Homily: Saturday, 17th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Jer 26:11-16,24; Ps 69; Mt 14:1-12

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Today, in addition to our Saturday memorial for the Blessed Mother, we celebrate St. Peter Chrysologus, a fifth-century bishop and doctor of the Church also known as a gifted preacher. I’ve read a few of his homilies and suspect they likely lasted an hour or more. Aren’t you glad he’s not preaching here today…or maybe not.

Anyway, as I read Psalm 69 yesterday, today’s responsorial psalm, I was reminded of something that happened to me long ago. It was these words by the psalmist that struck me:

Let not the abyss swallow me up…

Yes, these words brought back an odd and old memory.

Many years ago, when I was a young naval officer, one Sunday afternoon the captain of our ship decided to give the crew a treat. He stopped the ship, right there in the middle of the South Pacific, rigged up a ladder to a small floating dock, lowered a boat with a rifleman to watch out for sharks, and had a swim call. Most of the crew preferred to stay aboard ship and take advantage of the flight deck barbeque, but I thought a dip in the ocean would be just the thing on a steamy hot day.

Now it’s one thing to travel over deep water in a ship or to fly over it, and it’s something quite different to immerse oneself in it physically – to experience it up close and personal, so to speak. I admit, when I dove off the dock into crystal clear blue water, it was refreshingly wonderful. And then, after a few minutes, I made the mistake of dunking my head under water looking straight down. 

The sun was almost directly above, so the sunlight formed a kind of funnel, a vortex of light beneath me going down into the darkness with my legs dangling there in the midst of it. It was a remarkable, almost breathtaking, experience, looking down through that narrowing cone of light into the seemingly infinite darkness of the ocean. As I hovered, almost paralyzed by the experience, I recalled that the ocean there was a good four to five miles deep. For a moment I felt completely alone, totally vulnerable, something that in my usual arrogance and self-confidence I had never before experienced. With no reference other than myself and the vastness of the ocean, for the first time in my life I was aware of how small and fragile I really was.

How long did I hover there staring down into that deep water? I don’t know, but eventually I needed to breathe. I broke the surface and felt this tremendous sense of relief to see others swimming around me with the huge bulk of the aircraft carrier only fifty yards away. I swam back to the little dock and climbed up that 70-foot ladder in record time. And, you know, in all the years since I’ve never again felt the need to go swimming in mid-ocean, to enter that deep water, a stare into the abyss.

I suppose the lives of the prophets – John the Baptist, Jeremiah, and all the rest – were a constant reliving of that experience that I had for just a moment. They stared down into the abyss, into the abyss of hatred, not knowing if they’d even survive another day, all the while struggling to trust that God would care for them. “Let not the abyss swallow me up.”

Herod Antipas was not unlike the priests and false prophets of Jeremiah’s time. The true prophets, men like Jeremiah, those who spoke God’s Word…oh, they were easy to hate because the truth they spoke cut to the very core. The world could ignore them only so long, because what they said was so disturbing to all those well-planned lives.

And that call to repentance? To re-think everything. To change. To set aside my comfortable life and look into the abyss? To trust, to put my faith to the test. Yes, like Herod and the rest, too often you and I fear and resist the change that God calls to us.

Ironically, sometimes it’s the very goodness of our lives that keeps us from responding – family, friends, health, freedom, safety…all just going so well. Being comfortable here, in a bright, well-manicured community that we hope mirrors our own lives…yes, indeed, it can keep us from listening to what God calls us to do.

We look outward at an unjust world, shake our heads, and give thanks that we’re somewhat isolated from it all. It’s the same kind of world that rejected Jesus. A world governed by pride, where that same lack of humility leads so many to believe they don’t need the God who created them out of love. And as we look at that world, you and I sense a certain guilt because we are so blessed. Perhaps what we really need is a deeper sense of humility, as St. Thérèse once wrote, "My task was simplified the moment I realized I could do nothing by myself."

Perhaps we should just step into that unjust world, put God’s light on the lampstand and let it shine into the lives of those around us. Hard to believe, but you and I are called to be prophets, called to be God’s messengers, to be His voice in the tiny slice of the world where He’s placed us. We need fear nothing, not even the abyss; for when you and I respond to God's word with faith and obedience, we are changed, and made "new creations" in Christ.

