Homily: 4th Sunday of Advent - Year A

Readings: Is 7:10-14 | Ps 24 | Rom 1:1-7 | Mt 1:18-24

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With Christmas just around the corner, I find myself thinking of my children and grandchildren, and how they view Christmas as a time of surprises. As a child, I was the same, and it doesn’t take much to carry me back to my own childhood. These days I can hardly remember what I did last week, but recall everything from 70 years ago. 

In my family the surprises began after Mass on the first Sunday of Advent. Mom would hang up advent calendars, and for the next four weeks, each morning we’d get to open one of the little windows and be surprised by what was behind it. I suppose it was a far simpler time; perhaps we were simpler children back then.

We lived in New York, so we prayed for surprise snowfalls. How great it was to wake up to a world transformed by a thick white blanket.

Every year Dad surprised us with a huge Christmas tree, anywhere from 12 to 18 feet high. We had a circular stairway, so we had a place that could handle a large tree. But a tree like that was expensive, so Dad would wait until about a week before Christmas when the dealers would sell it at half price. Every year, just when we thought we’d never get a tree, Dad would arrive with an enormous tree tied to the roof of the Oldsmobile.

Mom decorated the house with all sorts of wonderful things. Many had been in the family for generations. It was always the same, but a surprise, nonetheless.

And I can still remember my surprise when my parents decided I was old enough to attend Midnight Mass. I was probably seven or eight years old, but that first year I fell asleep in the pew during Monsignor Deagan’s Christmas homily.

Of course, there was Christmas morning, and the opening of the presents…and not just our own. We loved watching our parents’ surprise as they opened the remarkably useless gifts we had given them.

Yes, Christmas has always been a time of surprises, and rightly so, because the Incarnation itself was God’s surprise gift to humanity. We see this manifested in the Old Testament in some of the earliest hints, the prophecies, of a Messiah. 

Today's first reading is a perfect example. There we encounter King Ahaz, not one of Judah’s better kings, for he always chose political expediency over faith in God. The prophet Isaiah, more than a little upset with Ahaz, tossed this gem of a prophecy at him and us:

“…the virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel.”

Talk about surprises! A virgin bearing a son! What did the people think of that? We don’t know, but we can guess. And that name: Emmanuel! God is with us! What could that mean?

We find out when we turn to our Gospel passage and encounter Matthew’s wonderful narrative, as St. Joseph ponders how to handle this rather inconvenient situation regarding Mary’s pregnancy.

In those days a Jewish marriage consisted of three elements: engagement, betrothal, and marriage. Marital relations were not permitted until marriage. Joseph and Mary were still betrothed, a period that often lasted a year, so Mary’s pregnancy was a problem. If exposed, the punishment for her would be severe. So, Joseph, this “righteous” man, decided to divorce her quietly. 

And that’s when God steps in and sends an angel to explain it all to Joseph and command him:

"Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home. For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins."

Three brief sentences that tell Joseph all he needs to know. And what a surprise that must have been. But it’s a surprise of fulfillment. To ensure we understand that this child, this Son of Mary and the Holy Spirit, is the promised Messiah, Matthew repeats God’s prophecy to Isaiah:

“Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel.”

And Joseph?

“He did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took his wife into his home.”

Joseph, this Son of David, is called to be like a father to this child of God. As usual, Paul says it best; like all of us, Joseph is:

“...called to be holy…called to belong to Jesus Christ.”

As a righteous man of faith, Joseph obeys. And in doing so epitomizes the words of St. Paul to the Romans: Joseph defines “the obedience of faith.” I think sometimes we forget that our faith calls us to obedience. If you and I claim to believe, but don’t obey God’s Word, then, at best, our faith is shallow and weak and joyless, overshadowed by shame and regret.

Indeed, the joy of Christmas begins with Emmanuel, God’s great surprise to the world: “God is with us.” He becomes one of us. He takes on our humanity. It’s God’s terrible desire to "be with us," to be part of the human condition: God with us in our entirety. With this, He gives our bodies a divine dignity…and that, sisters and brothers, should give us great joy.

Sadly, in today’s world far too many people live joyless lives. As I've discovered in my years of ministry, the most joyless of these are not the poor, but those who are among the most affluent. Having so much, they can’t understand why they aren’t happy.

Back in the seventies the wife of a friend just upped and left him and their children, saying that she had to “find herself.” There was a lot of that going on back then – and it’s still going on today – men and women leaving their families in search of something else, presumably something better.

I’ve always found that a bit odd – people going off in search of themselves, when what they really seek is right there in front of them and within them. They search for meaning but look in all the wrong places.

St. Teresa of Avila, whose works are certainly worth reading, made a point of teaching that it is only in the search for God that we can uncover and discover our own true selves. As Christians, we believe no one can encounter himself until and unless he encounters Jesus Christ.

But who is this Jesus? Is He God? Is He man? Is He both? Do we accept or reject Him as the Way, the Truth, and the Life? Do we acknowledge Jesus as Emmanuel, the Incarnate Word of God? Our answers determine both our entire worldview and how we view ourselves; for once we accept Jesus for who He is, those identity crises disappear.

When we find ourselves through Jesus, and in Jesus, He becomes the very center of our being. It’s then we begin to experience the distance between who we are and who we’re called to be. And who exactly are we called to be? 

Paul tells us, just as he told the Romans: We “are called to belong to Jesus Christ…called to be holy.” Why? Because “we have received the grace of apostleship.” 

Yes, indeed, like the apostles, we have been called and sent. But sent to do what? Listen to the liturgy. In a few moments Father will pray these words in today’s Preface to the Eucharistic Payer:

“It is by His gift that already we rejoice…so that He may find us watchful in prayer and exultant in His praise.”

Are we doing that? As individuals, as a Catholic community here at St. Vincent de Paul, are we “watchful in prayer and exultant in His praise?”

