Healing Service Homily: Tuesday, 15th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Ex 2:1-15a; Ps: 69; Mt 11:20-24

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Good evening, everyone…and praise God – praise Father, Son and Holy Spirit. It’s wonderful to see so many here tonight; all of you, open to God’s healing presence in your lives. Praise God, too, for this.

We’re gathered here in Jesus’ name, so we know He’s with us. Present not only in our presence, but here especially in His Eucharistic Presence. And where Jesus is, so too is the Father, for they are One, One with the Holy Spirit.

When we turn to Scripture, we find the Holy Spirit inspiring, revealing, anointing, and counseling. He does it all. As we proclaim in the Creed: He’s the “Lord and giver of life.” He is the fount of Truth and Wisdom, the sanctifier, the source of sacramental grace, the manifestation of God’s power in the world.

When Jesus rejoiced, He rejoiced in the Spirit. When He prayed, He prayed filled with the Spirit. And when he healed, the Spirit acted through Him. And so, tonight, confident that the Holy Spirit is here among us, present in His power and glory, we turn to Him, the Divine Healer, for healing is among the Spirit’s greatest works.

God knows how much we all need healing – healing of body, mind, and spirit; so He sends His Spirit into the world to heal all who come to Him.

Sacred Scripture, especially in the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, is filled with healings, but they’re all so very different. All kinds of people come to Jesus – men and women; young and old; Jews and Gentiles – all seeking His healing touch. He heals them all. Some come on their own, some are brought to Him by others, by family or friends, and some are healed at a distance. But for all of them it was through the power of the Holy Spirit that Jesus healed.

St. Peter confirmed this when preaching to the centurion Cornelius and his household, he said:

“God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power. He went about doing good and healing all…” (Acts 10:38)

Where Jesus is, so too is the Holy Spirit. And together they heal us all. What does this mean to us? Does Jesus offer healing to all of us? Well, yes, He does. But we must understand He offers us multiple kinds of healing.

We humans are pretty complex creatures. God gave us bodies, but as many of us here have figured out, these bodies just don’t last that long. So, He also gave us an immortal soul, that divine piece of our humanity that goes on forever, and carries us into eternity.

And from that we have an intellect and a will, so we can learn what God wants for us and of us, why we’re here, and then decide what to do about it.

It’s all pretty fantastic, isn’t it? Well, yes, it is, except when we decide to misuse our intellects by ignoring all that He teaches us; or misuse our wills by making incredibly wrong decisions. It’s really what Jesus faced in our passage from Matthew’s Gospel. Our Lord uses some pretty harsh words, doesn’t He?

“Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida!”

Yes, indeed, Jesus was upset! There’s no mistaking it – Jesus was definitely upset. You see, is wasn’t some impersonal, detached judgment on Jesus’ part. In fact, I think it was truly personal.

Matthew, writing this Gospel, uses the Greek word for “woe.” It’s an interesting word. In Greek it’s one of those onomatopoeic words – words like bark, or cough, or hiss – that sound like the things they mean. The Greek word for “woe” is οὐαί, a word that sounds like a lament, a cry of sorrow. And that was intentional. Matthew uses this word to show us that Jesus, in His humanity, is speaking out of grief.

Chorazin! Bethsaida! Capernaum! These were places Jesus had stayed, places He’d visited, where He’s ministered to their people – where He healed, taught, loved – and still, the people didn’t respond.

Yes, Jesus is divine, but He’s also human, and that kind of rejection surely hurt. It’s hard not to feel the sting of it all – how Jesus must have felt.

Of course, our initial reaction is to recall times when it’s happened to us – when we spoke the truth but were summarily rejected.

I’ll tell you a story. Years ago, I was director of customer satisfaction and focus for a high-tech firm. It was an engineering-driven firm, and at a key meeting, the product engineers introduced a major change to a major product. I realized immediately that our customers would not be happy. But I was unable to convince our management. One sales engineer had the courage to agree with me, but his concerns were also rejected. I’ll never forget what the head of engineering said, “Our customers will like it because we like it.” Of course, the customers hated it. But no one ever said, “You know, you were right.” No, they just dug in deeper trying to show our customers how wrong they were. It didn’t have a happy ending.

About that time, I decided retirement at 59 sounded pretty good, so Diane and I soon headed south to The Villages.

Did you notice, the example that came to my mind was a situation where I’d been rejected. I never even considered the times I’d rejected others, or worse, rejected God Himself. The Gospel should lead us to wonder about ourselves, about our actions, our thoughts and words, and their impact on others.

Today I find myself asking: Where has Christ already been present in my own life, and yet I’ve failed even to notice, or perhaps worse, I noticed but failed to respond? You know that our God does that. He places others, those in need, in our path, or inserts little slices of grace into our lives, begging us to recognize and respond.

And when I didn’t respond…maybe in someone I overlooked – just didn’t consider them all that important, or worthy of my time? Or perhaps it was a moment of grace I was too busy to recognize, too self-absorbed, too worried about my own problems, my own suffering, my own need for healing?

How often and why do we fail even to notice these Godly gifts? Usually we’re just too busy, so tightly wrapped up in our own human issues, that we pay little attention to others and what God is calling us to do. In the grip of suffering, and in our humanity, we turn inward, toward our suffering, hoping, somehow, for healing and relief.

And so we hear this Gospel passage, and mistakenly think it’s all about judgment. But it’s about much more than that. You see, in truth, it’s really an invitation. Jesus, in that paradoxical, counter-intuitive way of His calls us to turn outward, to look beyond ourselves, to turn to Him in faith and to others in love.

Remember the four men in Capernaum who carried the paralytic to Jesus and lowered him through the roof…You can read about it in Mark, chapter 2. How did Mark put it?

“When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Child, your sins are forgiven.’” [Mk 2:5]

Throughout the entire event, he paralytic never said a word. And after healing the young man’s soul, Jesus goes on to heal his paralysis, all because of the faith of others.

And so, to those here tonight who brought someone you love for healing, believe me, God thanks and blesses you. Your faith may well lead to healing. Take a moment. Look to the person sitting in front of you, beside you, behind you – they’re all here for healing too. Have you looked to them? Have you prayed for them? After all, if the power of prayer is so great; should we not be praying for each other, and not simply for ourselves?

