Homily: 5th Sunday of Lent - Year C

Readings:  Is 43:16-21; Ps 126; Phil 3:8-14; Jn 8:1-11

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Do any of you watch those TV movies on the Hallmark and Great American Family networks? I recently read they’re the most popular movies on TV. So, it seems a lot of people like these sappy, feel-good movies. 

They depict a world of personal, work, and family problems, all quickly solved by perfect solutions. And the plots? They really don’t vary much, do they? A workaholic or a struggling single parent suddenly encounters someone who at first just adds to life’s challenges. But over time relationships develop, and they’re attracted to each other. But then there arises a seemingly insoluble crisis, followed, of course, by a miraculous resolution, then the happily-ever-after kiss.

Just like real life!

The trouble with real life is that it not only has a present, but also both a past and a future. The past isn’t always pleasant, but we try to forget those unpleasant pieces of it. Unless, of course, your spouse, desiring only to improve you, kindly reminds you of past mistakes.

Today’s readings focus on past problems. In Isaiah, the Jews, exiled in Babylon, had been looking nostalgically to the days of Moses and Joshua, their liberation from Egypt and their entry to the Promised Land. But they were also reminded of their sinfulness and disobedience which led them into exile. Then God, speaking through His prophet, Isaiah, chastised them:

Remember not the events of the past… see, I am doing something new!

Trust in me, God tells them. Put your sins and idolatry behind you and serve the Living God. You remain My Chosen People; and through you I will bring salvation to the world.

In our second reading we find St. Paul facing a past that was hard to forget. Before his miraculous conversion, Paul had been an active persecutor of Christians. Elsewhere, he tells us:

“I not only shut up many of the saints in prison…but when they were put to death, I cast my vote against them.” (Acts 26:10)

Despite this heavy burden, Paul knew that God had given him incredible graces. And so, he could remind us that he was 

“...forgetting what lies behind but straining forward to what lies ahead.”

Paul didn’t forget all God had done for him. And we, too, must thank God for not leaving us where we were. But like Paul, we can’t live in the past.

And that, sisters and brothers, is real life: past, present, and future. And to see it manifested in its fulness, just turn to the Gospel. For Jesus didn’t water down the problems, and the solutions can be hard indeed.

Just consider today’s passage from John. It’s not a little made-for-TV story, is it? No, the situation and the people are very real. It’s about life and death, about sin and hatred and human judgment. It’s about divine forgiveness, about salvation and eternal life.

Picture it: scribes and Pharisees, spiritually entombed by an intractable understanding of the Law, dragged this woman, an adulteress, before Jesus, and surrounded her. They were so sure of themselves, weren’t they?

Yes, they’d used her, this woman who meant nothing to them. The used her to entrap Jesus, whom they considered an ignorant Galilean bumpkin. So they tossed the case to Jesus. Let Him solve this one, in front of everyone, right here in the Temple area.

Should we stone her as Moses prescribed? What do you say, teacher?

A "YES" would deny His own teaching – His behavior with sinners – and also violate Roman law, for only the Romans could execute. A "NO" would violate Mosaic law and show Himself to be a heretic of sorts. Once again, the scribes and Pharisees were certain they had entrapped Jesus.

Just try to imagine how the woman felt. Probably petrified. Is she about to die? Will they stone her? And who is this man? Why did they bring her to Him?

Jesus says nothing. He bends down and with his finger writes in the dust of the ground.

But the mob of holy men is impatient and press Him for an answer. So, Jesus just straightens up and utters those remarkable words:

“Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”

Again, He bent down and wrote in the dirt. What does He write in that dust beneath their feet? Names? Sins? John doesn’t tell us. We can only guess.

One thing we know for certain. Jesus Christ, the Creative Word of God, “Who formed man out of the dust of the ground,” spoke and then wrote words that day in that same dust. And the effect? The scribes and Pharisees disperse, “one by one, beginning with the elders” – presumably those, like many of us here, whose memories are filled with a longer list of sins.

Yes, Jesus confronted a lot of sinners that day. An adulteress, who represents us all, all who need and seek forgiveness. But the scribes and Pharisees represent us too. It’s easy to slide into their kind of sinfulness, their self-righteous judgment of others. How easy it is to condemn rather than extend love and compassion.

