Monday, May 6, 2024
Kristi Noem and Her Dog
Sunday, April 21, 2024
Homily: 4th Sunday of Easter - Year B
Readings: Acts 4:8-12;
Ps 118; 1 Jn 3:1-2; Jn 10:11-18
I’m going to tell you a story; and
it’s a true story.
Back when I was flying off aircraft carriers, we pilots tended to hang out with each other when off duty. We’d talk about aviation, working on improving our skills -- you know, stayin’ alive. But we’d also talk about other stuff, especially over meals. We'd always been told that officers shouldn’t talk religion or politics in the wardroom. In truth, though, we often talked about these things; but we knew each other well and forgave our differences.
One of our squadron pilots, a friend named Bill, talked a lot about religion. I thought that was strange since at best he was agnostic. Anyway, it really bothered him that so many of us were believers, especially Christians. One evening, before one of those tiring night missions, several of us were probably on our fifth cup of coffee, when Bill started on his favorite rant.
“Just look at the universe,” he
said. “It’s just too big to imagine with its billions of galaxies. Then we have
earth, this tiny planet of ours, so infinitesimally insignificant, stuck in
some little cosmic corner.
“Is there a God who made all this?
Maybe so. I don't know.
“But you Christians believe that
this God who created everything, and maintains it all, that He decided to come
down here to our nothing little planet, become one of us, tell us how to live,
and then let us kill Him by nailing Him to a Cross.”
Then he said, “I’m sorry, but this
is just beyond…as you would say, beyond belief.” Yes, indeed, Bill thought
Christians were idiots.
Now, I was just another pilot, but
felt I had to say something in defense of our faith, so I just said, “Bill, do
you love your wife?”
Well, that surprised him. “What do
you mean?”
“Just what I said. Do you love
Marie?”
“Of course I do.”
“Yes, I’ve seen you together. I can
tell you love her. And you’d do anything for her, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah, I would.”
“Would you give your life for her?”
“Of course I would. Heck, I’d even
give my life for you guys, though you don’t deserve it.”
“Yeah, we know that. You see, Bill,
the God who created that great universe you described, also created you and me,
and created us in His image and likeness.
“He created us out of love and
created us to love. And because of His love, you can
love Marie.”
All Bill said was, “Well…maybe.” I
guess I wasn't very convincing.
A few years later I received word
that Bill had taken his own life. When we first heard the news one of my more
fundamentalist friends said, “How sad that he’s now in hell.”
Well, that made me angry, and for a moment, I just stared at him in disbelief. Finally, I said, “You really think you’re God, don’t you? That you can decide who's saved or who or isn’t. But salvation is God’s business, not ours. All we can do is what Paul told the Philippians:
“…work out your salvation with fear and trembling” [Phil
2:12].
"Only God knows what Bill
struggled with, what fears claimed him. Only God knows what was in his heart. All I know is God will look on Bill with
love and mercy, for 'His mercy endures forever.' Because that’s who our God is. And I know nothing else, nothing
else for certain.”
I just walked away angry, which was stupid. I’d like to think I’d handle both situations differently today.
Sisters and brothers, today on Good Shepherd Sunday, we celebrate God’s great love for us, and we do it despite the skepticism and disbelief of so many in the world, people like my friend Bill.
In John’s Gospel we hear Jesus
clearly revealing who He is and how important we are to him.
“I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down his life for his
sheep.”
Jesus doesn’t abandon us in the
face of danger; no, He sacrifices Himself.
Just consider what it means for God
to sacrifice His life for us. This divine sacrificial act has led some to ask:
Is God of the Christians insane? Is He crazy? I suppose Bill thought that too.
But our Gid isn't crazy; no, our God is Love. His is a love, not simply beyond our capability, but it’s beyond our understanding. In St. Paul’s words, “He emptied himself” and became one of us to offer His life to save ours. And He did this solely out of love. Do you see the kind of God we have, this Good Shepherd who cares so much for us?