Remember, the faithlessness and selfishness of so many people in those three cities didn’t stop Jesus. He continued His work, in the Gospel, throughout the ages, and He continues it here today. He still shows up, doesn’t He? He’s still present in our lives, in our work, in our families, in our conversations – yes, even in our sinfulness. He’s present in all those moments of chaos and fear…and in the moments of stillness, the moments when we open our minds and hearts to Him.

God knows exactly what we need, but do we know? What kind of healing do you need? What do I need? We’re so sure we know, aren’t we?

But like the young paralytic, we likely need spiritual healing first. So, seek the Lord and His amazing grace in the sacraments. Let your soul be healed in Reconciliation, receive the gift of salvation through the Eucharist.

Or as St. Paul said, “It is Christ in you, the hope for glory.” (Col 1:27)

Homily: Mass and Healing Service - Tuesday 32nd Week in Ordinary Time

Good evening, everyone…and praise God – praise Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

It’s wonderful to see so many here tonight; all open to God’s healing presence. Praise God too for this. We’re gathered here in Jesus’ name, so we know He’s with us. And where Jesus is, so too is the Father, for they are One, One with the Holy Spirit.

When we turn to Scripture, we find the Holy Spirit inspiring, revealing, anointing, and counseling. He does it all. He’s the “Lord and giver of life,” the fount of Truth and Wisdom, the sanctifier, the source of sacramental grace, the manifestation of God’s power in the world. When Jesus rejoiced, He rejoiced in the Spirit. When He prayed, He prayed filled with the Spirit. And when he healed, the Spirit acted through Him.

And so, tonight, confident that the Holy Spirit is here among us, present in His power and glory, we turn to Him, the Divine Healer, for healing is among the Spirit’s greatest works. God knows how much we all need healing – healing of body, mind, and spirit; so He sends His Spirit into the world to heal all who come to Him.

The Gospels and Acts are filled with healings, but those healings all so very different. All kinds of people come to Jesus – men and women; young and old; Jews and Gentiles – all seeking His healing touch. Some come on their own, some are brought to Him by others, by family or friends, and some are healed at a distance.

But for all of them it was through the power of the Holy Spirit that Jesus healed. St. Peter confirmed this when preaching to the centurion Cornelius and his household, he said:

“God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power. He went about doing good and healing all…” (Acts 10:38)

Where Jesus is, so too is the Holy Spirit. And together they heal us all.

This came to mind when reading Paul’s Letter to Titus. Titus, a Gentile Christian who had journeyed with Paul, had been placed in charge of building the Christian community on the island of Crete. It’s a brief letter, but it’s packed with advice and suggestions designed to help Titus as he struggles to instill Christian virtue in a people who’d long been ensnared by the “godless ways” and “lawlessness” of a pagan society.

Paul begins by stating that their faith must be grounded in sound doctrine. In other words, they must listen to the apostolic Church and accept its teaching authority. Then Paul looks at the community in Crete, dividing it into age-related groups: older men, older women, younger women, and younger men. In effect Paul tells Titus, the Christian community must be self-supporting, with each person using inherent gifts and strengths to support the others.

Older men, a group I’m all too familiar with, must exercise temperance and self-control, so their love for God, family, spouse, are a living product of their faith. Yes, faith and love are inseparable.

Paul tells younger men to emulate the control and integrity of the older men they admire. Elsewhere, to the Ephesians, Paul instructs all husbands, old and young:

“...love your wives, even as Christ loved the church and handed himself over for her…” (Eph 5:25)

Did you hear that, husbands? Your love must be sacrificial. Just think about that...

For Paul, older women are called to be reverent teachers, models of goodness – no slander, ladies, and as for drink, easy on the pinot grigio. Their behavior should be an example to others, especially younger women, who look to them for guidance.

As for the younger women, they should love their husbands and children, for they are called to be chaste, self-controlled, and good homemakers. We don’t realize how different it was for a woman at that time. She was her children’s teacher, preparing them in every way for adult life, teaching them the faith. She tended her gardens, and much of what she needed and used in the home, she made herself. Being a homemaker with no electricity, no plumbing, no grocery store, was more than a full-time job.

Then Paul writes the phrase that bothers so many: “to be…under the control of their husbands.” Yes, for us today, when equality reigns, and many women work outside the home in every profession, it seems more than a little dated.

But we should understand exactly what Paul was really telling the people of his time, and our time. In a good Christian marriage husband and wife must be of one mind on all the important things that affect the life of their family. How they raise their children, the family’s spiritual life, their shared sense of morality, how they interact with others, both within and outside the Christian community. If a husband and wife disagree on these, the marriage and the family’s faith will suffer.

Paul’s really telling Titus that, regardless of age, our love for God and each other is manifested by our willingness to serve each other and all those He places in our lives.

Now, you might be asking yourself, “How does all this relate to healing? After all, I’m here tonight because I need God’s healing grace.” Well, let’s turn to our Gospel passage from Luke. How did Jesus put it?

“We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty” (Lk 17:10).

And that highlights the problem, for the servant is focused not on himself, but on another.

Sisters and brothers, when we’re hurting, when we’re in desperate need of healing, we tend to turn inward. It doesn’t matter if we’re suffering from physical illness and pain, or emotional and mental stress. Or perhaps we find ourselves wandering aimlessly in a spiritual desert, that our soul, darkened by sin, needs the merciful touch of God’s forgiveness. In the grip of suffering, and in our humanity, we turn inward, toward our suffering, hoping, somehow, for healing and relief.

But Jesus, in that paradoxical, counter-intuitive way of His calls us to do otherwise. He calls us to turn outward, to turn to Him in faith and to others in love.

We often receive healing when

we pray for the healing of others

God knows exactly what we need, but do we know? What kind of healing do you need? What do I need? We’re so sure we know, aren’t we? Often enough, especially in this community, it’s our bodies. They just don’t hold up do they? Illness, injury, and age all take their toll. We turn to God in our suffering and our fears, in our aches and pains, our illnesses, in the trials of our children, in the sometimes-shattered lives of those we love…and we pray for healing.

We don’t understand the why of this suffering, or why God doesn’t just take it away. And so we pray, but not very well. As St. Paul reminded us:

“We do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings” (Rom 8:26).

Now that’s amazing, isn’t it? Because we don’t know how to pray, the Holy Spirit prays for us, intercedes for us, within the Trinity itself. Can there be anything greater?

The son of some close friends was a young man named John. He died at 41 after a lifetime of suffering from a genetic disease. Believe me when I say that John, the father of four, is a saint, because it’s true. He was one of the saintliest people I’ve ever known.

