Homily: The Queenship of Mary - August 22

Readings: Is 9:1-6; • Ps 112 • Lk 1:26-38

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Today’s feast, this Memorial of the Queenship of Mary, is really fairly recent…at least in terms of the long life of the Church. It was established by Pope Pius XII back in August of 1954, and coincidentally my folks happened to be in Rome that very day.

I was just a lad of 10, but I remember how excited my mom was when she told me all about it after they returned home. She also said they should have taken me on their trip, and apologized for leaving me and my brother behind. Uh-huh, right, Mom.

But in truth they parked us with relatives, and I won the lottery because I got to stay with Uncle Billy and Aunt Lilly, two former Vaudeville entertainers. Billy played the piano and Lilly sang, and they were just about the coolest people I’d ever known. But I digress…

Mom also gave me a miraculous medal blessed by Pope Pius that day, a medal I still wear. And the readings the Church gives us today are the perfect readings for Mary, the Galilean teenaged girl who would become the Mother of God and the Queen of Heaven and Earth.

We get a first taste in the reading from Isaiah, when he reveals that God will “make glorious…Galilee of the nations.”  Really? Who would ever think of backward, rural Galilee in those terms? Nobody but a God who loves to surprise us by turning the less than ordinary to the extraordinary, the spectacular. And what exactly will happen?

“For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

Yes, this messianic prophecy gives the Jews of Isaiah’s day a first taste of the Savior who will set them free…set them free not from the slavery of Egyptians, or Assyrians, or Babylonians, or Persians, or Greeks, or Romans… No, this Savior will free them and all of humanity from the slavery of sin. He will open the very gates of heaven for us all.

But how does will this happen? How does the Savor come to us? Once again, God turns what the world sees as the ordinary into the extraordinary, and Luke tells us the story.

It’s the story of a young woman named Mary, a virgin in Nazareth, a small town in Galilee. And on this remarkable day she is visited by one of God’s mighty messengers, the Archangel Gabriel. Gabriel doesn’t waste words and he delivers his message to Mary.

Fear not…God is with you…has filled you with His grace…and you will bear a Son named Jesus, the Son of the Most High, and He will reign over the house of Jacob forever.

When young Mary hears this, she responds, more than a bit perplexed: “I’m a virgin. How can I bear a child?” A reasonable question, don’t you think? But Gabriel has an answer:

”The Holy Spirit will come upon you…and the child will be holy, the Son of God.”

And with that, this “handmade of the Lord”, this servant, says “let it be done” and in an instant she becomes the Mother of God.

It only took the Church about 400 years to confirm this. Back in the year 431, at the Council of Ephesus, the Church gave Mary the title “Theotokos” – the God Bearer, the Mother of God. Of course, the faithful had long believed and expressed this, but it still had to be affirmed at Ephesus since the Arians were going around at the time saying stupid things.

And then, just a mere 15 centuries later, in 1954, Pope Pius XII, speaking for the Church declared that Mary, the Mother of God, also deserved the title of Queen. This, too, was nothing new, and most often, on these occasions, the Church simply expresses what the Church already knows, what its people have long believed. After all, they’d been singing Marian hymns for ages, indeed since the Middle Ages…”Hail Holy Queen” and praying the fifth decade of the Glorius Mysteries.

Pope Pius actually gave three reasons:

1.    Mary’s close association with Jesus’ redemptive work;

2.    Her preeminent perfection of holiness;

3.    Her intercessory power on our behalf.

Good theological reasons with which all of us would agree. But for me, and for so many others, she’s simply the only Queen we’ve ever known.

And, believe me, she’s no “sit on the throne” and just look important kind of Queen. No, indeed, she loves to get right into the midst of the lives of her subjects, doing whatever is needed to help them out. For her, interceding is a full-time job.

And as I’m sure her Son will verify, she’s pulled me out of a lot of very difficult situations. And all I had to do was ask. Now that’s a Queen!

Mary, Queen of Heaven and Earth, Mother of God…Pray for us. Intercede for us.

Homily: Christmas Weekday - January 5

Readings: 1 John 3:11-21; Ps 100; John 1:43-51

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Today’s readings are so remarkably appropriate given the condition of our world, given the state of the hearts and minds of so many.

We seem to be immersed, almost smothered, in a world lacking any kind of spiritual unity, a world too often typified by division and hatred. We watch the news, we scan the internet, read all the social media posts, and we must dig deep to encounter true faith, or to see the signs of hope that should mark our lives.

