Homily: Friday, 10th Week in Ordinary Time (Year 2)

 Readings: I Kgs 19:9a,11-16; Ps 27; Mt 5:27-32

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A few days ago, as I read today’s readings, I found myself recalling many of the conversations I’ve had with atheists and agnostics over the years. In almost every one of those conversations I could detect a subtle, but very real, hope that God does exist. As one young self-declared agnostic said to me, "It would certainly make life more understandable, knowing there’s a God behind all this. As it is now, for me, life is pretty meaningless.”

Yes, without God, life becomes meaningless, just a physical, chemical accident. And yet that hint of hope has always been there. It’s really the same desire expressed in today’s psalm, a Psalm of David, sung 3,000 years ago:

I long to see your face, O Lord.

We all seek God, to see Him, to as know Him, and it’s true even for those who don’t believe in Him. As my mom use to say, “Hope can lead us to faith; otherwise, we’re just consumed by fear.”

Perhaps St. Augustine, who took a rather odd, winding path to the Catholic Church, put it best: “…our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”

Yes, we’re all on a pilgrimage, brothers and sisters, even those who aren’t fully aware of it. We can wander aimlessly, achieving little, or we can open our hearts to the Spirit and let Him lead us.

A few weeks ago, in one of our Bible Study sessions, a participant, concerned about a tragic event described in Genesis, asked me: “Why would God do that? Why would He let that happen?” Well, we discussed the event hoping to achieve some understanding of God’s purpose. But in truth, what I wanted to answer him with: “How do I know? I’m not God!”

That’s really not a bad answer. So often, we simply underestimate our all-powerful, all-knowing God, whose ways are so far above us. As the Archangel Gabriel said to our Blessed Mother: “nothing will be impossible for God” [Lk 1:37]. I suppose the question for us is do we believe that? Or are we like Peter when Jesus rebuked him:

“You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do” [Mt 16:23].

Just consider Elijah in today’s reading. Hunted by enemies who sought his death, in particular a rather evil queen Jezebel, Elijah seemed to have had enough, enough of everything, enough even of life. He actually hoped to die. But fed by angels, he obeyed God and made his way to Horeb, God’s holy mountain. There, God asked him:

“What are you doing here, Elijah?”

The prophet, zealous and faithful, told the Lord what He already knew “I alone am left, and they seek to take my life.” He was afraid and alone. So, God put on a remarkable display of His power. Then, when the noise and violence had ceased, Elijah encountered the God of Creation – as one translation put it – in a “sound of sheer silence.”

God passes by like a soft breeze and the man covers his face because God has not yet become man. Only then will we see Him in the flesh, face to face. And only then will we adore Him as well in the gift of His Eucharistic Presence. And that’s what the world needs today. With senses inundated by the noise of this world, how can people recognize Him as He passes by? How can they see His face or hear the sheer silence of His holy Word?

Elijah Hides His Face

Elijah, whose faith was beyond question, was often left in the dark by God. Yet the Spirit was always there, leading and aiding the prophet as he tried to accomplish all these missions he’s been given. God expects obedience, and in a sense says: “Just do what I say, and I’ll handle everything else.” For Elijah, God’s immediate purpose becomes clear over time. But His ultimate purpose looks ahead 1,000 years, pointing to something new and wonderful: humanity’s redemption by Jesus Christ.

How about us? Are you and I prophets? Are we courageous enough to evangelize, to be God’s messengers, to speak His Word to the world? Yes, we’re called to do just that. But like Elijah and Jesus we face a culture, a culture of death, that screams its lies at us.

In our Gospel passage Jesus gets the attention of the crowd with His vivid images of plucking out eyes and cutting off hands. He’s not encouraging bodily mutilation, but He is he’s telling them: this is serious stuff; pay attention.

Then stressing the sixth commandment, Jesus really addresses the dignity of every person, the respect people should have for each other. We cannot simply use others for personal pleasure or to satisfy appetites. For Jesus is really addressing the nature of love, which is not just an emotional feeling, or a physical attraction. As anyone who’s been married a while realizes, true love demands a continual decision.

In contrast to today’s cult of self-absorbed pleasure seeking, the Gospel sets high standards. Not only does love demand faithfulness but it also calls us to be chaste in both thoughts and actions. Interesting too is that Jesus puts men and women on a morally equal level, which later causes some dismay among His disciples.

Today we often encounter the painful breakdown of marital relationships. While each case must be treated with pastoral sensitivity, we cannot neglect the fundamental values Jesus stresses here.

I suppose it’s all encompassed in Jesus’ first words of His public ministry:

"Repent, and believe in the Gospel" [Mk 1:15].

Yes, indeed, we must change our hearts and minds, and accept the Gospel, the Good News of Jesus Christ in our lives.

Homily: Saturday, 15th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Mic 2:1-5; Ps 10; Mt 12:14-21

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Today we celebrate the optional memorial of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel. Mt. Carmel, a mountain in Galilee, not far from the Mediterranean coast, is famous in the Old Testament as the site where the prophet Elijah displayed the power of God through an overwhelming victory over the prophets and priests of the false god, Baal. Mt. Carmel is also where the Carmelite order was founded back in the 13th century. Our parish is blessed with a number of Third Order Carmelites and I'm sure many of you, like me, wear the brown scapular of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel. Given the state of our nation and our world, we certainly need Our Lady's intercession. 