Despite a lifetime of pain and suffering he refused to let his illness define him. Once, asked if he were angry with God because of his illness, John replied, "Of course not. Why would I be angry at God for the greatest gift He's ever given me?" Unlike most of us, John realized early in life that everything is a gift, especially life itself.

Almost 50 years ago, I flew home to Cape Cod from the Philippines because my mom was dying. As I entered her hospital room, she looked up and said, “Now I can die.” We talked for a while, and she told me, “Son, everything is a gift, even this horrible disease, because it’s taught me so much.” She died that night.

My mom and young John personified those famous words of 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).

Both spent their lives fulfilling that purpose by serving and praying for others, suffering for others. And here I am, 80 years old, still praying that someday I may have such faith. As my wife, Diane, will be happy to tell you, I’m not a very good sufferer.

So, look to those seated around you, and realize you’re not alone. For they, too, are suffering. How can you serve each other? Will you pray for them, demonstrate your love for them?

There will be healings here today. Some of you have come for physical and emotional healing. And there will be some of those. But every one of us here today needs spiritual healing, healing of the soul, the healing that comes from total surrender to God. With that surrender, that abandonment, "God will fully supply whatever you need…”

Are you willing to make an act of surrender, an act of abandonment, and take all that you have, all that you are, and lay it at Jesus’ feet? He wants it all, you know, out of a love so great it’s beyond our understanding. He wants us to mirror His redemptive act of love by sharing in the crosses that we each must bear.

Do we recognize the power of the collective faith and prayers of our community? Do we trust that God can do the same for us as faithful, prayerful people who lift others up in their need?

After Mass we’ll have a laying on of hands. Come forward. Turn your heart and mind to Jesus Christ. Give Him permission to come into your life, to work His will within you.

“Heal me, Lord, and heal these others who come to you.” 

Let that be your prayer. 

“Heal us all, Lord, of all that’s keeping us from being one with you.”

Trust God, brothers and sisters, for He knows your heart.

Praised be Jesus Christ…now and forever.

Homily: Tuesday, 20th Week in Ordinary Time (Year 2)

 Readings: Ez 24:15-23 • Dt 32:18-21 • Mt 19:16-22

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Today we celebrate St. Bernard, a Cistercian monk and abbot, a doctor of the Church, a brilliant 12^th-century theologian who, for a monk certainly got involved in a lot of stuff outside the monastery.

St. Bernard had a tremendous impact on the Church of his day and defended its teachings against the rationalism of Abelard and others like him, who tended to lift human reason to an almost divine level. Much of what he wrote applies as well to today’s confused world. Indeed, in some ways he mirrored Ezekiel’s message in today’s reading.

Reading Ezekiel’s words, it’s hard to believe they were written several thousand years ago. One would think they were written today and aimed directly at those who seem to think they actually control human life on earth. How did Ezekiel put it?

Because you are haughty of heart, you say, “A god am I”…And yet you are a man, and not a god, however you may think yourself like a god.

Just a few days ago, I read the words of a technology guru and he dropped a few interesting comments, all related to the emergence of artificial intelligence:

“If you have a problem in life, you don’t ask God, you ask Google or Facebook.”

And if that weren’t enough, he went on to say:

“…religions have been organized around fake news. Just think of the Bible. Fake news lasts forever in some cases….eternal fake news.

And he concluded with:

“Human history began when men created gods. It will end when men become gods.”

These are the words of more than just one man. They reflect the beliefs of many who claim to be smarter than the rest of us, smarter even than the God they don’t believe in, the God who created them. Yes, they believe they can create their own form of divinity, even if it all must take place in shadows. They are indeed gods, little gods, not unlike the false gods that the Chosen People had to deal with in Ezekiel’s time. They are men and women who look at creation and see only themselves.

I’ve been reading a lot of the Early Church Fathers lately, and St. Ephraim the Syrian, an interesting fourth-century theologian, left behind some wonderful thoughts in the form of little prayers. 

Yesterday I came across one of these, a St. Ephraim one-liner, a tiny prayer that sums up the spiritual needs of so many of us today:

“Inside I am not what I appear to be. Heal me.”

Of course, it’s a plea, asking the Holy Spirit to heal us of our spiritual hypocrisy, that human tendency to project an image to others that bears little resemblance to the true state of our soul. We want others to see a better version of ourselves, while we keep our true self hidden, even from ourselves. And when we do experience those rare moments of self-awareness, we find ourselves asking the same question asked by the disciples:

"Who then can be saved?"

In a sense they’re really saying, “Well, if I can’t be saved, how can anyone be saved?”

Jesus simply tells them and us that salvation is not something we can earn or achieve on our own, an impossible task for us sinners.

“For men this is impossible, but for God all things are possible.”

…and with this, He gives us hope. 

But, as usual, Peter so often assumes our role, demonstrating how clueless we all are in the presence of God. Ignoring what Jesus has just said, Peter responds with a self-absorbed statement and question:

"We have given up everything and followed you. What will there be for us?"

Peter, no doubt speaking for all of them, is looking for a kind of super-reward. After all, Jesus, this discipleship hasn’t been easy.

Jesus lets him know that there will be wonderful things for “you who have followed me.” But then, with His final words, Our Lord tells them they’re not yet there, that they’re still far from being fully formed disciples. How did Jesus put it?

“But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”

At this point, those words were probably a bit too subtle for them, but I’m sure, with the help of the Holy Spirit, they understood them later.

Like those first disciples, brothers and sisters, we all have a way to go…to lower ourselves, to be healed of the pride of the world, and accept the reality of humility.

As St. Ephraim prayed: Yes, Lord, “Inside I am not what I appear to be. Heal me.”

 

Suffering, Some Thoughts

I trust the title of this post won't be taken the wrong way, leading some to believe that my offering of a few thoughts will result in suffering for both you and me. At least, I hope not. No, at Mass this morning, as I proclaimed the Gospel, my aging brain entertained a few thoughts about suffering that I'd like to share. They're really nothing new or radical; they're just things I've come to understand and eventually accept as I approach ever closer to the end of this most wonderful of God's gifts, the gift of life.