And how easy it is to add to the divisions and hatreds that increasingly separate us from each other. Families are torn apart because of political differences, or moral confusion, or a simple lack of trust. And the bonds of friendships dissolve for many of the same reasons. So many are simply unwilling to set it all aside and just love each other.

As John, the Apostle of Love, reminds us in his first letter, “Whoever does not love, remains in death.” He’s speaking here of spiritual death, a rejection of everything good, a rejection of God’s call to “love one another as I have loved you” [Jn 13:34].

John goes on to remind us that words mean little unless they are manifested in “deed and truth”, or to use a more common expression: to walk the talk. Who in your life needs the touch of your love, of God’s love? A family member? A friend, perhaps someone who hurt you, someone from whom you have withheld forgiveness? A maybe just a neighbor who irritates you no end? Reach out to them, not to receive anything, simply to extend God’s love.

Often enough we form little personal biases, pre-judgments that are hard to shatter. Just look at Nathaniel in our Gospel passage. Philip told him wondrous things about Jesus, that He is the one promised by God through Moses, a promise every Jew kept in his heart.

“I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their kindred, and will put my words into the mouth of the prophet; the prophet shall tell them all that I command” [Dt 18:18].

But none of this impressed Nathaniel, who like Philip was probably from Bethsaida, and thought little of folks from Nazareth. The villages of Galilee, places like Bethsaida, Cana, and Nazareth, were just small country towns, subject to the same petty jealousies and rivalries that affect us today. 

I lived on Cape Cod for 25 or so years. It's a lovely little slice of God's earth, but the old-timers can be a bit...well, provincial. Here's a local story that displays how rivalries between the small towns manifest themselves: 

Two elderly men, both from the town of Chatham and both from old Cape families, were standing at the fence separating their front yards lamenting the number of tourists filling their Chatham streets. One said to the other, "Pretty soon, with all these tourists, there'll be no room for us natives." The other gave a snort and replied, "Natives? I heard that your great-great grandfather was born in Harwich." (Harwich was a neighboring town.)  

Yes, those Galilean villages were no doubt similar to our own versions, even here in The Villages. Not long ago, speaking with a woman who lives in a village that abuts ours, she said: “Our village is wonderful. We all love to get together in block parties and holiday celebrations. But I've noticed your village doesn’t do a lot of that.” This, of course, was just a slightly nicer way of saying, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” [Jn 1:46] 

I wish I could say that, meeting me, she immediately changed her attitude. But no, she just continued with more of the same. But not Nathaniel. Philip, accepting his new role as evangelist, said to his friend: "Come and see." 

Yes, indeed, come and see Jesus and you will be changed. After only a few minutes with Our Lord, Nathaniel exceeded even Philip:

“Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel” [Jn 1:49].

Declaring what the Spirit has revealed to him, he joined Philip and followed Jesus in "deed and truth.” And this is what every encounter with Jesus is like, or should be like.

Maybe we should spend more time away from all the modern, technological wonders that clutter our lives and our minds, and, like Nathaniel, just sit down for a while under our own figurative fig trees, and let God come to us. How good it is to just experience God’s creation and enjoy the peace that He extends to us.

I think it especially interesting that in 1^st Kings, we encounter the fig tree as a symbol of peace:

“During Solomon’s lifetime Judah and Israel lived in safety…all of them under the vines and the fig trees.” [1 Kgs 5:5]

And in Zechariah, an angel of the Lord assured the high priest with the words:

“On that day you will invite one another under your vines and fig trees” [Zech 3:10].

Our homes and our communities should also be places of safety, places of peace, places on invitation, where love overcomes all conflict. Then we, too, can join the psalmist and “serve the Lord with gladness…give thanks to Him; bless His name” [Ps 100:2,4]

COVID-19 Bible Study Reflection #19: To Approach Our God

I'd like to begin today's reflection with a reading from the Gospel according to Mark. It's a passage in which the evangelist describes two miraculous events that occur almost on top of each other -- two different but intimately related miracles.

Please take a moment now to open your Bible to Mark 5:21-43 and read this passage in which Jesus performs these two miracles, healing one person and reviving another who had died.

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Oh, what a Gospel passage this is for us!

Mark, inspired by the Sprit, blends these two events, these two healings by Jesus. He sandwiches them together, as they happened, so you and I won’t miss the point.

Two people confront Jesus on this day in Galilee, two very different people.

The first is Jairus. Now Jairus was an important man, an official of the local synagogue, the man who oversaw its administration and finances. And because he was an important man, everybody knew him, or wanted to be known by him. Quite likely, everyone in Capernaum who was anyone wanted to be his friend.

