Homily: Monday After Epiphany (1/6/2020)

I have embedded a video of this homily below. The text of the homily follows the video.

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Readings: 1 Jn 3:22-4:6; Ps 2; Mt 4:12-17;23-25
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Matthew, writing to a largely Jewish audience, didn’t hesitate to present Jesus as the “new Moses,” as the promised One Moses himself described in Deuteronomy [Dt 18:18]. Jesus, the lawgiver, through the New Covenant, fulfills the Mosaic law of the Old Covenant, deepening its meaning. As Jeremiah prophesied:

“I will place my law within them, and write it upon their hearts…” [Jer 31:33]

But the Gospel doesn’t restrict Jesus’ mission, for He came not only to Abraham’s descendants, but to the entire world. We heard this in Luke’s Gospel when the aging Simeon, at the Presentation of the infant Jesus in the Temple, exclaimed:

“…my eyes have seen your salvation. which you prepared in sight of all the peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel” [Lk 2:30-32].

It’s a message aimed not just at a handful of Bethlehem shepherds and wise men from the East, but one that reverberates throughout the world and through all time. Matthew first proclaimed this Gospel message of universal Good News in the genealogy that opens his Gospel. There we encounter a family of saints and sinners, of Jews and Gentiles. Also in that family was John the Baptist who paved the way for Jesus, His forerunner in every respect.

John would soon be martyred, but for Jesus the Cross comes later. He must first preach and heal. He must form His disciples so the Church they lead can preach the Good News and “make disciples of all nations” [Mt 28:19]. And so, with John’s arrest, Jesus began his ministry in earnest.

He stepped into the world beyond His Jewish roots and carried the Good News to “the Galilee of the Gentiles,” as Matthew and Isaiah described it. He got right to work, didn’t He? He taught in the synagogues, preached the Kingdom, and healed all who come to Him. It must have been an exhausting pace, such that word of His work spread beyond Galilee and Judea to the Gentiles of the Decapolis, of Syria, and beyond the Jordan. They came to Him with their sick and He cured them all: the physically ill, the mentally ill, the spiritually ill.

At this point Matthew tells us nothing of the content of Jesus’ preaching, only that He echoed John’s call to repentance in readiness for the coming Kingdom. But it wasn’t His preaching that first brought those in need to this One they had never heard. How did Matthew put it?

“His fame spread to all of Syria” [Mt 4:24].

He was famous in a country He’d never even visited – and all without Facebook, or Twitter, or TV. No, it was simply His Presence in the world. Jesus, the Word of God Incarnate, need only be present and act, doing God’s work in the world. This is work that only God can do, showing the world His creative power, His truth, His very nature bound up in the Presence of His merciful love.

In deep humility, a divine humility beyond our understanding, Jesus tells all that the saving, victorious Presence of God is at hand, that nothing will ever be the same. It’s the same Presence He will ultimately entrust to His Church for all time through the gift of the Eucharist. This bread and wine offered by us become God Himself, His Real Presence, which He uses to heal our weakness and lead us to eternal life.

Brothers and sisters, Jesus must fill the world with His healing, saving Presence, for it is this Divine Presence that draws the world to Him. His call is a call to repentance, to conversion:

“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” [Mt 4:17].

This repentance, this metanoia, as the Greeks call it, means more than being sorry for our sinfulness… much, much more. It calls us to something new, a radical change of being, really a change of everything, because we now recognize God’s Presence in our midst. It generates a hunger within us, a hunger for God’s Kingdom, a hunger for the living Bread that God gives “for the life of the world” [Jn 6:51]. Living in God’s Presence we can then say with Paul, “…yet I live, no longer I, but Christ lives in me” [Gal 2:20].

Like Matthew’s world of the Gentiles, our world, too, is "in darkness…a land overshadowed by death” [Mt 4:16].

Only Christ’s Presence can bring God’s saving light into this world, and that’s where you and I come in. We must be the God-bearers, those who, like Jesus, must act always in love, carrying Him and His healing Presence to those who know Him not.

Let that be our prayer today: that God will lead us to those who need His glorious Presence in their darkened lives.

Homily: The Epiphany (5 Jan 2020)

I have embedded a video of this homily below. The text of the homily follows the video.

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Readings: Is 60:1-6; Ps 72; Eph 3:2-3a, 5-6; Mt 2:1-12

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As a child I was fascinated by the Magi. Who were these wise men, or these three kings as we often called them? To me they were romantic, mysterious figures -- dressed in their finery, perched high on their camels, and bearing those intriguing gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. I knew what gold was, and I assumed frankincense was like the incense we used at High Mass. But myrrh? It was and remains an unknown. I don’t think they sell it at Publix.