The Gospel reading, from Mark 10, has always been a favorite because it focuses on that remarkable encounter between Jesus and Bartimaeus, the blind man of Jericho. Bartimaeus had suffered. After all, he was blind in a society totally lacking in resources to help him cope with his disability. Things are thankfully different today, but the visually impaired still suffer in a world centered on those with sight. But in the first-century Roman Empire, the blind, unless they came from a wealthy family, usually became beggars. The blind, the deaf, the crippled -- indeed, most people with serious disabilities -- were almost entirely dependent on others. Unable to support themselves through work, they were totally dependent on their families or the charity of those who passed by. Since Mark reveals that Bartimaeus is the son of Timaeus, we can assume his parents cared for him. And yet, given the times in which he lived, I think we can say that Bartimaeus suffered.

Now, what do I know of suffering? Of physical suffering, very little. Here I am, just a few months from my 80th birthday and I've been hospitalized only once, thanks to appendicitis at the age of ten. Other than that memorable experience, I've remained in disgustingly good health ever since. Have I suffered in other ways? Yes, but no more than most people my age and far less than many. But this isn't about me. It's about so many good people I know who have suffered deeply, but so often quietly.

When we consider Bartimaeus, we find a man who had likely been blind since birth, was forced to beg at the city gates of Jericho, and yet never gave up hope. He knew that the God of Israel heals, and such healings often come through the word and touch of holy men sent by God Himself. He had obviously heard of Jesus for the news of His acts of healing couldn't be suppressed. Sitting at the gates, Bartimaeus would have heard this and so much more about this man from Nazareth. Hope, then, filled his heart and when he was told of Jesus' presence, hope was joined by faith. My mom used to say, "Hope, once it fills the heart, drives us to faith." And so, hopeful Bartimaeus, once he experiences the Presence of Jesus, cries out in faith, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me.”

He continues to shout his plea to Jesus and, despite the condescension of the less-than-merciful disciples, gets Our Lord's attention. Jesus calls him. Bartimaeus, now filled with faith, leaps to his feet, discards his cloak, the sign of his beggary, and no doubt filled with the Holy Spirit, ran directly to Jesus. 

Note that his response to Jesus' question is “Master I want to see." Yes, it's a plea focused only on himself, but it's a faith-driven, fervent plea, and Jesus heals because, "Your faith has saved you." Now isn't that interesting? Bartimaeus begs for sight, and he receives it, but Jesus' real gift, the gift He proclaims, is the gift of salvation that stems from this man's faith.

But even more interesting is Bartimaeus' response to Jesus' command, "Go your way..."  What was Bartimaeus' "way"? To go home to his parents, to share the good news of his healing with his father, Timaeus? To celebrate with the people of Jericho who had long known the blind beggar at the gates? Apparently not, for Bartimaeus chose a different path. This healing had done far more than heal him physically. It had changed him in his very being. For now, this new man of God, would follow the Lord on the road to Calvary. He would follow "The WAY" to the salvation promised by Jesus. 

I've mentioned this many times in the past, but I'll say it again: Flannery O'Connor is among my favorite writers. She was a very Catholic, but very downhome girl from Georgia, and if you've never read her, do so. She writes remarkable, and truly unforgettable, stories of sinfulness, repentance, grace, forgiveness, suffering, and salvation. And boy oh boy, did she certainly understand suffering. Although she suffered from Lupus her entire adult life and succumbed to the disease at the age of 39, she considered her suffering a blessing. As she once wrote to a friend:

"Sickness before death is a very appropriate thing and I think those who don’t have it miss one of God’s mercies.”

As I said earlier, I've experienced little physical suffering, but I've spent a lot of time with those who have. I've prayed with and for them, and sat with them at their bedsides, where we joked, laughed, and cried. I've held shaky hands and hugged tired bodies. I've been with them during their last moments, brought Jesus to them in His Eucharistic Presence, and tried to help them reach out in peace to a loving, merciful Lord.  

Yes, they have suffered. But they have also been healed of the cares and worries and sins they carried with them. For as St. Paul reminds us:

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

Yes, indeed, He calls us according to His purpose, not ours.

Let me share just a couple of other things Flannery O'Connor taught me and others about sufferings and healing.  

"You will have found Christ when you are concerned with other people's suffering and not your own."

...and then this:

"This notion that grace is healing omits the fact that before it heals, it cuts with the sword Christ said He came to bring."

I think both of these observations are worthy of our meditation.

God's peace...

Homily: Mass and Healing Service - Thursday, 27th Week in Ordinary Time

Note: On Thursday evening, Father Glen celebrated a special Mass, which was followed by a Healing Service for all who sought healing of any kind, whether physical, mental, spiritual, or the healing of broken or damaged relationships. Many came and were prayed over by our prayer teams who laid hands on each person and asked the Holy Spirit to provide the healing they sought.

I was humbled to have been asked to preach to this gathering of the faithful who came to hear God's Word and then joined together in Eucharistic Communion with our Lord Jesus Christ and with each other.

My homily follows...

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Readings: Mal 3:13-20b • Psalm 1 • Gospel: Lk 11:5-13

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Good evening, everyone. Praise God. Praise Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Because we’re here in Jesus’ name, the Holy Spirit is with us in all His power, in all His glory, so that in Him we can come to know our loving Father better, all through Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Let me begin by saying I’m in deep water today, way out of my depth…but that’s the way it usually is whenever we set out to do God’s work. So often we’re sure we know what God is calling us to do, but then suddenly He teaches us otherwise. After all, it’s not our work; it’s God’s work. And you and I can never approach God’s work from a position of strength. It’s always from weakness.

I worried a bit about what I’d say tonight, but then finally, did what I should have done from the beginning, I prayed…and I asked the Spirit to guide me, to tell me what to say.

As God revealed through the prophet Malachi, we will see “the distinction between the one who serves God, and the one who does not.” He calls us only to serve Him.

Healing is such a personal thing. No two of us come to healing from the same place; each journey is different, and so is the baggage we carry with us. Because we’re all so amazingly and wonderfully different, what can I say that will apply to us all? But then the Spirit turned my aging brain to the parable staring me right in the face.

“Ask and you shall receive; seek and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened to you...”

Comforting words, aren’t they? But I think too many of us take those words and extract only what we want to hear. We focus so much on the things of our lives, the uniquely human activities and distractions that occupy so much of our time. Distracted by these “things,” we often misinterpret what Jesus is telling us about prayer – for that’s what this parable’s all about. We focus on our problems, our hurts and illnesses, our burdens, our confused lives…and then, like the unrelenting friend in the parable, if we just pray really hard, and persist, then God will finally say, “Okay, okay,” and give us whatever we ask.

