Homily: Saturday, 1st Week of Advent

 Readings Is 30:19-21, 23-26; Psalm 147; Mt 9:35–10:1, 5A, 6-8

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What’s really remarkable is how unbelievably busy Jesus was. Listen again to how Matthew describes this typical day in the public life of our Lord:

“Jesus went around to all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the Gospel of the Kingdom, and curing every disease and illness” [Mt 9:35].

The Pharisees had just accused Jesus of collaborating with Satan: "He drives out demons by the prince of demons" [Mt 9:34]. It was, after all, a rather stupid thing to say, so Jesus simply ignores them, and immerses Himself in His ministry. He teaches and preaches in the synagogues, helping the synagogues flourish from within, for it’s the people who hear Him, it’s the people who will be changed by the Word of God. But he teaches and preaches to the crowds as well – to Jews and Gentiles – in the streets, on the hillsides, along the lakeshore. Nobody is forgotten, no one is exempt. As He later commissioned His disciples: “Go, therefore, make disciples of all nations” [Mt 28:19].

And healing? Oh, yes, the healing power of the Holy Spirit flows like a torrent through the hands of the Word. He cures disease, injury, blindness, every imaginable disability, but these are always secondary, aren’t they? For what He seeks above all is the repentant soul, the sinner who, in all humility, seeks salvation through the healing power of Jesus.

He was on the go, non-stop, preaching, teaching, and healing. And then what did He do? Why He told the apostles to do exactly the same: to proclaim the Good News of the Kingdom; to “cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, drive out demons” [Mt 10:8].

I read those words and let them sink in, and then I recall what my bishop said at my ordination when he instructed us, telling a group of soon-to-be deacons how our lives would change.

“You are called to preach, to teach, and to heal,” he told us. “Easy words to say today, but not so easy to carry out.” I remember thinking to myself, Okay, I think I can handle the preaching and teaching, but what’s this about healing?

There I was, just minutes before ordination, and I’m questioning whether I can handle or even understand what God wants of me. And then my bishop added, “But don’t get all self-important; this isn’t just your calling; it’s really the calling of every disciple of Jesus Christ.” That was about 25 years ago, and despite all my supposed busyness, my days are lazy indeed when compared with the ministry of Jesus.

What about you? How often do you proclaim the Good News of the Kingdom? How many of your friends, your golf buddies, the folks you play cards with…how many of them even think about the arrival of the Kingdom? The Good News is really good, brothers and sisters. And if you’re a disciple, a follower of Jesus – and I assume you are – then you and I better get busy.

And then there’s that healing thing. It took me a while before I came to understand what it all meant, and God wanted of me. And it was all because of Diane. She decided we should be hospital chaplains.

Now, I really didn’t like spending time with sick people, but God always calls us to our weakness, doesn’t He? He does that so we’ll come to understand that it’s through His power, His grace that we can accomplish anything.

In the beginning I would walk into a hospital room and greet the patient, “Hello, I’m Dana, today’s on-call chaplain. How are you today?”

And he’d just look at me and reply, “I’m in the hospital. How do you think I am?”

Not a good beginning, so I learned to ask different questions, to stick to the basics…

“Have they been treating you well?”

“Where are you from? Do you have family here?”

“Have you been talking with God much lately?”

“How about you and I just take a moment to pray together?”

Before you know it, I’m listening to the stories of their lives, the challenges they face, their fears and worries. That’s when I came to realize that God actually does work through us and in us, that others come to know God’s love and to know God because we reflect His Presence.

How many people in your life need God’s Presence in their lives? Will you take the time, just as Jesus took the time, to share God’s healing, forgiving love with them?

Yes, indeed, discipleship is a fulltime job.

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Homily: Saturday, 13th Week in Ordinary Time

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

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Readings: Gen 27:1-5, 15-29; Ps 135; Mt 9:14-17

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Years ago back in the 60s, I took a course on the Torah, the first five books of the Old Testament. Our professor was a Jesuit who had spent years in a Chinese Communist prison.

In one class, as we discussed Isaac and Rebekah, this wonderful priest said, "Poor Rebekah. She was so very unbalanced." It took some time - maybe 10 or 20 years - for me to understand exactly what he meant.

You see, it was Rebekah's sense of love, her human love, that caused her life to lack balance, to be, in a sense, disordered. Rebekah loved her son, Jacob, more than anyone or anything else, even more than she loved her husband, Isaac. She had taken her motherhood and lifted it far above her marriage. And because of this unbalanced, disordered view, she led her son, Jacob, into a confusing web of deceits and outright lies.