So many around us have yet to know the deep joy of becoming whole in Christ. A few years ago, Pope Francis wrote,

“The joy of the Gospel fills the hearts and lives of all who encounter Jesus.”

We can encounter Jesus because the Messiah has already come. And yet we still wait, don’t we? Jesus is present and working through His Body, the Church, and He will come again in glory, but He must still come more fully into each of our lives. 

Jesus heals. Jesus cleanses. Jesus forgives. Jesus brings back to life that which was dead. Jesus brings good news to those who despair.

Do we share our joy, and live our Christian vocation as St. Joseph did, living the “obedience of faith?” We’re called to prepare the way for Jesus to come into our hearts and the hearts of others, so they, too, may "experience the joy of salvation", the healing, wholeness and holiness we all long for and which alone give real meaning to our lives. 

What will be the message others receive about your life and mine? Do our lives bring hope to others? Will our lives, our voices, open their ears to the Word of God? Do we offer them the light of Christ, the light of hope that helps the spiritually blind see, the light that reveals the presence of God’s salvation in our lives? Will you and I carry Jesus to the ostracized, the cast-offs, the forgotten?

Go to the nursing homes, the soup kitchens and food pantries, the shelters. Go to your neighbors, the ones who are alone, who are ill and forgotten. Bring hope where there is despair. Bring the good news to those who hear so much bad news. Put all that is hurting, stained, and impoverished, and lay it at Our Lord’s feet. He’ll pick it up, so nothing will come between us and Jesus Christ.

Only the love of Christ brings true healing. This is our vocation: to be healers and prophets, to pave the way for Jesus Christ in the world…like a continual Advent. Advent and Christmas are a time of surprising gifts. Include Emmanuel, Jesus Christ, among the gifts you take to others.

Blessed are those who are not disappointed in us.

Homily: Tuesday, 3rd Week of Advent, Year 1

Readings: Zep 3:1-2,9-13; Ps 34; Mt 21:28-32

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Many years ago – I think, at the time, I was probably 11 or 12 years old – I got into a discussion with my dad about Larry, a friend of mine who had lied about selling me a bicycle.

It was an old, beat-up bike, but Larry promised to sell it to me for $5. I had the money, thanks to my paper route, and planned to fix it up the bike and use it just to tool around town. So, I told Larry I’d buy it and went home to get the money.”

When I returned to pay him and pick up the bike, he said he didn’t have it anymore. He just shrugged his shoulders and said, “Someone else gave me $7 so I sold it to him.”

Naturally, I was upset, and I said something like, “Hey, you promised me.”

He just said, “Yeah, big deal.” So, I just went home, really angry about the whole thing.

Later, while I was talking to my dad about what had happened, the doorbell rang. When I answered it, Larry was standing there.

He just said, “Hey, you were right. I did promise you the bike. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sold it to someone else. Are we still friends?”

“Yeah,” I said. And Larry went home.

When my dad asked if I’d forgiven Larry, and I told him “Yes,” he went on to tell me something I’ve never forgotten.

“Son, you’ll meet a lot of people who will say one thing and do exactly what they say. And that’s fine, but only if what they say and do is good.

“But the better person is the one who may say and do the wrong thing, but then ends up doing what is right…like your friend, Larry.

“Of course, you’re not going to get that bike,” he said, “but you’ll still have your friendship with Larry…and that’s much more important.”

This little childhood event popped into my aging brain yesterday when I re-read today’s passages from Matthew and the prophet Zephania.

I realized how difficult that must have been for Larry – to walk down to my house, admit he’d been wrong, and apologize.

It was a humbling thing that Larry did. In fact, he really echoed Zephaniah’s call to be a “people humble and lowly.” Hard to do, isn’t it? To be openly humble…

Yes, it’s never easy to accept our faults and to admit them openly. But that acceptance always leads us closer to God,

Because with it, we come to realize that God’s will for us is always better, more perfect, than our will, which so often is just flat-out wrong.

I also think admitting and accepting the truth about ourselves keeps us honest. It’s hard to lie to yourself when the truth is staring you right in the face.

After describing the two sons in His parable, how did Jesus put it to the chief priests and elders?

“…which of the two did his Father’s will?”

And they got it right, didn’t they? “The first,” they said. The one who did what was right. Yes, they understood the moral theological question Jesus had asked them.

But they failed to apply it to their own lives.

As Jesus reminded them, those with the courage and humility to change their minds – even the worst of sinners – who admit their faults and acknowledge their complete dependence on God...It is they who will enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

And so I guess the lesson for us is to stop lying to ourselves and to others, to say and do what is open and good, so we can experience the peace God wants for us.

Over the years I’ve lost track of my childhood friend, Larry, but I expect he went on to lead a good life. I hope we can renew our friendship in the Kingdom.

Homily: Tuesday, 1st Week of Advent - Year 2

Readings Is 11:1-10; Psalm 72; Lk 10:21-24

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I’m going to get a little nostalgic this morning. I’m not sure why. I suppose it’s just that time of the year. It's Advent, a glorious, hopeful season I've always enjoyed.

When I was a child, my family would begin each day of Advent by opening the particular day on the Advent calendar. My dad had bought a bunch of Advent calendars in Germany, because they made especially nice, picturesque versions.

Mom or Dad would then open the big family Bible, the one with all the neat etchings by Gustave Doré, and read a Gospel passage, along with a passage from a prophet – always relating to the coming of the birth of Jesus. We had to pay attention because we’d usually be asked what we thought of the readings. Fortunately, as the younger son I wasn’t expected to come up with anything very interesting.

Then we’d pray for those who suffered – family, friends, and others, even those we didn’t know. After breakfast, Dad would go off to work and we’d get ready for school, at least until Christmas vacation began. It was a special and comfortable morning routine, different and longer than our brief family prayer during the rest of the year. Yes, indeed, Advent was special.

This all comes to mind whenever I read the passage from Isaiah we just heard.