To believe this is to see this parable from a very literal, very human perspective, one that sees God as this sleepy neighbor who only responds if we nag Him relentlessly. We forget, it’s a parable, and God is no sleepy neighbor who needs persuading.

Jesus continues with another brief parable, this time referring to that special human relationship between parent and child.

“What father among you will give his son a snake if he asks for a fish, or hand him a scorpion if he asks for an egg?”

And we all say, “I’d never do that!” — because we love our children. And because God loves us even more, obviously He’ll give us whatever we ask. The trouble is, too often, instead of asking for a fish or an egg, we ask for the snake or the scorpion. Then, dissatisfied with God’s response, we do act like children. We get angry with God. We throw little tantrums and turn away from Him. After all, we asked, but didn’t receive.

Do we think we can manipulate God, that if we ask Him repeatedly, we somehow obligate Him? Or maybe we think, “If God is a loving and caring Father who gives only ‘good’ things, why must we persist in asking? Why do we have to ask at all?”

Let’s not forget that Jesus tells us to pray to the Father, “Thy will be done.” Persistence in prayer – as Paul reminds us, “pray without ceasing” – is for our benefit, not God’s, so we must pray boldly for conformity with God’s will. If the will of the child doesn’t conform to the will of the Father, the child, disregarding all personal desire, must repeat with Jesus in the Garden, “...not my will, but yours.” You see, Jesus wants us to pray for everything good. This is what the Father wants for us.

Then, at the end of the parable, we encounter a gift:

“If you, with all your sins, know how to give your children good things, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?”

What Jesus promises is far better than anything we had in mind. He promises the Holy Spirit, the fullness of the love shared by Father, Son and Holy Spirit. What could be better than that?

And yet, how often in prayer do we ask for the Holy Spirit? Only God’s grace, given freely by the Holy Spirit through the saving power of the Son, can save us from our sinfulness and raise us to new life in Him. In the Creed we call the Holy Spirit, “the Lord and Giver of Life.” This is the healing we all need. Anything else is just God’s little surprise for us. Immersed in that holy flow of grace, what we receive is totally aligned with All Goodness, All Love, all perfect answers to our fervent prayer.

And if you receive exactly what you asked for, rejoice! Jump for joy because you are one with the will of our loving God…your prayer was answered! Sometimes the answer Is “No”, or “Maybe later”, or “I have a better solution.” We can be ok with those answers when we realize they’re given in love. Always in love, sisters and brothers, no matter how difficult and contrary they seem at the moment.

Reviewing my own life, all its stupid mistakes, its sinfulness, self-built obstacles, and crazy moments, I see the work, the signature, of my loving God. I can say only, “Thank You, Lord, for being there always, even when I didn’t realize it.”

In prayer, then, as in all things, Jesus is our model. Recall the raising of the dead Lazarus, and how Jesus prayed:

“Father, I thank you for having heard me. I know that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd, that they may believe that you sent me.”

You and I are in that crowd; it’s all meant for us. The all-powerful intercession we rely on when we pray in Jesus’ name, and conform our own prayer to His. You see, what Jesus is really telling us is that our prayer must be an act of simple trust, the kind of trust you see in the face of a child who knows his parent will never harm him. And like that child, we often don’t know what’s good or bad for us. But God, the good parent, tells us, “Trust me. You’ll thank me for it later.”

You and I can teach God nothing, but we can ask everything of Him, entrusting to Him the judgment of our real needs. It’s our duty to ask, to pray. We’re His children, and should want to receive everything from His hand. But we should ask, seek and knock so that we may discover God’s will for us, and then ask for the courage and strength to do it.

Certainly, we can always ask God for specific things, but more important is to enter into His presence in silence and solitude of heart. For the Holy Spirit dwells in the depths of your soul, at the very center of your being. We can best reach Him only when we grow silent. Interior silence and the ability to love God in a kind of nakedness of spirit are gifts of the Holy Spirit, sent by the Father, and promised to us by the revelation of His Son that “Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.”

Because of this we’re certain of the Father’s love.

Because of this we can leave behind all anxiety and fear, all uncertainty, all distrust.

Because of this we need not worry about our future; or to calculate the state of our relationship with God.

Because of this we can come to want what God wants, to acknowledge that good, and nothing but good, comes only from God, only from Our Father.

Yes, Our Father: not just mine, not just yours, ours. By the very fact that we are put into relationship with God, as sons and daughters of the Father, we find ourselves in relationship with one another. So together, in Eucharistic communion with Jesus Christ and each other, let’s enter into prayerful conversation with our God, to get a real relationship going in our asking, seeking, and knocking, and prepare to be surprised. To be loved. To be healed.

Pray for the healing of those seated around you, and then let God do His healing work.

Praised be Jesus Christ…now and forever.

 

Homily: Year A, 20th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Here's another unpreached homily...but I was ready, more or less, just in case. That's something I've learned to do over the years: always be ready to preach. Anyway, it focuses on one of my favorite healings, so well described by Matthew, so I decided to share my imperfect thoughts with you all.

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Readings: Is 56:1, 6-7; Ps 67; Rom 11:13-15, 29-32; Mt 15:21-28

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It would be easy to overlook this brief encounter depicted in today’s Gospel reading from Matthew. It would be easier still to discount its importance. After all, Jesus cured hundreds, probably thousands, during His public ministry. What makes this one so special?

But this encounter with the Lord was special because it was different…very different. First of all, it took place in the region of Tyre and Sidon, outside the land of Israel. And the woman he meets there is a Canaanite, a non-Jew, a pagan. Jesus, Matthew tells us, is withdrawing from Israel, and she is coming out of her own land, searching for what? It appears they are searching for each other, a meeting the Father has scheduled. And we know that Jesus never misses an encounter at the precise time and place arranged by the Father.

We can also see what the disciples thought of her: "Send her away, for she keeps calling out after us." Yes, the simple word, “Canaan,” evokes everything contrary to Jewish faith and tradition, everything they have been taught to despise.

And yet this pagan woman comes to Jesus, a Jew; and she comes to Him as her Lord and Savior: “Lord, Son of David…” Yes, each has left something behind to fulfill a deep yearning: Jesus yearning to save, and the woman’s to be saved. No power on earth can thwart this encounter.