That Esau seemed to care little for his birthright really doesn't mitigate the sin. And the result was not good for Jacob. Yes, he received his father's blessing, but his lies brought him much grief in the years that followed. As he later became a victim of the same sins committed by others, he learned of and lived with the often tragic consequences of deceit.

Sin is nothing less than disorder, a lack of balance and order in our souls. And so it always has consequences. Sin also points to disorder in our relationships. I suppose the key question for all of us is: How have we ordered our relationships?

Do we always place our relationship with God first and foremost? That doesn't mean that we ignore others. Not at all. It simply means that God must always come first. And when we do that, when we place God first, it inevitably leads to an improvement in our relationships with others.

I've often told married couples that the primary task of each is to help the other get to heaven. And when couples take that attitude, their marriage and their relationships improve. Rebekah failed to understand that it is through her marriage, this sacred bond with Isaac, that God's will is manifested in their lives. And Jacob, by going along with his mother's plan of deceit, damaged three of the key relationships in his life: that with his father, his mother, and his brother.

I sometimes think we forget that God is omniscient, that He knows everything. He can take our sinfulness and the chaos it brings into our lives, and turn it to good. Yes, God can certainly write straight with the crooked lines we give him.

And so Jacob, who stole his brother's birthright, can become a patriarch, one of the foundation stones of our faith and that of our Jewish brothers and sisters. Indeed, as Jesus once reminded the Sadducees, our God is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob [Mt 22:32].

Of course, God's ability, His willingness, to bring good into our lives, despite our sinfulness, doesn't mean we go around sinning, all the while exclaiming, "Well, God will take care of it." He might well take care of it, but in the meantime there will be serious consequences.

In our Gospel passage today Jesus uses fasting as a way to remind us to order our relationships. He tells the disciples of John the Baptist that the time for fasting is both in the past and future.

John's disciples seemed to see fasting as an end in itself, rather than a means to develop a hunger for God's Word and His Presence. Moses understood this. In Deuteronomy he instructs the people:

"He humbled you and made you hungry; then He fed you on manna that neither you nor your fathers had known before, to teach you that man cannot live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God" [Dt 8:3].

This is why John the Baptist fasted: to persevere before the Messiah's coming, to watch for His Presence. It is this Presence that Jesus speaks of. Because He is present, it's a time to celebrate His Coming, a time of joy, not a time of fasting. That will come with the Passion, and the fasting of Lent and Good Friday, followed again by the joy of Easter. Indeed, to emphasize this the Eastern Church forbids fasting and kneeling throughout the Easter season. The time of repentance has passed.

Jesus goes on to remind the disciples that His Presence is something supremely new. He tells of the joy of wedding guests in the presence of the bridegroom, the patching of old garments, of new wine poured into wineskins. His Presence demands a new receptivity, a new way of thinking, the kind we hear proclaimed in the Sermon on the Mount.

We live in a time of expectation, a time of renewal, a time to strive for holiness, a time to turn from all that prevents us from deepening our relationship with Jesus Christ.

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.

The Temple and the Presence of God

Jean Danielou, S.J.

Many years ago -- I'm guessing it was about 35 years ago -- I read a little book by Jean Danielou, a French Jesuit and one of the early advocates of the nouvelle théologie, or new theology, that was so influential in the mid-twentieth century and made its mark on the Second Vatican Council. An English translation of the book appeared in 1959 and was published under the title, The Presence of God. It's a wonderful read and introduced me to a whole string of ideas I had never before considered. In some ways it was the catalyst that really sparked my interest in Sacred Scripture.  Sadly the book is now out of print, but I suspect a copy or two can be found on one of the used book websites. 

After first reading Danielou's little book -- the English version is only about 60 pages -- I thought it could form the basis of a brief, but powerful, adult faith formation course. Because the subject matter ran through the entirety of Scripture, both Old and New Testaments, it could be the sort of course that would lead people into a deeper relationship with the Word of God. I put this thought on my unlit back burner and basically forgot about it.

These days I facilitate our parish Bible Study program, which consists of two sessions each Wednesday, one morning and one evening. Parishioners can choose which they would like to join. But every summer we take a break, mainly because here in Florida we have so many snowbirds, and they don't want to miss anything while they're cooling off up north. In recent years, however, I have offered some kind of relatively brief Scripture-based course for those parishioners who like me remain here during the summer months. This spring, as I considered the possibilities, I happened to spot Cardinal Danielou's little book in one of my bookcases and decided to prepare and offer a course addressing all those wonderful concepts to which he introduced me so many years ago.

