Homily: 5th Sunday of Easter - Year C

Readings: Acts 14:21-27; Ps 145; Rev 21:1-5; Jn 13:31-35

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Early in the morning, while it’s still dark, I often take a fast walk through our extended neighborhood. Sometimes I pray the Rosary as I walk. On one of those mornings, a few months ago, as I passed a house on a nearby street, I heard the front door slam, followed by a man’s voice shouting a few choice words that I’ll not repeat here. The man who shouted jumped into his golf cart and backed out of his driveway almost running into me. It was dark. He wasn’t looking, so I doubt he even saw me. He then drove off at full speed…in a golf cart, 20 miles per hour

Now, I didn’t know him. And I certainly don’t know what took place in that house that made him so angry that he left in such a hurry, driving off into the morning darkness. But because it was early on a Friday morning, I was praying the Sorrowful Mysteries...

I don’t know, it must have been the Sorrowful Mysteries, but there I was on a street in The Villages, and my aging brain carried me off to Jerusalem. I took me to John’s Gospel, to the 13^th chapter, to the passage we just heard, when Judas left the upper room, when he left Jesus and the others. Did he leave muttering, swearing, slamming doors…probably not. We don’t know. John doesn’t tell us.

But John does tell us “Satan had entered him.”

Knowing this, Jesus looked at Judas and said: “What you are going to do, do quickly.”

John also tells us, “…it was night.”

Where did Judas go so quickly that night? Out into the darkness, into the world that had rejected Jesus, the world that wanted Him dead. Judas left Jesus and he left the Apostles. In essence he left and rejected the dual institution of the priesthood and the Eucharistic Church…for that’s what took place at that Last Supper. Yes, Judas ran into the darkness away from the Jesus, the Light of the world, away from the Church.

Pope Leo XIV, our new pope, celebrated his first Mass to a congregation of cardinals. And in his homily, he spoke about the world, and how it perceives Christians, how it perceives our faith:

“…today,” he said, “there are many settings in which the Christian faith is considered absurd, meant for the weak and unintelligent...where other securities are preferred, like technology, money, success, power, or pleasure.”

Pope Leo went on, “…where it is not easy to preach the Gospel and bear witness to its truth, where believers are mocked, opposed, despised or at best tolerated and pitied…

“A lack of faith is often tragically accompanied by the loss of meaning in life, the neglect of mercy, appalling violations of human dignity, the crisis of the family and so many other wounds that afflict our society.”

As I listened to his words, I realized they were timeless, and in truth addressed what the Church has faced for 2,000 years.

When we return to that 13^th chapter of John’s Gospel, Jesus really teaches us how to live the Christian life, how to live it then and today. He’d just washed the feet of the Apostles, giving us an example of humility and service, one that even symbolized His giving His life for us on the Cross. But He washed all their feet, including the feet of Judas whom He knew would soon betray Him. Then Jesus did more. He dipped a morsel of bread into His dish and offered it to Judas. Another sign of His love.

John began that 13^th chapter with the words:

“…having loved His own who were in the world, He loved them to the end.”

“To the end.” What does it mean?

To the Cross? Is that what it means? To Jesus’ death?

Or is it something beyond that? As one theologian told me, to the fulfillment of God’s purpose, the salvation of humanity. Is that what is means?

Or perhaps, when John says, “He loved them to the end” it’s more personal…

The washing of feet, the dipping of the morsel of bread – to remind us of the extent, the very depth of His love for every person…not just His love for Judas, but His love for each one of us. Perhaps it meant:

...that Jesus loved Judas, who would betray Him;

…that He loved Peter who would deny Him three times;

…that He loved all of them gathered there, all of them who would abandon Him.

Yes, I think that’s what it’s all about.

It’s about loving the Apostles who let fear smother their faith.

It’s about loving the soldiers of an empire, men who knew nothing of Jesus, and yet mocked Him, flogged Him, nailed Him to a Cross.

It’s about loving the Jewish leaders who saw Him as a threat and wanted Him dead.

And Jesus’ response to it all?

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” [Lk 23:34]

Judas left Him. Walked into the night, to meet with those who despised Jesus, who thought He was an absurdity…And after Judas left, what did Jesus do?

He looked to the Cross, the means of redemption, and told the eleven:

“Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him.”

Jesus speaks here of the crucifixion, an ugly, horrific agony of pain, of torn flesh and death. Adding to it…the mocking, the rejection, the betrayal, the denial, the abandonment.

But in all that darkness, Jesus tells us to behold the glory of God, to understand who God truly is. We can do this because this redemptive act is the manifestation of God’s love for us. For as John reminds us twice in His 1^st Letter: “God is love.”

Jesus continues:

“I give you a new commandment…As I have loved you, so you also should love one another.”

Oh, yes, we are called to “Love your neighbor as yourself” but Jesus adds something new. We are called to love “As I have loved you…” – to love as Jesus loves, to love each other as God loves.

You see, sisters and brothers, it’s also about you and me. And as we live our busy lives, how often do we think of God’s sacrificial love for us? As we encounter all the garbage, you know, the petty betrayals, the snide remarks, the personal attacks, the lies…as we plan our responses to those responsible, how often do we stop and recall…

“As I have loved you, so you also should love one another.”

At the end of Mass, I will do one of those deacon things, the dismissal, and send you all into the world. But why are we sent? Simply to glorify God in all we do. As Pope Leo reminds us, to carry the Light of Christ into a world shrouded in too much darkness. Yes, we belong to the Light, the Light of Christ, which the darkness can never overcome.