Are our encounters with Jesus like this? For Jesus is seeking each one of us you just as He sought the Canaanite woman. He will gladly leave the holy places; He will enter into the unholy land of our sinfulness, in search of lost sheep.

But like the woman, we must turn to Him. And turn to Him she does. Yes, her only business that day was to find Him and to express her desperate need in the strongest possible terms. And in doing so she becomes the very embodiment of fervent intercessory prayer.

She screamed out her need, a parent agonizing over the suffering of her child, a daughter possessed by a demon. Without knowing it, this earthly mother appeals to the compassion of the heavenly Father, who understands well the agony of a child’s suffering. Her daughter’s distress is her distress: “Have pity on me,” she begs. “Lord, help me,” she pleads, as if she and her daughter are one, as if her daughter’s distress reverberates through her very being.

She is on a mission; one her daughter cannot complete. She must become her daughter’s voice, her daughter’s hands…just as Jesus became the Father, His hands, His feet, His voice, His Word. Does Jesus recognize in this woman and her attitude a mirror image of His own mission?

And yet, despite all this, Jesus responds with silence…the same silence that often greets our own prayer. Does this mean she should turn away, and just hope for the best? Does it mean she should address Jesus differently? Did she shout too loudly, or not loudly enough?

Should she have realized, as the disciples apparently thought, that Jesus was on a greater mission, a mission to save the world? That He really couldn’t be troubled with one woman’s problems? Was this saving, this healing of His strictly a Jewish thing? Did all this pass through her mind?

We can almost picture her, face flushed, eyes frantic, hands reaching out, pleading, as her mind jumps from one concern to the next…but she too says nothing, her pain muted by Jesus’ seeming indifference.

And yet, God’s silence, His silence in us is one of the choicest works of His grace. Her speculation and worry are no different from that which we experience when faced with God’s silence. But eventually, if we stop speculating, stop worrying, and become silent ourselves, we can come to hear God’s Word in the silence.

The disciples can’t stand it. In effect they tell Jesus, “For crying out loud. This woman’s driving us nuts. Do something, will you?”

But Jesus just says, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." He dismisses them just as He seems to have dismissed her. But this comment only causes her to plead once more, “Lord, help me.”

Her only solution is to throw herself at Jesus’ feet and cry for mercy. Although she’s probably never heard a single line of Scripture, her entire being is intuitively reduced to the cry of the psalmist: “Let thy mercy come to me and I will have life.” For she realized that day what St. Bernard realized a thousand years later, “The torrents of grace do not flow upward to the heights of pride…but downward into a humble, low-lying heart.”

Jesus now utters what to our ears seems a horrible insult: "It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs."

How can He say such a thing?” we ask. Where’s the voice of the Good Shepherd? Where’s the Jesus who consoled the woman of Samaria? Where’s the Savior who died to set all people free?

Well, he's right here, right here in this encounter. He's the teacher goading the student. He's the coach pushing the player to give his all. He's the debater throwing down the verbal gauntlet so the argument can begin, and the truth can be seen by all.

The woman is no fool. She seems to recognize this. She may have no claim on the inheritance of Israel, but she still needs God’s promises to be fulfilled in her. And so, she doesn’t disagree, but in effect declares that Jesus speaks the truth, that she is, indeed, among the least of His creatures, nothing more than a dog in search of its master.

We can almost hear her joy as she plays this trump card on Jesus and realizes what its effect will be. For in her deep faith, and filled with the Spirit, she knew all along that Jesus would answer her prayer. After all, how could the Son of God turn her down?

After all, had she wanted to risk sounding insolent, she could have asked Him what on earth He was doing in pagan territory to begin with if, as He claimed, He had come only to redeem Jews? Why indeed had He come to this place, to encounter those in need, if He intended to do nothing about it?

You see, brothers and sisters, it is this wonderful woman’s genus to have understood the truth, the divine secret, that in order truly to win – that is, to be overtaken and sheltered and saved – she must allow herself to be defeated by Jesus.

She and you and I win only by submitting to God, by adoring God, and by finding that adoration accepted. The whole drama is shot through with an indestructible passion of faith, with her inability to conceive of God in Jesus as anything but an inexhaustible fountain of mercy.

Yes, it’s all about faith. “Kyrie,” [Lord] she cries out four times in this brief encounter.

“If you’re indeed Lord,” she seems to say, “the all-powerful Lord, then you must be the loving Lord of all, of the high and the low, of the sheep of Israel and the dogs of the pagans. I don’t care which I am, only that I am with you. If you’re truly the One Son of the One God, then you’re the Lord of all, then you’re my personal Lord too, and my rejoicing over it will never end.”

Unlike so many who demand that God serve them at their table, she has no problem abiding on the floor under His table. She has no problem with crumbs, glorious crumbs from that table, heavenly crumbs falling from the hands of Jesus Himself.

For she knows that wherever Jesus is, there is abundance; that wherever sin is, God’s compassion ensures that grace is there too, superabundantly. Just as we know that here, at this very altar, at the Eucharistic table, Christ’s mercy will forever be raining those crumbs of life.

"You’ve got great faith, woman," he says, "You’ve got remarkable faith!"

Won't it be wonderful when he says the same thing to you and to me?

Homily: Mass and Healing Service

This morning, after our usual Saturday morning Mass celebrated by our pastor, we conducted a healing service for those who sought healing of any kind: body, mind, or spirit. We conduct these services several times each year. They are always very special gatherings in which the Holy Spirit blesses us with His presence and power. Each person in need of healing is individually welcomed by one of our prayer teams. We pray with and over each person asking God to fill us all with His Spirit and His healing grace.  

This morning I was asked to preach. My homily follows.

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Readings: Acts 9:31-42; Ps 116; Jn 6:60-69

How good it is to see you all here today – here to praise our God for the healing graces He showers on us through the sacraments of His Church.

In today’s readings we encounter a wonderful blend of God’s gifts – of peace, of healing, of sacramental grace, and of Jesus’ continued Living Presence among us and within us. As I read our readings the other day, I couldn't help but recall those wonderfully powerful words of Jesus from Luke’s Gospel:

“Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over, will be poured into your lap. For the measure you give will be the measure you get back” [Lk 6:38].

Now, although this passage from Luke isn‘t one of today’s readings, doesn’t it beautifully sum up the Scriptural passages we just heard? God indeed showers His gifts on us, asking only that we use them for His glory.