Yves Congar, O.P.

By the way, another book that has helped me during my course development is The Mystery of the Temple (1962) by one of Jean Danielou's contemporaries, the French Dominican Yves Congar. Unfortunately it too is out of print, so if you want the book you'll have to search for used copies.

I divided the course into five sessions, each approximately one hour in length. I conduct it every other Wednesday evening, and we just finished the second session. (I need two weeks between each session since I'm developing the course as we go.) So far it's been pretty well received, with over 50 people participating. What a joy that so many parishioners are interested in deepening their faith through their study of Sacred Scripture.

The course includes PowerPoint presentations for each session, along with a number of other pertinent handouts. If you're interested in checking out the course material, just go to the documents page of my Bible Study website: Click Here and scroll down to the section describing our summer course. Right now I have posted only the material for the first two sessions. As we progress I will add additional presentations and their accompanying handout material.

The Presence of God

So much of life is made up of things we must do, and so little of things we truly enjoy. The saints, of course, seem to be able to turn all those "must-dos" into gifts, into moments of thanksgiving and praise. I have not yet arrived at that point as I struggle to advance on my spiritual journey. I still have trouble turning mundane tasks into joyous occasions. If, as I take out the garbage, I offer thanks to God for the opportunity to do so...well, it just seems a bit hypocritical, as if my thanksgiving is less than honest. Although I can understand St. Therese's "Little Way," I have not yet been able to put it into practice. This inability to experience joy from the mundane is just more evidence of my spiritual immaturity, but perhaps God will give me a few more years to grow. 

Fortunately God is so wonderfully merciful that, despite my many faults, He has still blessed my life with much to enjoy. Dear Diane, my wife of 48 years, is at the very top of the list. Without her my life would be far less joyful. She has taught me how to give and to take joy in the giving, even in the midst of deep sadness. I have trouble remembering what my life was like before she entered it, or even comprehending how empty it would be without her presence. Other blessings, especially family -- children and grandchildren -- and friends who love us in spite of our oddness, have brought Diane and me much joy. 

To all of this I must add my ordination to the permanent diaconate 20 years ago. That life-changing event has enabled me to do much that I find so very enjoyable. Among these is my facilitation of our parish's two Bible Study sessions. I've now been doing this for over ten years and between these two weekly sessions -- one morning and one evening -- approximately 60 parishioners participate. I'm often thanked for what I bring to these sessions, but what the participants don't realize is how much they have taught me over the years. Perhaps I should tell them this more often.

Because here in central Florida so many of our parishioners fall into the "snowbird" category, we take a break from organized Bible Study during the summer months. It just didn't seem fair that those who went north should miss a summer's worth of studies, and I also needed a break from the weekly sessions. And yet many of our year-round parishioners wanted to continue their studies in some fashion. And so last year I offered a relatively brief Scripture-based course to those who remained here during our summer hiatus. It was open to anyone, not just the regular participants in our Bible Study. 

Last year's course was fairly basic, a three-session overview of the Old Testament. This year I'm a bit more ambitious and have been spending a lot of my so-called "free" time preparing a five-session course that I've decided to call "Temple and the Presence of God." The idea for the course came to me years ago after reading a little book, The Presence of God (1966) by Jean Danielou. Cardinal Danielou was a French Jesuit, one of the Ressourcement theologians who had such a major impact on the Second Vatican Council. The course will focus on Temple in all its manifestations, from the Temple of Creation or Cosmic Temple, to Sinai, Jerusalem, Jesus and His Church, all the way to the Heavenly Temple St. John describes in Revelation -- "I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God almighty and the Lamb" [Rev 21:22]. It trust the participants will find it interesting since it examines the theme of Temple and God's Presence as it runs through all of Scripture, from Genesis to Revelation.

Anyway, all this preoccupation with the Presence of God has had its effect on me. I find myself thinking about it constantly, and especially of God's Presence in the Cosmic Temple of His Creation. Every day Maddie and I -- Maddie's our little Bichon Frise -- take both a morning and evening walk, each a mile or two depending on our collective mood. I especially enjoy our frequent pre-dawn walks when I can delight in the glory of God's creation as manifested in the starlit skies of central Florida. Venus hovers brightly over the Eastern horizon and on many mornings I catch sight of a meteorite or two burning their way through the upper atmosphere. But I must admit, I take far more joy in the sights and sounds of the microcosm close at hand.

