Homily: Thursday, 2nd Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Sm 18:6-9; 19:1-7; Ps 56; Mk 3:7-12

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Today we are blessed to celebrate the lives of two 3^rd-century martyrs. St. Fabian was a layman, who was elected as Bishop of Rome. (To my knowledge, he is unrelated to the 1950s teen idol of the same name.) But, in the event any of you are planning such a career change, realize Canon Law no longer permits this. Interestingly, though, Fabian’s body now rests in the Basilica of St. Sebastian, whom we also celebrate today.

Sebastian is probably best known for having been pierced by multiple arrows. Surprisingly, he managed to survive this, only to be clubbed to death later. There’s a certain irony in the fact that he is the patron saint of archers.

St. Sebastian

It's good for us today to remember the courage of these martyrs, who are such wonderful examples of lives well lived, of lives offered up for God’s glory.

Back in my other life, a life not always so well lived – a life before the diaconate and before The Villages – because of my work, I would often be asked to speak at corporate management meetings, or at industry conventions, usually on subjects related to management or customer focus.

I’ll admit, it was nice to receive a warm response, even the occasional standing ovation, and realize what I had to say struck a chord with the audience. But to keep me humble, someone would often come up to me afterwards, very upset about something I had said.

I was perhaps a bit like Saul in today's passage from 1^st Samuel, a man who sought accolades and resented anything negative…and I'd often argue with those who disagreed with me.

It took me quite a while to realize I could never please everyone. It also took me a while to understand that those who came to me upset simply wanted someone to listen to them.

Instead of just dismissing them, I began to listen. And in that listening, and in the questioning that usually followed, I learned that sometimes these “great thoughts of mine” might not always lead to success when put into practice.

Yes, I learned that some of what I believed about the subjects on which many thought I was an expert needed to be adjusted a bit. It was humbling, but in the listening, I think I became better at what I did.

I thought of this other life of mine as I read today’s Gospel passage. And how the crowds must have moved Jesus. And how very different He is from us, how different from me. Unlike me, Jesus is not concerned about Himself. His focus is entirely on those who have come to Him.

We see Jesus followed and surrounded by huge crowds, so large that the disciples worried the crowds would crush Him. When I spoke to an audience, it was to a gathering of like-minded people, and I usually knew what they wanted to hear. They weren’t hard to please. But Jesus was surrounded by huge crowds of such different minded people.

Oh, the Pharisees and Scribes were always there, despising Him, listening in, hoping to trap Him.

The Twelve were there, too, probably acting a bit officious, and basking a little in His reflected glory.

Many came to Him hoping for cures. They came themselves or they brought those who suffered, those who wanted only to touch Him. And so, He heals them.

But these crowds weren’t just Jews. No, Mark says they came from Tyre and Sidon, and from beyond the Jordan…that’s Gentile country. Yes, the Word had gotten around, hadn’t it? The Word. Even among the Gentiles. They, too, just sought healing, longed to hear a Word that might bring some hope into their confused and often desperate lives.

But someone else was there too. Some who came were possessed by evil spirits.

They fell down before Jesus and cried out, “You are the Son of God!” [Mk 3:11] Jesus ordered them to keep silent. He knew their cry wasn’t a confession of faith; rather it was an attempt to turn aside the threatening power of Jesus by using His exact name.

Jesus also knew the crowds weren’t ready to receive this revelation of the Messianic Secret. Their understanding was still superficial. They came for their own needs, not for discipleship. They came to receive, but not yet to give. But notice, Jesus never turned them away. They had needs only He could satisfy, and His mercy and His compassion brought physical and spiritual healing into their lives.

His warning to the spirits, though, came from the very nature of His mission. God became man so that man might share in divine life, an incredible thing in itself. But scandal and folly result from the means by which He accomplishes His mission: the glory of the Cross. To reveal His mission before its time would drive away many whom He wished to save.

His purpose, then, through His self-revelation, is to save folks like me – folks like you – from our self-delusions of grandeur.

