Homily: 4th Sunday of Easter - Year B

Readings: Acts 4:8-12; Ps 118; 1 Jn 3:1-2; Jn 10:11-18

I’m going to tell you a story; and it’s a true story.

Back when I was flying off aircraft carriers, we pilots tended to hang out with each other when off duty. We’d talk about aviation, working on improving our skills -- you know, stayin’ alive. But we’d also talk about other stuff, especially over meals. We'd always been told that officers shouldn’t talk religion or politics in the wardroom. In truth, though, we often talked about these things; but we knew each other well and forgave our differences.

One of our squadron pilots, a friend named Bill, talked a lot about religion. I thought that was strange since at best he was agnostic. Anyway, it really bothered him that so many of us were believers, especially Christians. One evening, before one of those tiring night missions, several of us were probably on our fifth cup of coffee, when Bill started on his favorite rant.

“Just look at the universe,” he said. “It’s just too big to imagine with its billions of galaxies. Then we have earth, this tiny planet of ours, so infinitesimally insignificant, stuck in some little cosmic corner.

“Is there a God who made all this? Maybe so. I don't know. 

“But you Christians believe that this God who created everything, and maintains it all, that He decided to come down here to our nothing little planet, become one of us, tell us how to live, and then let us kill Him by nailing Him to a Cross.”

Then he said, “I’m sorry, but this is just beyond…as you would say, beyond belief.” Yes, indeed, Bill thought Christians were idiots. 

Now, I was just another pilot, but felt I had to say something in defense of our faith, so I just said, “Bill, do you love your wife?”

Well, that surprised him. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Do you love Marie?”

“Of course I do.”

“Yes, I’ve seen you together. I can tell you love her.  And you’d do anything for her, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I would.”

“Would you give your life for her?”

“Of course I would. Heck, I’d even give my life for you guys, though you don’t deserve it.”

“Yeah, we know that. You see, Bill, the God who created that great universe you described, also created you and me, and created us in His image and likeness. 

“He created us out of love and created us to love. And because of His love, you can love Marie.”

All Bill said was, “Well…maybe.” I guess I wasn't very convincing.

A few years later I received word that Bill had taken his own life. When we first heard the news one of my more fundamentalist friends said, “How sad that he’s now in hell.”

Well, that made me angry, and for a moment, I just stared at him in disbelief. Finally, I said, “You really think you’re God, don’t you? That you can decide who's saved or who or isn’t. But salvation is God’s business, not ours. All we can do is what Paul told the Philippians:

“…work out your salvation with fear and trembling” [Phil 2:12].

"Only God knows what Bill struggled with, what fears claimed him. Only God knows what was in his heart. All I know is God will look on Bill with love and mercy, for 'His mercy endures forever.'  Because that’s who our God is. And I know nothing else, nothing else for certain.”

I just walked away angry, which was stupid. I’d like to think I’d handle both situations differently today. 

Sisters and brothers, today on Good Shepherd Sunday, we celebrate God’s great love for us, and we do it despite the skepticism and disbelief of so many in the world, people like my friend Bill.

In John’s Gospel we hear Jesus clearly revealing who He is and how important we are to him.

“I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.”

Jesus doesn’t abandon us in the face of danger; no, He sacrifices Himself.

Just consider what it means for God to sacrifice His life for us. This divine sacrificial act has led some to ask: Is God of the Christians insane? Is He crazy? I suppose Bill thought that too.

But our Gid isn't crazy; no, our God is Love. His is a love, not simply beyond our capability, but it’s beyond our understanding. In St. Paul’s words, “He emptied himself” and became one of us to offer His life to save ours. And He did this solely out of love. Do you see the kind of God we have, this Good Shepherd who cares so much for us?

Then, to ensure we get the point, Jesus turns to us and tells us to love others as he has loved us, to be willing to give our lives for them, even for those the world says just aren’t worth it. Our love for God, Jesus tells us, must be mirrored in our love for others.