Then, to ensure we get the point, Jesus turns to us and tells us to love others as he has loved us, to be willing to give our lives for them, even for those the world says just aren’t worth it. Our love for God, Jesus tells us, must be mirrored in our love for others.
Remember that wonderful scene
described in John’s Gospel when, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, the risen
Jesus asks Peter three times:
“Simon, son of John, do you love me?”
…and each time Peter responds,
“Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”
To the first yes, Jesus said “Feed my lambs”; to the second, “Tend my sheep”; and to the third, “Feed my sheep.” Your love for me, Jesus is telling Peter, will be evidenced by how well you tend my sheep, my people, those for whom I sacrificed my life to save.
But Jesus didn’t stop with Peter.
He turns to all of us, all of us in the Body of Christ. He doesn’t say,
“love me as I have loved you.” No, instead He commands, "love one another as I have loved you."
In our first reading, we learned
that our love for others must manifest God’s love, and the good that we do must be done
in Jesus’ name. As Peter proclaimed:
“There is no salvation through anyone else, nor is there any other
name under heaven given to the human race by which we are to be saved."
It’s all Jesus Christ, in Jesus
Christ, through Jesus Christ, and only Jesus Christ.
John presents this a bit
differently in our 2nd reading:
“See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called
the children of God. Yet so we are.”
Children of God… you and me… all of
us:
- the poor in need of a meal or a place to sleep...they're God's children
- the Alzheimer’s patient in memory care...is a child of God
- the lonely, the depressed, whom nobody visits...a child of God
- the neighbor undergoing radiation and chemo-therapy...she's a child of God
- the prisoner locked away in his cell...yes, he too is a child of God
- the single mother struggling to make ends meet...a child of God
And, yes, many of us may be suffering as well, but that doesn’t mean we stop loving.
For all of us, children of God, are brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ. We’re not strangers; for children of the same loving Father can’t be strangers. Brothers and sisters of our Lord, Jesus Christ, can’t be strangers.
Jesus calls us not simply to love
others, but to see and hear Him in them, to realize that what we do for and to
each other, we do to Him.
“I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of
mine, you did for me.’
I suppose at judgment we will judge
ourselves by our response to this calling as children of God.
Years ago, Diane and I attended a
papal audience in Rome, and heard Pope Benedict say:
“As a community, the Church must practice love…The Church cannot
neglect the service of love any more than she can neglect the Sacraments and
the Word.”
At every level, then — the universal Church, the diocese, the parish, the home – we must love. This is how the Church shows who she really is.
Outside a Catholic church in Syracuse, NY there’s a statue of a man seated on the sidewalk. I think there's a similar statue at Ave Maria University here in Florida. It’s a statue, a sculpture, of a beggar, wearing a hood, his face covered. His hand is stretched out toward those who walk by, much like the hand of the beggar reaching out to Peter in our reading from Acts.
But if you look closely, you’ll notice a nail hole in that hand. Yes, it’s Our Lord, the risen Jesus bearing the wounds of His love; it’s the Jesus who humbled Himself to became like a slave, a beggar.
For those who pass by it’s a
constant reminder to look beyond appearances and see Jesus in all who reach out
to them.
And for you and me it’s a reminder
that Christ has His hand stretched out to us right now.
God love you.
And please…pray for my friend, Bill, and for all those veterans who found their lives to hard to live.
Tuesday, April 2, 2024
Homily: Tuesday within the Octave of Easter
“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.
Friday, March 22, 2024
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.
Sunday, March 17, 2024
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!”
“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 2nd
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?
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.
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?
Monday, March 11, 2024
Life in The Villages
Tuesday, March 5, 2024
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 3rd 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.
Sunday, February 18, 2024
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 2nd 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.
Wednesday, February 14, 2024
Homily: Tuesday, 6th Week in Ordinary Time
Readings: Jas 1:12-18 • Ps 94 • Mk 8:14-21
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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.