After my dad read to us about lions and lambs, and wolves and leopards and goats, I recall him telling us how wonderful the world will be when Jesus returns. “He will come and judge the world,” Dad told us. Then Mom joined in and told us we must always be good, so we are not punished, at least not too severely.

When I asked her what God did to the bad people, she merely said:

“God will handle that, because only He knows what’s in their hearts. And we must always remember that God loves everyone. Never forget that.”

I also recall her comment about the last part of today’s Gospel passage, when Jesus instructed the disciples privately:

"Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I say to you, many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it."

She told us that we are just like the disciples who saw Jesus every day, and are blessed just as they were. When my brother asked her what she meant because we don’t see Jesus like they did. “Isn’t He in heaven?” he asked her,

“Yes,” she said. “But He’s also right here with us. We see Him at Communion time at Mass when we receive Him and He is within each of us. He’s present in the host, just as present as He was to the Apostles as they walked and talked and ate with Him.

“He’s also present in everyone we meet, especially those who are poor or suffering. He told us that, and we must never forget it:

‘…whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’ (Mt 25:40)

“So, we must always help those in need.

“Jesus is with us always,” she said, “and we're with Him when we are with each other because He is in all who love Him, all who go to Him, all who seek Him. So, you see, we see Jesus every day.”

It’s amazing, isn’t it? Here I am in my 80s and those lessons learned are still with me. Although I’ve forgotten many of those mornings we spent together as a family, I can’t explain why some were forgotten, while others are as vivid as they were when I was physically there as a child. Perhaps God lets me recall what I need to hear in my life now.

Take some time this Advent to look back on your life to recall the truths you learned as a child. Most are among the most basic and therefore most important truths of our faith. As faithful adults, those are the things we tend to share with children. I think it’s good for us to recall them; after all, God reminds us that the Father, through the Holy Spirit, has “revealed them to the childlike.”

I know they’ve helped me, especially when I’ve had to face difficult times and even difficult people.

God love you.

Homily: Tuesday, 34th Week in Ordinary Time - Year 1

Readings: Dn 2:31-45; Dn 3:57-61; Lk 21:5-11

If you were in Manhattan, standing down near Wall Street, at Christmas in the year 2000, and someone said to you:

“Do you see those twin towers? A year from now both those buildings will be gone. There will not be a stone upon another stone that will not be thrown down."

You’d probably think he was crazy, or perhaps that he’d just made a terrorist threat. So, you can imagine what the people of Jerusalem thought of Jesus’ comments about the Temple. After all, even then it was one of the wonders of the known world.

This magnificent, glorious building had been under construction for 40 years, since the days of Herod the Great. The great buildings of the ancients tended to last for centuries, so the Temple wasn’t going anywhere.

Of course they were wrong, and 40 years later, Titus, a Roman general, not only destroyed the Temple but went on to destroy much of the city, killing thousands, and enslaving many others.

As you’d expect the locals asked Jesus when it would happen, but He answered not by describing the end of the Temple, but the end of the world. Nations and kingdoms at war, utter destruction, along with earthquakes, plagues, and famines. Sounds pretty bad, and I expect it will be.

In our reading from Daniel, God had already used the prophet to interpret the dream of King Nebuchadnezzar. Daniel describes a series of world empires, from the kingdoms of his time all the way to the end times. This dream confirms that God’s kingdom will endure and never be destroyed.

T. S. Eliot, who’s probably my favorite poet, once wrote, “In my end is my beginning.” It’s a statement I’ve been known to include in cemetery committal services, especially when a grieving family is so overwhelmed by the end of a loved one’s life.

I’ve always liked that statement because it so concisely reflects an important truth of our Christian faith. Yes, indeed, the end of this life is only the beginning of an eternal life. A lot of people, including many Christians, seem to forget this and get all wrapped up in fear as they worry about the approach of the end of the world. 

As for me, I learned long ago that I have absolutely no impact on the end of all things. Believe it or not, God did not delegate that power to me, or to anyone else. Not only that, I also haven’t a clue as to when it will all happen.

And yet, like the people of Jerusalem, or ancient kings like Nebuchadnezzar, so many want to know about the end that God has revealed is coming. Yes, so many, focused on the end, should rather be looking toward the beginning,

Now I’m no prophet, but given the demographics of our parish, I suspect very few of us will see the end of the world. But every one of us will see the end of his or her world and experience the beginning of the next.

If you think about it, Jesus Christ was all about beginnings for He brought the world something wonderfully new. Perhaps St. Paul said it best. Tucked away in his 2^nd Letter to the Corinthians, he wrote:

“If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

Yes, brothers and sisters, because we are in Christ, we are new creations, always on a continual journey of conversion to new beginnings.  

Next Sunday, with Advent, we begin a new liturgical year. So, let’s look forward to that, and yes, as we spend these last few days aware of our mortality, we can also celebrate the truth that God is totally in charge of every aspect of His Creation. There’s no reason to fear.

Indeed, God has given us work to do: to bring others to Jesus Christ and His Church. And believe me, these days they are brought to the Church by seeing Christians loving their enemies, seeing us joyful in suffering, patient in adversity, forgiving of injuries, and showing comfort and compassion to the hopeless and the helpless. This, brothers and sisters, is our calling.

And if we’re not doing it, let’s begin.

Homily: Year C - 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Mal 3:19-20a; Ps 98; 2 Thes 3:7-12; Luke 21:5-19

A few weeks ago, I came across one of Pope Leo’s homilies – actually, it was a homily he preached several years before he was elected pope. It was all about God’s call to evangelize the world, what the Church proclaims as its primary mission. I guess what he had to say made an impression, because as I began to prepare this homily, I was struck by something I read in today’s Gospel passage that reminded me of evangelization. Tucked away in that passage from Luke’s Gospel is one brief sentence from Jesus:

It will lead to your giving testimony.