For some of us, time is running out, so I guess we’d better get busy.

Homily: Saturday, 17th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Lv 25:1,8-17; Ps 67; Mt 14:1-12

When we view this Gospel passage in context we find Matthew, in these verses and those that precede and follow them, offering us a litany of rejections. We encounter scribes and Pharisees, priests and kings, and even ordinary folks, all rejecting Jesus. Each seemed to reject Jesus out of a kind of personal pride, that same lack of humility that plagues the human race and leads us to believe we are such independent beings we really don't need the God who created us out of love. Perhaps we can learn something about ourselves from all these rejections.

Teachers, those scribes and Pharisees, wanted recognition and respect for their knowledge and scholarship. They certainly didn't want to be criticized and embarrassed by Jesus, this nobody from Nazareth.

Priests and Levites wanted to be admired by the people as holy and justified, and not called out in public as hypocrites.

A king, even a small-time king like Herod Antipas, wanted to satisfy his every desire and exerted his power over others to do so.

Even the crowds, the ordinary folks, wanted to escape the anonymity and banality of their everyday lives. But they simply couldn't accept that one of their own was something very special.

It's as if Matthew ran all these people by us, one after another, so we can identify our reasons for rejecting Jesus  Although their reasons may differ, they all suffered from the same spiritual sickness that prevented them from recognizing Jesus as He truly is. They're just so wrapped up in themselves, so tightly wrapped, that their minds and hearts can't accept what their senses tell them. As for us, whether we accept Jesus with faith or reject Him with indifference, our choice, like these others, will reflect our circumstances and our desires.

John Chastises Herod

Just look at Herod Antipas and his desires, his weaknesses, his fears. Matthew presents this son of Herod the Great as a fearful man, one so afraid of John the Baptist's moral authority that he must shut him up by locking him up. We encounter a self-important, power-hungry, lustful little man, whose shabbiness symbolizes the evil and sin that ruled his life. Herod killed John to satisfy his lust and his pride, and then in a communion of evil, a self-absorbed celebration of his birthday, had John's head brought to Salome, his niece and stepdaughter, on a platter.

Salome with the Head of John the Baptist

But even Herod had a conscience, though grossly deformed and deformed by fear. We see it in his fear, not a fear of God, but a fear that this Jesus, who has such mighty powers, might be John resurrected.

Indeed, speaking of John, Herod uttered those words that seem blasphemous from one such as Herod, the same words the angel spoke to the women at Jesus' tomb:

"He has been raised from the dead" [Mt 14:2; 28:6].

But Herod couldn't bear the thought of God and His justice, or even His mercy. Perhaps he hoped that this evil distortion of the true Resurrection would free him of the guilt he carries for John's murder and so much else. 

Yes, indeed, Satan was working overtime in Herod's palace. Herod wanted a world safe for his desires and will do anything to maintain it. This becomes clear by the verbs Matthew uses to describe Herod's actions: arrested, bound, imprisoned, feared, killed, beheaded.

Are we all like Herod? One would hope not, but I can speak only for myself, where the difference is perhaps just a matter of degree. What Herod lacked, and what every sinner lacks is the virtue of humility, the one virtue that drives all the others.

And so perhaps each day, as we wake and greet our loving God, we should thank Him for making us so dependent on His love. How did God put it to Moses at the end of our first reading? 

"...stand in fear of your God. I, the LORD, am your God" [Lv 25:17]. 

Yes, stand in fear, in awe, of our God. Thank Him for our smallness, for our weakness, and for the gift of recognizing the presence of His love, His greatness, in all the others we encounter.

And perhaps, too, we should do the same at the end of each day, thanking Him for all the opportunities to share His love, and repenting for those opportunities we ignored. Then, like John, we too can be joyful as we pray: 

"He must increase; I must decrease" [Jn 3:30].

Homily: Saturday, 17th Week of Ordinary Time - Year 2

Note: The following is a homily unpreached. One of our visiting priests always celebrated our parish's Saturday morning Mass and always asked the assisting deacon to preach. But he is no longer with us, so that particular preaching opportunity left with him. I had already prepared this homily so I thought I should share it with my small but faithful group of followers. God's peace...
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Readings: Jer 26:11-16, 24; Mt 14:1-12
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Matthew, in these verses and in those that precede and follow, seems to offer us a litany of rejections, as we encounter scribes and Pharisees, priests and kings, and even ordinary folks, all rejecting Jesus. 