Remember that wonderful scene described in John’s Gospel when, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, the risen Jesus asks Peter three times:

“Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

…and each time Peter responds,

“Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

To the first yes, Jesus said “Feed my lambs”; to the second, “Tend my sheep”; and to the third, “Feed my sheep.” Your love for me, Jesus is telling Peter, will be evidenced by how well you tend my sheep, my people, those for whom I sacrificed my life to save.

But Jesus didn’t stop with Peter. He turns to all of us, all of us in the Body of Christ. He doesn’t say, “love me as I have loved you.” No, instead He commands, "love one another as I have loved you." 

In our first reading, we learned that our love for others must manifest God’s love, and the good that we do must be done in Jesus’ name. As Peter proclaimed:

“There is no salvation through anyone else, nor is there any other name under heaven given to the human race by which we are to be saved."

It’s all Jesus Christ, in Jesus Christ, through Jesus Christ, and only Jesus Christ.

John presents this a bit differently in our 2^nd reading:

“See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are.”

Children of God… you and me… all of us:

• the poor in need of a meal or a place to sleep...they're God's children
• the Alzheimer’s patient in memory care...is a child of God
• the lonely, the depressed, whom nobody visits...a child of God
• the neighbor undergoing radiation and chemo-therapy...she's a child of God
• the prisoner locked away in his cell...yes, he too is a child of God
• the single mother struggling to make ends meet...a child of God

And, yes, many of us may be suffering as well, but that doesn’t mean we stop loving. 

For all of us, children of God, are brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ. We’re not strangers; for children of the same loving Father can’t be strangers. Brothers and sisters of our Lord, Jesus Christ, can’t be strangers.

Jesus calls us not simply to love others, but to see and hear Him in them, to realize that what we do for and to each other, we do to Him.

“I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’

I suppose at judgment we will judge ourselves by our response to this calling as children of God.

Years ago, Diane and I attended a papal audience in Rome, and heard Pope Benedict say:

“As a community, the Church must practice love…The Church cannot neglect the service of love any more than she can neglect the Sacraments and the Word.”

At every level, then — the universal Church, the diocese, the parish, the home – we must love. This is how the Church shows who she really is.

Outside a Catholic church in Syracuse, NY there’s a statue of a man seated on the sidewalk. I think there's a similar statue at Ave Maria University here in Florida. It’s a statue, a sculpture, of a beggar, wearing a hood, his face covered. His hand is stretched out toward those who walk by, much like the hand of the beggar reaching out to Peter in our reading from Acts. 

But if you look closely, you’ll notice a nail hole in that hand. Yes, it’s Our Lord, the risen Jesus bearing the wounds of His love; it’s the Jesus who humbled Himself to became like a slave, a beggar.

For those who pass by it’s a constant reminder to look beyond appearances and see Jesus in all who reach out to them.

And for you and me it’s a reminder that Christ has His hand stretched out to us right now.

God love you.

And please…pray for my friend, Bill, and for all those veterans who found their lives to hard to live.

Homily: Funeral Mass for Patricia Curtin

Readings: Eccl 3:1-11; Ps 23; Rom 14:7-9; Jn 10: 14-15,27-30

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Claude, Diane and I, indeed, all of us here – we know how much you love your dear Patricia, and so, to you and to Sally, to Patricia’s nephews, Rich and Steve, and to all of your longtime friends, our deepest condolences. And I’m joined in this by Fr. Peter, Fr. John, Fr. Gerry, all your brother deacons and their wives – in truth, by the entire St. Vincent de Paul parish family.

Patricia was one of those rare people about whom we can say, “If you knew her, you loved her.” Our love for her just grew over the years, and it’s been almost 20 years since you and Patricia showed up that Sunday and asked, “Hey, need another deacon here?” How glad I am, how blessed we are, that the pastor and the parish said, “Yes, come join us!” Thus began our long friendship with this couple we’ve come to love.