What exactly does that mean? What will lead to this? Well, Jesus tells us.

The day will come, He warns, when your temple lies in ruins…when you are powerless, terrified, betrayed…when you’re tempted by lies and handed over by family and friends because of my name. Jesus echoes the prophets here, doesn’t he? We heard it in first reading from Malachi:

“For the day is coming, blazing like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble, and the day that is coming will set them on fire, leaving them neither root nor branch, says the LORD of hosts.”

That’s pretty scary stuff…well it is if you think you’ll live long enough to see it. But I don’t worry too much about something I can’t predict…like the end of the world.

Of course, Jesus was also talking to the people of Jerusalem about a day a few decades later when the Romans would come in and destroy their city. 

But I also think Jesus is talking to us about another day, a day we all know is coming: the last day of our lives, of your life and my life. The day will come, Jesus says, when the only thing you have is your testimony. That’s right; the day will come when all we have left is our witness to Jesus Christ, to our Christian faith.

We Catholics aren’t used to giving public, personal testimony. It’s rare when someone calls on us to stand up and give witness to our faith. I suspect if I asked you to testify now, most of you would hide under the pews. 

Oh, we’ll testify about almost everything else. We’ll talk to anyone about our politics, our favorite team, the best restaurant, the traffic this time of year. And the older we get, the more we inflict our opinions on others.

Now, I’m not saying all these conversations and interactions are trivial. No, some are important.  But maybe in all the busy-ness of our interactions with others, we forget to make room for something else.

Somehow, our personal testimony rarely comes up in these conversations. We forget that Jesus calls us to testify, to witness to the truth.

How often do we witness to our faith? How often do we proclaim the truth of Jesus Christ, our Redeemer, the Son of God? And how often do we do it beyond the physical borders of this parish? The pope is right: evangelization is the Church’s primary mission, and we, sisters and brothers…we are the Church.

Jesus reminds us that our work is God’s work, and in this work, He’s creating something powerful, even amid all the chaos we see around us today. He calls us to newness. He reminds us that old ways fall, so something new can arise.

It will lead to your giving testimony.

That’s a prophecy, isn’t it? But it’s also a kind of promise: It will lead to your giving testimony.

Are we ready to do that? A lot of people say, “My faith is something private. I see no reason to broadcast it to the world.” I suppose for them, testimony is something they read in a book or hear from the ambo on Sunday. It’s certainly not something they share on Saturday afternoon at Home Depot, or on Monday morning at aerobics. Anyway, isn’t that why we have bishops, priests, deacons, and all those parish ministries ? Isn’t that their job?

Do they think they’re not important enough, worthy enough, faithful enough for their stories to matter? Maybe they’re silent because they’re not glib or knowledgeable, or even very nice. Maybe they wonder what anyone could learn from their ordinary lives and garden variety sins.  

Yet, 2,000 years ago, Jesus looked at all of the flawed and fragile people around him — people just like us — and said,

“The time will come when you will lose everything, even your temple. You will be hated, handed over, perhaps even put to death, and yet it will lead to your giving testimony.”

Among that audience of early followers were prostitutes, and thieves, and beggars. There were self-righteous Pharisees, rich young men, and women whose lives scandalized the neighborhood. Some were wracked by illness, plagued by demons. Many were haunted by sins of the past. 

And then there's Jesus' friends, His apostles. James and John argued privilege and position; Peter denied Christ three times, Thomas demanded proof, and none truly understood him. None of them lived perfect lives, did they? And yet each of them testified.

Even if, like Peter, we sometimes deny the truth, we still have a truth to speak that the world needs to hear. Even if, like the woman who washed Jesus’ feet, we have a sinful past, you and I still have a message to share with a world of sinners. Even if, like Paul, we stir things up and irritate our friends, even if we’re burdened with a painful infirmity, even if we’ve been run out of town or imprisoned, we have something important to say about God…something so many need to hear.

I think of all those I’ve encountered during my many years of ministry as a deacon. 

An abused woman, searching for the strength to leave a violent relationship. She needs to know that God will sustain her, even when times seem hopeless and terror wears a familiar face.

The lonely -- and we're surrounded by so many lonely people here in The Villages -- caught in a web of grief and pain, they need to hear that God loves them, holds onto them, even in the midst of a fall.

A young father, or single mother, suddenly unemployed and struggling to feed a family, they need to know God is there, calling others to help.

The caregiver of a spouse, overcome by worry, needs the strength and hope that God offers in a world that is sometimes so exhausting.

Those suffering from illness or addiction need to understand that we are God’s beloved and that true healing comes only from Him.

Yes, brothers and sisters, we are God’s beloved; we each have a Gospel story to tell, a testimony that someone else desperately needs to hear. We are witnesses, people who have seen something — maybe something big, maybe we’ve come face-to-face with evil. Or something small, so small it seems unimportant, except to the one who’s searching.

Maybe our testimony can be found, not in words but in our stumbling and falling and finding the courage to try again, in letting others see us struggle to live our faith. Maybe our testimony can be found in the way we care for our families, the way we volunteer our time, the way we welcome a stranger. Maybe our lives, that seem so ordinary, are truly epic in nature, the stuff of legends, worthy of being told and retold, even if only a few listen.

Do we come of age as Christians before we’re willing to share our faith stories aloud, with someone else? We need to testify that we follow a mighty God, a living God, a loving God constantly working in our messy, imperfect lives.

Maybe today is a good time to start…to start with those closest to us: family, friends, grandchildren?

These little ones watch, you know. And they listen, and they imitate. How do we spend our time with them? What do we do and talk about together? Do we pray with them? Will they know they are made in God’s image and called to mirror His love? Will they know the evils surrounding them today will lead them away from God? Talk to our young ones about these things. Let them know what God desires for them, the greatness and the goodness to which God calls them.

