Homily: 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

Readings Gn 18:1-10a; Ps 15; Col 1:24-28; Lk 10:38-42

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Over 21 years ago, shortly after we moved to The Villages, my wife, Diane, decided it would be good to help out at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen. And like a good deacon’s wife, she volunteered me along with herself. Yes, I was volunteered.

We ended up serving there for well over 15 years, with Diane as the Thursday cook and I doing whatever she told me. I also stumbled onto the board of directors where I served for a bunch of years. But with the onset of COVID, abetted by some physical issues and limitations, Diane and I decided to step away from the Soup Kitchen and let others continue running this ministry.

I used to say, only partly in jest, that on Monday I could lose all 200 of those who served at the Soup Kitchen and replace them all by Friday -- perhaps an exaggeration, but barely.

The Soup Kitchen is really a wonderful ministry, a true ecumenical ministry in which those in real need are served by dozens of volunteers representing upwards of 30 local churches.

Among the many things I learned from this experience is that people serve there for all kinds of reasons. I’d occasionally ask them: "Why are you here?" and was amazed by the variety of answers.

Some just loved being in the kitchen, and the opportunity to help cook a few hundred meals. While others were bored in all the free time retirement brought, and came just to stay busy.

Some were lonely. The soup kitchen was a kind of social event, a chance to form friendships. And a few felt guilty. Their affluence was a burden to them, and they hoped to ease that burden by helping those in need.

Some simply want to serve others, and the soup kitchen is a wonderful way to satisfy that need. They’d inevitably say, "It makes me feel good." 

But there were always some who told me they served out of love. They saw Jesus Christ in every person who walked in the door and were overwhelmed by a love for God and neighbor. These are the folks who follow the Gospel mandate to feed the hungry and welcome the stranger. Indeed, that was our guiding principle at the soup kitchen: 

“We don’t serve meals; we serve Jesus Christ.”

When it comes right down to it, it’s really a ministry of hospitality; and yet those who exercise this ministry are driven by so many different motives, often by multiple motives.

I couldn’t help but think of all this as I reread today’s Gospel passage from Luke. Jesus Christ, Son of God and Son of Man, the fullness of life and truth, walked into the home of a pair of sisters named Martha and Mary.

Both women immediately recognized the privilege of having Jesus in their home and set to work fulfilling the sacred duty of hospitality. But the two sisters had conflicting ideas of what that duty entailed.

Martha’s response is very recognizable, typical of how most of us would probably react. Open the best wine, the expensive stuff, or brew some good coffee. Get out the good china and silver. Use whatever food you have in the pantry to whip up your best assortment of hot and cold dishes. And pray He won’t want a dessert.

My mother’s name was Martha. When I was about 16, I asked her if she’d be like Martha in the Gospel if Jesus came to our house for dinner. Without a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Oh, no, I’d call a caterer.”

But while Martha was busying herself in the kitchen, Mary took a different approach to hospitality. For her, the greatest compliment she could pay, greater even than the best of foods, was to give Jesus her full attention. 

It’s interesting that we hear nothing from Mary in this passage, but we sense she somehow knew that Jesus, the fullness of truth, had come to her home to nourish, enlighten, and transform her. She saw Jesus as a gift, and not to receive and unwrap this wonderful gift was an insult to the giver.

And so, Mary listened.

She listened to the Word as He spoke the Word. Mary became to Jesus what no rabbi at the time would probably let any woman become…Mary became His disciple. 

This was pretty radical stuff back then. Women were expected to prepare and serve the meals, and wouldn’t be encouraged to take part in the discussions. But Luke, throughout his Gospel, stresses that Jesus takes women seriously, that He came for everyone, men and women, and that salvation comes to all who listen to His Word and act on it.

Luke doesn’t relate this incident to endorse laziness, just as Martha isn’t criticized because she simply did what was expected. In our first reading from Genesis, when God, in the form of three travelers, visits Abraham, it’s considered good that Abraham and Sara spare no expense serving them.

No, Martha’s hospitality isn’t the problem. The problem? She placed physical hospitality above discipleship. Her attempts at hospitality became an end in itself, a distraction. It turned Martha into what my mom would have called a fussbudget, so much so she actually got angry because her sister hadn’t joined her.

You can almost feel the tension and pressure building up until it boils over and Martha vents her frustration…but notice she vents it on the wrong person. Martha doesn’t attack Mary; she attacks Jesus Himself:

“Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone…”

How authentically human of Martha – to work out her frustrations on the wrong person, what Freud would have called displaced aggression.

Now, had I been in Jesus’ place, I probably would have said, “Hey, Martha, why are you blaming me?” But not Jesus. He turns to her, and repeating her name -- “Martha, Martha…” – and He calms her down. Then He quietly reminded her that she was “anxious and worried about many things.”

Jesus didn't rebuke Martha her for serving Him – not at all. He simply tells her there’s something better. He turns her to the truth: those who hear the Word of God and keep it are blessed.

I’m suspect more than a few of you out there have a history with the old Baltimore Catechism. Do you remember the answer to the question, “Why did God make you?”

Remember? “God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him forever in heaven.”

It’s still a very good answer. Before we can serve God, we must first know Him and love Him. After all, how can you love someone you don’t even know? If our lives are spent solely in activity – only in the serving – we can’t take the time to know our God through prayer and attentiveness to His Word.

It’s through prayer, listening to His Word, and through the grace of the sacraments, that we can come to know God, and develop the kind of personal relationship Jesus wants with us. Only through that relationship can we continue to deepen our love for God.

How did St. Paul put it in our second reading?

"It is Christ in you, the hope for glory" (Col 1:27).

You see, it’s through Christ in us that we come to see Him in others, and can accept the call to serve Him by serving them.

Our service, then, must be grounded in love; for it is love, and only love, that calls the Christian to serve others:

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

For Christians, then, the two great commandments – loving God and loving our neighbor – merge into one, a single, inseparable commandment of love. Yes, hearing and reflecting on the Word of God in prayer is a condition for the selfless, loving service of the Body of Christ.