We all know men like Jairus. He’s the first to know, the first to shake your hand, to slap you on the back, the first to be invited, the first to be served, the last to be overlooked – a man to be noticed.

That’s not to say he wasn’t also a good, God-fearing man who took his position in the synagogue seriously. His importance in the community would simply have been a byproduct of that position.

Jairus had a family; he had friends and servants; he had a life filled with people who cared for him. He’d probably lived a good life, a life where all had gone well…until now. We sense that Jairus would gladly give up everything he had, everything he was, to save his daughter who was near death.

For 12 years Jairus loved his daughter, loved her as only a father can love. Yes, given her condition, he was desperate. He had no doubt heard of Jesus. What did he have to lose? Why not approach this healer?

But we suspect it’s more than that, don’t we? For the Holy Spirit can act through and in the midst of our desperation. And we know the Spirit is present, for where Jesus is, so too is the Spirit.

Moved by the Spirit, Jairus approached Jesus. No, that’s wrong. He didn’t just approach Jesus. This important man fell to his knees at Jesus’ feet and begged for his daughter’s life. How different from those other important people in the synagogue Jesus last visited. There they plotted to kill Him [Mk 3:6]. Perhaps none of them had a dying child.

Looking up at Jesus, Jairus pleads with Him, begs Him to come and lay hands on the girl, to mediate God’s grace and power so his daughter may be delivered from death – this daughter who has lived just 12 short years.

Jesus, moved by a father’s love for his daughter, goes with Jairus. They’re followed by the crowd, the crowd that always seems to follow Jesus. And it’s in this crowd, this necessary crowd, that we encounter another in need of healing.

For 12 Years Jairus has enjoyed the presence of his daughter. But unlike Jairus, a woman in the crowd has spent those same 12 years on the outside looking in, because for 12 years a flow of blood had made her unclean according to Jewish law.

For 12 years, she was the last one at the well, the last one at the marketplace, the last to be noticed, and the first to turn away. For 12 years, she lived life on the fringes, avoiding people, avoiding contact, avoiding everything… everything except shame.

For 12 years, she had stood among the captives, longing to be free. Her friends had disappeared long ago -- gone, along with her money and her pride. If she had anything left -- anything at all -- she would have given it up just to be healed.

By the time she encountered Jesus she had been 12 years with little real human contact; 12 years without the prayers of the synagogue; 12 years of loneliness. Yes, indeed, you can be lonely, even in a crowd, for she had learned long ago how to appear almost invisible.

There are men and women just like her today. They’re all around us. You see them at the soup kitchen and the food pantry. You see them on city streets and alleyways, along life’s edges, pushing a shopping cart containing a few possessions. The one you might notice, just for a moment, before she slips away.

But they’re here, too, in your neighborhood, living alone, eating alone, always alone. I saw her the other day at Walmart, in front of me at the checkout counter, counting out her change to buy a small bag of groceries.

Of course, sometimes, perhaps most times, we don’t even notice her. Or when we do, we wonder why they let these crazy people out on the streets.

Yes, the woman who reached out to touch Jesus is with us still.

As we accompany Jesus this day in Capernaum, we encounter two very different people, both in desperate need, yet both turning to Jesus filled with hope.

Driven, inspired by the Holy Spirit, Mark asks us to look at these two people, but to look at them together, as he nests their stories one within the other.

They’re so different, these two.

Jairus, the man of importance, doesn’t hesitate. So sure of himself, he goes in search of Jesus, finds Him, and approaches Him directly. He’s the kind of man who can say, “Jesus, help me!” and trust he’ll be welcomed and heard.

But the woman, buried in the crowd…she’s different, isn’t she? She’s not so sure. Does she dare approach Jesus directly? No, 12 years of hiding, 12 years of shame have taken their effect.

She has no place, no position, no privilege, no power, and so she believes she’ll have no welcome. And the thought of more rejection is just too much for her. And so, instead of approaching Jesus openly, which might only bring on more shame, more public humiliation, she decides instead to sneak up on Jesus. If she can just touch His garment, His healing power will flow through her. Then she can slip away silently.

But Jesus sees her, and He feels her, doesn’t He? He senses her presence as the Holy Spirit’s healing power moves through Him to her. He sees her just as clearly as He saw Jairus. Yes, He sees them both that day in Galilee.

Jesus never allows the person in front of Him to block His view of the person hidden in the crowd. Unlike us, His eyes are never so focused on the obvious that He misses those who live on the fringes, those who hide just out of view.

No, Jesus never focuses solely on those whom the world sees as important; for then He might overlook those who have stumbled and fallen.

Jesus sees what the rest of us too often fail to notice.