I especially enjoy the birds. Before I moved here about the only bird calls I could recognize were blue jays and crows. But thanks to my twice-daily walks through The Villages, I have developed a more discriminating ear and can identify the squawk of the common grackle, the rapid-fire chirps of our many neighborhood cardinals, the brief but strange call of the red-winged blackbird, among many others. And no one can dislike the multiple calls of the mockingbird that seem designed simply to show off this bird's remarkable singing talent. We also have large flocks of black-bellied whistling ducks that amaze by whistling instead of quacking. Another of my favorites are the wonderful sandhill cranes that hangout here in The Villages. These large birds can be heard from afar as they fly over the neighborhood and emit their very loud staccato squawks. They seem to enjoy letting the world know they're up and about.

From these daily encounters with such little pieces of God's Creation I can do nothing else but thank Him for His gift of life. I simply cannot understand how anyone who hears a mockingbird spend several minutes running through its entire repertoire of songs can claim to be an atheist. To me the mockingbird and the sandhill crane and the trail of the meteorite and the brightness of Venus all prove God's Presence and His continued love for us. Indeed, God's care for His creation sends us a message. How did Jesus put it?

"Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they?" [Mt 6:26]

He would care for us as well if only we would let Him, if only we would come to realize His love for us.

Yes, God's Presence fills every corner of His Creation, but most miraculously His Presence is within us when we open ourselves to Him. We are, after all, "Temples of the Holy Spirit."

Oops...have to go. It's time for Maddie and me to take a walk.

Reflection for Liturgical Readers

Among my parish responsibilities -- all assigned to me by my pastor to make and keep me humble -- is the oversight of things liturgical. This has proven to be a challenge because I am not a liturgist and have had much to learn. Over the years much of the learning has come to me subtly through a kind of osmosis...and it continues. Thankfully I can always call on our parish's wonderful team of priests and deacons who keep me from making too many mistakes. I am blessed.

Occasionally I am called on to address or assist in the training of one or another of our liturgical ministries. This past Saturday, for example, I was asked to offer a spiritual reflection during a brief morning of reflection for our readers. (For those in my audience who are not Catholic, the readers are those who proclaim the Word of God, the Sacred Scripture, at Mass.) My reflection follows:
___________

We could spend the next hour going over a whole litany of dos and don’ts for readers. But I thought that might put more than a few of you to sleep. I also don’t think you need that right now. Later on this morning, if we have a few minutes, I’ll open up the discussion for questions and comments, so you can air your concerns. I might actually have some answers.

Quite honestly, though, you are the best group of readers I’ve ever had the privilege to work with. And so I thank you for your ministry, for your proclamation of God’s Word. You are a blessing to our parish. Anyway, I thought it better for us to take a little break from the mechanics of our ministry and focus instead on the spirituality of being a reader…or at least one small piece of that spirituality.

We’ve all heard the mistakes, haven’t we? And perhaps made a few ourselves. Like the young high school student who announced “A reading from the Letter of Paul to the Philippines.” Paul got around,but who knew? Or the reader who while describing the Lord’s covenant with Abraham Genesis 15, proclaimed the presence of a “smoking brassiere” instead of brazier. Fortunately, there’s been a change to the translation, and the lectionary no longer reads brazier, but “fire-pot” instead. One can only assume the bishops got tired of hearing it mispronounced. No longer, then, do you need to worry about proclaiming the first reading on the Second Sunday of Lent. We’ve all stumbled over a word or two, or an Old Testament name, but just be thankful you’re not a deacon called to proclaim the genealogies in Luke and Matthew.

These and other mistakes certainly generate a chuckle or two in the pews, and a few red faces at the ambo, but they also show us that God calls the fallible to serve Him. Yes, God calls us, despite our failings. And He calls us to be in His Presence.

That’s what I’d like to talk about today: the Presence of God in the liturgy, and what this means for us as ministers, especially as ministers of the Word.

I think that, too often, we get so wrapped up in the specifics, the details, the mechanics of our ministries that we sometimes lose sight of what it’s all about. And what it’s all about is pretty simple: as ministers we’re called to serve God and His people. That’s it!

This, then, is our first truth: we are servants.

Each one of us, called to ministry, is a servant – bishop, priest, deacon, altar server, reader, extraordinary minister of Holy Communion, cantor and choir member, usher – we’re all servants

Jesus spent a lot of time trying to convince the Apostles of this same truth. He really wasn’t very successful, and it took the Holy Spirit at Pentecost to fully convince them.