Like Paul and Barnabas in our first reading, we’re sent to do something new, to take the Good News to others, to be true disciples of Jesus. And there will be hardships, and much that will hurt us. But others will know, despite themselves, that we are called by Christ.

Because Jesus gave us His new commandment:

“This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

It’s not so much what we say, it’s what we do; it’s what we are!

At its core, the world hasn’t changed much over the millennia of human history – the same sins, hatreds, violence, lies – yes, the same darkness.

But then, Christ comes and offers us newness beyond our imagining. John tells us what he saw – “a new heaven and a new earth” – and Christ proclaims from the throne:

“Behold, I make all things new!”

Now, I can’t speak for you, but I’m getting old, so this newness God offers us is very attractive.

Indeed, God’s promises, proclaimed in our second reading from Revelation, tell of wondrous new things, eternally new things that never get old. Only God can that. Yes, God has a lot of newness in store for us.

We need only turn to Him in the sacraments, repent and receive forgiveness, taste His Eucharistic Presence, and believe and live the Gospel.

Such a deal? There’s a lot of talk about wheeling and dealing these days, but all that is really nothing like the good deal God offers each one of us.

Praise God!

Generations and Generations

Okay, one of my readers -- and, believe me, she is one among a tiny band of followers -- informed me that I've been entirely too serious lately:

"Every so often you would post amusing or interesting little tidbits about your family, your childhood, and modern society. I always enjoyed them, but you don't do that anymore." 

I, of course, disagree. I'm still remarkably amusing and ever so interesting, but perhaps I haven't shared this with you as often as I should. So, I will try to soften my posts with an occasional "tidbit" to amuse or interest. 

As we come to a thankful end of 2024, I thought it might be helpful to clearly define the boundaries of the many generations we encounter today. I neither assigned the names of these generations, nor established their boundaries based on birth-years. Who makes these decisions, I do not know. To me some of the generational names seem rather odd and the dates rather arbitrary, but we must always respect the word and decision of the "experts" who continually bless the world with their wisdom. 

Here, then, is the generational breakdown offered by these experts as they divide today's population, based on years of birth:

1901 - 1927: Greatest Generation

1927 - 1945: Silent Generation

1946 - 1964: Baby Boomers

1965 - 1980: Gen X

1981 - 1996: Millennials

1997 - 2012: Gen Z

2013 - 2024: Gen Alpha

2025 - 2040: Gen Beta

Naturally, I'd known or had heard of most of these generational titles, but I find a few things troubling, or at best, questionable.

For example, my parents (both born in 1909), along with both of Dear Diane's parents, fell into the Greatest Generation. I suppose in many respects this generation could be considered great, but I'm just not sure they should be called the "greatest." Yes, they did their share of great things, especially during World War Two, but when they assumed political power after the war, they also set in motion policies that caused many of the problems facing us today. I also believe it a bit presumptuous to label anything the "greatest" while history continues to play out. After all, those Gen Beta kids just might turn out to be even greater. Then what do we do? Rename everything? Perhaps we should wait until the end of the world and let God decide who was greatest.

Because I was born in 1944, I am a member of what someone has labeled the Silent Generation. Another few years and I would have been a Baby Boomer, like Dear Diane. But that was not to be. Earlier today, when I informed my lovely wife of 56 years of my membership in this generation of silent ones, she burst out laughing. Why, I don't know. Maybe when she stops, she'll tell me. Let me check...Nope, still laughing.

All four of our children were born in the 1970s, which makes them Gen-Xers. I did not know this. In fact, I had never thought of them in generational terms. To me, they are our grown children. They look a lot like us, think somewhat like us, and act a little bit like us, but are still so wonderfully different from us. I think that is a good thing. But I still don't understand the why of the Gen X title. Perhaps someone can help.

I have never really understood the starting and stopping dates of Gen-Xers, Millennials, and Gen-Zers. I had thought I understood why the Millennials were given that title until I noticed their assigned birth years. I had assumed it applied to those born on or shortly before or after the new millennium, somewhere around the year 2000. But, no, Gen Z claims that period. Perhaps it's because many of the Millennials actually came to age with the beginning of the third millennium. 

We have no Millennials in our immediate family, since eight of our nine grandchildren are Gen-Zers born in the first decade of the 21st century. Our ninth grandchild was born in 2013, making her a Gen Alpha child. Alana, then, is unique, at least in our family.

I haven't a clue why any of these later generations were tagged with such non-descript names: Z, Alpha, and Beta...even X. Why these names? Perhaps the naming powers, who themselves remain unnamed, simply assigned these arbitrary titles as placeholders and intend to rename each generation once it makes its mark in our world, thus earning a more descriptive title. 

As for me, I will continue to maintain my low profile and live up to my membership in the Silent Generation. Then, again, maybe I'll just forget the whole thing and continue to see and love each person as an individual child of God whom He created in a unique act of divine love. I think that might be best.

Reflection: Divine Mercy Novena - Day 8

"Mankind will not have peace until it turns with trust to My mercy...Oh, how much I am hurt by a soul's distrust! Such a soul professes that I am Holy and Just, but does not believe that I am Mercy and does not trust in My Goodness. Even the devils glorify MY Justice but do not believe in My Goodness. My heart rejoices in this title of Mercy." - St. Faustine's Diary (350)

I’m always surprised by the amount of despair I encounter…and it seems to come from such unlikely places. 

Years ago, I worked with a bright, young man. Ambitious and competent, he’s gone on to have a distinguished business career. I remember when his father died. On the day before the funeral, I stopped by his office to express my condolences. I'll never forget his response.

"No big deal,” he said. “After all, life is just a crapshoot. That's why we've got to have as much fun as possible. Make money and have fun. Because when it's over…it's over!"