Believe us, Claude, Patricia’s absence has left a hole in our hearts as well. I can only imagine how much you miss her, but if you let Him, God will fill this emptiness; He’ll fill it with His grace, bringing with it His peace and His enduring love.

Know, too, that we grieve with you. And yet, because of our faith, and because of your faith, we can look beyond our grief today. Despite our sorrow, we can be joyful that Patricia is now in God’s care, and to be cared for by our loving, merciful God…well, that’s a wondrous, powerful thing. I suppose St. Paul said it best, as he usually does:

“Both in life and death we are the Lord’s” [Rom 14:8].

Yes, we are His. And our Gospel passage from John sums it up beautifully, doesn’t it?

“I am the good shepherd…the sheep that belong to me listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me” [Jn 10:14,27].

We belong to Him, and so He keeps calling us throughout our brief lives, but then embraces us as we enter eternity.

“I give them eternal life. They will never be lost” [Jn 10:28].

…and what a promise this is, a promise sealed and delivered with God’s love.

I suppose too many of us fall into that straying sheep category – you know, the ones He has to retrieve and bring back to the fold. But not Patricia. She followed the Shepherd, staying close, listening to His voice, and rejoicing in God’s love, a love she was determined to share with others.

Indeed, her kindness was eminently evident. Gracious and graceful, loving, creative, simply a good woman, and so much more. More importantly, Patricia Curtin loved God and neighbor, and in that loving she opened her heart to the movement, the workings, of the Holy Spirit. You see, she was a joy-giver. That’s right, she brought joy to those she encountered, just by being who she was. Diane and I were always happy in her presence.

And Patricia, as your wife, the wife of a permanent deacon, she shared in so many of those ministries. She joined you in hospital ministry visiting the sick. She played an active role in parish outreach at Our Mother’s Attic. And perhaps most importantly, she kept you on the straight and narrow, pretty much a fulltime job.

But Patricia had a professional life of her own. She earned graduate degrees in both French and Italian, and taught for 30 years in a community college in New York’s SUNY system – was a full professor and department chair. Now I know all this from personal experience. You see, the four of us would often dine at Taki’s, a nearby Greek-Italian restaurant. And Patricia would occasionally, but always with kindness, correct my Italian when I ordered off the menu. With this, Patricia became a model for all of us, proving that our working skills remain useful, even in retirement.

Thinking back over all these years of friendship, it’s all packed together: those dinners at Takis and so many other places – and there were many -- the holiday feasts at your home or ours. The good times shared with the Wilsons. The day trips to galleries, and museums, and your kindness when subjected to the intrusive lens of my cameras. Oh, yes, and the bottles of – how can I put this? – cheap wines, sampled here in Florida, and of slightly better vintages at those Finger Lakes wineries.

Yes, we visited Claude and Patricia at their lovely home on Seneca Lake. We didn’t want to leave, but eventually we took the hint. And it was on that trip I discovered they met in Paris in 1965. Coincidentally, thanks to the US Navy, I happened to visit Pairs that same summer, but inexplicably we didn’t run into each other.

Of course, your meeting in that city of light began it all and calls to mind everything that followed. And Claude, to recall that lifelong journey you wisely chose to do so through God’s Word in the Book of Ecclesiastes. Such a good choice. But such an atypical book of Scripture, more philosophical than theological, a book in which the balance of our lives is repeatedly stressed.

Ecclesiastes is really a book of thanksgiving, read in the autumn during the Feast of Tabernacles, or Sukkot. In it we thank God for His gifts, especially the gift of time, of all those times, in which we live our lives.

Times for laughter, and times for tears, times of healthy days and days of suffering.

Times for planting and starting, and times for reaping and ending.

Silent times for prayer and contemplation, and times for talking and sharing and embracing.

Happy times and sad times.

And yes, a time to be born and a time to die.