Brothers and sisters, we can’t save ourselves, for salvation comes only from love – from God’s love and from our willingness to love God and each other.

It comes from carrying our own cross in union with the crucified Christ.

Bible Study Reflection #24: Healing

Years ago, when I was an altar boy, perhaps 11 or 12 years old, I witnessed a remarkable incident. Weekday morning Mass had just ended, and the church emptied quickly as people rushed off to work. I was in the sanctuary extinguishing the candles when I noticed a man walking up the center aisle carrying a young boy in his arms. The boy looked to be about five years old and his legs draped loosely over the man’s arms. When they arrived at the altar rail, the man lowered the boy to the floor and knelt facing the altar. I stood there, maybe 20 feet away, ignored by both man and boy. I still remember their faces, the faint smile on the boy’s and the look of determination on the man’s. After a moment he said, loud enough for me to hear, “Lord, Jesus Christ, he’s yours. Heal my son. Save my son.” He then picked up the boy, turned, and walked back down the aisle and out the front door.

At the time I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d just witnessed, but I knew it was something special. I wish I could tell you the story had a miraculous ending, but I can’t. I never saw either the man or the boy again. But this incident from 65 years ago always comes to mind when I read this passage from Matthew, chapter 15:

And Jesus went on from there and passed along the Sea of Galilee. And He went upon the mountain, and sat down there. And great crowds came to Him, bringing with them the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute, and many others, and they put them at His feet and He healed them, so that the throng wondered, when they saw the mute speaking, the maimed whole, the lame walking, and the blind seeing; and they glorified the God of Israel [Mt 15:29-31].

Usually, when we read or hear this passage, we focus on the multiplication of loaves and fishes that immediately follows. But today, at least at first, I’d like to focus just on these three brief verses. It’s really a remarkable little passage.

To me, this passage highlights, among other things, the difference between the common people of Galilee – with the obvious exception of the envious hometown folks of Nazareth – and the urban sophisticates of Jerusalem. The former, having witnessed firsthand the miraculous works of Jesus, “glorified the God of Israel.” The latter, apparently hoping for an earthly liberator, cry out as Jesus enters the city:

Hosanna! Blessed is he who  comes in the name of the Lord, the king of Israel! [Jn 12:13].

…and then, only days later, call for His crucifixion.

We also notice that the events described by Matthew mirror the Old Testament story of the Exodus. Once again… “Jesus went on from there and passed along the Sea of Galilee. And He went up on the mountain, and sat down there” [Mt 15:29]. Just as God led His chosen people across the sea and then to the mountain in Sinai where he sat in glory, Jesus passes by the sea, and then takes his place on the mountain top.

It’s only fitting that Jesus, the King of Creation, should use the earth as His very throne. And there He sits, on that mountain between heaven and earth, resting, saying nothing, full of God’s expectant silence. Yes, there he sits, in Paul’s words, “the one Mediator between God and men” [1 Tim 2:5], waiting to dispense to anyone who comes to Him truth and healing, life and breath, and everything good.

This decision by Jesus to sit down does not simply indicate His need to rest, but perhaps more importantly, reflects the posture of the rabbi, the teacher, who is always seated when He teaches. But no sooner does Jesus sit down than the needy flock to Him in great numbers, as if drawn by some irresistible force. Who are they? Matthew tells us: “…the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute, and many others.” Ah, yes, you might think, the usual suspects – the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute -- those same unfortunates we encounter throughout the Gospels.

But Matthew adds something else, doesn’t he? “…and many others.” What others? Why, all of us, for the healing power of Jesus is universal and we are all in need of it.

In this remarkable event we see the fulfillment of the Psalmists’ prophecies:

Serve the LORD with fear, with trembling kiss his feet…Blessed are all who take refuge in him [Ps 2:11-12].

Cast your burden on the LORD, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved [Ps 55:22].