You can’t miss the despair in these words. And yet, were you to meet him, you'd think he was full of enthusiasm and joy at just being alive. But that joy and enthusiasm struggles against a dark backdrop of death and oblivion.

He's not alone. Others, including many Christians, worry about their physical health, and ignore their spiritual health. They worry about how they will spend their retirement, but not how they will spend eternity. They worry about helping their children get into good schools, but not helping them get into heaven. They focus on work, money, vacations, TV shows, food, possessions -- every created thing under the sun -- but rarely think of the Creator.

For so many the created world, the material world of the here and now, becomes an end in itself. But they're not blind. They see the world perishing, themselves aging, time unravelling. And unable to look beyond the world, they despair.

Well...so far, I suppose this hasn’t been a very cheerful reflection. But that’s about to change. For God has provided a cure and an antidote to despair. He gave us His Son. He gave us the personification of Divine Mercy.

The very fact of the Incarnation should be enough to cure anyone of despair. If we believe in Jesus’ divinity, how can we not accept the reality of God’s Mercy? Just meditate on the Cross. That’s our Creator hanging there. We see how God’s Mercy knows no bounds, so far beyond our understanding of mercy. The Father didn’t allow His Son to be sacrificed in such a horrible way for nothing.

But in addition to being the ultimate redemptive act, the Cross is also a plea from God to man. In giving us the gift of the Cross, God is saying: 

“Do you see how much I love you? Do you see the extent of My Divine Mercy? Then why don’t you trust in Me? You rejected My Son, you tortured Him, and you killed Him…and I knew that you would do this. And yet I still went ahead with my redemptive plan.”

His love for us, His gratuitous love, is so complete, we not only don’t deserve it, but also can’t even comprehend it. Grasping this do we then jump to the presumption that God’s Mercy will save everyone? No, because that’s not our decision. It’s God’s.

We must neither despair nor presume. God just wants us to trust. We cannot save ourselves, but by accepting and cooperating with God’s Grace, we can allow God to save us. Isn’t that a consoling thought?

Look at the world, at its hatreds, its violence, its sinfulness, its despair. How did Jesus put it in today’s reading from St. Faustina’s Diary?

“Mankind will not have peace until it turns in trust to My Mercy.”

Divine Mercy is the cure. Trust is our only response.

Homily: Saturday, 21st Week in Ordinary Time (Year 2)

Readings: 1 Cor 1:26-31 • Psalm 33 • Matthew 25:14-30

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Today we celebrate the memorial of St. Monica, the mother of St. Augustine. She is known for her amazing patience, the depth of her prayer life, and her ability to deal with the challenges of a difficult marriage and rebellious children. Her pagan husband treated her poorly, but eventually was moved to become a Christian thanks to God's grace and Monica's kindness and patience. She also prayed for the conversion of her son, Augustine, who lived a dissolute life for many years. But after almost two decades of Monica's prayer and motherly love, God led him to the Church, where he became not only a bishop but one of our greatest theologians. St. Monica is the patron of wives, mothers, abused women, and patience.

And most interestingly for us at St. Vincent de Paul Parish, it was on her memorial eight years ago that our new church was dedicated by Bishop John Noonan...another good reason for us to celebrate today.

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I usually preach on the Gospel, but St. Paul took me captive the other day as I thought about this homily, and he brought back the memory of an old friend.

Years ago, back in my Navy days, I developed a friendship with another pilot. I was in my mid-20s and he was in his early 30s. Mel was a very competent pilot and naval officer, a man who taught me a lot. He was also an agnostic and found it hard to believe I could believe. One evening, after night flying, we stopped by the officers’ club for a beer, and got to talking about Christianity.

“Just look at the universe,” Mel said, “and how unbelievably immense it is. That you actually believe it was created by this God of yours is in itself truly amazing. But you Christians don’t stop there. You also believe this remarkable God decided to become one of us and came down to this tiny planet tucked away in a non-descript corner of the universe. And then he allowed us to kill him in a particularly brutal, savage way on a Cross. Isn’t that what you believe?”

“Well,” I agreed, “that’s certainly part of it. But you left a few things out. It was all done out of love for us, for those He created. It’s a bit like us. Why do we do what we do? Why are we willing to sacrifice our lives in this weird profession of ours? Because we love our country and think it’s worth dying for and we love our countrymen and think they’re worth saving. You see, Mel, we’re a little like God, created in His image and likeness, and at our best we come close to expressing the love He actually is.”

I really thought I had done pretty well, but Mel just shook his head and downed the rest of his beer. With that we headed back to our homes.

I lost touch with Mel years ago, so I don’t know if he ever changed his mind; but he came to my mind as I read today’s first reading. And I’m sure Mel would agree with Paul that the Cross is a sign of foolishness. How did Paul put it?

“For since in the wisdom of God the world did not come to know God through wisdom, it was the will of God through the foolishness of the proclamation to save those who have faith” [1 Cor 1:21].

But that’s not all, Paul went on to add:

“…we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles” [1 Cor 1:24].

Yes, indeed, the message of the Cross – the Creative Word of God murdered by those He created – is for many a truly foolish message, so foolish it must be believed. But not just believed, dear friends; it must also be lived.

It is the Cross that saves us eternally, for the Cross is the Tree of Life: from Eden to Calvary, from Sin to Redemption. But the Cross also saves us in the here and now. Through the foolishness of the Cross we are given purpose in life. It saves and frees us from our deepest fears, from bitterness and despair, from hatred of others and hatred of self. It brings a forgiveness that saves marriages and families, and it beings healing of body, mind, and spirit.