Sadly, for those who have not accepted the gift of faith, in this they see only an end. T. S. Eliot, among my favorite poets, once wrote, “In my end is my beginning.” And he was right: death isn’t an end; rather it’s a beginning, the beginning of our real life, an eternal life bathed in God’s love. Patricia knew this. She believed it with all her being. And because of her faith she’s now in the embrace of our loving, merciful God.

Realize, too, this funeral Mass is primarily an act of worship, but worship in the form of thanksgiving. We turn to our God and thank Him for the gift of Patricia Curtin’s unrepeatable life, a life we were blessed not only to witness, but also to share. But even more important, here today we gather in prayer, and Word, and Eucharist, thanking our God for the gift of His Son, Who gave His life for us, and renews that sacrifice right here on this altar.

Without this gift, we would have no hope: no hope of forgiveness, no hope of mercy, no hope of salvation, no hope of eternal life. It’s because of this gift that we can gather here today and not be consumed by grief. Because of this gift we don’t despair. Because of this gift we can go on. We can continue with our own lives knowing that Patricia, and you, and I – that we’ve all been redeemed by our Lord, Jesus Christ.

So many gifts from our God, a lifetime of gifts, relived by us through God’s gift of memory. And so, today, filled with hope, we hold close the memories of the past. It’s right to do so, to keep Patricia’s memory alive. We’ll continue to tell the stories, the stories that bring laughter and those that bring tears.

But today let us just claim and proclaim all that was good and noble and loving and faithful in Patricia’s life. And with that we’ll come to realize, the greatest thing she left behind is you, Claude, and really all of us whom she loved and who loved her! In a sense, we’re her legacy, her gift to the world, her gift to God. I can think of nothing better.

Today, then, we ask our Lord Jesus to take Patricia Curtin, his “good and faithful servant,” into His loving embrace, to take away the pain, to wipe away the tears, and give her the first taste of that eternal joy we all hope to share.

God love you all.

Homily: 4th Sunday of Easter - Year A

Readings: Acts 2:14,36-41; 1Pt 2:20-25; Ps 23; Jn 10:1-10

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Today is Good Shepherd Sunday, and for obvious reasons, given the readings we just heard.

In many respects the Good Shepherd is one of the most vivid of all Gospel images. Describing Himself as the Good Shepherd, Jesus shows His loving care for us, how precious we all are in God’s eyes. The Good Shepherd not only cares for us, but calls us to come together in His name, not as some amorphous mob, but as Church, called together in communion in word and sacrament to do His will in the world.

Now some of us might not appreciate being compared to sheep. I encountered this objection years ago when I was a young naval officer. At sea one evening, a group of us, including Fr. Pat, a visiting Catholic chaplain, were chatting over coffee when Mike, a young lieutenant and an agnostic, challenged the chaplain by saying:

"Christianity is a religion for wimps, especially you Catholics. You're just a bunch of sheep. You do whatever your Church tells you. You even call your God a shepherd. It's as if you actually like being compared to some stupid animal."

Now I'd never heard this argument before, so I was curious to hear how Fr. Pat would respond...and respond he did, in words I will never forget:

“Interesting observation, Mike. But I have a question for you: What's the cardinal rule of military leadership?" Mike didn’t miss a beat. "Take care of your men."

"That's right," Father Pat said, "because without them you can't accomplish the mission. Low morale means poor performance, so you do all you can to boost their morale…Now, do you think the men who work for you are wimps?"

Naturally he didn't. And Fr. Pat continued...

"Yet you expect obedience from them, especially in the heat of battle. You expect it because of your authority as a commissioned officer, and because you’ve earned their trust with your leadership. They trust you with their very lives. Why? Because they know if the need arises, you’d willingly give up your life for them. If you think about it, you expect your men to follow your lead, much like a herd of sheep will follow their shepherd, out of sheer trust. Jesus used the metaphor of the good shepherd because he was speaking to a pastoral people who would understand what he meant."

Father Pat was on a roll. None of us argued, or even said a word...so he went on...