You know, it’s interesting. In the Gospels we encounter two paths, two journeys that thread their way from beginning to end. The first is the obvious one: Our Lord’s journey from His Incarnation, through His public ministry, and ultimately to His passion, death and resurrection.  This is the journey of our Redemption, the journey that reveals God’s deep and enduring love for us.

But there’s another journey that makes its way through the Gospels: the journey taken by the disciples, especially the twelve. It’s a journey sparked by revelation and God’s overwhelming love: a journey of gradual understanding and acceptance; a journey that brought the Church into being; a journey that continues today for all of us. It’s the journey that leads the disciples and us to the recognition of that truth we’ve already encountered: we are servants.

But as baptized, confirmed Catholics, filled with the Spirit, I would hope that we are more accepting of this truth than were the first disciples. And so I’ll assume you all accept that we are servants, called to serve God and His people.

Obviously, it’s important that, despite our limitations and our failings, we accomplish this service, our ministry, as well as possible. For only then can we more fully realize that call to serve God and His people.

I’ve always believed that if our call to liturgical ministry is to bear fruit, we must maintain our focus on God’s Presence in the liturgy…and do so constantly.

Now the Church has always taught that, in the Mass, God is present in multiple ways:

• First of all, He’s present in us, in His People who have come together in His Name. He’s present in us quite simply because He promised this, and God always fulfills His promises.

“For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them” [Mt 18:20].

• God is also present in His Word, the Word proclaimed and preached at the ambo by reader, cantor, deacon and priest. Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Word of God, is present in the Revealed Word of Sacred Scripture.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” [Jn 1:1].

• He is present in the person of the priest, the celebrant who acts in persona Christi, in the person of Christ, as he performs the sacred mysteries.

The priest doesn’t say: “…this is Jesus’ Body” or “…this is the chalice of Jesus’ Blood.” No, he says, “…this is my Body” and “…this is the chalice of my Blood.”

But it’s not the priest’s body and blood that we receive, is it? No, it’s that of Jesus.

“…do this on remembrance of me” [Lk 22:19].

• …which leads us to Christ’s most special and important presence at Mass – His presence par excellence, as the Church calls it.

He is present in the Eucharist. In the consecrated host and the consecrated wine we have the real presence of the Body and Blood of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

“For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes…For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body, eats and drinks judgment on himself” [1 Cor 11:26,29].

God’s Presence in the liturgy, then, is another truth, a Scripture-based truth, an awe-inspiring truth, one that I hope motivates us as we strive to carry out every element of our ministry. Did you notice the response to the Psalm at this morning’s Mass? 

“Come with joy into the presence of the Lord” [Ps 100:2]. 

This we are called to do: to enter God’s presence joyfully.

Right now I’d like to take a closer look at how God manifests Himself to us in the liturgy, and how this has special meaning for us as proclaimers of the Word.

Perhaps God’s less appreciated presence in the liturgy is how He comes to us in nature, in the things of this world, in the fruit of the earth and vine. He comes to us in bread and wine, in the simple works of human hands, as food for our bodies. And so with this presence He honors our bodies, our material existence, that which separates us from the angels.

It’s an existence in which God Himself was willing to share when He sent His Son to become one of us. How the Incarnation, that act of divine humility, must have awed the angels; for through that act we are truly formed in God’s image and likeness as no other creature is. In coming to us in nature, then, God reminds us that He is our Creator, the Creator of all that exists.

As Creator He reminds us of His holy name, the name He first shared with Moses – “I am Who am” – the name that describes His very being. “I am existence itself,” He tells us. “All of creation depends on me.” And from this He reminds us too that, like Moses, we are in His presence; we are on holy ground.

Remember this as you make your way from your place among the People of God to the ambo in God’s sanctuary; for in doing so you move from holy ground to holy ground.

Do you ever think of that as you rise from your seat?

God is present among His people when they come together in His name. He comes to each of us in each other. And so, as you walk to the ambo you are not moving to holy ground; you are moving within holy ground.

Where God’s people are present, so too is God. You’re called from the Christian community, from your place among God’s people, from saints and sinners, and yet you remain within that community.

You see, God manifests His holiness, His Otherness, in His people – and in particular, in the least of His people. That’s why in Matthew 25, in the only description of the last judgment in Scripture,we find Jesus telling us to serve His people: to feed the hungry, to give drink to the thirsty, to visit the sick and imprisoned, to welcome the stranger. And why? Because what we do to the least of His brothers and sisters, we do to Him.