Thinking about this I was struck by today’s responsorial from Psalm 10. It seemed to me so very appropriate.

“Do not forget the poor, O Lord.”

Inflation, interest rates, shortages, crime, division – it affects us all, but it’s always more troubling for working families, especially the working poor. 

Depleted savings; wages that fail to keep up with price increases; children robbed of their innocence, and taught to fear; rents and mortgages and taxes climb, but must be paid; growing children must be fed and clothed; cars must be fueled to drive to work and school. 

Yes, a troubled economy inevitably taxes family budgets and, in truth, can redefine poverty levels. And so, we pray:

“Do not forget the poor, O Lord.”

But is this prayer really aimed at our loving God? For our faith tells us that God forgets no one, especially those in need. 

And yet, the psalmist begins asking God why He hides in times of darkness, why He allows the wicked to afflict the innocent and the poor. But then he describes these wicked ones who “glory in their greed” and completely ignore God.

Of course, this is nothing new. We see it today as well. Although we hear a lot of folks talk about God and their faith, we soon realize it’s all deceit, for they live as if God doesn’t exist. You see, nothing much has changed in 3,000 years.

The psalmist reminds us that God “beholds misery and sorrow” and takes them into His hands. But God’s hands are really a metaphor for those He has called and sent to do His work in the world. This psalm might be less a call to God, than it is a reminder that it’s God Who does the calling, for God does that worldly work of His though others, through you and me.

We hear something similar in our first reading from the prophet Micah. We don’t know much about Micah, an obscure man from an obscure village in Judah. But he was a man who could recognize evil in all its disguises. He let no one escape God’s Word: the wealthy who enslave the poor for their debts; merchants who cheat everyone; corrupt judges who take bribes; even priests and prophets who prey on the faithful.

Perhaps the first words of our reading are the most telling:

“Woe to those who plan iniquity and work out evil on their couches” [Mic 2:1].

Yes, indeed, the true wheelers and dealers, even as they lay in their beds, plan ways to oppress, to help themselves at the expense of others.

What, then, are we to do?

As individuals, you and I can have little impact on the world’s, or the nation’s, economic and social realities. Oh, we can vote intelligently and try to effect change through human means…and that’s certainly good. And we should avoid serving or supporting those who, in their self-focused world, have turned from God’s way. In the same way, we can financially and actively support those who do God’s work in the world.

But I think sometimes we forget about God’s power, about the power of our faith; and that’s what the psalmist was trying to explain to us.

“Do not forget the poor, O Lord.”

We must remember that the world’s powers and principalities don’t control the future. How did Jesus put it to Nicodemus?

“The wind blows where it wills” [Jn 3:8]

Yes, the Holy Spirit cannot be contained, for He does God's work wherever and whenever God chooses. Some foolishly think they know what God can or cannot do. They forget how powerful God is, even as He chooses and uses so many imperfect men and women to do His work. Never forget, the God that created and rules all things told us:

“Behold, I make all things new” [Rev 21:5].

God likes to keep things simple; we’re the ones who complicate it, and then think we can fix the world by ourselves.

In a very real sense, though, we can conquer the world simply through our faith in Jesus Christ. St. John, in his first letter, said it well:

“Who, indeed, is the victor over the world, but the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?” [1 Jn 5:5]

Brothers and sisters, this victory happens when we act as Jesus acts – when we suffer redemptively, forgive mercifully, and love unconditionally. If we do this, and call others to join us – in other words, if we evangelize – God will let His miraculous power flow into our world and bring the healing, the peace He promises.

Oh, yes, and today, let’s turn also to Our Lady of Mt. Carmel, asking her to pray and intercede for us, who in our imperfections struggle to do God's work and fulfill His will in the world.

 

Fortune Cookie Wisdom

Late this morning I completed several home blessings for parishioners who had recently moved into their new homes in the expanding southern section of The Villages. I relish this small aspect of my ministry because these new retirees are so happy to find themselves here in the great state of Florida, far away from the cold, bleak, too woke north. I’m overjoyed that so many want these new homes blessed. Today I not only blessed their homes, but I also blessed their dogs, their cars, and their golf carts. 

The Villages is an extremely friendly and beautiful community in which many enjoy their senior years. It’s one of those rare places where a family need brings out the best in neighbors who want to do whatever they can to help. The Villages is also a remarkably religious community, where worshippers fill the pews of dozens of churches. It’s truly remarkable how The Villages has grown over the years. When Diane and I moved into our home in early 2004, there was nothing but farmland to the south of us. Now it can take me a half-hour to drive to these new homes. As the locals might describe it: “The Villages has spread like the plague.” Of course, it’s a relatively benevolent plague, one that has led to a blossoming of the local economy. But that’s a subject for another time.