"You know, Mike, if Jesus were here today, preaching aboard this ship, he'd probably say, 'I am the good Captain, my sailors know me and I know my sailors.' You see, it's not that we Christians are like dumb animals. We're really more like soldiers and sailors. We trust God because He was willing to sacrifice His life so that we might have eternal life."

How did Jesus put it in today’s Gospel reading?

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

…words that sum up the Good News of the entire Gospel message. And if there were ever a time when we needed to hear some good news, now is certainly the time.

By most human benchmarks, modern-day America enjoys a degree of affluence undreamed of by previous generations. Expensive cars, vacation homes, Caribbean cruises, smart TVs, and smarter phones, high-speed internet, the worldwide web…yes many Americans have it all.

"I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly."

Is this what Jesus meant by life in abundance – the good life? Or did he mean something else? If we set aside our material abundance, we find we also live in a country where children of affluence shoot their schoolmates; where suicide is a leading cause of death among the young; where citizens cry out for the death penalty because they believe the only cure for violence is more violence.

…a country where healers stop healing and assist in the killing of those who are burdensome, or inconvenient, or less than perfect.

…a country where it's legal to kill another human being only if that person is in the most defenseless, vulnerable stage of life, right before he or she is born. We do this so well; we've done it over 60 million times since 1973.

"I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly."

Is this what Jesus meant?

St. Teresa of Calcutta knew better. Do you remember? At the National Prayer Breakfast in Washington in 1994 when she turned to our nation and our political leaders and spoke the truth:

"Any country that accepts abortion is not teaching its people to love, but to use any violence to get what they want."

A prophecy fulfilled in our hearing. This tiny woman, our beloved 20^th century prophet, had spent her entire life fighting what Saint John Paul called a “culture of death." She saw past the pleasant surroundings and nice-sounding words and into the hearts of our nation's leaders, these men and women of influence. And what she saw, quite simply, was the same darkness, the same culture of death she had come to know so well in the alleys and hovels of the world's forgotten places.

How did Jesus put it in today's Gospel? He alone is the gate to eternal life; all others are thieves and robbers.

"A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy; I came so that they may have life and have it abundantly."

Jesus is the gate, the gate to hope, the gate to life. And the Church? Well, do you know what St. Paul called the Church? He called it the “pillar and foundation of the truth” [1 Tim 3:15]. The Church is the gatekeeper. Recall Jesus' words to the Apostles:

"Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven" [Mt 18:18].

But the Church doesn't speak for itself. The Church, the visible Body of Christ on earth, speaks the very Word of God and teaches the Truth. This is a tenet of our Catholic Faith. We either accept it and all that the Church teaches, or we reject it and cease calling ourselves Catholic Christians. And what does the Church tell us? Listen to the words of St. John Paul from his encyclical, "The Gospel of Life":

"The Gospel of God's love for man, the Gospel of the dignity of the person, and the Gospel of life are a single and indivisible Gospel."

Do we realize what this means? The one, holy, catholic, apostolic Church, Christ's Church, our Church, teaches unerringly that our dedication to social justice, our concern for the poor, for the dignity of the human person, must be founded on a rock-solid respect for human life in all its stages, or it is all meaningless. Only the Church speaks out consistently for life, teaching and preaching God's love for all humankind. This is why she is always under attack by those who would advance the culture of death.

We cannot confuse God's eternal truth with any human activity, even the noblest. All others, Jesus tells us plainly, are thieves and robbers. Does that offend us? It shouldn't. It’s always been the message of the Gospel, a message without compromise, a message centered on loving God above all else. When we Christians truly live the Gospel and abandon ourselves to God's Love, others will see Christ in us, will touch Christ in us, and He will plant the seeds of faith in their hearts.

Does this mean turning our lives upside down? A complete change of values? The end of our comfortable, isolated way of life? Quite simply, Yes. Have we forgotten that we are followers of a crucified Christ? For most of us, there’s a lot to overcome before we can say with St. Paul:

“I have been crucified with Christ…but Christ lives in me…" [Gal 2:19-20]

The choice is ours. We can follow the thieves and robbers we are warned against in the Gospel, or we can follow the Shepherd and His Church.