But perhaps you did notice one thing: both Jairus and the woman fall at Jesus’ feet when they approach Him. Yes, Jairus has been blessed in life, but he knows the source of those blessings. He, too, moved by the Spirit, falls at Jesus’ feet and begs for one more blessing.

Jairus falls, filled with hope, pleading for help, but the woman falls at Jesus’ feet in fearful thanksgiving.

You see, she’s already been healed and knows it. As Mark tells us:

“She felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction” [Mt 5:29].

Because she’s already been healed, she’s fully aware that the power of God flows from this man whose garment she touched.

Jesus calls her to Him, doesn’t He? And how does she approach Him? Mark tells us: “in fear and trembling”?

Filled with God’s healing Spirit, she knew that she was approaching someone who is more than a mere man. And she knew, too, that her salvation was present.

Isn’t it remarkable that St. Paul, uses these same words when he instructs the Philippians to “work out your salvation with fear and trembling” [Phil 2:12]?

For this woman’s salvation, her spiritual healing, far outweighs her physical healing.

“Daughter, your faith has saved you…” [Mk 5:34]

He wants to do more than heal her physically; He wants her to know that her wholeness came from her faith. And He wants to remove her fear of approaching Him.

Only then does He send her on her way: “Go in peace.”

He does much the same when He arrives at the home of Jairus and is told the girl has died. To ease the fears of this father, he says:

“Do not be afraid. Just have faith” [Mk 5:36].

Maybe that’s why we are invited to read about these two healings, one inside the other.

Two very different people -- Jairus in his comfort and position and the woman in her poverty and obscurity – and yet both come to Jesus in humility; both come to Jesus filled with hope; and both come to Jesus in faith.

They leave their encounters with Jesus fully aware that, as St. James reminds us, everything comes from God:

“Do not be deceived, my beloved bothers: all good giving and every perfect gift is from above” [Jas 1:16].

In the same way, we’re reminded of the fact that we are not our own. How did the Psalmist put it?

"Know that the Lord is God; He made us; His we are"[Ps 100:3].

So maybe we're not supposed to wonder whose need was greater, or whose faith was stopnger, or why Jesus stopped to talk with the woman when a little girl was dying and needed Him so desperately. 

Maybe it’s enough for us to know that Jesus saw them both! And that’s the wonder of being a Christian. Jesus will see us too if we fall down before Him in humility, in hope, and in faith.

Of course, the other part of being a Christian is recognizing Jesus in those who stand before us.

Too often today we outsource our response to Jesus’ call.

Why get personally involved when I can just write a check? Anyway, the government will take care of the hungry, the homeless. That’s why we pay all those taxes. As for their spiritual needs…well, isn’t that what bishops, priests, and deacons do?

Yes, we go on with our lives, seemingly unaware that God calls each one of us to do His work in the world.

Your work, dear friends, is the Apostolate -- that is, the work of the Apostles – for you are sent by God into the world. The Second Vatican Council, in its Decree on the Apostolate of the Laity, clearly reminds us of the call God extends to the laity:

“The laity derive the right and duty to the apostolate from their union with Christ the head; incorporated into Christ’s Mystical Body through Baptism and strengthened by the power of the Holy Spirit through Confirmation, they are assigned to the apostolate by the Lord Himself. They are consecrated for the royal priesthood and the holy people (cf. 1 Pt 2:4-10) not only that they may offer spiritual sacrifices in everything they do but also that they may witness to Christ throughout the world” [Apostolicam Actuositatem, 3].

Did you get that? It’s a responsibility, a duty, we all have. You can’t duck it. You can’t imitate Jonah and try to hide from it. We are all, clergy and laity alike, called to “offer spiritual sacrifices in everything” and to “witness to Christ throughout the world.”

I suppose that’s the question for all of us: Have we done much of that lately?

Homily: Monday after Epiphany (and St. Raymond)

I've included my homily below, but I thought I'd first say a few words about the saint we honor today. Today is the memorial of St. Raymond of Penyafort. He was a very smart man from Catalonia who died in his 100th year in 1275. He's always been one of my favorite saints. 

As I said, St. Raymond was very bright, a bit of a prodigy who was teaching philosophy by the time he was 20 and then went on to earn a doctorate in law. Raymond was made an archdeacon by the Bishop of Barcelona but a few years later answered God's call to join the Dominicans. A gifted preacher, he ministered to the Muslim Moors and to those Christians who had returned from Moorish slavery. 

As the confessor to Pope Gregory IX he spent years in Rome codifying canon law, work that actually defined much of the Church's law well into the 20th Century. Ultimately he was elected as the third master general of the Dominicans. 