Believe me, the power of our God – the power of Christ’s passion, death, and Resurrection – the power of His Cross is so far beyond our understanding, that in our humanity we can’t help but underestimate it

Over the years I’ve struggled to minister in hospitals and hospice, and in my weakness have come to appreciate God’s wondrous gifts to those He draws to Himself. I’ve seen anger turn to joy, despair to hope, fear to faith – all driven by God’s enduring love, a love manifested on the Cross, a love nailed to the Cross.

Do you see how real, how very serious, the foolishness of the Cross is? The rulers of the world, those filled with worldly wisdom, always try to tear down and destroy the Cross, but they will always fail.

As Paul went on to reveal, Christ crucified is “the power of God and the wisdom of God.” It is a power and a wisdom that Satan and the world cannot comprehend; for it is a Eucharistic power and a divine wisdom.

As you receive Jesus Christ today, contemplate your crucified Lord and Savior. For through that Communion, you receive His Body sacrificed for you and His Blood poured out for the forgiveness of your sins and the sins of the world. Filled with the grace of God, we will be well-armed to wield the only weapons that matter: truth and love and justice.

Life is a wondrous gift, brothers and sisters, and God wants us to experience the joy of a life well-lived. He wants us to savor the gift of each day just as a young child does. Then, like the good servant in the Gospel, we too might hear those words: 

“Well done, my good and faithful servant…Come share your master’s joy” [Mt 25:21].

 

Homily: Saturday, 11th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 2 Chr 24:17-25; Ps 89; Mt 6:24-34

Over the years, as I’ve re-read and meditated on these words of Jesus, I’ve come to the conclusion that everyone, every single human being, is a servant. Now, this was no great theological insight on my part, since the Church has been telling us this from its very beginning. It just took me a while to figure it out.

We all serve, whether or not we actually choose to do so. We serve because we are creatures, created beings, and instinctively look to something greater than ourselves. And yet, despite our status as servants, God has given us the freedom to choose.

The question, though, is not: Will I serve? No, the important question is: Whom will I serve? Will I serve Him who promises life and joy? Or will I make an idol, a false god unworthy of my service? In my freedom, what choice will I make? Will I choose the Way, the Truth, and the Life? Or will I choose the father of lies? That’s what it really boils down to.

You see, we’re all created as children of God, to belong to Him completely. Of course, this bothers many people today, whose mistaken concept of freedom leads them to believe they are dependent on no one. Rejecting God, Who brought them into being, they turn themselves into little gods, who will not serve. The irony of it all escapes them: for they remain servants, but servants of some lesser god.

But in today’s Gospel passage Jesus doesn’t seem to be speaking to those who reject God completely, those who choose to serve only another. He’s speaking to His disciples. He’s speaking to us, to the ones who too often believe we can divide our allegiances. How did Jesus put it?

“No one can serve two masters…You cannot serve God and mammon” [Mt 6:24]

At the deepest level I think we all realize this, even though we spend very little time there. To do so can be painful as we encounter the truth about ourselves. And so, we stick to the surface, for it’s there that the world talks to us, telling us we can feed our addictions to all that the world offers, and still be “spiritual.”

We deceive ourselves into believing that we actually serve God, while loving not God but the world. We convince ourselves we can serve Him because we’re strong enough to resist evil, good enough to do good in the world, and spiritual enough to turn to God in occasional prayer and worship…all while we embrace the world, that other master.

But Jesus tells us: No! You can’t serve both. You must choose, choose the One or the other. By trying to serve two masters, we end up serving neither, therefore achieving nothing, certainly nothing lasting. Jesus calls us to make a choice: serve God or serve yourself. And if you serve yourself, your life will be defined by fruitless worry and anxiety.

In the ten verses of today’s Gospel passage, Jesus tells us again and again not to worry, just as He tells us throughout the Gospel not to fear. Worry is simply another form of fear, another symptom of our lack of faith. That’s what fear and worry are, the very opposite of faith. We spend so much of our lives worrying about and planning our future, our material, earthly future while neglecting our spiritual present.

As Christians, as disciples of Jesus Christ, we are called to trust, to turn to God in all things and live His great commandment. We are not called to love money, or fame, or power, or technology, or security, or possessions, or work, or beauty, or even golf.

No, we are to love God and love our neighbor. In his rule, St. Benedict instructed his monks: “Let nothing be preferred to the love of Christ.” Of course, none of this means we should turn away from God’s creation; after all, God proclaimed all creation as good. We can enjoy that which God has given us, so long as we enjoy it responsibly and don’t place it above our love for God and our neighbor. As Jesus revealed to St. Paul:

My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness" [2 Cor 12:9].

Perhaps recognizing our weakness is the best test. If you lost everything today, would your love for God, and the joy this love brings, be as great tomorrow?

Homily: Thursday, 2nd Week in Ordinary Time

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

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

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

St. Sebastian

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

White, Male, Catholic, Deacon, American, Veteran...Prime Candidate for Cancelation

Yes, indeed, that’s me, described briefly in the title of this post. And do you know something? I’m perfectly happy and content with each and all of these broad identifiers. That’s right, it doesn’t bother me at all that I’m white and a man. And I’m grateful to have been born into a devoutly Catholic family whose ancestors courageously left Ireland in the nineteenth century and settled here in the United States of America. I am deeply humbled that God called me to the diaconate, so I could serve Him through the ministries to which He has led me. I even allow myself a bit of pride because I served my country for many years in the U. S. Navy. 