The contrast is vivid: The woman, now alone with Jesus, hears His voice.

“Has no one condemned you?…Neither do I condemn you. Go, sin no more.”

You see, brothers and sisters, we are blessed with a God who forgives and forgets. The woman will never forget her past, for it brought her to forgiveness and salvation. But she cannot live in it. For she is all of us, everyone from Adam until judgment day, all of us in need of salvation, in need of forgiveness, in need of a Savior.

She’s the very story of salvation, of sin and mercy, of sin committed and sin forgiven. She, like Paul, like the exiled Israelites, like you and I, cannot live in the past; for all of us are called to a new life brought to us by a Savior, God’s only Son. She must go and sin no more, while striving to know and love the God who refused to condemn her.

No, we can’t and shouldn’t live in the past. A sense of nostalgia is a normal, human reaction to the constant change we encounter in the world, in our lives, in our Church. But to try to live in the past, to focus only on what once was…well, that can blind us to God’s continuing shower of gifts.

The point is, the Church remains God’s community of salvation, in which He acts through His people, through you and me. God acts right here. Through the sacraments, the Holy Spirit sanctifies us, making us holy.

Of course, we can also crumble under life’s challenges, and they come in many flavors: debilitating illness, financial problems, aging, assisted living, death of a spouse, wayward children, addictions, family problems…so many things that can turn us from God’s love. If we allow it, they can diminish us, tempt us to look only to happier, more stable times…

But as Christians the glory days aren’t in the past; they’re still ahead: life with Christ in glory. We must keep growing until we die; for full oneness with the living Christ, is never perfected here.

You and I must “strain forward” as Paul did; and keep dying with Christ so as to live more fully. For the true disciple of Jesus Christ, tomorrow is always better than yesterday. Each day is a new creation in the presence of a living, loving, merciful God.

And just like the woman in the Gospel, we must learn to accept Christ’s forgiveness. So many people don’t. They go through life, wallowing in guilt, afraid of hell, tormented by their pasts, burdened by brokenness and human frailty. This isn’t why God became man. This isn’t why He died that death on that dark Friday afternoon.

“Christ loved me,” St. Paul insisted, “and gave Himself for me.” And that love is present, even in my sinfulness. So, fix your eyes not on yesterday’s sin, but on today’s forgiveness and tomorrow’s hope. Repent, yes, but to repent is to re-think, to change. Repentance that saves is not a ceaseless self-scourging, but fresh self-giving, a new birth of love.

Barely two weeks of Lent remain. If you really want to rise with Christ, repeat the song He sings to you:

“Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth.”

Come to think of it, as Christians, we are the new thing. And it’s far better than any Hallmark movie. Why not spring forth? 

Do so gloriously, rejoicing in God’s mercy, His forgiveness, and the New Life, the eternal life He offers to every one of us.

Homily: Tuesday, 2nd Week of Lent

Sometimes, after I've prepared a homily, the priest will let me know that he'd like to preach. And that's OK, never a problem. It's good for me to prepare so I can appreciate God's Word even more. The below homily is the one I didn't preach today, but thought my tiny band of readers might find it of some benefit.

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Readings: Is 1:10, 16-20; Ps 50; Mt 23:1-12

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I have to admit, listening to today’s Gospel passage from Matthew always causes me to cringe a little.

Jesus, of course, was talking about the Pharisees and Scribes and their hypocrisy, and warning the people, especially His disciples, about following their example. As we see throughout the Gospels, these spiritual leaders of the Jewish people didn’t really hide their hypocrisy too well. It wasn’t just obvious to Jesus, but we suspect everyone saw it.

Indeed, Jesus offers us a sad litany of their offenses, everything from grasping honor and privileges for themselves to making life unbelievably difficult for others. But Jesus is also letting His disciples know that they, too, can fall prey to these same failings, and so the warning extends across the centuries to us as well. And there’s one sin -- and I think we can safely call all these failings sins -- that strikes me with the greatest force. It’s when Jesus says, “For they preach but they do not practice.”

You see, as a deacon, a man once declared by my bishop to be a true “servant of God” – he actually said that to all of us at our ordination. Anyway, when I hear Jesus say this about those Pharisees, I find myself wanting to hide behind that “seat of honor” over there.