It wasn't until I was in eighth grade, when Sister Francis Jane had us read T. S. Eliot's poem, "Journey of the Magi," that I came to a clearer understanding of these three men and their mission. Eliot’s opening lines dispelled my earlier romantic notions of the Magi’s journey from their distant homelands to greet this unknown King.

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a Journey, and such a long journey;
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.

Why did they do it? And why did they alone recognize the signs that compelled them to make this first Christian pilgrimage? 

Again, who were these three men? One thing we know for certain: they were Gentiles, not Jews. Were they kings? Probably not. Were they astrologers? Also, probably not, at least not in today's superstitious sense. More likely, the Magi were sages of their people, men committed to the propagation of wisdom, committed to finding the truth. And it’s this search for truth that brought them to a stable in a cave in the little village of Bethlehem.

The Hebrew Scriptures, what we call the Old Testament, were not unknown among the people of the ancient Middle East. As true wise men, they might well have been familiar with these Scriptures, perhaps even with Micah's prophecy of Bethlehem as the birthplace of a great King from the House of David. Had they also read Isaiah?

“Nations shall walk by your light, and kings by your shining radiance… the wealth of nations shall be brought to you…bearing gold and frankincense, and proclaiming the praises of the Lord” [Is 60:3,5-6].

Perhaps they had, and armed with God's Word, they went to meet the Word of God Himself. Spurred on by a heavenly sign, they encountered the One Who will proclaim the Kingdom of Heaven. Led by the Holy Spirit, they found Him to Whom the Spirit always leads.

These wise men came to Bethlehem in search of the truth, but at the end of their journey, they had a revelation. They discovered that the Truth is not a something, but a Someone.

"I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life" [Jn 14:6], Jesus tells us. When we follow His Way, we are led to Him, the Truth; and the reward is eternal Life. 

But along that Way we encounter the Cross. The Magi brought gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh – symbols of royalty, priesthood, and suffering. Yes, the Cross is there, even in the stable at Bethlehem.

In their encounter with this Truth, the Magi learn that Jesus is not just another earthly king. He instead wants to become King of their hearts – and enthroning Him in their hearts requires a conversion – a change in the very core of their being. Later in his poem Eliot describes this shock of recognition: 

…were we led all that way for Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,

We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,

But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.

They realized they must die to their earlier lives, lives that don’t include Jesus…for this Jesus is not a king for the Jews alone, but as St. Paul tells us in today's second reading:

"…it has now been revealed…that the Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body, and copartners in the promise in Christ Jesus through the Gospel" [Ep 3:5-6].

The Magi sensed this promise – a promise that brings life, yet demands we die to ourselves and to the world. The Magi discovered they had to face something called death at the very moment in which they witnessed a birth. But in doing so, they were among the first proclaimers of the Good News. Today, here in this church, on this altar, we do the same.

From this manifestation of Jesus to the Magi, to the world, we’re led to the celebration of the Eucharist, the living memorial of the sacrifice, the Death and Resurrection, of our Savior. We make a leap in time from the simple, precious days of Jesus' birth to that awesome moment when He offers Himself on the Cross for the salvation of the world.

"…and the Word became flesh" [Jn 1:14], John reminds us. Jesus became man, and this meant He would die. Our re-birth through Baptism requires that we must die with Him by our sharing of the Eucharist, in which Christ is truly present once again on the Cross at Calvary. This is why Jesus was born. He came into the world to witness to the truth that God the Father wants each of us to be saved through the willing sacrifice of His Son, a sacrifice in which we are privileged to share at every Mass. 

In his Gospel, St. Matthew doesn't tell us what happened to the Magi afterwards, but as we read the final words of Eliot's poem, we're allowed to speculate on the outcome:

We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

And so, we’re left with a choice. We can be like the pagans and continue to clutch the little gods we create for ourselves. Or we can be like Herod, reject God’s presence, and fight a losing battle that leads to death, not life. Or perhaps, like the Magi, we can accept the universal call of Christ. We can turn to the Truth and carry His message of salvation to the world.

This, brothers and sisters, is what Epiphany is: a manifestation, a showing. And as Catholic Christians, we are called to manifest Christ's presence in the world by our faith and how we live our lives. We’re called to evangelize, to epiphanize…I’m not sure if that’s a real word, but it should be.

Like Matthew’s world of the Gentiles, our world, too, is "in darkness…a land overshadowed by death” [Mt. 4:16]. Only Christ’s Presence can bring God’s saving light into this world, and that’s where you and I come in. We must, then, be the God-bearers, those who, like Jesus, must act always in love, carrying Him and His healing Presence to those who know Him not.

Let that be our prayer today: that God will lead us, as He led the Magi, to those who need His glorious Presence in their darkened lives. 

Listen now to the words of today’s Solemn Blessing which Father will extend to you all at the end of Mass:

"…since in all confidence you follow Christ, who today appeared in the world as a light shining in darkness, may God make you, too, a light for your brothers and sisters.”

