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 18, 2024

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 50th 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?


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