But how and why do we get these gifts from God? Do we deserve them? No. And what does God get out of it? Nothing. And that’s the difference between God and us.

Years ago, I had an insurance agent who always gave me a gift on my birthday. Nothing elaborate, maybe a little pocketknife, or a coffee mug, just something to remind me that he was thinking of me. Of course, I realized he gave all his clients the same gift. Why did he do it? To keep our business. I’m pretty sure he didn’t do it because He loved us.

And that’s the difference. God offers His gifts to everyone, not because He gets anything out of it. After all, God is perfect, and nothing we do can make Him more perfect. No, God gives out of love, and He gives lavishly.

Look at Peter in today’s reading from Acts. Since the martyrdom of Stephen and the conversion of Paul, things had quieted down for the early Christians. As we hear from Luke: 

"The church throughout all Judea, Galilee, and Samaria was at peace." [Acts 9:31]

Peter, then, leaves Jerusalem to spread the Gospel throughout Judea, and heads for the towns along the coast. In Lydda he encounters Aeneas, a man paralyzed and bedridden for years. And don’t you just love what Peter says to him?

“Aeneas, Jesus Christ heals you. Get up and make your bed” [Acts 9:34].

In other words, Peter tells him, it is not I, but the living Lord, Jesus Christ, who heals you. And so, rise! Rise to new life! And make that bed of yours because you will no longer need it during the day.

In the Gospel we catch brief glimpses of this strong and faithful Peter, this man so sure of himself…Indeed, John shows us this side of Peter in today’s Gospel passage. Many disciples had abandoned Jesus because they couldn’t accept His revelation, His Eucharistic promise, the gift of Himself, Body and Blood…

Our Lord then turned to the 12 and asked: “Do you also want to leave?” And it’s Peter who responded with those powerful, faithful words: “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

Yes, the strong, faithful Peter…well, sometimes, until things got rough. But then, with Pentecost, with the arrival of the Holy Spirit, everything changed, including Peter. Filled with and driven by the Holy Spirit, Peter is a changed man. And this is the Peter we encounter in Acts.

The healing of Aeneas brought many conversions in the local towns, and led the people of another town, Joppa, to send for Peter. It seems Tabitha, a holy, generous, much loved woman, had died. Peter arrives and finds her ready for burial, her body washed and laid out in an upper room. He clears the room, kneels, prays, and says to the dead woman: “Tabitha, rise up!” She does. And taking her hand he presents her to her friends, alive. Once again, faith in Jesus Christ spreads as many in Joppa come to believe.

The miracles, the healings and restoring of life, are signs of the presence of God in the living Jesus Christ preached by Peter. People are baptized. And so, the sacraments, too, manifested by visible, outward signs that point to something far greater than themselves, become the source of God’s healing graces.

But turning again to today’s Gospel passage, John tells us that many couldn’t accept the Word of the Word Incarnate. “Eat my body. Drink my blood.” Hard words, indeed.

But, Jesus asked them, if you can’t accept this, how can you possibly accept my Resurrection and Ascension to the Father? In other words, it all demands an act of faith. For faith, too, is a gift, open and available to all, to all who are open to receive it.

As John reveals to us, the Twelve at least were open, accepting the Word of “the Holy One of God,” the Messiah, God’s Chosen One. Peter answered Jesus’ question with his own question: “Lord, to whom shall we go?” You see, sisters and brothers, once we accept the gift of faith, there’s only one answer to Peter’s question. We can go to no one, but Jesus Himself.

Because of our faith, our trust in Jesus, His healing and life-giving work continues among us still. Just as Jesus, through the prayer and faith of Peter, brought healing and life to others, so too does Our Lord make each of us a source of healing.

Without faith, prayer is empty, like the self-centered prayer of the Pharisee who prayed only to himself. And remember what happened when Jesus visited his hometown of Nazareth?

“…he did not work many mighty deeds there because of their lack of faith” [Mt 13:58].

Yes, without faith, healing doesn’t happen; without faith sacraments are seen as mere symbols, signs pointing to nothing. But when we are filled with faith, our prayer, especially our communal intercessory prayer, is very powerful indeed.

Our faith, then, is at the heart of it, isn’t it? Yes, indeed, faith must be there, but something else as well: our love.

We see this with the Twelve. Their faith often wavered, but not their love. Even in their denials and their fears, in their mistakes, their lack of understanding, in their pride, and their arguments…throughout it all, they continued to love Jesus. As he often did, St. Augustine said it well.

“This is what love is all about: to obey and believe the one you love.”

You know, God really doesn’t ask very much of us. He likes to simplify things. We’re the ones who tend to complicate it all. Because you are faithful, He says, love Me with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength. And love your neighbor as yourself. Not very complicated.

So, you’re here for healing today? Well, take a look at those sitting next to you, your neighbors. They’re here for healing too. Have you prayed for them, for their healing?  

In a little while, you will see the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ raised up from this altar. And as you consume that gift, as Jesus becomes one with you, thank God for His presence and pray for your neighbor’s healing.

Yes, Jesus calls us to come to Him, to know and love Him as He knows and loves us. In calling us to Himself He also sends us into the world afire with the flame of His love.

Lord Jesus, you have the words of everlasting life. Help us to cast aside all doubt and fear so that we may embrace your word with trust and joy. Help us surrender all to you…measure for measure.

Homily: Mass and Healing Service - 11/12/2022

Readings: 3 Jn:5-8; Ps 112; Lk 18:18

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Today’s readings are all about faith, and prayer, and healing; but, essentially, they’re really about faith. Without faith, prayer is empty, like the self-centered prayer of the publican who prayed only to himself. And remember what happened when Jesus visited his hometown of Nazareth?

“…he did not work many mighty deeds there because of their lack of faith” [Mt 13:58].

Yes, without faith, healing doesn’t happen. Faith, then, is at the heart of it, isn’t it? Even though we’re all in need of healing, it’s through our faith we can cry out to God in our need.

But in our relativistic, politically correct world, faith is seen as little more than superstition. I’m speaking, of course, about supernatural faith, not natural faith in what others tell us and do. We express natural faith: faith that the plane we’re in will get us safely to our destination; faith that my phone calls the right number, that the pharmacist gave me the right prescription; faith that Mongolia exists, even though I’ve never been there; faith that the other driver will stop at the stop sign. Human, natural faith drives almost everything we do.