Of course, Martha didn’t appreciate this…at least, not at first. And like so many of us, she worried. How human and how easy it is for you and me, just as it was for Martha, to become obsessed with busyness, to move those things – those accidental parts of our lives – to move them to the center of our lives. And in doing so to send the true center to the sidelines.

Brothers and sisters, this just cannot be.

The fullness of truth, the fullness of life, the fullness of grace deserves our full attention. Jesus can’t be merely a part of our lives. He must be the focus, always at the very center. 

In our excessively busy lives today, too often, like Martha, “we are anxious and worried about many things,” and ignore the quiet call of Our Lord. Every day He knocks on your door and my door, calling us to Himself through the lives of others.

Recall how Abraham pleaded with God Himself: “Please do not go on, past your servant.” In the same way, we must not let these others just pass by unserved.

We must let them into our lives, so that Christ too will be in us, and as St. Paul promised, give us “the hope for glory.”

Homily: Silver Rose Prayer Service

Readings: 2 Cor 9:24-27; Ps 63; Luke 1:26-38

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About 1,600 years ago, way back in the year 431 the Council of Ephesus gave Mary the title, Theotokos, a Greek word meaning “God Bearer” or “one who gives birth to God” or as we say today, “the Mother of God.” By giving her that title, the council didn’t mean that Mary was the Mother of God from eternity. But because Jesus Christ is true God and true man, and Mary gave birth to Him, she is, therefore, the Mother of God in time.

It’s the misunderstanding of the Church’s long-held teaching on this relationship between Mary and Jesus that has led some Christians to think that we Catholics worship Mary as some sort of goddess. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. From the reality of this relationship, we can fulfill her prophecy in the Magnificat and can call Mary the “Blessed Mother.”

As many of you know, motherhood is no easy vocation. Both my mother and my wife had to put up with a lot and sacrifice even more during those years when their time was focused so intently on raising their children. But can you imagine how it must have been for Mary…to be the Mother of God…and be fully aware of it? After all, Gabriel hid nothing from her:

“Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”

Mary, then, knew from the first that this child of hers was the “Son of the Most High,” or as Gabriel added later, “the Son of God.”

What a remarkable family life! Mary and Joseph raising Jesus who is fully human, all the while aware of His divine origin, His divine nature. Luke, and to a lesser extent, Matthew, give us a glimpse of life in the Holy Family. It’s as if the Holy Spirit is telling us, “You don’t need to know the details of daily life in this holiest of families, but I will share a few incidents with you, so you will know who Jesus, Mary, and Joseph really are.” Just consider all that Mary encountered:

The long arduous trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem, and the unexpected need to give birth in a cave, a stable fit only for animals.

The Presentation in the Temple, a prophecy of pain she would suffer, sorrow she would experience.

A life-saving flight to Egypt, refugees in a foreign land where they await the death of a brutal king.

The quiet years in Nazareth, when she no doubt wondered how this Son of hers, this Son of the Most High, would fulfill all that had been prophesied. She knew that He would eventually leave her to carry out the Father’s will in the world.

And another event Luke shares with us: the Passover pilgrimage to Jerusalem, when the 12-year-old Jesus is lost in the crowd of pilgrims. The panic she and Joseph experienced, the frantic search, the joy of finding him, and their bewilderment when after three days He wondered at their parental concern.

In each instance Mary wouldn’t fully understand – just as later she wouldn’t fully understand her Son at Cana, or when He asked the crowd, “Who is my mother?” or when she cradled her Son’s lifeless body in her arms at the foot of the Cross.

But always, Mary ponders these things in her heart. She knows God’s ways are not ours. Could she fully understand the crucifixion of her Son, God’s Son? And so, she ponders. She steps away, seeks the quiet of contemplation, and savors all that has been revealed to her.

In doing so teaches us how to pray, how to accept God’s will, how to abandon oneself to God’s love. She ponders, she returns to the source, to that day when the angel declared her, “full of grace,” when her heart overflowed. “…full of grace”, and that’s exactly what Gabriel meant. Mary is literally full of God’s grace, so full there’s no room for any sin within her.

And how could it be otherwise? For God incarnate must enter the world via a spotless vessel, born of woman but a woman without sin. For her pondering heart is immaculate, perfectly pure, because it focuses solely on Jesus. Mary is single-hearted. She trusts in God, just as she trusted when Gabriel asked for her response.

But now, today, that same trusting, pondering, immaculate heart is focused on you and me, interceding for our salvation. This, brothers and sisters, is the immaculate heart, the heart of Theotokos, the Mother of God whom we honor here today. For Our Lady of Guadeloupe presented the world with a gift of Castilian roses and an image of herself, a virgin awaiting the birth of our Savior.

Without Mary’s “let it be done”, her fiat, without her declaration of faith, without the word of Mary, the Word of God could not be Emmanuel, God with us. What did the angel tell her? “You shall conceive and bear a son…the Son of the Most High.” And Mary agrees: “Let it be done to me according to your word.” With this, Jesus is not simply in her thoughts and hopes, in her prayers and yearnings. He is in her flesh. His flesh is her flesh. Hers is His. She waits only to see His face and offer Him to the world. This is Our Lady of Guadeloupe. She knows she is blessed, for she told us…

“…He has looked with favor on his lowly servant. From this day all generations will call me blessed: the Almighty has done great things for me, and holy is his Name.”

Words we too should pray every day, because God has done great things for us well. He’s given us His Son, who in complete humility takes on our flesh, redeems us through His passion and death, and in His Resurrection defeats death.

But isn’t it interesting that Christ’s redemption of the world requires the consent of Mary. We are created in and for love. Had God imposed His will on Mary, without her free consent, love would be absent, and we couldn’t share His divine life, which is freedom.