When I returned from my “blessing drive” dear Diane informed me that she had a demanding craving for Cashew Chicken from our favorite Chinese food establishment. The Chinese-American family that owns and runs the restaurant — China Gourmet III — are parishioners at our parish and prepare wonderful take-out meals at reasonable prices. If you live in or near The Villages, give them a try. You won’t regret it. Anyway, Diane’s meal included two fortune cookies, so as she ate her lunch, I decided I deserved one of the cookies and ate it. Then I read the fortune: “One person with a belief is equal to a force of ninety-nine who have only interest.” I almost fell out of my chair since earlier this morning I had completed a Bible Study Guide on the prophet Elijah that covered chapter 18 of 1 Kings. The very last words I wrote this morning extolled the faith and prayer of Elijah, and how the faith of this one man  restored the faith of the people who had displayed mere interest in the living God because of their partial apostasy with the false god Baal. Here are the final words of my 11-page Study Guide:

“At the prophet’s word, God sends rain, a gift from heaven itself that brings fruitfulness to the earth. But the rain falls in superabundance, just like the faith of Elijah, who believes for more than himself, but for all of Israel, for all twelve tribes. The faith of this one man, then, can bring life to all.”

Perhaps I should pay more attention to the occasional fortune cookie that lands on my plate of pork fried rice.

Should you want to read the entire Study Guide, click here: Study 48: Elijah – Part 2 (1 Kings 18)…or you can spend a few days reading through the other 47 Study Guides here: Catholic-Scripture.com

Homily: Monday, 22nd Week in Ordinary Time (Year A)

Readings: 1 Cor 2:1-5; Ps 119; Luke 4:16-30 

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Some people just don’t like to hear the truth. Just look at our Gospel passage from Luke.

Jesus visits his hometown of Nazareth, enters the synagogue, and reads the words of Isaiah. He then makes that amazing claim:

“Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing” [Lk 4:21].

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me..."

At first the townspeople looked at each other in amazement, overcome by wonder and pride. Jesus, the young carpenter, the son of Joseph, is one of their own. He grew up and played with their children, went to synagogue with them. But how is it He speaks with such wisdom, such authority?

Nazareth was a small, quiet village, a place where nothing much ever happened, a village on the road to more exciting places. But on this day, the people heard Isaiah – the Word of their Fathers – claimed to be fulfilled right there.

Isn’t this the son of Joseph?

They’d heard of the miracles in Capernaum, the healings, and the crowds and probably hoped He’d do the same in Nazareth – perhaps much more. But they kept thinking: Isn’t this the son of Joseph?

If He’s a prophet, a miracle-maker, shouldn’t His own people be the first to benefit? After all, we’re his people! His family! His friends! God knows there are plenty of sick people here. How about some healings, a miracle or two? Then we’d know God is with him, with Him right here in Nazareth.

But what does Jesus do?

No miracles. Instead, He speaks of Elijah and the famine that spread throughout the country in those ancient days. Although the Chosen People were starving, God sent Elijah to a pagan widow of Zarephath, and it was she and her son whom Elijah miraculously fed.

And no healings. Instead, Jesus speaks of Elisha and the leper God sent him to heal, a pagan from Syria — this when Israel, too, had many lepers.

The people of Nazareth were in that synagogue to see and hear Jesus, this son of Joseph, who had done wondrous things. They hoped to be amazed by His words and to marvel at His mighty deeds. Yes, they wanted the hometown boy to be a prophet who’d bring them signs of God’s favor, one to do their bidding, not God’s.

But instead, Jesus told them stories of God’s grace poured out not on Jews, not on friends and neighbors, but on Gentiles, aliens and unbelievers. 

"...they were filled with fury."

Infuriated, they rose up, drove Him to the brow of a steep hill, hoping to hurl Him off the cliff. No, Jesus wasn’t their kind of Messiah.

Today you and I meet these Nazoreans across a vast gulf of time, traditions, language, and experience… and although these differences are great, perhaps we’re more like them than we know.

We ask for forgiveness when we fail to do God’s bidding, but then demand that he do ours.

We want a just and merciful God, as long as we’re the ones who benefit from his justice and mercy.

A truly omnipotent and omniscient God can be more than a little scary. Much nicer to have our God who conforms to our vision of what God should do.

So many, today, just like the people of Nazareth, want a God they can tame.

For on that day Jesus reminded his friends and neighbors that God’s ways are not our ways. God’s grace cannot be constrained by our boundaries or controlled by our prayers.

When Jesus spoke in the synagogue, he gave notice that his ministry would embrace the stranger and include the outsider. Indeed, He will embrace the sinner, those we’re so sure don’t deserve God’s forgiveness.

It’s a message both confrontational and comforting; a teaching both sharp and hard, and often so difficult to accept, or even hear. This is why so many today find Jesus and His Church unacceptable.

I remember walking with thousands of others on a “walk for life” in Boston many years ago. It was a peaceful event. And as we walked down Commonwealth Avenue in support of the unborn, the silence was broken only by the prayers and hymns of the participants…until we reached one corner. There a small group of protesters confronted us and fouled the air, screaming obscenities and blasphemies aimed at Jesus Christ and His Church.