This is where Jesus is, brothers and sisters. I love that scene at the beginning of Acts. Jesus had just ascended and the disciples are standing there staring up. Two angels appear and ask them:

“Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky?” (Acts 1:11)

Yes, brothers and sisters, don’t look for Jesus in the clouds. Look for Him where He already is. Look for Him 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, just as present to us as if He were standing here in person. Look for Him in the Eucharist. He’s present there – really present in every way – Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity. Look for Him at home in the faces of those you love, for He is in them too. And look for Him especially where He told us to look: the hungry and thirsty, the stranger, the sick, the imprisoned.

You see, Jesus has given us plenty to do before He returns in glory as Christ the King. 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. And so, I suppose the question is: How ready are you and I to receive Him? Are we willing to give testimony? To tell and show others our faith, always with courage and love?

Each of us will have his or her own end of the world. That day, as we stand in the presence of Jesus Christ, our Savior and our judge, and say to Him, "Here I am, Lord. Do you like what you see?"  

What will be His response?

Homily: Healing - Memorial St. Martin of Tours

Good evening, everyone…and praise God – praise Father, Son and Holy Spirit. It’s wonderful to see you all here tonight; all open to God’s healing presence. Praise God too for this. This evening we’re blessed with a kind of trifecta, the merging of three related events. `

The first is our celebration of the memorial of a great saint, St. Martin of Tours. Perhaps most appropriately we always celebrate the feast of this 4^th-century soldier/saint on November 11, Veterans Day, our second event. Many saints served as soldiers, men like Francis of Assisi and Ignatius Loyola, and like many veterans, their faith grew out of their wartime experiences.

Martin, born of a pagan, military family, became a Christian catechumen as a ten-year-old and entered the Roman Army as a teenager. One cold day, in Amiens, he encountered an unclothed beggar. Martin sliced his cloak in half and split it with the beggar. That night Christ appeared in a vision saying, “Martin, a mere catechumen, has clothed me.” As you might expect, Martin left the army and devoted his life to the Church, ultimately becoming Bishop of Tours.

Yes, a fitting patron saint for the poor, soldiers, and veterans, the perfect saint to honor on the day we thank veterans who served our nation faithfully and honorably in times of both war and peace. Finally, we ask the Spirit to extend his healing touch on all those gathered here in need of healing.

And because we’re gathered here in Jesus’ name, so we know He’s with us. And where Jesus is, so too is the Father, for they are One, One with the Holy Spirit. When we turn to Scripture, we find the Holy Spirit inspiring, revealing, anointing, and counseling. He does it all. As we proclaim in the Creed, He is the “Lord and giver of life.” He’s the fount of Truth and Wisdom, the sanctifier, the source of sacramental grace, the manifestation of God’s power in the world. When Jesus rejoiced, He rejoiced in the Spirit. When He prayed, He prayed filled with the Spirit. And when he healed, the Spirit acted through Him.

Tonight, then, confident that the Holy Spirit is here among us, present in His power and glory, we turn to Him, the Divine Healer, for healing is among the Spirit’s greatest works. As St. Peter reminded the centurion Cornelius and his household:

“God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power. He went about doing good and healing all…” (Acts 10:38)

That’s right, through the power of the Spirit Jesus healed all who came or were brought to Him. Everyone who turned to Jesus for healing and forgiveness – men and women; young and old; Jews and Gentiles – all received far more than what they sought. Some come on their own, some were brought to Him by others, some were healed with a word or a touch, and some at a distance. And we find Jesus and the Spirit healing through others as well. Jesus sends his disciples out in pairs to preach the Gospel and to heal in His name. The Acts of the Apostles is filled with healings of body and soul. 

Those wonderful words in our reading from the prophet Isaiah remind us of God’s healing power. How did Isaiah put it? 

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me… (then he added) to heal the brokenhearted…”

Years ago, Lee, a crusty old Navy warrant officer who worked for me was forced to retire because of serious heart problems. As he awaited surgery in the hospital, his wife prayed over him for several hours, repeating those words of Isaiah, the same words Jesus had proclaimed in the synagogue of Nazareth. 

She was certain the Lord would heal him. And she was right! The surgeon ordered some additional images and was shocked when he saw absolutely nothing! Yes, his heart showed no signs of all the problems so evident earlier. More tests followed and afterwards the surgeon just told then both, “We had a miracle.” 

Yes, indeed, deep, abiding faith can move mountains; and as Isaiah reminded us, it can also heal broken hearts. How did Jesus put it? With such faith, “Nothing will be impossible for you.” (Mt 17:20) 

My old friend, Lee, went on to live 25 more years. He died a few years ago at 88, a happy man. Oh, and another wondrous thing about Lee and his wife: They spent their retirement years active in prison ministry, devoting much of their time ministering to prisoners who were ill or disabled. 

This, as you might expect, leads us to our reading from chapter 25 of Matthew’s Gospel. It’s the only place in Scripture where the last judgment is described in any detail, so I suppose we should pay attention. And it reveals so very much. 

Now, I can’t speak for any of you, but I’m really interested in how Jesus will judge me, and how I’ll spend eternity as a result. Will my entire life be exposed all at once? Will I see all the foolishness, all the sinfulness, all the betrayals, everything I’ve tried to hide or rationalize or repress? Yes, I think I’ll see it all. Based on what Jesus said, it seems He’ll also show me those acts of kindness and love. Will I be able to remind him of what Peter wrote: 

“Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.” (1 Peter 4:8) 

When I ask, “Lord, Did my love cover my sins?”, how will Jesus reply? Will He ask me, “Who exactly did you love? Just your family and friends, just those who love you?” Or will He repeat what He said in today’s Gospel passage? Did you feed those who hunger and thirst? Welcome strangers? Visit the sick and imprisoned? 