To include his other accomplishments would require many pages, so I'll just say that the mere reading of his life makes me tired. Whenever I think I'm overworking,  I simply think of St. Raymond and he charges my batteries. 

By the way, St. Raymond resigned from his position as the Dominican master general when he turned 65, citing age as a factor. He then went on for another 35 years, working along the way. I consider him the perfect candidate for patron saint of The Villages, our massive retirement community here in Florida. 

A few years ago, Diane and I spent almost a week in Barcelona. During our stay we spent a day or two exploring the city's beautiful old Cathedral. So you can imagine my surprise and delight when we came upon his sepulcher in a small side chapel. I said a brief prayer to this tireless man, asking him to intercede for me, to help me carry out my ministry with the same kind of enthusiasm and energy for which he was known.

Here's a photo I took of his sepulcher:

St. Raymond, pray for us.

And now...today's homily
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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. First He must 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 28:20].

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. [See Is 9]

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, you see, 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].

Truly remarkable! 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. It's work that only God can do, showing the world that God's creative power, His truth, and His very nature are 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 and with God's Presence living in us, 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. We must carry 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 to enlighten their darkened lives.

Homily: Monday, 4th Week of Lent

Readings: Is 65:17-21; Ps 30; Jn 4:43-54
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This past Saturday, immediately after morning Mass, we experienced a time of prayer and healing right here in our church.

My wife, Diane, and I made up one of the many prayer teams that were available to pray with those who entered this church that morning in need of God's healing presence in their lives and in the lives of those they love. I can't speak for the other teams, but I expect their experiences mirrored ours as we listened and prayed and shared God's overwhelming love, His forgiveness, His mercy.

Of course many of those who were here that morning were experiencing deep suffering in their lives - physically, emotionally, spiritually - and they came humbly seeking God's help. I'm always impressed by the extraordinary humility and faith of all who come to this healing service, driven by hope and willing to accept God's will. I'm impressed because their faith and humility are so much greater than my own, and it would be more fitting if the roles were reversed.

But there's something else. So many, despite their own suffering, come to us not just for themselves but for others. They come in prayer, in hope, in faith asking God to extend His healing presence to family, friends, neighbors, to those in need.

In today's Gospel passage we encounter another who comes to Jesus hoping for healing, not for himself but for his son. Probably an official of the court of Herod Antipas, he had traveled 20 miles from his home in Capernaum to find Jesus in Cana.

"You may go; your son will live."

As John tells us, the official approached Jesus and  "asked him to come down and heal his son, who was near death." Did he assume that because he was an important official Jesus would simply drop everything and do as he asked and join him on the 20-mile trip to Capernaum? And did he think that Jesus had to make that trip in order to heal his son? If so he was in for a surprise, wasn't he?

Jesus actually seems a bit exasperated by it all, doesn't He? And He gives a rather sharp reply:

"Unless you people see signs and wonders, you will not believe."

Was this rebuke directed solely at the official, or was it also aimed at the people of Galilee in general? Probably a little of both.

But the official accepts the rebuke. Humbled by Jesus' words, he doesn't allow himself to become discouraged. Moved by love for his son, he now pleads for help: "Sir, come down before my child dies."

Humility succeeds where arrogance had failed, and Jesus replies simply:

"You may go; your son will live."

Hearing these words, John tells us, the man now understands. He believed the Word of Jesus and departed on his journey home.

But he had to be moved to faith, didn't he? His hope for his son's healing led him to Jesus, but it was the Word that brought him the gift of faith.

It's interesting, though, that on the way home, he meets his servants who tell him his son lives. He has been healed. That should have been enough for him, but perfect faith is never easy, is it? And so he asks exactly when his son recovered. The answer, of course, confirms the truth and as John tells us, with that "he himself believed, and all his household."

Yes, sometimes God has to lead us to faith, one small step at a time, so we can request good things from God.

Our faith reminds us that Jesus is present here today just as He was 2,000 years ago in Galilee. And it is through His healing Presence in the Eucharist that we too share in the divine life.

Perhaps, like the court official in the Gospel, we should measure ourselves against Jesus' rebuke.

Do you and I need signs and wonders before we're willing to believe the Word of God?

Is our prayer filled with our own demands or do we turn to God in humility..."Thy Will be done..."?

Any child will be happy to tell you that we are surrounded by signs and wonders, all pointing to God's presence...just as he will tell you that God, like a loving parent, will take care of you.

God has showered us with His blessings, but so often we just don't seem to know it.