You see, brothers and sisters, Jesus’ Word can be hard, and those who can’t accept and embrace it may find themselves filled with fury and standing on the brow of a hill ready to hurl Him, His message, and His Church headlong off the cliff.

Jesus didn’t go elsewhere because he was rejected; he was rejected because he intended to go elsewhere. That elsewhere beckons us, too; or at least it should, for we too are called. We have heard God’s Word. It has been fulfilled in our hearing. We are called to travel on hard paths, and to take up our cross, carrying it with us as we go.

How did Paul put it?

“For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified” [2 Cor 2:2]

This is our God – our crucified and risen Lord, the God who lives, still bearing the wounds of His love.

This is our God, not a God to be tamed or controlled, but a God to be loved, a God who demands our complete trust.

This is our Christian calling, to abandon ourselves in trust, to abandon ourselves into His hands, allowing His will and not ours to be done in our lives.

To the world it appears as weakness; but believe me, it can be the hardest thing you will ever do.

The question is: Are you and I willing to do it?

Homily: Monday, 10th Week in Ordinary Time

I've embedded a video of this daily Mass here -- a video which includes the homily text posted below.

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Readings: I Kgs 17:1-6; Ps 121; Mt 5:1-12
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How many times have I preached on the Beatitudes? And how many homilies have you heard addressing these wonderful words with which Jesus begins His Sermon on the Mount? I’m guessing… a lot.

Anyway, I thought I’d spare you another and preach instead on today’s first reading. Actually, my homily really addresses only the first verse of the passage. 

It’s good for us occasionally to take a brief walk through the Old Testament, and our reading from 1 Kings is really pretty special. For today we are introduced to a prophet named Elijah.

How special is Elijah? God answered that question for us when, among all His prophets – and there were a lot of them – He chose Elijah to join Moses and be present with Jesus at the Transfiguration. I guess that sums it up. Elijah was special indeed.

Interestingly, most of the other prophets, the major and minor prophets, have books of the Bible named after them: Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Amos, Micah, Daniel, and all the rest. But not Elijah. Although considered the greatest of them all, he appears in only the last few chapters of 1 Kings and the first two chapters of 2 Kings. 

Although his story may be brief, just a few chapters, Elijah’s presence seems to extend throughout all of salvation history. Even his name, Elijah, is in itself prophetic, and means “The Lord is my God” and always reminds me of Thomas’ recognition of the risen Christ: “My Lord and my God” [Jn 20:28].

Elijah's story begins when he presents himself to Ahab, king of the northern kingdom, Israel. Who was Ahab? Well, it’s enough to know what Scripture has to say about him: 

“Ahab, son of Omri, did what was evil in the LORD’s sight more than any of his predecessors.” [1 Kgs 16:30]

Elijah confronting Ahab

Yes, indeed, Ahab, influenced by his pagan wife, Jezebel, worshipped not the God of Israel, but Ba'al, the god of the pagans. Ahab and Jezebel were a dangerous duo, not good people. But Elijah, God’s messenger, goes to Ahab without fear, speaks God’s word, and inflicts a punishment on Israel. Listen again to what Elijah says to the king:

“As the Lord, the God of Israel, lives, whom I serve, during these years there shall be no dew or rain except at my word” [1 Kgs 17:1].

Elijah, you see, has presented himself to Ahab with two words: truth and service. Beginning with the truth – “As the Lord, the God of Israel, lives” – he continues by declaring his relationship to God, one of service – “whom I serve.”

Truth and service. Elijah offers an example to those who follow him – a gift to all of us. For we, too, must always speak the truth, especially the truth to which Elijah points: to the living God, to "the way and the truth and the life" [Jn 14:6], to Jesus Christ. Like the prophet, who confronts Ahab, we must courageously speak the truth to the unbeliever, to those who have strayed, and to each other. But if our lives don’t reflect the truth we speak, if we don’t serve the living God, the truth will never be well-received, indeed, it will be rejected.

But the truth Elijah speaks cannot be rejected. His service to God is so apparent that he need not talk of any special command of God; he need not utter any words of proof. His mere presence is enough, for he embodies God’s power through his mission. God makes this apparent:

“…during these years there shall be no dew or rain except at my word” [1 Kgs 17:1].

“…at my word,” Elijah can exclaim this, for God has given His power to the one He sends, to the one who serves Him. The prophecy begins with God and ends with Elijah and his word.

Israel, the nation, has fallen deeply into sinfulness. Were Elijah to preach, he would be ignored, just as Israel and Judah would ignore the many other prophets God sent to them. Israel’s sin has blocked the path to God; it has blokced "the way," and the people neither understand nor love.

Only through punishment will they learn to be open to God’s Word, a Word of both power and hope. The truth will become evident through the power of Elijah’s word – “…there shall be no dew or rain.” But then they are offered a slice of hope: “…except at my word.”

They hear the “except” – and realize it’s in Elijah’s hands, but he doesn’t tell them when and how. That will demand repentance and acceptance, but only after days and months and years, after seeing the truth of Elijah’s word unfold in a punishing drought. When they confess the truth, when they admit that God is truly the living God, when they return to His service, the mystery enfolding Elijah will be revealed.

