen again to the words of our Psalm 25: 

"He shows sinners the way." 

And how did St. Peter put it in our 2^nd reading?

“Christ suffered… that he might lead you to God.”

In this season of Lent, Our Lord leads us as His Spirit led Him, so we too can confront our own very personal deserts. We each have a desert or two, those barren pieces of our lives, that we’d prefer not to confront, or, at best, to just look at from a distance.

Is our relationship with God a desert? Is our prayer life arid, neglected except once each week on Sunday? Or perhaps we‘re like those who claim friendship only when they need help? Do we pray only in time of need? St. Paul instructs us to "pray without ceasing" [1 Thes 5:17]. What can he possibly mean by this? Are we supposed to be on our knees all day? No. Paul’s just telling us to offer all that we do to God. To place everything – our plans, burdens, worries, pains, our sufferings and our joys – at His feet. He’ll share them with us and bear them for us. Can you and I deepen our prayer life this Lent? Talk to and with God. Share your sorrows and joys with Him. Taste His goodness.

What about our family life? Is it like that chaotic storm roaring across the desert? Has mutual respect and patient understanding been replaced by the thunder of arguments and bolts of bitterness aimed at the hearts of those we love? Unkind words leave wounds. My dad used to say, “The strongest among us bite their tongues a lot.” You and I must learn to forgive as the Father forgives, to love as He loves. When we pray together daily, God unfolds miracles in our families.

Another desert: the habitual sin that plagues so many lives. And yet, God’s mercy and forgiveness await in the sacrament of reconciliation – a remarkable gift, too often refused.

Or do we live in a desert of self-absorption, focused on ourselves, while others remain unseen. People hunger for more than bread. There’s a lot of loneliness in our community, so many who hunger for a kind word, for someone to listen, to visit, for they too await the taste of God’s love in their lives.

Then there’s pride, the great temptation: to imagine we can achieve through our own efforts what only God can give. Interesting how we so often exhibit pride while God, in humility, became one of us. Remember how they taunted Jesus on the Cross: 

“He trusted in God; let God deliver Him if He loves him” [Mt 27:43].

No angels came to Jesus on the Cross, but God’s plan wasn’t suspended. Although Jesus seemed abandoned, nothing separated Him from the Father, certainly not Satan or the desert or even the Cross. Jesus set His heart on the Father and trusted. The Father vindicated the Son when and where He chose. But He did vindicate Him. 

Through His resurrection Jesus assures us that victory is ours if only we persevere in faith and trust. Lent, then, is really a joyous season. What did Jesus say? 

"This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe in the Gospel." 

“Repent and believe in the Gospel,” the Good News, and good news is always joyful.

Brothers and sisters, the Good News is life, the life God shares with us. Believe in life! Christ's life, your life, my life, life here and now and forever. Come alive! Let Christ live in you and through you. Open your life to Him and to the will of the Father. Like Jesus, we can use these 40 days to confront our deserts, and leave them behind. For Lent isn’t about yesterday. It’s about today. And today is life.

Yesterday is sin. Today is love. God's love for us and the love He calls us to share with others. It’s the love that keeps His commandments, the love that overcomes even death, the crucified love that takes away the sins of the world.

We tend to complicate everything, and yet God likes to keep things simple. He told us to do two things:

Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength; and your neighbor as yourself. [Lk 10:27]

So, if you want to repent, to convert, to allow God to change you, love! Love God and love one another.

Yesterday is the despair of a world that rejects our living, loving God, the despair of the faithless, and of gloomy theologians who always seem to condemn. What words do we pray after each decade of the Rosary? That little prayer of Our Lady of Fatima:

“Oh, my Jesus. Forgive us our sins. Save us from the fire of hell. Lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of Thy mercy.”

Do you and I believe God can lead all souls to heaven? If not, why then do we pray for it? For me, salvation is God's business, not mine. I just pray for others and myself, and hope; for today is hope — hope in God's message of love and forgiveness, the Good News of eternal life. So, if you want to repent, hope! Come to know the mercy of God.

Yesterday was slavery, slavery to sin, to pride, to fear. But today is freedom! Not the false freedom of doing whatever we want, but true freedom -- the power, the gift, to choose good over evil. So, if you want to repent, be free! Open yourself to God in free obedience to His commandments, and to each other in unforced love.