It’s a very obvious seat isn’t it? Comfortable too. Yes, indeed, no matter how crowded the Mass, I’ve always got a great seat don’t I? Heck, the parish even gives me a parking place, so the old deacon doesn’t have to tire himself out.

But it’s really that preach and practice thing that troubles me. I’m preaching right now, and soon enough I’ll probably be telling you how to live your lives during this season of Lent. I did just that at a couple of Masses this past weekend.

And yet, like you, I too am a sinner. Most of the faults I address in homilies and the remedies I preach have their source in my own behavior, or in that of those I love and know best. Yep, it’s always easier to identify the sins of family and friends, isn’t it? We know them so very well, just as they know us.

Anyway, as I dig deeper into my own conscience to uncover my faults, I realize how different I am from the man I was 30, 40, or 50 years ago. I guess my spiritual life, my struggle toward some degree of holiness, has actually progressed, not as far as I’d like, and certainly far below the Lord’s hopes…

On a wall in our home, hangs a rather large portrait of Jesus – it’s the Divine Mercy image – and I’m serious, but sometimes when I glance at it, Jesus seems to be shaking His head at me…Maybe it’s just my aging vision, but I think it’s more than that. He’s just showing me I have a long way to go.

Lent, though, is a good time for introspection, a time to take a good, hard look at ourselves – a time to let God reform us, to transform us, into His ways

It’s also a time for simplicity, a time to turn away from the busyness of the world and its false attractions and promises.

But perhaps most importantly, it’s a time for sacrifice. So often we try to avoid any kind of sacrifice because sacrifice often means suffering, and yet it’s there, in our sacrifices, where Jesus Christ comes to meet us.

It’s there, when we bear our everyday crosses, that He comes to us and carries them with us.

Jesus never said that living the Christian life would be easy; but He did promise we wouldn’t be alone. He would join us.

Yes, I suppose I’m guilty of a touch of hypocrisy, but thanks to Jesus’ words, at least I know it, and can repent. Maybe some of those Scribes and Pharisees also came to recognize their hypocrisy when they listened to Jesus, and then they too repented.

Perhaps they, too, heard Isaiah’s message, one they would have known well:

“Wash yourselves clean!...[and] set things right”

And how do we do that? We change, for that’s what repentance means.

“Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes; cease doing evil; learn to do good. Make justice your aim: redress the wronged, hear the orphan's plea, defend the widow.”

Oh, yes, so let me leave you with another thought:

Don’t be too critical of deacons and priests, of bishops and popes, for we too are human and subject to the whole range of human failings.

How much better simply to pray for us, as we pray for you.

  

Homily: 2nd Sunday of Lent (Year C)

Readings: Gn 15:5-12,17-18; Phil17-4:1; Lk 9:28b-36

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As I prepared this homily and thought about our parish and its demographics, I finally concluded that we’re all pretty old. And given all those years behind us, I’m sure we’ve all witnessed a lot of transformations in our lives, changes in people and places.

Back in the early 1950s, just a few years after the end of World War II, my family spent a year in Germany. I was only 7 or 8 years old, and my father, an Army officer, wouldn’t live in Army housing or send us to Army schools. We lived in a tiny walk-up flat and went to German schools.

It was a remarkable time, for the destruction caused by the war was still very evident. In fact a house close by had been completely destroyed. In some cities, almost everything was gone -- homes, apartment houses, shops, small businesses, large factories – all had been turned into unrecognizable piles of brick and smashed concrete.

But thanks to the Marshall Plan and the power of the human spirit, rebuilding had already begun. And by the time I returned ten years later, Western Europe had been completely transformed. It was a vivid example of the human spirit, in its darkest hour, rising to accomplish remarkable things.

But human events like this resurrection of post-war Europe pale in comparison to what God has promised us – the miraculous restoration He will accomplish in our resurrection from the dead. In our 2^nd reading St. Paul reminds us:

"…our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we also await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will change our lowly body to conform with His glorified body."

And today's Gospel passage from Luke gives us a glimpse of what Christ's glorified body is like. Before His Resurrection, Jesus' body was just like ours, subject to hunger and thirst, pain and pleasure, weakness and strength. After the Resurrection, Christ's body was glorified, transfigured by His divine nature. And because His Spirit lives within us, God will do the same for us.