Through her love for Jesus, Mary is the first disciple, and the one who lived discipleship to the fullest. Jesus told us clearly what it means to be a disciple: “Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother…the ones who listen to the word of God and act on it.” And that is Mary: She hears God’s word within her, and she acts.

She visits her older kinswoman, Elizabeth, who was with child and needed Mary’s help. Mary’s first act as Jesus’ mother is to carry him, not for herself, but for someone in need. And how wonderful, when Mary greeted Elizabeth, John the Baptist leapt for joy in Elizabeth’s womb. Yes, Our Lord was first greeted in the world by an unborn infant who sends a message of life to the world.

Mary, the perfect disciple, follows Jesus. She is blessed, not only because she bore God’s Son, but also because she is the prime example of those who listen to the word of God and keep it. She follows Jesus all the way to the Cross, and beyond. She remains faithful even after her Son’s death, listening to the Lord, joining the apostles in prayer, waiting for the coming of the Holy Spirit.

And just as Jesus came to Mary in poverty and human weakness, He comes to us today, not in glory, but in helplessness. Just as He came to Mary powerless, Jesus comes to us in the hungry and thirsty, in the stranger, the lonely, the sick and dying, the confused and troubled, addicted and imprisoned. Again, in the Magnificat, she sings that

[God] “has scattered the proud in their conceit. He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty…for he has remembered his promise of mercy.”

Today God chooses to proclaim His truth to the world through you and me. That’s right, we must become truth tellers. We must courageously counter the lies and distortions of the culture of death, all the weeds planted and cultivated by Satan. For we are a Church of life. Did not Jesus say, “I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.” Just as Mary said, “Yes,” to life, so must we.

So many cry out to God in their confusion: they hunger for love, for truth, for justice, for life…It’s more than a human cry; it’s God’s Word calling.

I can’t tell you exactly what God is calling you to do, for God works differently through each of us. I can assure you He’s not telling you to do nothing. We are Jesus’ disciples, in imitation of Mary, but only if we listen to his word and act on it. Our faith, then, must be a living, active faith. How did Jesus put it? “Repent and believe in the Gospel.” Yes, indeed, accept and repent of our sinfulness and accept the gift of faith.

This kind of discipleship is not without cost; it’s never easy. “A sword shall pierce your heart,” Mary was told – just as it must pierce the heart of every true disciple. But like Mary we can take comfort in God’s presence within us.

As Jesus told us, if we love Him and keep His word, His Father will love us, and they will come and make their home with us. Christ all around us. Christ leading us. Christ within us. We need only listen to Mary. In her words, “Do whatever He tells you”, and then do it.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, pray for us.

 

Maddie: Rest in Peace

Wednesday morning, Diane and I lost our dear Maddie, an absolutely wonderful 15-year-old Bichon Frise. Maddie was born on January 21, 2008 and died on June 7. Diane and I adopted Maddie on March 29, 2014 from the “Brat Pack,” an aptly named Bichon rescue group out of Mt Dora, Florida. Maddie, then, was a part of our family for almost ten years. It really seems as if she had been with us far longer, simply because she joined us so willingly and immediately endeared herself to us. Here’s a photo I took of Maddie on the day she joined our family.

In a conversation with a friend the other day, she suggested that for those our age our relationship with the family dog is more evident, much deeper, perhaps more important. When we're raising children, the family dog is a little less present to the parents than to the children since work, child-rearing, homemaking and all the rest take up so much of our time. We actually spend fewer hours alone with our dogs and when they leave us, we certainly miss them, but our grief is tempered by a home still full of life. But in retirement, the children are grown, raising families of their own, and a dog becomes a far more meaningful member of this smaller, aging family. Diane and I shared in Maddie’s care, and her presence was almost constant, just as Maddie shared her attention with both Diane and me. I suppose from Maddie’s perspective, we became the “pack.” Yes, we were a small pack, just the three of us, but the presence of each was important to the others. It’s remarkable how quickly this little dog became a true part of our family.

Maddie & Hang-out the Window Goggles

This was evident in Maddie’s behavior. When I moved from room to room doing little tasks, she would follow me. If I went into my office to work, she’d join me and plop down and curl up on the little dog bed near my desk. She’d act much the same way with Diane. Maddie especially disliked it when Diane and I happened to be in separate rooms with the door closed between us. This she could not accept. She wanted the pack, the family, together, or at least accessible. Maddie actually taught us quite a bit about relationships, and even about discipleship. Over the years I’ve written a few blog posts about this. Here are links to a couple of them:

• In December 2017: Doggone Discipleship.

• In August 2018: Maddie, My Teacher

The Threesome at the Grand Canyon

Within weeks of Maddie’s arrival we took her with us on a long road trip to California. It was then we discovered that Maddie, unlike all our previous dogs, didn’t especially enjoy riding in the car. Why? I haven’t a clue, but she came to us as a six-year-old with a collection of interesting, but minor, neuroses. Although she adjusted somewhat to car travel, she never fully accepted it, and much preferred to ride along in the golf cart on neighborhood trips. But as we also discovered on that long West Coast trip, she loved being with new people. Other than trying to nibble on the toes of two of our grandsons, she made friends with everyone…well, almost everyone. There was one man in the neighborhood she seemed to dislike. Whenever she saw him, she growled, a response never repeated with another. Who knows why, but I never really trusted him.

Diane and Maddie in Tombstone, AZ

Maddie readily accepted other dogs unless they were aggressive toward her. She wouldn’t put up with those snappy little ankle-biters who seem to regard other canines as potential enemies rather than friends. Usually, she would simply turn and walk away from the aggressive ones. But if another dog actually tried to attack her, Maddie would respond in a way that always sent the other dog running. She wouldn’t pursue, but would then just go about her business of OCS, that is, obsessive, compulsive sniffing. Maddie was often the dominant dog in dog-on-dog relationships.