We’ve all heard the ancient argument about faith and works. But it’s this love, this divine love, this totally selfless love, that is driven by faith. You see, it’s through our faith in Jesus Christ that we can see him in the hungry, the stranger, the sick, the imprisoned. And only when we see Him in others, only then, can we truly manifest God’s love in the world. As St. James reminds us: “Faith without works is dead.” (James 2:26) Yes, indeed, true faith demands works. 

Now, you might want to shout out: 

Wait a minute, Deacon! I’m the one who needs healing. I’m the sick one here.

I’m the sinful one looking for forgiveness. Am I really forgivable? 

I’m the lonely one, with no one else…the forgotten one – the one everyone ignores.

I’m the one who sees no hope, the one who doesn’t know what to believe. Or even how to believe? 

Yes, you’re here tonight seeking the certainty of God’s promises, seeking hope, and healing, forgiveness, and the love of God. Sisters and brothers, when we’re hurting, when we’re in desperate need of God’s love, when we need His healing touch, ironically, we so often turn inward. It doesn’t matter if we’re suffering from physical illness and pain, or emotional and mental stress. Or perhaps, wandering aimlessly in a spiritual desert, our soul, darkened by sin, needs the merciful touch of God’s forgiveness. 

In the grip of suffering, in our humanity, we turn inward, toward our suffering, hoping, somehow, for healing and relief. But Jesus, in His paradoxical, counter-intuitive way calls us to turn outward, to turn to Him in faith and to others in love.

God knows exactly what we need, but do we know? What kind of healing do you need? What do I need? We’re so sure we know, aren’t we? Often enough, especially in this community, it’s our bodies. They just don’t hold up do they? Illness, injury, and age all take their toll. We turn to God in our suffering, our fears, our aches and pains, our illnesses, in the trials of our children and grandchildren, in the sometimes-shattered lives of those we love…and we pray for healing.

We don’t understand the why of this suffering, or why God doesn’t just take it away. And so, we pray, but not very well. As St. Paul reminded us:

“We do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings.” [Rom 8:26]

Now that’s amazing, isn’t it? Because we don’t know how to pray, the Holy Spirit prays for us, intercedes for us, within the Trinity itself.

If I had time, I’d tell you of so many I’ve known, men and women who suffered greatly but never let their illness define them. They prayed always for God’s Will, since unlike our wills, it always leads to good. They were like my mother who told me on her deathbed that her illness was a wonderful gift that taught her so very much. Yes, she and so many others personified those famous words of St. Paul: 

"We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose" [Rom 8:28]. 

So many spend their lives fulfilling that purpose by serving and praying for others, suffering for others. Here I am, 81 years old, still praying that someday I may have such faith. As my wife, Diane, will be happy to tell you, I’m not a very good sufferer.

Just look to those seated around you, and realize you’re not alone. For they, too, are suffering. How can you serve each other? Will you pray for them, demonstrate your love for them? Do you have a spiritual cloak you can split in half and share with another?

There will be healings here tonight. Some of you have come for physical and emotional healing. And there will be some of those. But every single one of us needs spiritual healing, healing of the soul, the healing that comes from total surrender to God. With that surrender, that abandonment, God will fully supply whatever you need…”

Are you willing to make an act of surrender, an act of abandonment, and take all that you have, all that you are, and lay it at Jesus’ feet? He wants it all, you know, out of a love so great it’s beyond our understanding. Just look at the Cross. He wants us to mirror His redemptive act of love by sharing in the crosses that we each must bear. 

Do we recognize the power of the collective faith and prayers of our community?

Do we trust God can do the same for us as faithful, prayerful people who lift others up in their need?

After Mass we’ll have a laying on of hands. Come and let others pray for and over you. Turn your heart and mind to Jesus Christ. Give Him permission to come into your life, to work His will within you.

“Heal me, Lord, and heal these others who come to you.” Let that be your prayer. “Heal us all, Lord, of all that’s keeping us from being one with you.”

Trust God, brothers and sisters, for He knows your heart.

Praised be Jesus Christ…now and forever.       

Homily: Tuesday, 31st Week in Ordinary Tome (Year 1)

 Readings: Rom 12:5-16; Ps 131; Lk 14:15-24

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One benefit of age is one has a lot of stories to call on; the problem, though, is the tendency to repeat them. I apologize if I’ve already used this story in a previous homily, but as my wife, Diane, said, “If you’ve forgotten, they probably have too.” 

Back in 1951, I was seven years old. My dad was an Army officer stationed in Germany and that Christmas we were vacationing in Bavaria. We spent a few days in Munich, and one morning while my mom and brother were back in the hotel restaurant having breakfast, my dad and I went for a walk, headed for a nearby newsstand where he knew he could buy an English language newspaper.

As we walked, for the first time in my brief life, I saw a man on the sidewalk begging. He had no legs and sat on a makeshift wooden pallet with roller skate wheels. He propelled himself with two pieces of wood, one in each hand, that he pulled along the ground. The war had ended only a few years before, and he had a couple of military medals pinned to his old coat. In his lap was a tin can — one of those army canteen cups with a handle. It had a few small coins in it.

I remember all this because I had stopped to look at him. Children aren’t easily embarrassed, and neither was he. He smiled at me, so I decided to try out my German and said very formally, “Guten Morgen, mein Herr” – Good morning, sir. With that, his smile grew and he replied, “Guten Morgen, Junge” – Good morning, boy.

At that point Dad spoke to him and the two of them conversed for a minute or two in German, most of which I didn’t understand. They both laughed, and Dad put four five-mark coins in the tin can. 20 marks was quite a lot back then. The man then called me closer, reached out and with his fingertips, made the sign of the cross on my forehead. 

As we walked on to the newsstand, Dad simply said, “Two things, son. First, Jesus is always present in others, and second, that could be you.” 74 years ago, but I’ve not forgotten that encounter with a war-torn beggar on a Munich street.