Homily: The Epiphany of Our Lord

Readings: Is 60:1-6; Ps 72; Eph 3:2-3a,5-6; Mt 2:1-12 

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I can recall, as a child, not knowing quite what to make of the Magi, the three kings or wise men as we called them. To me they were romantic, mysterious figures -- dressed in their finery, perched high on their camels, and bearing those interesting gifts. I knew what gold was, and assumed that frankincense was something similar to the incense we used at High Mass. Of course, myrrh was a bit of a mystery, and to some extent remains so to this day.

It wasn't until I was in eighth grade, when Sister Francis Jane had us read T. S. Eliot's "Journey of the Magi," that I came to a clearer understanding of the men and their mission. The opening lines of this poem dispelled my earlier romantic notions about how the Magi came from their distant homelands to greet this unknown King.

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a Journey, and such a long journey;
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.

What caused them to make this difficult journey to Bethlehem? Why did they, and apparently no one else, recognize the signs and feel compelled to make this remarkable pilgrimage? And who were these men? Well, one thing we know for certain: they were Gentiles, not Jews.

Were they kings? Probably not. Were they astrologers, as has often been claimed? Also, probably not, at least not in today's superstitious sense. More likely, the magi were the sages of their people -- men committed to the propagation of wisdom; men committed to finding the truth.And it’s this search for truth that brings them to a stable in a cave in the nondescript little village of Bethlehem.

The Hebrew Scriptures, what we call the Old Testament, was not unknown among the people of the ancient middle east. And as true "wise men," they were probably familiar with these Scriptures, and with Micah's prophecy of Bethlehem as the birthplace of a great King from the House of David.

Armed with God's Word, they go, unknowingly, to meet the Word of God Himself. Spurred on by a sign in the heavens, they encounter the One Who will proclaim the Kingdom of Heaven. And led by the Holy Spirit, they find Him to Whom the Spirit always leads.

These wise men came to Bethlehem in search of the truth. And at the end of their journey, they have a revelation. They discover that the Truth is not a something, but a Someone. "I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life," Jesus tells us. When we follow His Way, we are led to Him, the Truth; and the reward is eternal Life.

But along that Way we will always encounter the Cross. The Magi bring gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh -- symbols of royalty, priesthood, and suffering. For the Cross is there, even in the stable at Bethlehem. It is in their encounter with this Truth that the Magi come to realize that Jesus is not just a king in the worldly sense, but that He wants to become King of their hearts -- and that enthroning Him in their hearts requires a change in their lives -- a conversion. They came to admire and to honor a new king, but before they return home, they are to be changed in the very core of their inner being.

Later in his poem Eliot describes the shock of this recognition as the Magi realize that they must die to a life that does not include Jesus.

…were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
 

Yes, the Magi realize that this Jesus is not a king just for the Jews, but that as St. Paul tells us is today's second reading: "…it has now been revealed…that the Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body, and copartners in the promise in Christ Jesus through the Gospel."
 

It is this promise that the Magi sense -- a promise that brings life, but at the same time requires us to die to ourselves and to the world. And so the Magi discovered that they had to face something called death at the very moment in which they witnessed a birth. But in doing so, they became among the first proclaimers of the Good News. And today, here in this church, on this altar, we do the same. From this manifestation of Jesus to the Magi, to the world, we’re led to the celebration of the Eucharist, the living memorial of the sacrifice of Christ, His death and resurrection. We make a leap in time from the simple, precious days of Jesus' birth to that awesome moment when He offers Himself on the Cross for the salvation of the world.

"…and the Word became flesh." Jesus became man, and this meant that He would die. Our re-birth through Baptism requires that we must die with Him by our sharing of the Eucharist, in which Christ is truly present once again on the Cross at Calvary. For this is the reason Jesus was born. He came into the world to witness to the truth that God the Father wants each of us to be saved through the willing sacrifice of His Son, a sacrifice that we are privileged to share in at every Mass.

In his Gospel, St. Matthew doesn't tell us what happened to the Magi afterwards, but as we read the final words of Eliot's poem, we're allowed to speculate on the outcome:
 

We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

And so we are left with a choice.
 

We can be like the pagans and continue to clutch our gods of sinfulness. We can be like Herod and, rejecting the presence of God in our midst, fight a losing battle that leads not to life, but to death. Or like the Magi, we can accept the universal call of Christ. We can turn to the Truth and carry His message of salvation to the world. For this is what Epiphany is -- a manifestation, a showing. And as Catholic Christians, we are called to manifest Christ's presence in the world by our faith and how we live our lives.
 

In the words of the Solemn Blessing at the end of today's Mass: "The wise men followed the star, and found Christ…May you too find the Lord when your pilgrimage is ended."