And do you know something? The wonderful thing about all this is you and I don’t have to do it alone. Indeed, we can’t do it alone. But if we call upon our God, the Father and the Son will send their Spirit to lead you and me out of those barren deserts into eternal life. 

God love you…and have a joyful Lent.

Homily: Tuesday, 6th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Jas 1:12-18 • Ps 94 • Mk 8:14-21

______________________

Yesterday we saw the blindness of a Pharisee asking Jesus for a sign of His authority from God. Today we see the blindness of Jesus’ own disciples, still struggling to understanding who He is. They were neither evil nor stupid; they just hadn’t grasped that Emmanuel – God with us – quite literally meant that God was with them. Of course, this points to you and me as well, to our own blindness in not always recognizing the clear Presence of God in our own lives.

The disciples are traveling across the lake in the boat.  You would think that with 12 of them someone would remember to pack a lunch. But no. They had only one loaf of bread. As they cross the lake, Jesus is talking to them:

“Keep your eyes open; be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod.”  

For the Jews yeast was a corrupting agent because it caused fermentation.  That was why at Passover they ate unleavened, incorrupt, bread. As Paul tells the Corinthians: 

“Get rid of all the old yeast, and make yourselves into a completely new batch of bread, unleavened as you are meant to be” [1 Cor 5:7].

Jesus is simply telling his disciples to avoid two opposing kinds of corruption: that of the Pharisees which is based on narrow-minded and intolerant legalism and that of Herod, is based on amoral and hedonistic pleasure-seeking. Of course, the disciples don’t listen; like us they tend to focus on their own little problems. They latch on to the word “yeast” and link it to their current obsession – not enough bread for them all. All they can think about is their lunch.

Jesus knows what is going in their minds. And so, he chews them out, scolding them for being so self-absorbed, for their continued worries of not having enough bread for their lunch. First, he tosses some rhetorical questions at them: Why are you worried about having no bread? Are your minds so closed, your vision so impaired you can’t see what’s right in front of you? Have you forgotten everything you’ve witnessed? Did it mean nothing?

But then He engages in a little Q&A with them: 

“When I broke the five loaves among the 5,000, how many baskets of leftovers did you pick up?” 

“Twelve,” they answer.  

“And when I broke the seven loaves for the 4,000, how many baskets of leftovers did you collect?” 

“Seven,” they reply.

“And still, you don’t understand?”

Five loaves for 5,000 people and 12 baskets of leftovers…Seven loaves for 4,000 with 7 baskets of leftovers…And you, a mere dozen men, are worried about being short of food when I am with you?

Mark tends to be hard on the disciples. They neither see nor hear, even when they witness the remarkable faith of others who encounter Jesus.They seem not to understand what is happening right before their very eyes. I suppose that’s to be expected. These were practical, down-to-earth men –fishermen, not mystics. They don’t yet know what to make of all the healings and miraculous things they’ve witnessed. A bit like you and me – so often we don’t see or understand what’s right in front of us.

But the disciples are learning…Indeed, only a few days after this event Peter makes His remarkable, Spirit-inspired testimony at Caesarea Philippi.

“Who do you say that I am? Jesus asks them.

And Peter replies, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” [Mt 16:16].

Mark, you see, isn’t really firing his shots at the disciples, because we know the end of their story. No, Mark is concerned about us, about you and me, for Mark knew what he was about. In the Acts of the Apostles, we encounter Mark as an evangelist, companion of Paul, and then Peter, a man who had seen the temptations James addresses in our first reading. 

Can we see? Do we understand? That God is with us? That He loves each of us with a very intimate, personal love? Or is our faith so weak we allow the little things in our lives to drive our thoughts and actions and blind us to the reality of God’s care for us? How about instead we focus on the big things:

On striving for holiness amidst the clutter of our lives.

On deepening our prayer life so we can stay in touch with God’s will for us.

On making disciples by taking Jesus to others

Do these things, the big things, and God will gladly lead us, and help us handle all the rest – the little things like bread, and illness, and family conflict, all the other worries that occupy our minds.

God cares for us, and He loves to take care of faithful ones.