In truth, it’s a call, isn’t it? A call to the acceptance of God’s gift of faith. The path Israel is called to follow is no different from that which lies before you and me, one that quite likely lies before many nations, including our own.

Afterwards we see Elijah acting in perfect obedience – “Leave…go east and hide” [1 Kgs 17:3] – for in perfect trust he knew God would care for him. Ravens brought him meat and bread and a stream offered refreshing drink.

Once again Elijah teaches us. His call, his mission, that which gives him power in the sight of men, strips him of that same power in the sight of God. And so, from Elijah we learn that to serve God is to obey, to abandon ourselves completely to His love, to develop an attitude of perfect submission.

Brothers and sisters, to better understand the Beatitudes, just look to Elijah. He shows us what it means to be poor in spirit – to look only to God for salvation and to trust in His mercy. Like Elijah, we become mere children in the presence of God. Like children, we own nothing, for everything comes from and belongs to God.

This is the spiritual poverty that Jesus asks of us.

Homily: 4th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Readings: Jer 1:4-5,17-19; Ps 71; 1Cor 12:31-13:13; Lk 4:21-30
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I get asked a lot of questions - questions about the Church, about God, about morality...what's right and what's wrong and why. Most are good questions, asked by people who need answers and are honestly searching for the truth, questions that come straight from the heart.

But occasionally the questions come from a different place. Sometimes they come from real hurt or anger, and sometimes from pride or hatred. These are hard questions and those asking are often at a place where they can't hear the answers.

Not long ago a mother asked me, "How can a loving God be so cruel? Why did He allow my daughter to die at 29? Why didn't He answer our prayers?" 

She was so angry with God that anything I said probably wouldn't change this, at least not yet.  And I understand that. In challenging times I've asked God some bitter questions myself -- questions that begin with anger, and lead to our wonder why God doesn't conform to our expectations.

I suppose we all create our own image of God, and we want His Church to support that image. We're really just asking: "Why doesn't God do what I want Him to do?" 

Sometimes I, the creature, try to play the role of creator, and create a lesser god in my own image.

Of course, it's nothing new. It's been around from the beginning. That first sin, the sin in the garden, was a sin of pride, with Adam and Eve wanting to be like God. And we also see it in evidence in today's Gospel passage from Luke.

Jesus visits his hometown of Nazareth, and in the synagogue, He reads the words of Isaiah. He then makes that amazing claim: 

"Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing" [Lk 4:21].

At first the townspeople look at each other in amazement, overcome by wonder and pride.  Jesus is one of their own, the carpenter, who grew up and played with their children, and went to synagogue with them.

But then another attitude creeps is. How is it that Jesus speaks with such wisdom?

Isn't this the son of Joseph? [Lk 4:22]

Nazareth was likely a pretty quiet place - a small village on the road to larger, more exciting places. I suspect nothing much ever happened in Nazareth. And yet, on this day, in sleepy Nazareth, the people heard Jesus claim that the Word of Isaiah - the Word of their Fathers - was fulfilled in their hearing. 

Isn't this the son of Joseph?

Oh, they'd heard the rumors of miracles in Capernaum. They'd heard talk of healings and crowds and signs of God's favor. And many probably hoped He'd do the same in Nazareth, maybe even more, much more. 

But they kept thinking: Isn't this the son of Joseph? One of our own? 

And if He is a prophet, if He is a miracle-maker, shouldn't His own people be the first to benefit?  After all, we're his people! His family! His friends! He should do something special for us, perhaps some wonderful miracle, or some healings. God knows we have enough sick people in town. If He'd do that then we'd know God's power is right here in Nazareth, in this forgotten corner of Galilee. Yes, indeed, they wanted a prophet who would do their bidding, not God's.

And so what does Jesus do? Nothing!

No miracles. Instead He speaks of the prophet Elijah and the famine that spread throughout the land in those ancient days. Although many of God's Chosen People were starving, God sent Elijah to a widow of Zarephath, a pagan from the land of Sidon. It was she and her son, two pagans, whom Elijah miraculously fed.

And no healings. Instead of healing the sick of Nazareth, Jesus speaks of the prophet Elisha and the leper God sent him to heal, a man called Naaman, another pagan, this one from Syria.

Jesus told them of God's grace poured out not on Jews, not on friends and neighbors, but on aliens, on unbelievers.  This infuriated them. Jesus is certainly not their kind of prophet, their kind of Messiah. And so they rose up, drove Him out of town, to the brow of a steep hill, hoping to hurl Him off the cliff.

Today we meet these Nazarenes across a vast gulf of time and traditions and language and experience ...and although these differences are great, perhaps we're more like them than we know. 

After all, don't we sometimes yearn for a God we can control, one who will do our bidding?

Don't we sometimes want a God who will reward us, His friends, and punish our enemies? 

Oh, yes, we want a just and merciful God, so long as we're the ones who benefit from his justice and mercy. It's okay if God plays favorites so long as we're the favored ones.

