The occasional, often ill-considered thoughts of a Roman Catholic permanent deacon who is ever grateful to God for his existence. Despite the strangeness we encounter in this life, all the suffering we witness and endure, being is good, so good I am sometimes unable to contain my joy. Deo gratias!


Although I am an ordained deacon of the Catholic Church, the opinions expressed in this blog are my personal opinions. In offering these personal opinions I am not acting as a representative of the Church or any Church organization.

Saturday, July 30, 2022

Homily: Saturday, 17th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Jer 26:11-16,24; Ps 69; Mt 14:1-12

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Today, in addition to our Saturday memorial for the Blessed Mother, we celebrate St. Peter Chrysologus, a fifth-century bishop and doctor of the Church also known as a gifted preacher. I’ve read a few of his homilies and suspect they likely lasted an hour or more. Aren’t you glad he’s not preaching here today…or maybe not.

Anyway, as I read Psalm 69 yesterday, today’s responsorial psalm, I was reminded of something that happened to me long ago. It was these words by the psalmist that struck me:

Let not the abyss swallow me up…

Yes, these words brought back an odd and old memory.

Many years ago, when I was a young naval officer, one Sunday afternoon the captain of our ship decided to give the crew a treat. He stopped the ship, right there in the middle of the South Pacific, rigged up a ladder to a small floating dock, lowered a boat with a rifleman to watch out for sharks, and had a swim call. Most of the crew preferred to stay aboard ship and take advantage of the flight deck barbeque, but I thought a dip in the ocean would be just the thing on a steamy hot day.

Now it’s one thing to travel over deep water in a ship or to fly over it, and it’s something quite different to immerse oneself in it physically – to experience it up close and personal, so to speak. I admit, when I dove off the dock into crystal clear blue water, it was refreshingly wonderful. And then, after a few minutes, I made the mistake of dunking my head under water looking straight down. 

The sun was almost directly above, so the sunlight formed a kind of funnel, a vortex of light beneath me going down into the darkness with my legs dangling there in the midst of it. It was a remarkable, almost breathtaking, experience, looking down through that narrowing cone of light into the seemingly infinite darkness of the ocean. As I hovered, almost paralyzed by the experience, I recalled that the ocean there was a good four to five miles deep. For a moment I felt completely alone, totally vulnerable, something that in my usual arrogance and self-confidence I had never before experienced. With no reference other than myself and the vastness of the ocean, for the first time in my life I was aware of how small and fragile I really was.

How long did I hover there staring down into that deep water? I don’t know, but eventually I needed to breathe. I broke the surface and felt this tremendous sense of relief to see others swimming around me with the huge bulk of the aircraft carrier only fifty yards away. I swam back to the little dock and climbed up that 70-foot ladder in record time. And, you know, in all the years since I’ve never again felt the need to go swimming in mid-ocean, to enter that deep water, a stare into the abyss.

I suppose the lives of the prophets – John the Baptist, Jeremiah, and all the rest – were a constant reliving of that experience that I had for just a moment. They stared down into the abyss, into the abyss of hatred, not knowing if they’d even survive another day, all the while struggling to trust that God would care for them. “Let not the abyss swallow me up.”

Herod Antipas was not unlike the priests and false prophets of Jeremiah’s time. The true prophets, men like Jeremiah, those who spoke God’s Word…oh, they were easy to hate because the truth they spoke cut to the very core. The world could ignore them only so long, because what they said was so disturbing to all those well-planned lives.

And that call to repentance? To re-think everything. To change. To set aside my comfortable life and look into the abyss? To trust, to put my faith to the test. Yes, like Herod and the rest, too often you and I fear and resist the change that God calls to us.

Ironically, sometimes it’s the very goodness of our lives that keeps us from responding – family, friends, health, freedom, safety…all just going so well. Being comfortable here, in a bright, well-manicured community that we hope mirrors our own lives…yes, indeed, it can keep us from listening to what God calls us to do.

We look outward at an unjust world, shake our heads, and give thanks that we’re somewhat isolated from it all. It’s the same kind of world that rejected Jesus. A world governed by pride, where that same lack of humility leads so many to believe they don’t need the God who created them out of love. And as we look at that world, you and I sense a certain guilt because we are so blessed. Perhaps what we really need is a deeper sense of humility, as St. Thérèse once wrote, "My task was simplified the moment I realized I could do nothing by myself."

Perhaps we should just step into that unjust world, put God’s light on the lampstand and let it shine into the lives of those around us. Hard to believe, but you and I are called to be prophets, called to be God’s messengers, to be His voice in the tiny slice of the world where He’s placed us. We need fear nothing, not even the abyss; for when you and I respond to God's word with faith and obedience, we are changed, and made "new creations" in Christ.

For some of us, time is running out, so I guess we’d better get busy.

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