The eternal life God has promised those who love Him isn’t merely some sort of spiritual existence. It will include our material bodies, but bodies very different from what we now have. More than that we cannot say. What really matters is how our faith in the resurrection affects what we do in our lives today.

This is why the surprising event Luke describes, the Transfiguration, took place. For the Transfiguration was not only a manifestation of Jesus’ divinity, but also a glimpse into the future that God has planned for us, and a wake-up call for the here and now. Indeed, it really was a wake-up call, for Peter, James, and John had been asleep. How did Luke put it?

"Jesus took Peter, John, and James and went up the mountain to pray…"

Then, just moments later, Luke tells us:

"Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep."

Of course, this was nothing new. In fact, the disciples spent a remarkable amount of time asleep, and when they weren’t asleep, they were afraid, oblivious, blind, or hiding away. Jesus often had to wake them up, open their eyes, calm their fears, and bring them out of hiding.

By the time Peter, James, and John went up that mountain to pray with Jesus, they had seen Him heal the sick and cast devils into the sea. They heard unclean spirits shriek and watched while a paralytic simply picked up his pallet and walked away. They had seen him walk on water and change water into wine.

In the past few months, Jesus had challenged all their fears; He’d revealed and forgiven all their sins. They found themselves eating with sinners, laughing with tax collectors, talking to lepers and harlots and thieves. They’d left their predictable, comfortable lives behind, and set out on the adventure of a lifetime.

And yet…and yet despite all this – despite all their waking up and growing up and sitting up in wonder, when they followed Jesus up that mountain, they still fell asleep. Only eight days before the Holy Spirit had moved Peter to declare Jesus to be "the Christ, the Son of the Living God." (Mt 16:16) But when Jesus spoke of His passion and death…well, Peter and the others would have none of it!

On that mountaintop, though, flanked by Moses and Elijah, the Law and the Prophets, Jesus is transfigured before them. As His divinity is revealed, Peter, James, and John awaken, and their own transformation begins. Peter wanted to stay there. He wanted the moment to last forever. Is it any wonder? Just imagine what it must have been like.

But God tells them, No. Not now. You must return to the world. You must do my work. You must take my love and my Word to all. You must do what my beloved Son tells you.
“Listen to him”, the Father’s voice demands.

Listen, do as He’s commanded you, and you will share in the glory you see today.

Listen…and be transformed.

Yes, Jesus tells them, He has sent Me to announce Good News to the poor, to proclaim release for prisoners, and give sight to the blind; to let the broken victims go free.

Listen…and be transformed.

Do not be afraid. From now on, you will be fishers of men. Make disciples of all nations. And I will be with you even until the end of time.

Listen…and be transformed.

I haven’t come to invite the righteous, but to call sinners to repentance. Your sins are forgiven you. Go and sin no more.

Listen…and be transformed.

Blessed are you who accept your spiritual poverty, for the kingdom of God is yours.

Blessed are you who show mercy, for you shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall receive comfort beyond your imagining.

Blessed are you who are persecuted because of me, for your reward will be great.

Listen…and be transformed.

Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. If you love only those who love you, what credit is that to you?

Listen…and be transformed.

Take and eat. This is my body given up for you. Take and drink. This is my blood, shed for you and for many, so that your sins may be forgiven.

The Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ nourishes us on the way to our heavenly destiny. In a few moments, as we process to receive Jesus, we symbolize a people together on a journey. We proceed in communion with each other to enter a deeper communion with Jesus Christ. And our firm "Amen" to the Body and Blood of Christ is a sign of our faith in the promise of Jesus:

"Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have life eternal and I will raise them up on the last day."

Yes, sisters and brothers, listen to the Word of the Lord, and be transformed.

But just like Peter, John, and James, we too seem to spend a remarkable amount of time asleep. We spend so much of our lives afraid, oblivious, blind, and hidden away – hiding from the God who loves us.

This season of Lent, Jesus wants us to awaken and open our eyes. He wants to calm our fears and bring us out of hiding. How many of us spend Lent fretting about what we’ll give up? Desserts, movies, coffee, a favorite TV show? And on Fridays we trade pepperoni pizza for fish and chips.