Because he cleaves to me in love, I will deliver him; I will protect him, because he knows my name [Ps 91:14].

Your people will offer themselves freely on the day you lead your host upon the holy mountains [Ps 110:3]. 

In the Old Testament we find frequent close encounters with God’s power, a power He must wield frequently enough to keep His chosen people together and holy. But now, under the New Covenant, mercy and power come together; Jesus judges only to save:

I have come as light into the world, that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness. If anyone hears my sayings and does not keep them, I do not judge him; for I did not come to judge the world but to save the world [Jn 12:46-47].

So, the next time you see one of those roadside signs that shouts out to the passing world, “Jesus Saves!”, you should loudly exclaim, “Amen!”

Sometimes, I think, as we hear the Gospel proclaimed, we pay too little attention to what it reveals. For example, Matthew tells us “great crowds came to Him,” all looking for healing. The word had spread throughout Galilee, hadn’t it? This Jesus of Nazareth cures everyone who comes to Him. Yes, indeed, the WORD gets around, and draws all to Him.

Following our brief passage, “Jesus summoned His disciples and said” to them:

My heart is moved with pity for the crowd, for they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat. I do not want to send them away hungry, for fear they may collapse on the way [Mt 15:32].

We see, then, that these folks didn’t just come and go; no, these “great crowds” stayed with Jesus…for three days. The people knew, instinctively, that they needed more than physical healing, for wherever Jesus went, He not only healed, He also preached and taught. They needed to hear the Word of God, the Word of mercy and forgiveness that leads to the salvation God wants for all of us.

Jesus did “not want to send them away hungry.” They also needed food. And what better food to nourish them on their journey home as they follow “the way” than the Bread of Life itself? The feeding of the 4,000 that follows is a foreshadowing of the Eucharistic feast Jesus will introduce at the Last Supper. We are called back to His words proclaimed in the synagogue at Capernaum, words that shocked those who heard them:

Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you; he who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is food indeed, and my blood is drink indeed. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so he who eats me will live because of me. This is the bread which came down from heaven, not such as the fathers ate and died; he who eats this bread will live forever [Jn 6:52-58].

Many, indeed many of His disciples, were shocked by these words, so shocked they no longer followed Him, leaving only the twelve and perhaps a few others. It’s then John shares with us this brief yet wonderful dialog between Jesus and Peter:

Jesus said to the twelve, "Do you also wish to go away?" Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life; and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God" [Jn 6:67-69].

Today, we thank Peter for his decision to remain with Jesus, a decision that likely influenced the other Apostles to stay as well. And we thank, too, the Holy Spirit who inspired Peter, leading his heart and mind to follow the will of the Father. Yes, God inspires us and offers us His grace, but He doesn’t force Himself on us. He allows us to accept or reject His saving grace. But had Peter made the wrong decision, had he rejected the Lord as so many others had, had he led the other Apostles to turn away from Jesus at this critical time, would we have had the Last Supper? Would we have the Eucharist, the “bread which came down from heaven” and gives us eternal life? Fortunately, it’s a question we don’t have to answer, for Peter accepted the inspiration and the grace he received that day in Capernaum.

Let’s return now to our initial verses and those who came to Jesus in need of healing. Notice that those whom Jesus cured were prevented by their very afflictions from going to our Lord on their own. They found themselves at Jesus’ feet only because their friends, relatives, neighbors – perhaps even a stranger or two – carried them there.

The people in need are placed at Jesus’ feet – actually a better translation of the Greek is that they are cast at Jesus’ feet -- in a sense, thrown down, at the feet of the King, almost as a sacrifice. They are placed there in an act of submission to Jesus’ person and power, so that they may be freed from their brokenness and become whole. For it is only through the saving power of Jesus Christ that we become truly whole in both body and soul.