But according to the leftist, self-proclaimed judges of our culture, I’m just about the worst kind of person imaginable and a prime candidate for cultural cancellation. Yep, simply because of who I am — or in their twisted minds, what I am — I shouldn’t be permitted to utter a word, unless it’s a word of self-condemnation. To these neo-fascists of the left, a person is either all bad or all good, and we know who falls into these extreme, binary categories. 

Why am I so content with me? Let’s see...I had absolutely nothing to do with most of these identifiers. For example, my race, my sex, and my nationality were God’s decision and to reject any would be to reject God Himself. He wanted me to be an American white male and so I should be grateful for this and live my life accordingly. In the same way I encourage all to be thankful for who they are, simply because that’s they way God created them in unique acts of love. Recall those words with which God called the prophet Jeremiah:

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; before you were born I dedicated you, a prophet to the nations I appointed you [Jer 1:5].

As God reminded Jeremiah, He has a plan for each of us. God has dedicated each one of us to some divine purpose. Of course, if you don’t believe in a loving, omniscient God who takes an active role in the lives of those he created — and, believe me, these cultural arbiters don’t — you will reject such thoughts and spurn the words of the Psalmist:

Lord, you have probed me, you know me: you know when I sit and stand; you understand my thoughts from afar. You sift through my travels and my rest; with all my ways you are familiar. Even before a word is on my tongue, Lord, you know it all. Behind and before you encircle me and rest your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to reach...You formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am wonderfully made; wonderful are your works! My very self you know [Ps 139:1-6,13-14].

I’ll say it again: to reject what God has created is to reject God. Glorify God for the unique person you are, for the person He made in love, the person He knit in the womb, and in prayer ask Him daily to reveal His plan for your unique life. For the same reason, glorify God for all those He has made, and pray that they, too, will come to accept His will for them. As St. Paul reminded Timothy:

This is good and pleasing to God our savior, who wills everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth [1 Tim 2:4].

The truth? That’s Jesus Christ: “I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life” [Jn 14:6]. He has shown us the Way: our Christian faith and our struggle to put it into practice by loving God and neighbor. The Truth is Jesus Himself and the Good News, the Word of God He preached. And the Life is eternal life, the salvation He wills for us. Our salvation, then, the promise of eternal life in the Presence of our God, dwarfs all the cares and worries and fears of this brief life on earth. Like most of us, I too struggle with this, but take consolation in another truth revealed to St. Paul:

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

Blessed, too, am I to have been born into a Catholic family that nurtured the seed of faith God planted within me at my Baptism. I can’t imagine living a life without the sacraments of the Church, without the Holy Spirit’s engines of grace. As for my ministry as a permanent deacon, that, too, was God’s decision, one I, at first, resisted. It hasn’t always been easy to become the servant when the world tries to lead me in the opposite direction. But God demonstrates His power in our lives, calls us to our weaknesses, and provides the grace we need to do His will. Like Our Blessed Mother, when we accept God’s will in humility, our souls will “proclaim the greatness of the Lord” [Lk 1:46]. Sometimes I feel a bit like Jonah, struggling to accept all that He calls me to do, and I usually have a pocketful of excuses to offer Him. He, of course, always wins this uneven conflict of wills.

Finally, my military background has helped to mold me into the man I am today. Like the vast majority of those who serve or have served in our armed forces, I despise war.  Although it might occasionally be necessary, the application of military power is something we should not choose capriciously. It seems only the politicians enjoy sending men and women into harm’s way, and far too often for political reasons that have little to do with national defense. I have always taken solace in Jesus’ praise of the peacemakers in the Beatitudes and His blessing of these “sons of God” [Mt 5:9]. We live in a world where evil abounds, and to reject the defense of God’s people is to me a foolish decision. 

So that’s me, folks, at least a small public piece of me. If the busybodies cancel me...we’ll, so be it. I’m not all that important. You and I and are not their primary targets. It’s God and His Church they will try to cancel, but God will have none of it. 

COVID-19 Bible Study Reflection #13: This Is the Day

“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice in it and be glad” [Ps 118:24].

We all know these words, don’t we? And I’m pretty sure most of you have sung them, since they form the lyrics of that peppy little hymn written back in the 70s, “This Is the Day.”

What some folks don’t know is that those words come right out of Sacred Scripture, from Psalm 118. And because the psalms were written to be sung, and were indeed sung by Jews, including Jesus and His disciples [Mt 26:30], it’s fitting that we too should sing these same inspired words.

The psalms form a major element of the prayer life of the Jewish people, for they tell the story of God, His People, and their prayerful relationship. Although the Book of Psalms forms an integral part of the Old Testament, we encounter many references to psalms throughout the New Testament. In fact, included among the “Last Words” of Jesus, spoken from the Cross, are several direct quotes from or references to the specific psalms. [See Ps 22:2,16-19; 31:6; 69:22]

The Church considers the psalms an extremely important part of its liturgical prayer, so important they’re included in the Liturgy of the Word throughout the liturgical year. And if you pray the Church’s daily prayer, the Liturgy of the Hours, you’ll find yourself immersed in the psalms.

As you might recall, we addressed the psalms in one of our earlier reflections (Reflection #8), in which you were encouraged to include them in your daily prayer and Scripture reading. One of the wonderful things about beginning to read and pray the psalms is that you encounter so many familiar expressions and phrases and find yourself saying, “Oh, that’s where that came from…”

I’ve always believed the psalms offer us a unique view of the ever-changing relationship between God and His People, between God and you and me. That relationship changes constantly not because of God, but because of us. The psalms are filled with questions, our questions, the kind of questions you and I ask of God every day:

Why did this bad thing happen?

Has God abandoned us?

How does He want me to live?

Will God protect me and those I love from evil?