Possessive Maddie and her Milkbone

Maddie seemed also to accept the presence of wild creatures. She would certainly notice the rabbits, squirrels, armadillos, and our little neighborhood lizards — pretty much any wild four-legged animal — but she never chased them. I think perhaps the predatory instincts had long been suppressed in her breed, or more likely it was just Maddie’s unique personality. Interestingly, the local wild critters rarely saw her as a threat. I’ve seen her stand within a foot of a pair of tall sandhill cranes. She’d just sniff away while they searched for food, each ignoring the others. The same was true when we’d occasionally happen on a flock of 20 or 30 ibis gathered in a neighbor’s front yard. Mutual tolerance was always evident. On our daily pre-dawn walk, we’d often stop by a spot where two frogs (or toads?) hung out, always sitting on the same small concrete slab. Maddie would quietly approach them, bend over, and give them a sniff. Truly amazing, but it happened day after day. If I ever came within five feet of this pair, they would instantly disappear down an access hole in the concrete. 

And here is my all-time favorite photo of the two females who joined forces to rule me for the past ten years. You can see why...

Yes, indeed, Diane and I will miss this wonderful, beautiful little gift from God. For those who love Him, God always provides the perfect gift at the perfect time. I think He did that for us when He gave us our Maddie. Living as we do in our odd version of retirement, aging and in imperfect health of mind and body, we became closer to each other thanks to Maddie. And surprisingly, with her physical departure, I sense that this closeness will only increase. She remains with us in spirit.

Oh, yes, one of my favorite philosopher/theologians is Peter Kreeft, a professor of philosophy at Boston College and a man who has written more books than most folks today have read. One of those books, Every Thing You Ever Wanted To Know About Heaven, is a marvelous read, and I recommend it highly. On page 45 Kreeft offers a wonderful, Scriptural explanation of why our pets will join us in heaven. Buy the book and read it.

In the meantime, Diane and I will still shed some tears and be continually surprised by Maddie's absence. We were good to her, but she was far better to us. And so, we offer her to the Lord, Who made heaven and earth and all creatures great and small. 

 

Blessings and God's Peace...

Fear and Spiritual Paralysis

Much of humanity seems to be afflicted by a kind of spiritual paralysis, something that has infected far too many of the once Christian nations of Europe and the Americas. Sadly, it has also infected many in our Church. And the cause? I wish I were smart enough, or holy enough, to give a definite answer, but I'll instead just pass along my best guess. It's a guess based on what I see, and hear, and sense as I interact with so many others. Quite simply, the cause, as I see it, is fear.

So many seem to fear the world, its ills, and its threats. For instance, the COVID pandemic left much of the world paralyzed in fear. President Putin rattles his nuclear saber and the West trembles. Communist China declares its intent to displace the United States as the reigning world power and we cower, wondering, fearing when and how this will happen. We seem to seek out things to fear. Terrorism, climate change, crime, border crises -- they're all packed together into the collection of fears we've created. I suppose if I believed this brief time on earth was all there is, I too would be overwhelmed with fear. But we are believers, faithful Christians, who trust in the Lord, so why should we be fearful? 

Many Christians believe the absence of faith — that is, faith’s opposite — is disbelief, doubt, or denial. But for me I’ve always considered the opposite of faith to be fear, which so often leads to despair. It’s why faithless people are never truly happy. Lacking faith in God, they cannot help but see life as something that must end, followed by absolutely nothing. And that must be a fearful realization. I’ve always liked  Mark Twain’s comment on fear of life and death: “The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is ready to die at any time.” I would only modify the second sentence to read: “A man of faith is ready to die at any time.” But I suppose the two mean the same thing, for to live a life of faith is to live fully.

Mark Twain might have had a clever way with words, but God’s Word, revealed in Sacred Scripture tells us a lot more about faith and fear. Sometime ago I read that the phrase “Be not afraid” (or similar words) appears 365 times in the Bible, presumably once for each day of the year. I can’t recall where I read this, but it was probably on some Bible-Study website written by someone with way too much time on his hands. I also don’t know if this claim is true, and I suppose I’ll never know since I don’t intend to pore over the entire Bible to find out. Anyway, if I wanted to be picky, I’d ask if the deuterocanonical books were included in the count. And what about all those leap years that include 366 days? Are we free to fear every February 29th? 

As you might suspect, I’m not a big fan of such an approach to Sacred Scripture. I suppose there’s nothing inherently wrong with it, but it can cause us to focus a bit too much on the numbers at the expense of the message. And it’s the message that’s so important, especially today. So, let’s just say our loving God commands us to be fearless always. In effect, that command, whether or not it occurs 365 times, covers the entirety of the human condition. We must, then try to avoid responding in fear to all that we encounter in our messy lives. 

Looking back to my days as a Navy pilot, I can recall a number of occasions when things got pretty dicey, and I had to follow my training and rely on my experience to deal with potential life and death situations. But do you know what was most interesting about each of these situations? I was so busy trying to keep my crew and me alive that I never really knew fear. If I experienced any kind of fear, it was after the fact when the fight surgeon asked, "Maybe you'd like a little glass of brandy?" I recall thinking that was a marvelous idea.

Maybe, then, as Christians the key to avoiding fear is simply to stay busy doing the work of discipleship. I can't help but recall what St. Paul had to say on the subject to the Philippians:

"Brothers, I for my part do not consider myself to have taken possession. Just one thing: forgetting what lies behind but straining forward to what lies ahead, I continue my pursuit toward the goal, the prize of God’s upward calling, in Christ Jesus. [Phil 3:13-14]

Yes, indeed, that's our job: working and pursuing the goal. We must also accept that “Be not afraid!” and “Fear not!” aren't mere suggestions. They are imperatives, commands God issues to all His disciples. But they’re not mindless, arbitrary commands of the sort we humans tend to utter. How often as a child did you hear the words “Because I said so!” when you questioned a parent’s command? Our God isn’t like that, for He is the perfect Father who always tells us why. Yes, He reveals everything we need to know to become true disciples, everything needed for salvation. 