What seems at first to be simply the start of a rather ordinary scene in which Jesus makes His way up the mountain and sits down, in just a few verses, is magnified into a universal event of salvation that creates new life. It’s all of a piece isn’t it, all blended together in this remarkable series of events? The physical healing, the spiritual healing, the Eucharistic teaching, the promise of eternal life, and so much more, all become one as all are bound together by our Lord.

I’m reminded once again of that event I witnessed in my parish church so many years ago. The man who carried his son to the altar of the Lord took hm there out of love, knowing the boy could not make the pilgrimage on his own. He needed another, just as so many of us need others as we struggle along the path to salvation, as we make our broken way along The Way. Yes, we need physical healing often enough, but we are always in need of spiritual healing.

That father spoke aloud his short prayer as he knelt before the altar of the Lord, but perhaps in its brevity, we encounter the abundance of the perfect prayer.

“Lord, Jesus Christ, he’s yours. Heal my son. Save my son.”

He accepts that his son belongs to God, and by expressing this, he tells the Lord to care for this child, to what he, his earthly father, has been unable to do. He calls on God to heal this son of theirs, to heal him physically. But then he concludes his prayer by asking God to grant this boy, their son, salvation.

I’ve always believed that this father’s act of humility and perfect prayer brought the answer he sought from the Divine Healer, our Lord, Jesus Christ.

Do you see our responsibility? Your responsibility? Yes, brothers and sisters, each of us has a part in each other’s story of salvation. And for what end? Why the same end that Matthew reveals in our Gospel passage: “and they glorified the God of Israel.”

For this is what human life is all about. We are to make a gift of ourselves to God, so that, as Paul reminds us,

…having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which He has called you, what are the riches of His glorious inheritance in the saints” [Eph 1:18]. 

…that our lives may glorify our God.

 

Homily: 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

I have embedded a video of my homily for the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C). The full text of the homily follows:

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Readings: Wis 9:13-18; Ps 90; Phmn 9-10,12-17; Lk 14:25-33
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For several weeks now, Jesus has given us some hard teachings. He certainly hasn't minced words has he? 

Perhaps before we attempt to grasp what Jesus is telling us in today's Gospel passage from Luke, we should consider the opening words of our first reading from the Book of Wisdom:

"For what man can learn the counsel of God? Or who can discern what the Lord wills? For the reasoning of mortals is worthless, and our designs are likely to fail" [Wis 9:13-14].  

In effect we're told that without God's help, without His revelation, we cannot understand His will for us, His plan for our salvation. We must, then, set aside our own human judgments, our own worldly concerns, and listen to what God is telling us. Too often we filter the words of Jesus through the lens of our humanity, forgetting that God's ways are very different from the ways of our world. 

Of course, this is nothing new. Remember how Our Lord rebuked Peter when the apostle tried to lead Jesus away from the Cross? How did Jesus respond?

"Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me; for you are not on the side of God, but of men" [Mt 16:23].

Believe me, like Peter, you and I can get caught up in our world, a world that colors so much of our thinking. It's hard to avoid it, especially today, so pervasive, so intrusive is the world in our lives. The great crowds surrounding Jesus might not have had the Internet, but they were plagued by their own set of worldly influences.

Interestingly, the fact that Jesus drew such crowds really bothered some folks, especially the self-important folks. That, too, hasn't changed much. Pope St. John Paul II visited 129 countries during his papacy, and drew huge crowds everywhere. I once heard a grumpy bishop say, "This pope probably travels too much. It might be better if he stayed in Rome and paid more attention to the Church."

St. John Paul, of course, knew that the Church isn't a collection of Vatican buildings and the people who occupy them. No, the Church is far more expansive; it fills the earth because Jesus called us to "Make disciples of all nations..." [Mt 28:19]. Like Jesus, St. John Paul traveled on his road, calling us all to discipleship.

But I wonder what that Galilean crowd thought when they heard these words of Jesus?

"If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple" [Lk 14:26].

Maybe a more important question is, what do you and I think when we hear these words? 