We can respond like the crowd:

“This saying is hard; who can accept it?” [Jn 6:60].

Or we can respond like Peter:

“Where else can we go. You have the words of eternal life” [Jn 6:68].

We must choose.

"I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly."

This is God's promise, the promise of eternal life.

Choose life.

Homily Videos

Today our parish's wonderful IT specialist, Krysten, gave me a DVD containing videos of three recent homilies I had preached. They are embedded below so you can listen instead of read, if you are so inclined.
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Homily for Monday of the 3rd Week of Easter. You can read the homily here.

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Homily for Saturday of the 3rd Week of Easter. You can read the homily here.

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Homily for Monday of the 4th Week of Easter. You can read the homily here.

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.

Homily: 16th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Readings: Jer 23:1-6; Ps 23; Eph 2:13-18; Mk 6:30-34

Watching the news yesterday morning, I caught an interview of a young pastor named Darrel Wilmoth who had been in the theater in Colorado when the shooting began. Calling on his military training, he and several others took it upon themselves to treat many of the wounded with first aid and to help get them to ambulances. He mentioned that once they had taken care of the survivors’ physical needs, he realized there were a lot of unmet spiritual needs. He and several others moved from person to person, comforting them, asking if they could pray with them. Not a single person said, “No.”

Like so many in our world today, these distraught, confused people were like sheep without a shepherd, and this young, faith-filled pastor readily accepted his calling to be the presence of Jesus Christ in their midst, offering them the peace they needed and sought. During the interview he also remarked how all the experts were offering their opinions on TV, opinions as to the causes of all the carnage. As they tried to make sense out of what had happened, all they could provide was a kind of worldly understanding to others. But neither we nor the experts can understand such things, because they will never make sense. Referring to St. Paul's Letter to the Philippians, Pastor Wilmoth added,  

“We were promised not peace and understanding, but the peace that surpasses all understanding.” [See Phil 4:7]

This, brothers and sisters, is the peace that Jesus Christ gives us. We don’t need to understand why men do what they do because the peace of Jesus Christ surpasses all understanding; it transcends all the evil in the world. And so today, we should follow this young pastor’s example and pray for peace, not for peace as the world understands it, but for Christ’s peace, for peace in our hearts. This is the peace so sought after by the survivors and by the families of those who lost their lives. The need to turn to God in prayer was this pastor’s first inclination, and judging by his comments it  remains so today, days after his on-the-scene work as a shepherd was done.

In today’s Gospel passage from Mark we encounter the Apostles as they return to Jesus from their first mission. It was a mission of healing and teaching and preaching, and they were no doubt exhilarated by the experience. They had witnessed firsthand the power of God's Word, the power of Jesus' Name. But they were also hungry and exhausted, in need of rest, as well as physical and spiritual refreshment. They needed time alone, time to pray, time for peace.

Jesus, too, needed a break from the crowds who constantly pressed in on him, demanding his attention. Can you picture the scene? Listen again to the words of the Gospel:

"People were coming and going in great numbers, making it impossible for them to so much as eat." [Mk 6:31]

It must have been chaotic. To make matters worse, Jesus knew that his cousin, John the Baptist, had just been executed by Herod. This surely affected him deeply.

Yes, Jesus and the Apostles needed some time alone, a period of retreat, brief respite from the world. As Mark tells us,  

"So Jesus and the Apostles went off in the boat by themselves to a deserted place." [Mk 6:32]

But that’s not the way it worked out, is it? The crowd figured out where they were going and arrived before them. And it was a huge crowd, over 5,000 people. Most of us would have been annoyed to have our plans disrupted that way. But not Jesus. Instead of telling them to go home, that He’d done enough for one day, He sees their need, places it above His own and that of the Apostles, and takes pity on them. For the crowd, too, needed that same physical and spiritual nourishment. Jesus provides food for their souls with His teaching, and food for their bodies with His miraculous multiplication of loaves and fishes. In doing this, Jesus sends us all a message: If there’s no rest for Him, there can be little rest for His followers either.