If we are believing, faithful Christians, we should know that our God cares for us, that He loves us with a love far greater than any human love. The Incarnation, and the Life, Passion, Death, and Resurrection of God’s only Son is, of course, the miraculous proof and manifestation of His love. But God’s love is also an eternal love, one that extends beyond our lives on earth. It is a love that offers us salvation, an eternal life greater than anything we could ever imagine. How did St. Paul put it?

"…no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him" [1 Cor 2:9].

Understanding this, we must develop an eternal worldview, one that focuses on the salvation promised to us. Once again St. Paul comes through with another of his wonderful metaphors:

Do you not know that the runners in the stadium all run in the race, but only one wins the prize? Run so as to win. Every athlete exercises discipline in every way. They do it to win a perishable crown, but we an imperishable one. Thus I do not run aimlessly; I do not fight as if I were shadowboxing. No, I drive my body and train it, for fear that, after having preached to others, I myself should be disqualified [1 Cor 9:24-27].

Yes, indeed, salvation is quite a prize. Why, then, do we fear when as Christians we are offered an eternal life that must overcome all the hardships, the challenges, the sorrows, and, yes, the fears of this short life on earth? Because, I suppose, we're human and are plagued by the effects of sin, especially the original sin of our first parents. We turn to the past and fear repeating the same mistakes, the same sins, we've committed again and again. And we look to the future, the unknown, and fear that which might happen and its consequences. We worry about our children, our grandchildren, forgetting that they, too, are loved by our merciful God. We fear the global effects of sinfulness and wonder how, as a people, we will ever solve the problems we have created. Here's the Good News: We won't. Only God can do that.

We fear all these things and many more because we forget the unconditional love and infinite power of our God. We need only turn to Him as a Christian people, accepting that only He can bring His creation to the wholeness He intended from the beginning. The power of prayer is far greater than any human power, but how many of us truly believe this? Wouldn't it be wonderful if the Catholic Church, our Holy Father and our bishops, joined together with the other Christian communities of the world and set aside a day, even better, a week of prayer? We need not pray for specific intentions; far better if we came together and prayed only that God's holy will be fulfilled. St. Paul reminded us of this as well when he instructed the Romans with those now-famous words:

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

And I suspect our Jewish brothers and sisters might well join us in this prayerful effort. As the psalmist reminds us:

Teach me to do thy will, for thou art my God! Let thy good spirit lead me on a level path! [Ps 143:10]
…and

Not to us, LORD, not to us, but to your name give glory because of your mercy and faithfulness [Ps 115:1].

We must also repent, both as individuals and as God's Church -- no excuses, no rationalizations, no evasions. We need only turn to God, motivated by an honest desire to return His love for us and to change our lives.

Be not afraid, brothers and sisters. God is in charge.

Homily: Saturday, 7th Week of Easter

Readings: Acts 28:16-20,30-31; Ps 11; Jn 21:20-25

My! Today's readings sure give us a lot on which to reflect, to pray, and to preach; so, I decided just to turn it over to the Holy Spirit and ask for His help.

You see, today’s readings complete the Easter season by presenting us with the final verses of both the Acts of the Apostles and John's Gospel. In a sense they sum up all that’s gone before.

Luke began and ended his Gospel in Jerusalem, and it's in that city, too, where he began his second book, the Acts of the Apostles. In Acts we follow Paul on his journeys through the Greek-speaking world, as he establishes local churches and calls people to Christ while moving inexorably toward his destination, toward Rome – in one sense, the new Jerusalem.

In today's reading we encounter Paul in the final days of his ministry. Imprisoned in Rome, he awaits execution at the hands of Nero, the emperor who will also take the life of Peter. And it's there, in Rome, Luke tells us, that Paul "with complete assurance and without hindrance proclaimed the Kingdom of God and taught about the Lord Jesus Christ" [Acts 28:31]. Yes, Paul remains the true disciple as he completes his earthly journey of faith.

Our journey of discipleship is much the same – one of discovery, and praise, and wonder, and stumbling, and prophecy fulfilled – a journey filled with a lifetime of experiences, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Like Paul, we, too, sometimes encounter obstacles or outright barriers, or simply head off in the wrong direction, only to be called back by the Holy Spirit. Just like Paul, we need to rest along the way and regain our strength, for discipleship is no easy road. Jesus knows this, for He experienced it too. He knows our weaknesses, all those little pieces of us that crave attention, all that call us away from Him. And so, He comes to us again and again, giving us a taste of that which awaits us.

How did Paul put it to the Jews who visited him in Rome, and to us? We share in the hope of Israel, a hope fulfilled in Jesus’ death and resurrection [See Acts 28:20]. Keep the faith, Paul says, don’t let all the stuff of our lives distract us from the eternal.

Peter, too, learned and preached this. But as John’s Gospel comes to a close, we find Peter just beginning his formation as a disciple. Filled with questions, Peter still awaits the fulness of the Holy Spirit. In his heart Peter knows he’s been given a very special task – “Feed my lambs…feed my sheep” [Jn 21:15,17] – and no doubt he fears all it will bring.

Suspecting Jesus has given him the hardest road to travel, he points to young John, the fair-haired boy, the one whom Jesus loved, and asks, “What about him?” Peter is so devilishly human, isn’t he? He’s so much like you and me, so worried about himself, always comparing himself to others, unaware that God doesn’t compare, that God sees each of us exactly as we are.

Jesus tells Peter this, in effect saying: “Look, Peter, don’t worry about John, or my plans for him. It’s really none of your business. Just do the work I’ve given you.” And to ensure Peter understands, he adds, “You follow me!” [Jn 21:22]

How often are we just like Peter, so caught up in what others are doing that we neglect the work God has given us.