Most people are troubled by the use of the word "hate" which seems to violate the very heart of Christian teaching. But we shouldn't get too bothered by the effects of translations. It's actually more accurate to understand hate in this sense as meaning "love less." This becomes clear when we read Matthew's account of this same teaching by Jesus:

"Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me." [Mt 10:37-38]

Here we seem to find words we can accept...but, in truth, we really don't accept them, do we? Or perhaps I should say, how we live our lives doesn't always reflect an acceptance of Jesus' teaching.

Jesus is actually telling His budding disciples what their discipleship is all about. He'd just called His twelve apostles and they were together on the road, making their way through the towns and villages of Galilee. But, as Luke tells us, they were joined by great crowds, who followed Jesus. 

It was to all of these that Jesus revealed something of God's will, the divine intention, and He did so through a pair of brief parables. On the surface the parables seem to address the construction of farm buildings and the tactics of waging war, but like every parable their true meaning is much deeper. 

Jesus was really describing the cost of discipleship, that if we hope to follow Him we'd better first calculate that cost. Are you willing, He asks the disciples, to accept the cost of placing God first in your life?

This wasn't new to believing Jews since it was proclaimed in the Shema' - the very foundation of Jewish faith, introduced by Moses with the words:

"Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord, and you must love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and strength" [Dt 6:4].

The problem is, you and I and that crowd of Galileans are so wrapped up in the realities of this world, so close to them, it's easy for us sinners to put these created realities first, to put them ahead of God. No! the Shema' tells us: God, the Creator of all that is good, must be first.

And now, speaking to the crowds, Jesus applied this revealed truth to Himself - that to be God's disciple is to be His disciple. Once more He reveals His divinity, providing more ammunition to the Pharisees. But Jesus is focused on the people.

The Cost of Discipleship

Are you willing, He asks them and us, to place your love for me above the love you have for those in the world who are most precious to you?

Do you understand that loving God must be a sacrificial love, that other loves in your life must never come first?

To follow Jesus isn't simply to tag along behind Him. To follow Him is to become a living image of Jesus...but even more than that, it means being wherever Jesus is, serving Him by doing whatever Jesus happens to be doing. It means being like Mary, whose birthday we celebrate today, being the perfect disciple, always looking to Jesus.

To do what Jesus does: to bring comfort and healing to the sick, to feed the hungry, to forgive those who have hurt you, to see God's presence in every person you encounter.

To love beyond your family and friends, beyond those you're expected to love. To love less your own life and love more the lives of others.

It's not about me bringing Jesus into my life, but the exact opposite: it's about letting Jesus rule me. St. Paul said it best: 

"I live no longer I, but Christ who lives in me" [Gal 2:20].

Jesus calls us to understand what He is asking of us before we commit our lives to Him. He wants disciples who know and accept the cost, disciples who follow full-heartedly. The half-hearted, the lukewarm, need not apply.

Embrace the Gospel, He calls to us, embrace it without compromise; and this can be frightening. It demands we set aside our own plans, that we abandon ourselves in trust to the will of God.

Yes, it can be frightening, and overcome by fear or by false pride many turn away from God. Others, motivated by a false humility, do the same, unable to accept the unconditional love of God. 

Once again Simon Peter provides an example. On the day He first perceived, if only vaguely, the Lord's divinity, he fell down in that boat, fell before Jesus and said:

"Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man" [Lk 5:8].

Depart from me, Lord

To love God in His perfection is also to recognize our own imperfections, our own sinfulness. Peter had gone this far, but hadn't yet tasted God's mercy. Soon enough, though, Peter witnessed God's forgiveness, and personally experienced the Divine Mercy Jesus showers on the repentant. 

Discipleship is not easy; indeed, it's so difficult we can't do it alone. Jesus knows this and promises to walk the road with us, just as He walked with the twelve along the hard roads of Galilee on His way to Jerusalem, on His way to the Cross and our salvation.

He wants to walk by our side, brothers and sisters, to be your strength and my strength.

He wants to make the impossible possible.