We ask for forgiveness when we fail to do God's bidding, and then demand that he do ours.

Sometimes we're just not all that comfortable with an all-knowing, all-powerful God. 

Sometimes we prefer our God in a box with well-defined limitations, one who conforms to our vision of what God should do. We want a God we can tame. 

And so did the people of Nazareth. For on that day Jesus reminded his friends and neighbors that God's ways are not their ways. God's grace cannot be constrained by our boundaries or controlled by our prayers. When Jesus spoke in the synagogue, he gave notice that his ministry would embrace the stranger and include the outsider. He prefigured that remarkable command he issued right before His Ascension:

"Go, therefore, make disciples of all nations..." [Mt 28:19]

His message can be comforting, but also challenging and confrontational.  His teaching was often sharp and hard and difficult to accept, or even to hear. Like the people of Nazareth, many today find Jesus and His Church just as unacceptable. 

I remember walking with thousands of others on a "walk for life" in Boston some years ago. It was a peaceful event. And as we walked down Commonwealth Avenue in support of the unborn, the silence was broken only by the prayers and hymns of the participants...until we reached one corner. There a group of protesters fouled the air, screaming obscenities and blasphemies aimed directly at Jesus Christ and His Church. 

At the time I was walking alongside Bishop Sean O'Malley, now the Cardinal Archbishop of Boston. But when I grumbled, "I think I'll go over there and straighten them out," Bishop Sean just placed a hand on my shoulder and said, "Now, Dana, remember, God loves them too."

Walk for Life - Boston 2001

Yes, God does love them. As Jeremiah reminds us in our first reading, 

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you..." [Jer 1:5].

...and they need our prayers and our love, not our condemnation. 

Brothers and sisters, we all know that Jesus' Word is sometimes hard for us, and those who can't accept and embrace it may find themselves filled with fury and standing on the brow of a hill ready to hurl Him and His message headlong off the cliff. Jesus didn't leave Nazareth and go elsewhere because He was rejected; He was rejected because He went elsewhere.

That elsewhere beckons us for we, too, have heard God's Word. It has been fulfilled in our hearing. We are called to travel on hard paths, and to take up our cross, carrying it with us as we go.

This is our God - our crucified and risen Lord, the God who lives, God with skin on, still bearing the wounds of His love. 

This is our God, not a God to be tamed or controlled, but a God to be loved, a God who calls us to love one another, who demands our complete trust.

This is our Christian calling, to abandon ourselves in trust, to abandon ourselves into His hands, allowing His will and not ours to be done in our lives.

To the world this is weakness; but believe me, it's not for weaklings. It's so hard you and I can't do it alone. We always need God's help.

The question is: Are we willing to seek His help and answer His call?

Homily: Monday of the 3rd Week of Lent

Readings: 2 Kgs 5:1-15; Ps 42; Lk 4:24-30
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How small a God do you believe in?

It's kind of an odd question, isn't it? But it's really the question with which Jesus challenged the people of Nazareth, His hometown.

"...they were all filled with fury...."

When He showed up in the synagogue, they were already upset. They'd heard all about the wondrous things He'd done elsewhere, and wanted Him to do the same in Nazareth. They thought they were special. Jesus, after all, was from Nazareth, and so they deserved special treatment. If Jesus were this great prophet that people were already calling Him, they why hadn't He done anything here in Nazareth?

Of course, there was no thought of conversion, no desire to change their hearts. And repentance? Well, no need for that. No, their demand was all about entitlement, for they were a people wrapped up in themselves. Jesus looked at them and saw no humility, only pride.

And, remarkably, they really exhibited little curiosity about Jesus Himself. Oh, they thought they knew Him, because He had grown up among them. But they could see Jesus only as He used to be, as the child who played in their streets. And now He's a prophet?

Well, Jesus, if you're so great, how about proving it? Yes, they wanted some miracles too. But for the miraculous to engender faith, the heart must be well disposed.

You see, brothers and sisters, the people in that synagogue in Nazareth believed in a very small god, a god of Nazareth, not the God of Creation. In a very real sense they'd tried to create a god in their own image, and such a god must be very small indeed.

How does Jesus respond?

Naaman, healed by obedience not water [2 Kgs 5:1-19]

He reminds them of how God worked wondrous miracles through His prophets Elijah and Elisha... but they were miracles aimed at those beyond the borders of Israel, at Gentiles, not Jews. For God, the true God, is the God of all of His Creation. He certainly isn't a God to whom we can dictate.

Elijah and the widow [1 Kgs 17:9-24]

And so, with His examples from the books of Kings, the King of Kings reproaches His neighbors. His reproach, of course, is an attack on their pride.

And they respond. They respond with murderous intent.

Now I've occasionally said things in homilies to which people objected, but no one's ever tried to kill me...at least I don't think so.

But not Jesus. They force Him out of both synagogue and town, intending to throw Him off a cliff. But Jesus withdraws. He withdraws miraculously, mysteriously, majestically, leaving them paralyzed in their wounded pride; perhaps even questioning: "Who is this man that we thought we knew?"