But supernatural faith is our free assent to all that God has revealed, all which we profess in the Creed, that which we celebrate here today. As Scripture reminds us, 

“Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” [Heb 11:1].

Supernatural faith is a gift from God, one that calls for obedience, but obedience demands humility. Those who live in a world without humility, a world that needs no God, simply reject the gift of faith. They can neither accept what God has promised, nor believe He actually loved them into existence. Lacking faith, they face the world alone, and afraid.

Some of us here today are afraid: afraid because of an illness; afraid of getting old; afraid of death. Some of us are afraid because our lives haven’t turned out quite the way we’d planned, and we fear an unknown future. Some of us are plagued by guilt, and guilt breeds doubt and fear in our hearts. Some of us can’t accept forgiveness because we are unable to forgive others, or to forgive ourselves. And so, the doubts and fears remain. There’s a beautiful verse from Psalm 95: 

"If today you hear His voice, harden not your hearts" [Ps 95: 7-8].

Well, His voice is calling us, calling you and me, calling each of us individually. But hardened hearts are unlikely to listen to or even hear His voice. That’s what Satan does when he attacks our faith; he does it through doubt and fear. And that’s why Jesus tells us so often: “Be not afraid.”

And doubts? Don’t let them trouble you. Even the Apostles doubted, when their faith should have been strongest. At the very end of Matthew’s Gospel, as the 11 accompanied the Risen Jesus to the mountaintop, immediately before His Ascension, Matthew reveals:

“When they saw him, they worshiped, but they doubted” [Mt 28:17].

Remarkable, isn’t it? It’s why the Risen Jesus, after confronting Thomas and his doubts, says to us:

“Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed” [Jn 20:29].

And that’s you and me. We are blessed.

Let me share an experienced from a few years ago. The deacons in my previous parish on Cape Cod conducted a weekly Liturgy of the Word with Holy Communion at a local nursing home. After the liturgy, if we had time, we usually helped our volunteers return the residents to their rooms.

Well, one day I was pushing Teresa in her wheelchair. Now, I’d known Teresa for several years. She was in her early 90s, but had recently started to have some mild memory problems. But one thing hadn’t changed: Teresa talked incessantly. It didn’t always make complete sense, but it never stopped.

On this particular day as we approached the elevator, Teresa was chattering away when we encountered Connie. Connie, also in her 90s, stood in the center of the corridor, but was screaming, loudly. Teresa asked me to stop the wheelchair, and then reaching out she touched Connie’s forearm, rubbing it gently, not saying a word. The three of us remained there for what seemed like an eternity – Connie screaming, Teresa rubbing, and I wondering how long this would go on. But then Connie’s screaming eased and soon stopped completely. She became very calm. Teresa gave her arm a final squeeze and said quietly, “We can go now.”

I wheeled her into the elevator and as soon as the door closed, she said, “Connie’s OK, she’s just afraid because she doesn’t have much faith.” She then went on talking about how good the lasagna had been the night before.

Whenever I read today’s Gospel passage from Luke, I inevitably think of that day, about Connie's fears and her lack of faith, and about Teresa's faith and her lack of fear. You see, at the very end of that Gospel passage Jesus asked a rather frightening question:

“But when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” [Lk 18:8]

If we’re here on that day, will you and I be another Teresa or another Connie? Of course, I learned something else in that nursing home. I learned that faith is contagious. Through her faith Teresa calmed Connie’s fears, helping her accept God’s gift of faith. And, not surprisingly, Teresa taught me my own faith was far from perfect.

God, you see, gives us this wondrous gift so we can share it with others, just as Teresa shared it with Connie and me. This is how much God loves us. He loves us so much that He entrusts us to share this most valuable gift with everyone we encounter.

Teresa recognized something else. She had come to understand that God calls us to do one thing in this life: to serve Him and His people. We’re called to be servants, expecting nothing in return. God doesn't promise his servants safety. He doesn't promise us long and happy lives. He doesn't promise success, or fame, or wealth, or beautiful children, or a nice home. 

God promises us one enduring thing: eternal life, which is the greatest gift He could ever give us. He also told us that to achieve eternal life, to collect on this promise, we must love Him in return, and do His will. That can mean carrying our cross.

Now, you might think this is a strange thing to say right before a healing service. After all, shouldn’t we be talking about healing rather than cross-bearing? Shouldn’t we be like the widow in today’s Gospel passage? Through persistence didn’t she ultimately get exactly what she wanted? Yes, but how does Jesus explain this parable to the disciples? Listen again…

“Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night? Will he be slow to answer them? I tell you, he will see to it that justice is done for them speedily” [Lk 18:7-8].

Did you hear the promise? You can expect justice from God – not man’s justice, but divine justice. And His justice is an enduring, eternal justice, always tempered with mercy. If we have a faith that endures, a faith that refuses to give up even when all else has been taken from us, God will bless us with His justice and mercy.

What form this justice and mercy will take, we don’t know…and so we leave that up to God, for He knows what is best for each of us. But the faith that endures is the faith Jesus showed us, a faith that persisted to the end, even as He hung on the Cross.

Jesus’ sacrificial act of faith was for us; it was for our salvation. This is the Good News. Our God loves us so much, He’s willing to die for us...which begs the question: what are we willing to do for Him? Fortunately, Jesus answers this for us: We must serve. How did John put it in our first reading?

“Please help them in a way worthy of God to continue their journey” [3 Jn 1:6].

Here again, then, we called to serve, even as we ourselves beg for God’s mercy. In other words, those of us who seek healing must also become healers. I’ll repeat that: if you seek healing, you must become a healer, and a forgiver. That’s right, all of us here today for healing are called to be healers and forgivers of others.

Think of what that means. Do we spend our days and our nights wrapped up in ourselves, thinking only of our own brokenness, our own fears and doubts, our own need for healing, thinking about those who have hurt or offended us?

Or do we follow the example of our Savior? Do we reach out to others, as Jesus reaches out on the Cross, helping them overcome their fears by extending God’s love.

John also promised that “perfect love drives out fear” [1 Jn 4:18] and only God’s love is perfect. But just as we are called to share the gift of faith, God expects us to spread his perfect love throughout the world, at least in the tiny slice of the world in which God has placed us.

Today, as you come forward in need of God’s healing touch, carry all those you know in need of healing, all those in need of forgiveness…carry them with you and lay them at the foot of the Cross.

Brothers and sisters, become healers, ambassadors of God’s love and forgiveness.

God’s peace…