How should I relate to others, especially to those who despise me?

Will God forgive me?

These and so many other very human questions are all found in the psalms, along with many of God’s answers.

The psalms can sometimes outrage and offend us because of the attitudes expressed by the human writers, attitudes we don’t expect to encounter in prayer. And yet, are these attitudes really so different from those you and I sometimes harbor secretly in our hearts? The difference between the psalmist and us is his willingness to express them openly in his prayer, to lift them up to God as if to say:

“Lord, this is how I feel in the depth of my heart. If I am wrong, correct me. Help me to deal with all that afflicts me. Teach me Your ways.”

I really believe it’s this deep humanity found in the psalms that makes them so readable, so captivating, and brings us back to them again and again. They overflow with human emotion, every emotion you can imagine: anger, empathy, fear, despair, faith, uncertainty, joy, sadness, hope, loss, gain, revenge, forgiveness, happiness, hatred, love…it’s all there in the psalms. The transparency with which these raw emotions are displayed for all to see can shock us, for so many of us are accustomed to hiding our passions beneath a protective veneer. In the psalms it’s all out in the open, up close and personal.

We should, then, savor the psalms as we encounter them in the liturgy; but too often we just breeze through them, don’t we? We join the cantor and sing the response; then go on to the next reading. And yet, throughout the Liturgy of the Word, only in the Responsorial Psalm is the congregation actively, vocally involved. How often do we really listen to the words we pray, the words we sing? These words are the Word of God and offer countless insights into God’s love for us and the response He seeks from us They must, then, be important.

Let’s return to the beginning of today’s reflection, to those words from Psalm 118:

“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice in it and be glad.”

Here the psalmist sings of the present -- not the past, not the future. “This is the day,” he prays; and because the Lord has made this day, and because all that the Lord creates is good, this day must also be good. This, then, is reason to rejoice, “to be glad.” The present is a gift, not a time for worry or for fear.

Jesus tells us the same thing, doesn’t He? Recall His Word from the Sermon on the Mount:

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear…Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself” [Mt 6:25,34].

Talk about counterintuitive and counter-cultural words! We all worry about tomorrow, don’t we? In fact, we have built multi-billion-dollar industries focused on just that. Consider, for example, the insurance industry, completely dedicated to lessening our worries about what might happen tomorrow. In today’s increasingly complex, materialistic, and unpredictable world, we insure almost everything — car, home, life, health, businesses, even pets — out of fear that these might be taken from us, leaving us with nothing but our immortal souls.

And here’s Jesus telling us those souls are far more important than everything else [Mt 16:26]. Don’t worry about tomorrow, He commands; focus instead on today. Does this mean we should cancel all our insurance policies? No, I think we can continue to pay the premiums. Indeed, in a sense I suppose a few insurance policies can help us respond more positively to Jesus’ command not to worry. I’m certainly not going to question an industry that tries to free us from some earthly worries. I’ll let the moral theologians tackle that one.

The future – our earthly future -- will always remain a mystery. In truth, we can only guess what will happen. And the past? Well, it’s already happened. It’s gone and irretrievable. Although we shouldn’t dwell on the past, we can learn from it and avoid mistakes already made – a good reason to make a daily examination of conscience, a good reason for the sacrament of Reconciliation.

I suppose we’re stuck with the present, aren’t we? It’s really the only part of time – the time of our lives -- over which we have some control. The present is where we are. The decisions and choices of the present can help us overcome the faults and confusion of the past and lead us to the future God desires for us. “This is the day…” He challenges us, “Rejoice!”

In our hearts we know this is true. We should rejoice. We should be glad about it. And do you know why? Of course, you do. Because we are loved. We are loved by our God who created each of us, who gave each of us the gift of life in a unique act of love. He wants us to rejoice in that gift, even in the midst of life’s challenges, even as we face the uncertainties of the future. So often, though, our response is littered with many of those emotions found in the psalms. And it’s here that we encounter the vast disparity between God and us. God only loves!  He can do nothing else because of Who He is. As St. John reminds us, “God is love” [1 Jn 4:8,16]. He despises none of His children, even those who have fallen prey to the worst of evils. He extends His forgiveness and His mercy to all. We need only repent and accept His gift of grace.

What does all this mean? How do we deal with it? How do we live this life that God’s given us?

First, let’s get back to the basics. We were created in God’s image and likeness. And because “God is love,” we were created to love, to be imitators of God, to be as generous and as giving of ourselves as God is. We were created to do good and reject evil.

We encounter this plea to be imitators of our God throughout Sacred Scripture. In the Torah, we hear this command, this call to holiness:

"Sanctify yourselves and be holy; for I, the Lord, your God, am holy" [Lv 20:7].

It’s a call repeated throughout the New testament. For example, Jesus instructs us:

"So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect" [Mt 5:48].

Jesus also teaches us to live the Beatitudes: to be humble, merciful, meek, compassionate, and righteous [Mt 5:3-12]. He commands us to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, comfort the sick, visit the imprisoned – to see Him in all who are in need [Mt 25:31-46]. But that’s not all. Jesus also tells us:

"If you love me, you will keep my commandments" [Jn 14:15].

In His Sermon on the Mount He reveals the depth of meaning, the spirit of the Ten Commandments, and later goes on to instruct us that "The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments":

"You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself" [Mt 22:37-40].

Now that’s a lot of stuff we’re asked to do. But it's not impossible. For with God, and fueled by His grace, all things are possible. And that’s the key: we need God’s help.

Remember, too, we are called to do all this because of God’s promise to us, that we are His children, adopted sons and daughters who will share in Christ’s glory. St. Paul describes it well

For those who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption, through which we cry, "Abba, Father!" The Sprit itself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, if only we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him [Rom 8:14-17].