For the Christian, the disciple of Christ, the needs of others must always outweigh his or her own. I think again of that young pastor in Aurora, Colorado. Suppressing his own need to get to safety, to escape the carnage and chaos and danger, he shepherds those in dire need of Christ’s peace.

How often do you and I place others’ needs above our own? Once a week? Once a day? That’s nice, but Jesus is telling us to do this always. You see, by virtue of our baptism, we all received a calling. Like the Apostles we’ve all been sent into the world on a mission. Indeed, that’s the very meaning of the word "apostle": one who is sent out. And like Jesus, we all have a certain amount of shepherding to do.

This doesn't mean we are all called to work in the foreign missions. For most of us, our mission is much closer to home; actually, it begins right in our homes. We can feed, clothe, and care for our children physically, but if they’re not nourished spiritually, if they’re given no Christian direction, they’ll lose their way and wander aimlessly through life without lasting purpose. And husbands and wives, do you know your primary mission is to help each other get to heaven? That’s right, all else is secondary. Husbands, shepherd your wives. Wives, shepherd your husbands.

How sad that so many people, the young and the not so young, people from nominally Christian homes, lead empty, self-centered lives devoted only to pleasure or the accumulation of material wealth. Is there no one to shepherd them? Perhaps even worse, we see people throughout the world, many of them Christians, seemingly motivated only by national or ethnic hatred. Where are the shepherds in their lives?

In today's second reading from Ephesians, St. Paul tells us explicitly that through the sacrifice of Christ, all people are brought near to God in a covenant of brotherhood. Listen again to his words as he describes how Christ destroys that which separates Jew and Gentile and brings peace:

"It is He who is our peace, and who made the two of us one by breaking down the barrier of hostility that kept us apart...reconciling both of us to God in one body through the cross which puts that enmity to death." [Eph 2:14-16]

Our mission extends beyond home and family. It extends to the workplace, to friendships, to those seemingly chance encounters with those in need.

In the first reading we heard Jeremiah tell of God's promise to send shepherds to His people, so they will no longer live in fear. It’s a promise fulfilled by the gospel, with the arrival among us of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, the Son of the Living God.

Jesus calls on each of us to continue His work, to be shepherds of God's people. But being a good shepherd can be a hard line of business. And so He gives us a road map with the path clearly marked. We’re asked only to obey His commandments and to love -- to love Him with all our being and to love each other.

Loving God demands that we find a quiet spot in our lives where we can be alone with Him in prayer. Like Jesus and the Apostles, we sometimes need to refresh ourselves spiritually, to get away from the pressures that bear down on us, to listen to God's healing voice. If we allow Jesus to make His home in our hearts, He will give us the strength we need to cope with the challenges of life and the courage we need to accept our calling. He will give each of us a new heart, a heart filled with the Spirit of God.

Do this, brothers and sisters, and He’ll take care of the rest.

In the midst of a senseless, chaotic world, only Jesus Christ can give us peace, the only true peace, the peace that surpasses all understanding.

Homily: 4th Sunday of Easter, Year B

Readings: Acts 4:8-12; Ps 118; 1 Jn 3:1-2; Jn 10:11-18

We call today, the 4th Sunday of Easter, “Good Shepherd Sunday.” It’s a day in our liturgical year when we especially celebrate God’s great love for us.

Consider again the passage we just heard from John’s Gospel. In it we hear Jesus clearly revealing who He is and how important we are to him: “I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep” [Jn 10:11].