Of course, back then I hadn’t read Paul’s letter to the Romans; but my Dad had. Much of the letter contains great theological insights about God and our relationship to him in Jesus Christ. But then, here in chapter 12, as his letter draws to a close, Paul offers us some very practical advice on actually living the Christian life. He begins with:

“We, though many, are one Body in Christ and individually parts of one another.” [Rom 12:5]

Because Christ is present in each of us, we’re united, bound to each other, “parts of one another.” Have you ever thought about that? In other words, that legless beggar, my father, and I are together in one Christian family. To ignore that man on the street would be like ignoring my brother. And because we’re essentially fused together in the Body of Christ, we can serve Jesus Christ only when we love and serve each other.

That’s the wonderful thing about Christianity: we’re not isolated individuals. We’re a community, each of us offering his particular gifts to help the others. And because evangelization is the Body of Christ’s primary responsibility, we must reach out into the world, and bring others into communion with us.

I’ve always thought Paul’s awareness of this communion in the Body of Christ, originated when he heard those words of Jesus on the road to Damascus:

“Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” [Acts 9:4]

Hearing those swords, pondering them, Paul came to understand that by persecuting Jesus’ disciples, he had been persecuting Jesus himself, because they are one. And I really believe that question of Jesus was the catalyst for Paul’s teaching on the Body of Christ.

Paul then lists many of the gifts, the charisms that let Christians build up the Body of Christ. Among them is almsgiving. In Paul’s time, many Christians were poor, unable to give alms. Every community had its sick, poor, elderly, orphans, and widows. But some Christians had a surplus to share, and Paul told them to give generously.

The same is true today, brothers and sisters. But living here in The Villages, in our rather antiseptic enclosed community, we don’t see it, despite the reality that surrounds us. Diane and I served at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen for many years; and when I was on the board, I’d often go out with one of our drivers, delivering meals to shut-ins. We’d drive down streets where the poverty simply enveloped you; and then enter dwellings where no human being should live.

On Thanksgiving, our secular feast, will we just thank God for all He’s done for us, for all those gifts we’ve received? Or will we also thank Him for leading us through our own highways and hedgerows, to seek out those with whom we can share those gifts he has let us use?

After all, we’ve come together this morning to receive the Body of Christ, so let’s leave here in Communion as the Body of Christ – to love and serve the Lord by loving and serving one another.

Pray for a Miracle

A few years ago, Carmen Aquino, a dear friend and parishioner, told me about one of her relatives who was martyred in the midst of the revolution that plagued Mexico during the early 20th century. My friend, Carmen, died in 2023 at the age of 92 and the relative she spoke of was a 25-year-old woman named Maria de San Jose Parra Flores (Josefa Parra) who died a martyr’s death on Christmas Eve, December 24, 1917. I'm pretty sure Josefa was Carmen's great aunt, but I might be wrong about the specific relationship. (Aging memory problems...)

Josefa, a Servant of God, died with a companion, a 21-year-old woman, Colette Meléndez Torres, when their purity was threatened by a band of rebels intent on rape. The rebels had attacked their town, Degollado, and were burning it to the ground. The two young women escaped by running into a burning building, but they ultimately succumbed to the flames.

A year or so before she died, Carmen asked me to pray for the beatification of these young martyrs, something I promised to do. But like so many promises, it was neglected and eventually forgotten…until in the midst of prayer a few weeks ago I heard Carmen’s sweet voice reminding me of my promise. The Holy Spirit is like that: He reminds us of our weaknesses and our unfulfilled promises, calling us to help with His work in the world.

So…I thought it would be wonderful if the people of our parish could aid in the cause of beatification of these two 20th-century martyrs. With this in mind, I decided to share this mission Carmen had given me with others who might want to join me in prayer. We have many people in our parish who need miracles in their lives, so perhaps each of us can all identify a family member, or a friend, or a neighbor who needs a true, life-giving, healing miracle. Then let them know you are praying for a miracle in their lives and tell them about the beatification cause of these young women. Miracles happen, dear friends. They happen all the time, so let us pray for miracles through the intercession of these two remarkable women.  I've added a photo of each: Josefa (left) and Coleta (right).

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I've also provided a link to a write-up I patched together describing Josefa and Coleta and their martyrdom. Click here to download a PDF version. The document also includes links to information on the Internet about these two courageous and holy women. I hope to provide more information soon.

And here's a prayer for Beatification given to me by Carmen:

Immaculate Mary, Mother of the Church and Model in the Family of God, intercede for us in our efforts to remain pure and chaste in a world that craves immediate pleasures and gratifications. Since Josefa Parra and Coleta Meléndez braved a fiery death rather than surrender to lustful men, we pray that the process for their beatification, introduced by the Church in recognition of that supreme sacrifice may be happily fulfilled. We ask this through Christ Our Lord. Amen.

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Homily: 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

Exodus 17:8-13; Psalm 121:1-8; 2 Timothy 3:14-4:2; Luke 18:1-8

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The other day Walmart was packed. I tend to avoid those self-checkout lines, so I picked a check-out aisle with a relatively short line and waited patiently. I soon realized my mistake. I was behind a pregnant mom with two little ones, maybe 4 and 6 years old. Standing next to mom, holding onto the cart, the two children weren’t as patient as the deacon. The older one, a boy, began to poke his sister. She started screaming, looking to her mother for justice. The line behind us grew, people were getting antsy.

It was then that brother and sister simultaneously realized two things: First, the nearby shelves in the check-out aisle held candy and small toys; and second, they had their mom in a highly vulnerable position. They went on the attack. The boy grabbed a toy and began to beg just as his sister, cleverly grabbed a bag of M&Ms off the opposite shelf.

I was impressed. It was as if they had worked it all out in advance. This battle of wills went on for maybe a half-minute, and like any parent I pulled for Mom. She was tough. She got the toy back on the shelf but then noticed her daughter had opened the M&Ms and was eating them. Instantly, all was lost. Mom had to buy the candy, and to keep the peace, retrieved the toy and tossed it on the counter as she pulled out her credit card. The kids looked pleased. Mom simply looked relieved.