How about you? How about me?

Are we sometimes like them? Do we believe in a little god, a subservient god, one at our beck and call, a god who does, or should do, our will?

Or do we believe in the Lord God, the God who created us out of love, who reveals Himself to us out of love, and calls us to do His will? 

And what about Jesus, the One the Father sent to become one of us, the One who gave His life for us, out of love? 

Do we listen to His Word? Do we realize He speaks to us constantly and from the mouths of the most unlikely people?

And that Cross He carries, that pesky Cross. Does He really expect me to carry one too? Why can't He just make my life perfect, just the way I'd like it?

Who is your God? Who is my God? Who is our Jesus? Have you and I created a little god, one our minds can comprehend, one we can control?

Or, like the deer that thirsts for the stream's running water, do we  thirst and long for the God of Creation, the God of Revelation, the God of the Incarnation, the God who loves, the God who saves, the God who calls each one of us to be His disciple?

You and I have to let go of our little gods and let the true God quench our thirst as He wills.

God love you.

Homily: Saturday, 7th Week of Ordinary Time

Readings: Jas 5:13-20; Ps 141; Mk 10:13-16

Prayer, healing, childlike faith and hope…these themes wind their way through today’s readings leading us to the spiritual perfection God asks of us.

In our first reading we find the James pleading with an audience of lukewarm Christians. Like all of us who must cope with the problems that life throws at us, they obviously need help and so James takes the teachings of Jesus and distills them down to the basics.

He begins with the most important: prayer. Are you suffering? Pray for relief, James tells them. Are you in good spirits? Offer a prayer of praise and thanksgiving. Are you sick, in need of healing? Have the Church pray with you and for you, anointing you in the name of the Lord. Do you need forgiveness? Confess your sins and pray for spiritual healing.

"...they should pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord..."

Note, too, that James emphasizes the power of sacramental prayer. For it is through the sacraments, celebrated in the midst of the Church community, that we tap into unique graces offered to us by the Holy Spirit. And James clearly describes the physical and spiritual healing that comes to us through the Sacrament of the Sick and Reconciliation. But the sacraments aren’t magic tricks. No, they are efficacious; they bring about healing and holiness, because of prayer – the prayer of the Church and the prayer of individuals.

Pray for each other, James goes on to tell us. And calling to mind the wondrous deeds of the prophet Elijah, he reminds us that “The fervent prayer of the righteous person is very powerful” [Jas 5:16].

Elijah: the power of prayer

We’re not to condemn people; rather we’re to help them to salvation. Pope Francis recently touched on this when he instructed us to stay clear of those who act as if they are the guardians of divine salvation. These are the scholars of the law who think that if you obey all the commandments, you will be saved. But in doing so, they neglect the greatest of the commandments: the commandment to love.

James addresses this by offering us a wonderful gift:  

“…whoever brings back a sinner from the error of his way will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins” [Jas 5:20].

This is a good thing to remember, brothers and sisters. It’s the fulfillment of that great commandment: to love God with all my being and to love my neighbor as myself. Bringing others to God’s Love is simply obedience, a response to salvation which I have done nothing to deserve.

And that’s something we often forget. You and I do not deserve salvation. We can’t get to heaven on our own. Salvation is a gift. But do we really believe this? It demands trust, doesn’t it? The kind of childlike trust Jesus talks about in today’s Gospel passage. We must learn how to receive the Kingdom of God as a gift. The childlike, you see, recognize that everything is a gift, everything is a grace. And they accept their smallness.

Just consider how small we are when compared to God’s greatness and the vastness of His creation. And it’s because we can acknowledge this smallness that we are open to receive God’s love.

But to receive God's love, His grace, we must listen and contemplate. We must pray. And then we must act, loving as God loves.

Homily: 19th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Kgs 19:4-8; Ps 34; Eph 4:30-5:2; Jn 6:41-51

Some years ago, a high school student asked me why, if God really exists, He doesn’t manifest Himself in some obvious way. “I mean,” he said, “like, if Jesus really is God, why doesn’t he just appear, you know, in the sky or somewhere? Or maybe He could perform some really big miracle, something that everyone could see.”

“And what would that accomplish?” I asked.

He stared at me as if I were, as they say, totally clueless. “Well, you know, everyone would have to believe in Him. I mean, how could anyone ignore it?”

“And you think that this would change people?”

“Well, yeah. Wouldn’t it change you?”

I admitted that a miracle of the sort he envisioned would no doubt have its effect on me. It would certainly reaffirm my faith in Jesus as the Son of God.

“But what of those who don’t already believe?” I asked. “Or those whose faith is weak, and whose lives reflect this weakness? Would they suddenly transform their lives, become holy and obey God’s commandments?”

“Sure.” he said, “I mean, it would be pretty dumb not to.”

For a moment, I considered my own faith...and my sinfulness, and my inability to justify the disparity between them. Yes, I found myself thinking, it is pretty dumb to believe and yet to continue resisting God’s Will through sin and disobedience.