What is God calling you to do – not next week or next month – but what’s His will for you today, right now? Life is a gift, brothers and sisters, and it can end at any moment.  If we take each of those moments that God gives us, and simply follow Him, always doing His will in all those seemingly little things, one moment to the next, He will lead us to the big things.

Even though we’re struggling and broken and torn and sinful, God continues to call us to the work He has for us. He calls us in the moment, in the little things of our lives, in the things He knows we can handle.

This is what Divine Mercy is really all about: it’s about God’s love bringing us back to Him, repeatedly, one tiny piece at a time.

And discipleship? It’s nothing complicated, just a total offering of self, an offering of all those pieces, an offering that God willingly accepts. Through His love, His mercy, and the working of the Holy Spirit, He makes us whole again so we can do our part to complete Christ’s mission on earth.

Yes, indeed, we tend to complicate things, but Jesus keeps it simple: Just follow me!

Homily: Saturday, 5th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Kgs 12:26-32;13:33-34 • Ps 106 • Mk 8:1-10

Mark’s Gospel has often been described as a Passion narrative with a long introduction. And that introduction moves right along.

Mark also offers us the story of the disciples and their often confused response to Jesus’ call. Moved by the Spirit, the twelve attach themselves to Jesus with little understanding of His teachings or what His call to discipleship really entails. It’s a story, then, of spiritual growth, of gradual formation, a time when the Spirit plants seed after seed in the hearts of these friends and followers of Jesus.

Like every seed planted by the Spirit, these sprout and bloom according to His schedule, not ours. The Spirit can move quickly indeed, or He can lead us to the truth over a lifetime. And it’s our response that makes all the difference. We see signs of this in today’s Gospel passage.

4,000 people, a huge crowd, have been with Jesus for three days, and have eaten nothing. But we hear no complaints from the crowd, for in their hunger for Truth they have been fed with the Word. They seem satisfied. For them it has been three days of contemplative prayer, for what is contemplative prayer but placing oneself in Jesus’ presence and listening, listening to the Word so He can alter one’s very being.

It’s also a time of fasting. But in his compassion, Jesus knows once He leaves them, their fast will end, and they will return to the world hungry. They will need to be restored so they can carry the Word to their homes, into their everyday lives where they can live from faith.

Jesus turns to His disciples and simply states a truth: “They have nothing to eat.”

“How can we get bread in the desert?” they ask.

They have not yet understood that He is the Bread of Life, that wherever Jesus is, there is Bread. Yes, Jesus is the Eucharist, a gift He will institute at the Last Supper – the bread, His Body – the wine, His Blood – the gift of His Presence until the end of the age. But as yet they don’t know this.

Have they so soon forgotten His earlier feeding of the 5,000? Miracle upon miracle, healing upon healing, and yet they ask: “How can we get bread in the desert?” Does Jesus answer their question? No. Instead, He asks the disciples another. “How many loaves have you?”

This, brothers and sisters, is a moment of grace and the loaves are its image. Grace is present because Jesus is present. It flows outward from Him to all who are open to receive it. But grace can never be a private possession. It must be passed on, flow from one to another.

Yes, how many loaves do you disciples have? How much faith do you have? Do you have enough? Are you instruments of grace?

“Seven,” is their one-word reply. Does it point to the Spirit’s seven gifts they will receive at Pentecost when the full meaning of their discipleship is revealed? Perhaps so.

Jesus takes the loaves, but He takes nothing without thanking the Father. He gives thanks for the disciples’ bread, bread meant for them and for Him, but now destined for thousands. He breaks the bread, as He will break Himself in the Eucharist, and hands the bread to His disciples. They, in turn, distribute the bread; doing the miraculous, as the Bread received from the Church carries His miraculous Presence into the world.

Here we see the Church in the process of becoming, for the Bread it is given, the Eucharist – it, too, is blessed, broken, and multiplied. Jesus, through the work of the Holy Spirit, offers Himself, but His disciples carry Him into the world.

Jesus also blesses a few small fish so the people can eat an ordinary meal, the same kind of meal the disciples would eat with the Lord. This meal, this everyday experience, becomes for the people an extraordinary, miraculous experience. Were those few small fish a sign, a reminder that Simon Peter and the others must soon abandon their boats, their nets, their lives and become fishers of men?

Did the disciples learn this day that when they give all that they have – even if it’s only seven loaves and a few fish – God will multiply it a thousand fold?

And what about you and me?

Can we abandon everything in our lives that is keeping us from true discipleship?

Can we, too, hand the loaves and fish of our lives to the Lord and let Him bless, break and multiply them – so we can carry Him into the world?

Will you let God work His miracles in the everyday ordinariness of your life, so you can be an instrument of His grace?

We are all called, dear friends.

 

Bible Study Reflection #28: Our Reckless, Wonderful God

I’d like to begin today’s reflection with a reading from the Gospel According to Matthew. It’s a most interesting passage in which Jesus related the Parable of the Sower and then explained its meaning to the apostles. It’s a passage that usually leads to a number of questions. As you read it, keep track of the questions that come to mind, open your heart and mind to the Holy Spirit, and pray the He will lead you to the answers you seek.

Please take a moment now to open your Bible to Chapter 13 of the Gospel According to Matthew and read verses 1 to 23 [Mt 13:1-23]. 

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One evening early last year, I came across a website that asked the question: “Is your church growing?” Apparently, this website sells software and consulting services to Christian churches that either aren’t growing or aren’t growing quickly enough. It promises to help double the numbers of a congregation so the pews will be overflowing with enthusiastic worshipers. And the financial support will grow too, with the possibility of large donations.

Wow! Who could resist this offer at a time when Church attendance in the U.S. and Europe was approaching record lows? Europe, of course, is in far worse shape spiritually than the U.S., but the U.S. isn’t far behind. Many dioceses are closing parishes and have had to face crippling financial burdens (in part because of the abuse scandal). Who wouldn’t welcome a few tips on how to make a parish grow?