Now you might find this hard to believe, but as I watched the three of them head for the exit, I found myself thinking about today’s Gospel reading. Do you see what Bible Study does? It leads us to find echoes of Scripture in our everyday lives.

Like the widow in the parable, the children knew their persistence would eventually pay off. And like the judge, the young mom just wanted some peace and to avoid what could turn into a public embarrassment. 

In Jesus’ parable, the corrupt judge had absolute authority to settle cases before him however he chose. The young mom at Walmart had both parental authority and the credit card. And the widow and the children? They seemed to be virtually powerless, and yet actually possessed real power. But any power we possess exists only to the extent that it is recognized, accepted, and exercised.

Years ago, I used to teach a course on negotiation for corporate clients. One small element addressed something I called “the power of no power.” Centuries of martyrs have shown this to the world’s powerful. They willingly suffered death, driven by an unseen power, a power their enemies couldn’t comprehend.

Today’s Gospel passage is really a lesson on God’s power and how, through His love, He has given us the ability to tap into it. Jesus revealed to His disciples that the Father gives us access to His power through prayer. We are called to be persistent, just like the widow, and not lose heart.

Right before He related this parable, Jesus had described the time of tribulation, trials, persecutions, martyrdom, even a final failure of faith. Hearing this, the disciples were afraid. How could they endure such trials? How could they remain faithful to the end? Don’t be anxious, Jesus told them, don’t lose heart, for the power of the Holy Spirit will be with you. Then God will come and establish His kingdom in justice. He will right all wrongs. He will deliver men and women from sin and death.

20 centuries of Christian martyrs all the way back to St. Stephen, give testimony to the power God grants to those who believe in His love. In the face of a worldly power that ultimately took their lives, a power they rejected, these saints persisted in their faith. They didn’t lose heart.

One common trait shared by all the saints and martyrs is prayer. Through prayer we gain access to God, and to the divine power He desires to share with us. 

Prayer gives us strength; it helps us do things we could otherwise never do. Through prayer God invites us into His world, one very different from ours. How did Jesus put it as He prayed in the presence of His apostles the night before He died?

“I gave them your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world.” (Jn 17:14)

We are called to live in the world, but not be of the world. Hard stuff when the world surrounds us and calls to us constantly. Prayer, then, takes us from the world and lets us go beyond human hopes, human reasons, human fears, human desires.

Recall Jesus in the garden the night before He died. Wracked by human fears and the vision of the world’s sinfulness, He fell prostrate in prayer to the Father. Jesus turned His eyes to the Power of His shared divinity and found the strength He needed from the Father: “Thy will be done!”

The very next day, Jesus was nailed to the Cross with arms outstretched. Did anyone witnessing the crucifixion see the image of Moses, with his arms also outstretched and “the staff of God in his hand” until the battle was won?

Moses’ prayer formed a channel for God’s power. But even then, Moses couldn’t do it himself, could he? Without Aaron and Hur holding up his arms, those pesky Amalekites would have defeated Joshua and his army, changing the course of human history.

But who helped Jesus on the Cross? What did the witnesses scream at Him?

“If you are the Son of God, come down from that cross.”  (Mt 27:40)

But Jesus would not, not until the battle was won, until He had conquered sin and death, until He had made death merely a thing of this world, a thing of time, but one that led to eternal life.

And we shouldn’t overlook that Moses needed Aaron and Hur, just as we need each other. God calls us to communion, Communion with Him in His Eucharistic Presence, and communion with each other on our journey to eternal life. Yes, we need each other. As I like to tell married couples, your primary task is to help the other get to heaven. 

Although, as Christians, we continue to wage spiritual warfare against the powers of this world, Jesus has already won the decisive battle for us…and the outcome is assured. But prayer gives us more than the strength to fight these daily battles. It gives us the insight necessary to accept God’s will in our lives.

Prayer also connects us to the power of God’s love. Prayer, driven by the Holy Spirit, focuses our attention on the needs of others instead of our own. 

And without prayer, our faith will wither and die. Mother Teresa put it beautifully, “Prayer is the oil that keeps the lamp of faith burning brightly.”

How brightly does our faith burn? Did not Jesus ask:

“But when the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?”

Will we have lost heart because we’ve trapped ourselves in our world, and lost sight of God’s?

Sometimes we excuse ourselves by saying we haven’t the time to pray. And yet we manage to find the time to eat, to study, to work, to play. We nourish our bodies and our minds. We fill our lives with activity, but we starve our souls and deprive our lives of their fruitfulness.

St. Paul instructs us to “pray without ceasing,” because he knew our lives must be a continual prayer. Like breathing, prayer is a necessity. For only through prayer can we receive the help and strength we need to get safely through this life to our true home in heaven.

One pressing problem is that we just love to tell God what to do. We pray only for what we want, never considering what we need…and then we expect instant results. 

Sisters and brothers, we can tell God nothing He doesn’t already know. He won’t refuse what’s good for us, and grants what we ask in His time, not ours. 

But always remember, it's His will, not ours, that will bring peace and goodness. When we get our prayer right, it’s always a prayer that God’s Will be done, in our lives and in the world. Then all will fall into place. 

It doesn’t matter if we’re joyful, depressed, or angry. It doesn’t matter if we’re confused or aimless, if we’re giving thanks or need forgiveness. It doesn’t matter if we’re ashamed of how we’ve lived and sinned. When we pray, we’re in the presence of a dear friend who understands and forgives, a dear divine friend who shares in our humanity.

God, in His Love, always listens. For love calls for love in return, and prayer is an act of love. So maybe we can keep all of this before us and rouse ourselves to love our merciful God – Father, Son, and Spirit – through prayer. Don’t lose heart, brothers and sisters. Believe in His love. Believe in the power of your prayer.

Oh…and please pray for that mom in Walmart. I think she needs lots of prayers.