In today’s second reading, St. Paul chastises the Christians at Ephesus on this very point. Don’t grieve the Holy Spirit, he tells them, with your bitterness, your anger, your malice, your slander toward one another. In other words, it’s not enough to say we’re Christians; we must be Christians -- as Paul says -- “imitators of God,” imitators of Christ.

 But like the Ephesians we instead let ourselves be consumed by anger, by hatreds, by lust, by greed. In varying degrees, we all do it, don’t we?

We see it in families, in homes where love is absent and communication is limited to criticism, angry outbursts, and worse.

We see it in the workplace, where too often the just wage is sacrificed on the altar of investor’s profits. Or where commercial decisions are made with no thought given to their moral implications. As the chief executive of a large corporation once said to me, “I don’t see where personal morality has any place in business decisions.” And he claims to be a Christian.

We see it in our professions, where, for example, some doctors supposedly committed to healing devote themselves to bringing only death...to the unborn, to the sick, to the elderly.

We see it in our popular culture, in movies and on TV, on the Internet, in our music... where immorality reigns supreme, where God’s Word and His Church are mocked, where the Ten Commandments are consigned to the dust heap of irrelevance. "Hey, it's a new millennium," they tell us.

Sometimes we even see it in the parking lot after Mass, but that’s a subject for another homily.

Like some of the Ephesians who so exasperated St. Paul, too many of us try to compartmentalize our lives into Christian times -- pretty much restricted to Sunday mornings -- and other times, when just about anything goes.

Strange behavior, isn’t it? Here we are, believing Christians, who are told by Jesus -- No, commanded by the Son of God -- to repent, to change the direction of our lives so they reflect the Gospel. And instead of obeying, we carry on as if...well, as if He didn’t exist. And yet it’s He, the Creative Word of God, who sustains our very existence. In the words of my teenage friend, “pretty dumb” of us, isn’t it? Maybe that’s why Jesus was so fond of comparing us to sheep, perhaps the least intelligent of His warm-blooded creatures.

Back now to that conversation with the young man…

To convince him that God knows what He’s about, that spectacular miracles in themselves don’t create faithful Christians, I turned to chapter 6 of John, the source of today’s Gospel reading.

The scene depicted took place in the synagogue at Capernaum the day after Jesus had fed thousands by multiplying a few loaves and fish. His listeners, many of the very same people who had filled their bellies with bread at that miraculous picnic on a Galilean hillside, were all attentive until He began to reveal His true identity. “I am the bread which came down from heaven,” he told them.

Ignoring the miracles they had witnessed, instead of listening to Him, they challenged Him: “Now, wait just a minute. You’re not from heaven. You’re from Nazareth. We know you. You’re the son of Joseph and Mary.”

Interesting, isn’t it? They’re simply unable to reconcile their earthly knowledge of Jesus as the local boy who helped out in Joseph’s carpenter shop with what they’ve seen Him do or with the claim He’s just made.

Like Elijah in today’s first reading, Jesus is rejected; and the parallel doesn’t stop there. Elijah had just performed a spectacular miracle in God’s Name in which he had defeated the priests of the pagan god, Baal. And the result? Elijah was forced to flee into the desert for his life.

But Jesus doesn’t flee. He persists and says, “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. I will raise him up on the last day.”

Faith, then, isn’t something we can achieve through our own efforts, like a promotion at work. It’s a gift from the Father, a free, totally gratuitous gift. We must, however, be disposed to receive it. And we must cherish it, nourish it, and help it grow through prayer and acts of love.

“Follow the way of love,” St. Paul instructs us, “even as Christ loved you.”

But Jesus goes on, and adds these remarkable words, “I am the bread of life...If anyone eats this bread he shall live forever; the bread I will give is my flesh, for the life of the world.”

Here Jesus reveals the very essence of the Good News: He has come for one reason: to offer His Life so that we may share in eternal life with the Father. As we will see in next Sunday’s Gospel, with these words Jesus also introduces God’s most extraordinary gift: the Eucharist, the bread of life, the true miracle performed daily on this altar and thousands of others throughout the world.

You see, Jesus knows us far better than we know ourselves. He knows how we struggle on this brief journey to Eternity. He knows how we suffer through the illnesses, the sacrifices, the addictions, the rejections, the fears of this life. He hears our cries when those we love are hurting, for He, too, has suffered.

To strengthen us, to nourish our souls, to keep us close to Him, the Father gives us His gift of Love. He gives us His Son, body and blood, soul and divinity, under the appearances of bread and wine. He permits us to share, again and again, in the sacrifice of Christ.

The people in the synagogue at Capernaum rejected this message, the Good News of salvation. They rejected the gift. And they rejected Jesus Himself. Why? Because it all got in the way of what they thought they knew.

From our perspective. 2,000 years later, we see that human nature has remained essentially the same. Spectacular miracles won’t guarantee faith. Faith demands a receptive heart open to God’s Word, and a willingness to transform our lives.

So, as we receive the Bread of Life at Communion today, let’s approach with faith-filled hearts, committed to living the Christian life that God wants for each of us. Then, in the words of today’s psalm, we too can “Taste and see how good the Lord is.”