But today's Gospel reminds us that, above all, Lent is a season of transformation, a time to be transfigured by God Himself.

It’s a time to wake up, to open our eyes so that like the three Apostles, we can see Jesus in his glory.

It’s a time to listen, so we can hear His voice calling us to be fully aware and fully alive – to live our faith every moment of our lives.

Lent is a time to take your place beside Abraham, to look up at the sky and count the stars, if you can.

Lent is a time to stand beside Moses and tell stories of liberation; for that's what Jesus gave us – freedom – freedom from sin, freedom to do the Father's will. Like God’s chosen people, we’ve been brought out of slavery, but we’ve been redeemed at a great price, by the blood of the Father’s only Son.

Lent is a time to come out of hiding and walk with Elijah, to spread the Good News fearlessly to all who will hear.

Lent is a time to listen, to hear the urgency of Christ's message to each one of us – a message of love He never tires of repeating.

Lent is a time for prayer, for it’s in and through our prayer life that we are most open to God’s Word.

Yes, brothers and sisters, Lent is a time to listen, a time to be transformed by God Himself. 

Don’t let it go to waste.

Hello Again...Pardon My Confession

"Rejoice in your hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer." (Rom 12:12)

It's been a while since I've posted anything...almost two months. My excuse? Diane and I were in Italy helping to lead a parish Jubilee Year pilgrimage during late January, and since then have been quite ill trying to recover from a nasty virus. We were actually sick before the trip, but had recovered (we thought) and had been given an OK for travel by our respective docs. Anyway, we're healthy once again and trust we will remain so, at least for a while.

If you know me at all, you'll realize how grumpy I can be whenever I'm ill. And this time around was no exception. Most often I turn to God and, forgetting everything I preach to others, grumble about why He has allowed me to get so ill. Then I inevitably get a little sanctimonious and remind the Lord that by confining me at home He's keeping me from doing His work in my tiny corner of the world: "Don't you understand how much I do for You?" (It's amazing how often we think and say such foolish things to God.) As a confessor told me years ago: "Being a sinner is a fulltime job."

This attitude usually rules for only a few days until I realize that by putting myself at the center of everything, I'm separating myself from reality. Yes, indeed, it's hard to be humble when you're always focused on yourself. Humility, of course, is simply reality, the true understanding of who we are in relation to God and others.

So, eventually, as always (I'm a notoriously slow learner), I began to accept God's will, even though I didn't understand it. And that's when His blessings and His gifts became evident. I realized first that I had become somewhat overwhelmed in my ministries. I used to say "burned out" but that always led me to feel sorry for myself. Truthfully, though, at 80 perhaps I need to slow down a bit and focus my remaining energy on how I can best serve God and His people. Once again, this demands a hefty dose of humility, a willingness to let the Lord take the lead and point me in the right direction. So often He calls us to our weaknesses, not to what we believe are our strengths -- another hard call to humility. The antidote? Prayer, prayer, and more prayer -- listening prayer -- and an openness to God's working through others to show us His will.  

Another blessing was a related and treatable eye infection that I might well have picked up on one of the flights to and from Italy. As a doctor friend once remarked: "Airplanes are perhaps the perfect Petrie dish for the cultivation and transmission of all kinds of nasty bugs." The infection made it difficult to read and use the PC. (I'm not a touch-typist, but hunt and peck at high speed.) So I actually had time to think and pray more than usual. This, then was another of God's unexpected gifts since it led me to thankfulness, quite a change from my earlier grumbling.

Diane and I also grew closer to each other as we flip-flopped in our roles as caregiver and care receiver, depending on who happened to be worse off on any given day. As you might have guessed, I tend to be the neediest, but Diane never complained and took wonderful care of me. I tried to do the same. After 56 years of marriage, we still find new ways to love each other. Diane's well-being is something else I must consider as I examine my way forward in the diaconate. Our mutual needs are more important. After all, those matrimonial promises and vows were made 30 years before holy orders.

I could go on, but there's no need. God is the great Teacher, always leading us to a deeper love for Him and each other. Some of us have to be retaught again and again, but His patience knows no limit and He continues to find new ways to help us grow in holiness.

God's peace, sisters and brothers...