Note that suffering, too, will accompany us on our journey. But we do not suffer alone. It is a suffering with Jesus -- "To take up our cross daily and follow Him" [Lk 923] -- in which He shared our burdens and out suffering [Mt 11:30].

The fulfillment of God’s promise, though, is beyond our imagining:

"What eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and what has not entered the human heart, I have prepared for those who love me" [1 Cor 2:9].

Living a grace-filled life, then, is not impossible. Through prayer and the soul restoring grace of the sacraments, God provides us all we need to live holy lives. When our journey on this earth is over, when we stand before the Just Judge, we all hope to hear the words of the Lord saying:

"Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world" [Mt 25:34]

Let us, then, learn from the past, not worry about or fear the future, and live this day in faith, filled with God’s grace. Let us rejoice and be glad!

Homily: Monday, 4th Week of Easter

Reading: Acts 11:1-18; Ps 42; Jn 10:1-10
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Today is the optional memorial of Our Lady of Fatima, and how blessed we are in this parish to have our prayer warriors who pray the Rosary together here in our Church after daily Mass.

They pray for the Church, for our parish, for the intentions of our parishioners, all in response to our Blessed Mother's hope that the Rosary will be prayed daily throughout the universal Church. In doing so, they join many other parishioners who pray the Rosary daily in their families. 

Yes, we are blessed to have them.

And because Mary appeared to three shepherd children, it's also fitting that today's Gospel passage should focus on the Good Shepherd.

We hear Jesus say many remarkable things in the Gospel, but I really think far too many Christians don't seem to believe He always means exactly what He says...even when He turns to metaphors and other figures of speech.

For example, in the verse that immediately follows our Gospel passage from John, Jesus says:

"I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep" [Jn 10:11].

Now I've known only one person who could remotely be called a shepherd since he raised sheep. But I really don't think he would have sacrificed his own life for that of a lamb. For him it was simply a business and I would guess that for him an occasional lost sheep was part of the cost of doing business.

But Jesus isn't simply "a shepherd" or even "a good shepherd." No, He calls Himself "the Good Shepherd" - the one and only Good Shepherd. 

And will He really lay down His life for His sheep? Well, yes. He already did so, didn't He?  For we are His sheep; and to rescue and gather us to Himself, He paid a price, and the price was His life.

Hearing this, so many find themselves asking: Can this possibly be true? Can the Creative Word of God, the God who brought everything into existence, have such love for His creatures?

He can and He does. But not just for us as the human race, as a people, but for every single, unique one of us. 

"...the sheep hear His voice, as He calls His own sheep by name..." [Jn 10:3]

He calls us by name, every single one of us. You and I can't hide from God's love. It's simply far too great, and it reaches out to us even when we seem surrounded by darkness. It's an ineffable love, a love taken to extremes, this love of God. In fact, He takes love to such an extreme that we finally come to understand what St. John meant when he said, quite simply: "God is love" [1 Jn 4:8].

And God's love has a purpose. Recall Jesus' words:

"I am the gate for the sheep...Whoever enters through me will be saved..."  [Jn 10:7,9]

He, then, is the gateway to eternal life, to a life we cannot imagine. Here again, the metaphor describes a truth, for salvation comes only through Jesus Christ, only when we follow the Good Shepherd, only when we choose the good. In other words, He created us, not as robots programmed to respond as He desires, but in His own image and likeness, with intellect and will, able to make moral choices.

"He walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow Him, because they recognize His voice" [Jn 10:4].

To make the right choices, then, we must recognize His voice, listen to the Word, and believe in the Gospel. For like the sheep called by the shepherd, we are called by Jesus to follow:

But then Jesus says something that should cause to look more deeply within:

"I am the good shepherd, and I know mine and mine know me" [Jn 10:14].

Yes, Jesus knows His sheep, but how well do we know Him?  Do we even try to know Him, or do we simply accept what we're told and go on with our lives?

The Lateran Basilica in Rome has a remarkable and very large baptistery. And right beside the font is a statue of a deer leaning down and thirsting for a drink. Do you recall the words or today's Psalm?

"As the deer longs for streams of water, so my soul longs for you, O God" [Ps 42:2[.

At Easter we all renewed our baptismal promises, and were then sprinkled with the newly blessed baptismal water. Did we thirst for that water, that saving water?

...the living water that made us children of the Father?

...the living water that filled us with the Holy Spirit, "the Lord and Giver of life," the Holy Spirit Peter described in today's reading from Acts?

...the living water that cleansed us of sin?

...the living water that brought us into Christ's Church?

How did Jesus put it when He described His mission?

"I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly" [Jn 10:10]

That's what Jesus wants for you and me, brothers and sisters, what we should all thirst for: a life of abundance, an eternal life in the embrace of the Good Shepherd. We need only follow Him, loving our God and our neighbor.

Video: Homily 7th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

The wonderful Audio-Video folks of our parish recorded a video of the homily I preached this past Sunday. I have embedded the video below for those who would rather listen than read. The text is available here. 

Homily: 7th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Readings: 1 Sam 26:2,7-9,12-13,22-23; Ps 19; 1Cor 15:47-49; Lk 6:27-38
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Here we are, just 10 days before Lent and through today's readings the Church offers us a beautiful pre-Lenten message. So maybe that's what we should focus on today: preparing our minds and hearts for Lent.

Most of us think of Lent as a time of sacrifice and self-denial - nothing drastic mind you, just small personal sacrifices... things like giving up dessert or putting a little extra in the collection basket, or maybe praying the Stations of the Cross on the occasional Friday.