Jesus doesn’t abandon us in the face of danger; no, He sacrifices Himself. Here Jesus fulfills the prayer of the 23rd Psalm, the prayer of His ancestor, David:  “The Lord is my shepherd. There is nothing I shall want.” [Ps 23:1]

Yes, Jesus is the Shepherd, and Jesus is Lord. He is the Good Shepherd, the shepherd who goes above and beyond what any other shepherd would do. No sane shepherd would sacrifice his life for his sheep, just as none of us would sacrifice our lives for a pet guinea pig. And yet the difference between a human and a guinea pig is miniscule compared to that between God and man.

Just consider what it means, then, for God to sacrifice His life for us. Yet that’s exactly what He did. This sacrificial act on His part has led some to ask: Is the God of the Christians insane? Is He crazy?

No…Our God is Love. He is a love, not simply beyond our capability, but beyond our understanding. In St. Paul’s words, “He emptied himself” [Phil 2:1] and became one of us to offer His life to save ours. And He did this solely out of love. Do you see the kind of God we have, this Good Shepherd who cares so much for us?

And then, to ensure we get the point of all this,  Jesus turns to us and tells us to love others as he has loved us, to be willing to give our lives for them, even for those the world tells us are beneath us. Our love for God, Jesus tells us, must be mirrored in our love for others.

Remember that wonderful scene [Jn 21] when, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, the risen Jesus asks Peter three times, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Each time Peter responds, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”  To the first yes, Jesus said “Feed my lambs”; to the second, “Tend my sheep”; and to the third, “Feed my sheep.”

Your love for me, Jesus is telling Peter, will be evidenced by how well you tend my sheep, my people, those for whom I sacrificed my life to save.

But Jesus didn’t stop with Peter. He turns to all of us, all of us in the Body of Christ. He doesn’t say, “love me as I have loved you.” No, instead He commands, “love one another as I have loved you” [Jn 13:34]. Like Peter, our love for God will be shown by the love we have for the members of His flock.

As we heard in our first reading, our love for others must be a manifestation of God’s love, and the good that we do must always be done in the name of Jesus Christ. For as Peter proclaimed, “There is no salvation through anyone else, nor is there any other name under heaven given to the human race by which we are to be saved" [Acts 4:12]. It’s all Jesus Christ, in Jesus Christ, through Jesus Christ, and only Jesus Christ.

The meaning of this becomes clear in our second reading as St. John tells us, “See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are.”

Children of God…all of us: you and me…
…the poor in need of a meal or a place to sleep
…the Alzheimer’s patient in the nursing home
…the Aids patient clinging to life
…the neighbor undergoing radiation and chemo-therapy
…the prisoner locked away in his cell
…the lonely, the depressed
…all of us, children of God, brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ.

We are not strangers…for children of the same loving Father cannot be strangers. Brothers and sisters of our Lord, Jesus Christ, cannot be strangers. And so Jesus calls us not simply to love others, but to recognize Him in them, to realize that what we do for and to each other, we do to Him: “I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’ [Mt 25:40] Yes, we will be judged on our response to this calling as children of God, on this Christian vocation of ours.

Pope Benedict wrote, “As a community, the Church must practice love…The Church cannot neglect the service of charity any more than she can neglect the Sacraments and the Word.” At every level, then — and that includes the parish, the diocese, and throughout the world — the Church must practice love. This is how the Church shows who she really is.

Some years ago on a business trip I attended Mass at the local Catholic Church. (I've forgotten where it was.) Not far from the main entrance to the church I came across a statue of a hooded man begging. Like the hand of the beggar reaching out to Peter in our first reading, the statue’s hand is stretched out toward those who walk by. But if you look closely, you’ll notice that in the middle of that hand is a hole, a nail hole.

Yes, it’s a statue of Jesus, the risen Jesus who still bears the wounds of His love, the Jesus who in humbling Himself became like a slave, like a beggar. For the parishioners and all those who enter that church this statue is a constant reminder to look beyond appearances and see Jesus in all who reach out to them. And for you and me it’s a reminder that Christ has His hand stretched out to us right now.