From this I was reminded of the Gospel passage I’ve asked you to read. It seems as if the disciples wanted Jesus to speak more clearly, not to hide His teachings in parables the people, and even the disciples, couldn’t decipher. Surely, He’d attract more followers if He’d just speak plainly. I can hear the consultants now:

“Poor Jesus! He just didn’t understand the dynamics of church growth. First of all, He announced the presence of God's kingdom in a world dominated by the rule of Satan. And instead of making a little room for compromise, He just plowed ahead and declared war on Satan. Now, how ecumenical is that?”

Yes, I’m afraid our consultants would be aghast. Doesn’t Jesus know that his stubborn orthodoxy just makes things worse, polarizing people, making them more defensive?

Look what happened. Already the religious leaders of the time were accusing Jesus of being in league with Satan. And those teachings of His, those hard teachings that caused many of His disciples to leave Him: “Eat my Body…drink my Blood” [Jn 6:55-57] – hardly words to fill the parking lot. Even the people of Nazareth, His hometown, turned against him. Things simply weren’t going all that well for Jesus. If only He’d had access to the expert help available to us today.

In our passage Jesus gave His disciples advice on how to spread the Word. He used a parable, relating a story of a farmer who isn’t especially careful about the sowing of seed. He just throws it all over the place. Although some actually falls on fertile soil, most of the seed appears to be wasted. It reminds me of a cartoon I once saw. One farmer asks another 'What are you growing this year?' The other farmer simply said, 'Poorer'. And that’s Jesus, wasting all that seed.

Jesus, though, went on to explain things and we discover that His Way, God’s Way, differs greatly from the ways of man, the ways of the experts. After provoking the disciples with His parable of the reckless farmer, Jesus went on to explain His own proclamation of the Good News. Since He began His public ministry, He’d been generous in all things: teaching, healing, and reaching out to all who came to Him, and even many who didn’t. Through it all He displayed a special love for public sinners and society’s misfits, not the sort who give large contributions.

Through these actions, as much as His preaching, Jesus taught. Thousands came to Him and, listening to His teaching, realized how much He demanded of them. Their righteousness must exceed that of the scribes and Pharisees, the religious professionals of the day. He called for more than simple obedience to the law. He called for a change of heart and mind in his hearers. He called on them to change their lives!

But then He repeated the words of Isaiah, proclaiming the prophecy is fulfilled:

You shall indeed hear but not understand,

you shall indeed look but never see [Is 6:14].

Sure enough, many resisted because their hearts were as hard as the rocky ground on which so much of that seed fell, or as tangled and suffocating as the briars that choked God’s Word before it could grow. Quite simply, in their sinfulness and self-absorption they neither heard nor understood the Good News.

They refused to accept God’s gift of faith and make a free response to Jesus' call. Only an act of faith can open their hearts and free them from Satan's grasp. Without it, they are no different from so many of today’s Christians who seem to welcome the Gospel but then crumble once they are tested. Only this understanding, this act of faith, can free us from the allure of the gross materialism of our decaying society.

Jesus knew His people's history, so He wasn’t surprised by their lack of faith. The prophets had encountered the same lack of faith, the same hardening of hearts, when they spread the seed of God’s word. And, yet, despite all these obstacles, all the resistance to the life-giving Gospel, Jesus reminds us that God is not defeated.

You see, like the farmer, God is a bit of a gambler. When someone bets everything they have, with no guaranteed outcome, they’re gambling big time. It’s an old story. The higher the stakes, the harder they work. Not just to control the weeds, but to control every single variable they can.

They strive to control the risks. Just consider the extreme and improbable risks that God takes by planting his Word in a world like ours. What are the chances the Word of God will take root and yield a good harvest?

Will God’s Word change the heart of a terrorist? Will it bring the spirit of forgiveness to the family of a murder victim? Can the truth of God’s gift of life soften the heart of a politician? Will God’s love for the poor, the oppressed, the forgotten lead the wealthy to the beatitude of spiritual poverty? Will the hardships, the struggles of employees and customers play on the mind of a CFO as he adjusts his spreadsheet parameters? Will the scientist realize she’s bowing in reverence to the Creator of the universe when she leans over the microscope to study the wonders of cellular regeneration?

What are the chances? You and I might think the chances of the Word of God germinating in our fallen world are mighty slim. But, as it turns out, God is a gambler of the most reckless sort. Just listen to the words of the prophet Isaiah, poetic words through which he reveals God’s plan:

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

      so are my ways higher than your ways,

      my thoughts higher than your thoughts.

Yet, just as from the heavens

      the rain and snow come down

and do not return there

      till they have watered the earth,

      making it fertile and fruitful,

giving seed to the one who sows

      and bread to the one who eats,

so shall my word be

      that goes forth from my mouth;

any word shall not return to me void,

      but shall do my will,

      achieving the end for which I sent it [Is 55:9-11].

The Word of God, then, runs swiftly upon the earth and doesn’t return to the heavens void. What a marvelous prophecy Isaiah has given us. For Jesus Himself is the Word of God and His time on earth was certainly brief, indeed, a swift run. But He did not return to heaven empty, for He had established His Church, “giving seed to the one who sows and bread to the one who eats.” And His Church “shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it.”

The Church Jesus founded gave us the canon of Sacred Scripture and its magisterial teachings on everything from prayer to living the Christian life. Whenever you and I open the Bible, or fall to our knees in prayer, or gather together at Mass, God scatters more seed and takes more risks. Day after day, in the face of incredible odds, God hurls out the seed of the Word like a gambler throwing dice.

It appears reckless, but faith takes root. Isaiah was confident in his conviction; and Jesus claimed it was a sure thing: God’s Word yields its harvest. In arid hearts that thirst for God, the understanding, the seeds of faith, all take root. His kingdom will come, Jesus promises us, a coming conditioned by both refusal and the generous response of open hearts.