Each seems to reject Jesus out of a kind of personal pride, that same lack of humility that plagues the human race and leads us to believe we are such independent beings we really don't need the God who created us out of love. 

Matthew's rejecters are actually pretty interesting.

Those scribes and Pharisees, along with the priests and Levites, all wanted to be recognized and respected for their knowledge and scholarship. They wanted to be admired by the people as holy and justified. They certainly didn't want to be criticized and embarrassed, or called out in public as hypocrites, especially by some nobody like Jesus [Mt 15:1-9].

Jesus Rejected by the Pharisees, et al.

Even the people, the ordinary folks of Nazareth, wanted to be lifted up out of their anonymity and the banality of their everyday lives. But they simply couldn't accept that one of their own was something very special [Mt 13:54-58].

Jesus Rejected in Nazareth

Then we encounter a king, Herod Antipas, actually a rather small-time king, who wanted to satisfy his every desire and maintain his power. And Herod, much like his father before him, would exert that power over others to do so [Mt 14:1-12]

It's as if Matthew is running all these people by us, one after another, so we can identify the reasons for our own rejection of Jesus. 

And yet each reason is just a symptom of the same spiritual sickness, one that prevented all of them from recognizing Jesus as He truly is. Yes, indeed, they were all wrapped up in themselves, so tightly wrapped that their minds and hearts couldn't accept the reality that faced them.

As for us, whether we accept Jesus with faith or reject Him with indifference, our choice, like the choices these others made, will reflect our circumstances and our desires. Just look at Herod Antipas and his desires, his weaknesses, his fears...

Matthew presents this son of Herod the Great as a self-important, power-hungry, lustful little man, whose shabbiness symbolizes the evil and sin that rule his life. 

We also encounter a fearful man, one so afraid of John the Baptist's moral authority that he must shut him up by locking him up. Like the prophet Jeremiah in our first reading, the Lord sent John to Herod "to speak those things for you to hear" [Jer 26:15]. Of course Herod didn't want to hear them.

John the Baptist Rebukes Herod and Herodias

Herod killed John to satisfy his lust and his pride, and his wife's anger and need for revenge. And then in a communion of evil, at a self-absorbed feast celebrating his birthday, he had John's head brought to Salome, his niece and stepdaughter, on a platter.

Passion of John the Baptist (Caravaggio)

It seems that even Herod had a conscience, though one grossly deformed, deformed by his fears. But It's not a fear of God that motivated Herod; rather a fear that this Jesus, who has such mighty powers, might be John resurrected. How would the people react to that?

Then, speaking of John, he uttered those words that seem blasphemous from one such as Herod, for they are the same words the angel speaks to the women at Jesus' tomb:

"He has been raised from the dead" [Mt 14:2; 28:6-7].

We sense that Herod didn't see God at work in this false resurrection, but that he believes those "mighty powers" are more like the magical powers of Satan and his followers. No, Herod couldn't bear the thought of God and His justice, or even His mercy.

Perhaps this petty king hoped this evil distortion of the true Resurrection would free him of the guilt he carries for John's murder and so much else. 

Satan was certainly working overtime in Herod's palace.

And note the verbs Matthew used to describe Herod's actions: arrested, bound, imprisoned, feared, killed, beheaded...Yes, Herod wanted a world safe for his desires and would do anything to maintain it.

Are we all like Herod? One would hope not, but I can speak only for myself, where the difference is perhaps just a matter of degree.

What Herod lacked, and what every sinner lacks is the virtue of humility, the one virtue without which all the others cannot be.

And so perhaps each day, as we wake and greet our loving God, we should thank Him for making us so dependent on His love.

We should thank Him for our smallness, for our weakness, and for the gift of recognizing the presence of His love, His greatness, in all the others we will encounter this day.

And perhaps, too, we should do the same at the end of each day, thanking Him for all the opportunities he gave us to share His love, and repenting for those opportunities we missed.

Then, like John, we too can be joyful as we pray: 

"He must increase; I must decrease" [Jn 3:30]