When you stand before God’s people, you're not standing before a crowd, or even a congregation; you’re standing before Jesus Christ. Again, you are a servant who ministers to God and His people, and God makes us and them one with Himself.

Do you think of that as you make your way to the ambo?

As readers, as ministers of the Word, you are called to feed those who hunger for God’s holy Word, who thirst for a taste of His love, of His mercy and forgiveness.

You are called to be a beacon of welcome to the stranger who may have come to Mass for the first time in years…or simply for the first time.

You are called to bring God’s healing Word to those who are spiritually ill, to those imprisoned by their own sinfulness.

Do you think of that as you make your way to the ambo?

And what about your own spiritual life, the state of your own soul? When we are right with God, when you and I have accepted God’s mercy, His forgiveness, we can better proclaim His Word.

As you all know, a poor reader can be a distraction, especially to other readers who are seated there in the pews. Instead of listening to God’s Word, they end up critiquing the proclamation. When someone else is proclaiming God’s Word at Mass, where is your attention? On the reader, or on the Word?

It’s really interesting, but I seem to fall victim to a wonderful paradox as I listen to you proclaim from the ambo. If you proclaim God’s Word well, I simply don’t notice it. That’s true. I don’t notice it because all my attention is drawn not to you but to the Word of God…and that's as  it should be.

But when a normally good reader falters, when he or she proclaims poorly, I get the sense that some internal conflict is the cause, that some relationship has gone wrong.

You and I exist in a web of relationships – links to nature, to people, to God. Do we trace out these links, examine the strong ones and the weak ones? Do we give thanks for the life and love that flow through them?

Some of these links are weak, aren’t they? Bent and twisted, while others are broken. And because of them we experience deep feelings of regret or disappointment, even anger. But do we, can we, accept our weakness and turn to God and allow Him to straighten and repair  these links? Do we pray for the gift of acceptance and forgiveness? Do we ask for forgiveness ourselves?

Perhaps St. James said it best: 

Is anyone among you suffering? He should pray. Is anyone in good spirits? He should sing praise.Is anyone among you sick? He should summon the presbyters of the church, and they should pray over him and anoint [him] with oil in the name of the Lord, and the prayer of faith will save the sick person, and the Lord will raise him up. If he has committed any sins, he will be forgiven. Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed.The fervent prayer of a righteous person is very powerful. [Jas 5:13-16]

You see, everything we do is for the other, not for ourselves. God wants us to see our relationships with others as relationships with Him. How can we be effective ministers if we have allowed our relationships with God and each other to be broken? 

Do you consider that as you witness the Eucharistic miracle take place right in front of you? For it is here that God becomes present to us in a way like no other. It is here that we come together as one, as a community of faith, and go forward to receive Our Lord in a community of faith. And then we return to our place, our place in that community, overcome by the wonder of our God, our Creator, Who has become one with us.

God is with you; He is with me. But more than this, God is within us, truly present within us. Just dwell for a moment on God's life-giving presence…His presence in your body, in your mind, in your heart.

As you kneel before His altar, you are really kneeling to His presence within you. That’s right. You need look no further than your own flesh and blood joined to the Body and Blood of Him Who brought you into being. Look into yourself in wonder and thanksgiving.

We are all in need of God’s presence, of returning to the Lord, as the psalmist says, to “bow down before His holy mountain.” Only when we recognize God’s presence can we truly worship; only in God’s presence are we truly free: free to shed all that distracts us; free to accept our calling as servants of our God; free to join our own brokenness with the wounds of Jesus, the wounds He took on for our sake.

The fathers of the Second Vatican Council called the Eucharist “the source and summit of the Christian life.” They did so because in the Eucharist we are made whole. In God’s Eucharistic presence sins are forgiven, wounds are healed, and lives are transformed.

Brothers and sisters, I’ve only scratched the surface of our spirituality as God’s ministers, but I hope you might find some little piece of it to be helpful as you respond to God’s call to ministry as proclaimers of the Word.

Jesus began His ministry with the words: “Repent and believe in the Gospel” [Mk1:14].

With that in mind, I'll finish with the words of one of my heroes, Blessed Charles de Foucauld: 

"Our entire existence, our whole being must shout the Gospel from the rooftops. Our entire person must breathe Jesus, all our actions. Our whole life must cry out that we belong to Jesus, must reflect a Gospel way of living. Our whole being must be a living proclamation, a reflection of Jesus Christ."