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.

Monday, November 14, 2022

Homily: Mass and Healing Service - 11/12/2022

Readings: 3 Jn:5-8; Ps 112; Lk 18:18

__________________________________

Today’s readings are all about faith, and prayer, and healing; but, essentially, they’re really about faith. Without faith, prayer is empty, like the self-centered prayer of the publican who prayed only to himself. And remember what happened when Jesus visited his hometown of Nazareth?

“…he did not work many mighty deeds there because of their lack of faith” [Mt 13:58].

Yes, without faith, healing doesn’t happen. Faith, then, is at the heart of it, isn’t it? Even though we’re all in need of healing, it’s through our faith we can cry out to God in our need.

But in our relativistic, politically correct world, faith is seen as little more than superstition. I’m speaking, of course, about supernatural faith, not natural faith in what others tell us and do. We express natural faith: faith that the plane we’re in will get us safely to our destination; faith that my phone calls the right number, that the pharmacist gave me the right prescription; faith that Mongolia exists, even though I’ve never been there; faith that the other driver will stop at the stop sign. Human, natural faith drives almost everything we do.

But supernatural faith is our free assent to all that God has revealed, all which we profess in the Creed, that which we celebrate here today. As Scripture reminds us, 

“Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” [Heb 11:1].

Supernatural faith is a gift from God, one that calls for obedience, but obedience demands humility. Those who live in a world without humility, a world that needs no God, simply reject the gift of faith. They can neither accept what God has promised, nor believe He actually loved them into existence. Lacking faith, they face the world alone, and afraid.

Some of us here today are afraid: afraid because of an illness; afraid of getting old; afraid of death. Some of us are afraid because our lives haven’t turned out quite the way we’d planned, and we fear an unknown future. Some of us are plagued by guilt, and guilt breeds doubt and fear in our hearts. Some of us can’t accept forgiveness because we are unable to forgive others, or to forgive ourselves. And so, the doubts and fears remain. There’s a beautiful verse from Psalm 95: 

"If today you hear His voice, harden not your hearts" [Ps 95: 7-8].

Well, His voice is calling us, calling you and me, calling each of us individually. But hardened hearts are unlikely to listen to or even hear His voice. That’s what Satan does when he attacks our faith; he does it through doubt and fear. And that’s why Jesus tells us so often: “Be not afraid.”

And doubts? Don’t let them trouble you. Even the Apostles doubted, when their faith should have been strongest. At the very end of Matthew’s Gospel, as the 11 accompanied the Risen Jesus to the mountaintop, immediately before His Ascension, Matthew reveals:

“When they saw him, they worshiped, but they doubted” [Mt 28:17].

Remarkable, isn’t it? It’s why the Risen Jesus, after confronting Thomas and his doubts, says to us:

“Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed” [Jn 20:29].

And that’s you and me. We are blessed.

Let me share an experienced from a few years ago. The deacons in my previous parish on Cape Cod conducted a weekly Liturgy of the Word with Holy Communion at a local nursing home. After the liturgy, if we had time, we usually helped our volunteers return the residents to their rooms.

Well, one day I was pushing Teresa in her wheelchair. Now, I’d known Teresa for several years. She was in her early 90s, but had recently started to have some mild memory problems. But one thing hadn’t changed: Teresa talked incessantly. It didn’t always make complete sense, but it never stopped.

On this particular day as we approached the elevator, Teresa was chattering away when we encountered Connie. Connie, also in her 90s, stood in the center of the corridor, but was screaming, loudly. Teresa asked me to stop the wheelchair, and then reaching out she touched Connie’s forearm, rubbing it gently, not saying a word. The three of us remained there for what seemed like an eternity – Connie screaming, Teresa rubbing, and I wondering how long this would go on. But then Connie’s screaming eased and soon stopped completely. She became very calm. Teresa gave her arm a final squeeze and said quietly, “We can go now.”

I wheeled her into the elevator and as soon as the door closed, she said, “Connie’s OK, she’s just afraid because she doesn’t have much faith.” She then went on talking about how good the lasagna had been the night before.

Whenever I read today’s Gospel passage from Luke, I inevitably think of that day, about Connie's fears and her lack of faith, and about Teresa's faith and her lack of fear. You see, at the very end of that Gospel passage Jesus asked a rather frightening question:

“But when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” [Lk 18:8]

If we’re here on that day, will you and I be another Teresa or another Connie? Of course, I learned something else in that nursing home. I learned that faith is contagious. Through her faith Teresa calmed Connie’s fears, helping her accept God’s gift of faith. And, not surprisingly, Teresa taught me my own faith was far from perfect.

God, you see, gives us this wondrous gift so we can share it with others, just as Teresa shared it with Connie and me. This is how much God loves us. He loves us so much that He entrusts us to share this most valuable gift with everyone we encounter.

Teresa recognized something else. She had come to understand that God calls us to do one thing in this life: to serve Him and His people. We’re called to be servants, expecting nothing in return. God doesn't promise his servants safety. He doesn't promise us long and happy lives. He doesn't promise success, or fame, or wealth, or beautiful children, or a nice home. 

God promises us one enduring thing: eternal life, which is the greatest gift He could ever give us. He also told us that to achieve eternal life, to collect on this promise, we must love Him in return, and do His will. That can mean carrying our cross.

Now, you might think this is a strange thing to say right before a healing service. After all, shouldn’t we be talking about healing rather than cross-bearing? Shouldn’t we be like the widow in today’s Gospel passage? Through persistence didn’t she ultimately get exactly what she wanted? Yes, but how does Jesus explain this parable to the disciples? Listen again…

“Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night? Will he be slow to answer them? I tell you, he will see to it that justice is done for them speedily” [Lk 18:7-8].

Did you hear the promise? You can expect justice from God – not man’s justice, but divine justice. And His justice is an enduring, eternal justice, always tempered with mercy. If we have a faith that endures, a faith that refuses to give up even when all else has been taken from us, God will bless us with His justice and mercy.

What form this justice and mercy will take, we don’t know…and so we leave that up to God, for He knows what is best for each of us. But the faith that endures is the faith Jesus showed us, a faith that persisted to the end, even as He hung on the Cross.

Jesus’ sacrificial act of faith was for us; it was for our salvation. This is the Good News. Our God loves us so much, He’s willing to die for us...which begs the question: what are we willing to do for Him? Fortunately, Jesus answers this for us: We must serve. How did John put it in our first reading?

“Please help them in a way worthy of God to continue their journey” [3 Jn 1:6].

Here again, then, we called to serve, even as we ourselves beg for God’s mercy. In other words, those of us who seek healing must also become healers. I’ll repeat that: if you seek healing, you must become a healer, and a forgiver. That’s right, all of us here today for healing are called to be healers and forgivers of others.

Think of what that means. Do we spend our days and our nights wrapped up in ourselves, thinking only of our own brokenness, our own fears and doubts, our own need for healing, thinking about those who have hurt or offended us?

Or do we follow the example of our Savior? Do we reach out to others, as Jesus reaches out on the Cross, helping them overcome their fears by extending God’s love.

John also promised that “perfect love drives out fear” [1 Jn 4:18] and only God’s love is perfect. But just as we are called to share the gift of faith, God expects us to spread his perfect love throughout the world, at least in the tiny slice of the world in which God has placed us.

Today, as you come forward in need of God’s healing touch, carry all those you know in need of healing, all those in need of forgiveness…carry them with you and lay them at the foot of the Cross.

Brothers and sisters, become healers, ambassadors of God’s love and forgiveness.

God’s peace…


No comments:

Post a Comment