Now don't get me wrong. Prayer, fasting, and sacrifice are good things, and given the growth of our parish, I know Fr. Peter will appreciate a few extra dollars. As the Church has always taught, Lent is a time for prayer, fasting, and alms giving. But these are not ends in themselves; rather, they are the means by which we draw closer to God and carry out His will in our lives. I think we sometimes get so caught up in the "things" of Lent, we forget why we are called to do them. 

Lent is really about conversion, about change. It's about interior change, change in here, in the heart, the same kind of change we hear from Jesus in today's Gospel.

How did Jesus begin?

"...love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you" [Lk 6:27-28].

Pretty hard stuff, isn't it?

"Love your enemies..."

I don't know about you, but for me these commands of Jesus are among the most difficult to follow. They just seem so counterintuitive, don't they? So un-human, which of course they are...because they are divine.

Some years ago, I caught a news story about a woman who was to be executed for her role in a brutal murder. She'd been on death row for years and during that time had experienced a deep conversion to Christianity.

During an interview, a daughter of the victim hoped to witness the execution.

"I want to watch her die," she said, "just as she watched my father die. I'm a Christian but some things just can't be forgiven. I hope she rots in hell."

Wow! I can understand her anger, but found myself praying more for her than for the murderer - a murderer who went to her death repentant, at peace, asking only for God's mercy and the forgiveness of those who suffered because of her sins.

"I want to watch her die..."

How did Jesus put it? 

"Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful" [Lk 6:36].

So often we think we can defeat the world's evils on our own, but of course we can't.

Certainly not through politics. Politics, the art of the compromise, must, therefore, always be imperfect.

Certainly not through man's justice, since we so often mistake revenge for justice.

And despite the courage of those who defend us, the application of power never seems to change things.

We live in a world in which the Prince of Lies employs his agents to kill babies, shatter families, corrupt priests (and deacons), and mock the Church.

Only one thing can overcome the evil of the world...only mercy.

As Jesus reminds us, mercy and forgiveness are divine; unattainable without God's help. And yet He commands that we imitate the perfection of Father: to be as merciful, forgiving, and loving as the Father.

How can we do this? We can't. For we can't save ourselves. We must turn to God in total humility. 

We are called to serve each other; but to serve another, to love another as God loves demands humility. I must lower myself and place the other higher. Only then can I see the other as he or she truly is: as a child of God who was loved into existence. 

As St. Peter instructed his fellow Christians: "...clothe yourselves with humility" [1 Pt 5:5].

For most of us, this calls for some pretty drastic change.

And that's what Lent's all about. You see, Lent really is about giving up something. It's about giving up yesterday, all of our yesterdays, the yesterdays of selfishness, sin, and death for the today of life. 

To change is to repent. But repentance means so much more than simply being sorry for our sins. Repentance is to turn around, to change direction, to re-think our lives. And in repentance I must turn more and more completely to a living Christ.

As St. Paul reminded us in our second reading, "we must bear the likeness of the heavenly one" [1 Cor 15:49], the new Adam, Jesus Christ who gave up the glory of His yesterday and in an act of divine humility chose the Cross.

He did that for you and He did that for me. That's right...He chose that Cross for you. That's how much He loves you. And if you were the only person in the world, He would have done the same thing.

That's how much He loves you.

We can easily give up a percentage or two of body fat, or an evening at our favorite restaurant, or, perish the thought, even a round of golf, but can you and I give up our yesterdays?

Can we refuse to be imprisoned by our pasts? And, believe me, the habits and sins of the past are all the more deadly because they are so damned comfortable...and, yes, I say that because they can be damning.

Can I give up that consuming concentration on the self where my days and nights revolve around me, around my delights, my worries, my frustrations, my fears, my needs, my wants?

If yesterday is sin, than today must be love. For love alone is the solution to sin.

If yesterday is the prison of sin, today is the freedom of the risen Christ. If you want to repent, then taste the freedom of God's love.

Open yourself to God in free obedience, open yourself to others in uncompelled love. This is no soap-opera love, not something out of a country-western song, but a love that keeps all God's commandments.

It's a love not crushed by the crosses we sometimes must bear.

It's a love that dies for another, a love stronger than death.

Such is the love of Jesus, the sacrificial Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.

Lent, you see, looks forward to the Easter miracle, prepares us for the Risen Christ, the living Christ who remains among us.

Do you believe that?

Do you believe that Christ is alive, more gloriously alive today than when he walked the rugged roads of Galilee and Judea and Samaria?

Do you believe that with the risen Christ death no longer has power over you, that when it comes it will hold you for only the briefest moment?

Do you believe that through Jesus Christ you will cast off death and rise to an eternal life beyond your wildest dreams?

Do you believe that as a baptized Christian you are already risen with Christ, because His life courses through you like another bloodstream?

Do you believe you don't have to go searching for God, because His Holy Spirit is already right here within you? He came to you first in Baptism and comes to you again and again through the sacraments.

If you believe all this, then Lent will indeed be life for you.

If you believe all this, when you are sent into the world at the end of today's Mass, when you hear those words, "Go in peace, and glorify the Lord by your life," you'll know exactly what to do.

You will love your enemies.

You will do good to those who hate you.

You will bless those who curse you.

You will pray for those who mistreat you.

You will feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger and visit and comfort the sick.

You'll do all those things, because that's what Jesus wants you to do...and He wants you to do them today, and tomorrow, and every day.

Quite simply He wants you to love God and love one another.

He calls you to "be merciful just as your Father is merciful."

Try that for Lent.