What about your heart? Is it open, like “the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields a hundred or sixty or thirty fold”? [Mt 13:8] What a return on investment! How’s that for a reckless, over-the-top response? Is such a response to His Word really possible? Well, as Jesus reminds us: “…for God all things are possible”[Mt 19:26].

And especially today, in the face of so much disappointment, of low morale among many Christians, and of the hatred that arises out of a culture of death, it’s particularly important to accept that abundant harvests will come.

Just as the Church grew from Jesus’ own faith – His willingness to face the desolation of the cross, to die as the grain of wheat dies – and the glory of the Resurrection. Just as the Holy Spirit worked in the generous hearts of apostles and, despite the persecutions they endured, spread the faith from Jerusalem to Rome and beyond.

This was all God’s doing. His Kingdom doesn’t grow bigger and better by following some human organizational model. No consultant can bring about the Kingdom. No, it will come in its fullness only as a work of God – aided by the faith of the members of the Body of Christ.

This faith leads us to hope, and to pray and work for a generous response to Jesus' call to discipleship. Faith also tells us that growth comes not just when the church is prosperous and triumphant, but more often when she is weak and persecuted. For it is then, in our weakness, that we allow the power of God's Word to enter our hearts. It is then that we see His power and come to believe that He alone can produce the rich harvest.

Praised be Jesus Christ, now and forever.

Homily: 2nd Sunday of Advent (Year B)

 Readings: Is 40:1-5,9-11; Ps 85; 2 Pt 3:8-14; Mk 1:1-8

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 "Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths."

Can’t you just picture John shouting these words, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins? It’s a message that resounds today as we prepare for the coming of Jesus, as we struggle through this most unusual of Advents, masked and isolated, forced along paths that seem far from straight. But the question remains: How and what are we to prepare? Quite simply, we are called on to prepare ourselves through conversion.

A few moments ago, Father Nielson, praying today’s Collect for all of us gathered here today, asked God to “let no earthly undertaking hinder those who set out in haste to meet your Son.” This is how we make straight the Lord’s path – by removing the obstacles that we, in our sinfulness, place in His way.

The trouble is, when we pray these words, do we truly mean them? Or are we like the Christian that C. S. Lewis described as praying faintly – for otherwise God might actually hear him.

“Let no earthly undertaking hinder” us.

For most of us, these undertakings, these obstacles, represent the habits of a lifetime, and are very much a part of our nature. To remove them is almost unnatural. It’s not natural to be selfless when our human nature is basically selfish. It’s not natural to love God and our neighbor when love of self keeps getting in the way. It’s not natural to step out of our busy lives, away from those “earthly undertakings” and listen to God’s voice as He calls on us to change our way of life, as He calls us to conversion. For this is what Advent is: a call to conversion, a call to change.

Today, from across the centuries, John the Baptist gives us some down-to-earth advice on how to respond to God’s call.

Make straight His paths…[Mk 1:3]

John tells us to fill in the valleys – those dark nooks and crannies of our lives that we foolishly try to seal off from God. These are the dark corners that we don’t want disturbed, that we think will keep God at bay. We all have some darkness in our lives because we’re all sinners. And only light dispels darkness, the light of God’s love.

John tells us to level the mountains – mountains of pride, of bigotry, of anger that we build up because we think so much of ourselves and so little of others. To profess that we love God while remaining indifferent to the plight of others is a contradiction.

Advent, indeed, every season, demands humility. How can we have a personal relationship with God if our egos compete with Him? To accept the Kingdom we must realize we’re neither king nor queen. Shed the old. To experience what’s possible with God, forget that which is humanly impossible.

What in our lives needs conversion? What obstacles have we placed in God’s path? What mountains and hills do we erect in a vain attempts to prevent him from coming close. Prepare the way of the Lord…by making room for God in your hearts.

Every Sunday we recite the Creed in a renewal of our faith because discipleship demands faith. But it demands a living faith, one that goes out into the world to proclaim the Good News [Mk 16:15]. It demands listening to God’s Word and acting on it by changing our lives.

Christ cannot save us without our cooperation. He makes His Presence known but waits to be invited. As Peter reminds us in today’s 2^nd reading [2 Pt 3:9], our merciful Father wants no one to perish, for He is patient with us, allowing us time to come back to Him. Yes, for us who live in time, every day is an opportunity, every moment of life is a gift of God’s mercy.

Advent is really the story of God’s own eternal persistent waiting, of His plan to let us search for Him again and again until finally He finds us. Until finally we turn to Him and say, “Yes!”

Of course, wanting to change and actually changing are very different things. Because conversion comes only through love – not love as an emotion but love as a decision, for we must be imitators of God. From the beginning God acted totally out of love – the love that created the universe, that moves the sun and the stars, a love that reaches out to move our hearts as well, to bring us to salvation. And the great sign of God’s will to save, the great sign of His love, is His Son, Jesus Christ.

God reaches out to us in Christ. “Here is your God,” Isaiah proclaims in today’s 1^st reading. “He comes with power…Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs” [Is 40:9-11].

This is the saving power of Christ, God’s love personified.

“The Lord does not delay” [2 Pt 3:9], Peter tells us in our 2^nd reading. The day of salvation has already dawned in Christ.

“He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit” [Mk 1:8], says John the Baptist. And this Spirit, once given in Christ, is the constant renewal of the Father’s love.

When we invite Jesus into our lives, when we make room for Him in our hearts, we become like John the Baptist.

Our lives become an announcement, telling everyone, through acts of kindness, honesty, and faithfulness, that Christ is among us.

For many people, those you know, those you encounter, you might be the only manifestation of that Gospel they ever experience.

Never tire of proclaiming the Kingdom.

As we await Jesus’ return and the age to come, let us not forget that a day will come in each of our lives when we will meet Jesus face to face.

Our life is a continual advent for that moment, so let’s not delay preparing for this coming of the Lord.