Homily: Feast of the Holy Innocents

 Readings: 1 Jn 1:5-2:2; Ps 124; Mt 2:13-18

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More than any other time in the liturgical year, Christmas is a celebration of life. It’s the day we celebrate the remarkable gift of the Father – the gift in which He gives us His Son, Jesus Christ, by having Him share in our human life. During this season God sends Himself into the world. He becomes one of us:

“And the Word became flesh, and made His dwelling among us” [Jn 1:14].  

Yes, Christmas is a wonderful manifestation of God’s love for us – His regard for the gift of life He has given us.

Today, however, in our Gospel reading we witness an event describing man’s rejection of this gift. Herod, so afraid of losing his earthly power, a power that cannot last, turned his fear into hate, and hate into the destruction of innocent life. In a very real sense, these little ones gave their lives so the Son of God could be Emmanuel and live among us.

Like many of today’s political leaders, Herod foolishly believed he could defeat the will of God. Driven by fear and hatred, he became a mass murderer of the most innocent among his people.

Slaughter of the Innocents

Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

Today we face with something very similar, but in truth it’s something far worse. Since 1973 over 60 million of our nation’s most innocent have been slaughtered by abortion. And that’s just a small percentage of the global total. It’s time to stop this child-killing and put the Life back into Christmas, to eradicate the culture of death.

I’m convinced, though, this won’t come about through politics. No, it will happen only when we as God’s People undergo a change of heart, when we all begin to lead the Christian life the Gospel calls us to lead. As Catherine Doherty phrased it, when we learn to live “the Gospel without compromise.”

We can start by following Joseph and obeying God’s commandments – quite simply, to do what He tells us, even if He tells us to get up in the middle of the night and go to where we don’t want to go.

We are called also to love, and that means loving even the Herods of today’s world. Love them into God's kingdom by forgiving them, praying for them, suffering for them, and sharing the love of Jesus with them.

We are called, too, to repentance, to ask God to heal our apathy, our own weak faith. As John told us in our reading today,

"If we acknowledge our sins, He Who is just can be trusted to forgive our sins and cleanse us from every wrong" [1 Jn 1:9].

You see, brothers and sisters, you and I aren’t engaging in battle with people. No, our real battle is with Satan. By prayer and fasting we can drive out the demons of abortion and hatred, as well as the plagues of war and terrorism.

And finally, we can fix our eyes always on Jesus. It is He who welcomes the innocents of yesterday, today, and tomorrow into the Kingdom, and it is He, and only He, Who can forgive those who took their precious lives.

Only Jesus Christ, and the grace He showers on us through His holy Church, can save us from our sinfulness and from eternal death.

Only Jesus Christ can give us the gift of life, eternal life, for He is the Lord of Life.

We must never forget that.

Homily: The Epiphany (5 Jan 2020)

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

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Readings: Is 60:1-6; Ps 72; Eph 3:2-3a, 5-6; Mt 2:1-12

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As a child I was fascinated by the Magi. Who were these wise men, or these three kings as we often called them? To me they were romantic, mysterious figures -- dressed in their finery, perched high on their camels, and bearing those intriguing gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. I knew what gold was, and I assumed frankincense was like the incense we used at High Mass. But myrrh? It was and remains an unknown. I don’t think they sell it at Publix.

It wasn't until I was in eighth grade, when Sister Francis Jane had us read T. S. Eliot's poem, "Journey of the Magi," that I came to a clearer understanding of these three men and their mission. Eliot’s opening lines dispelled my earlier romantic notions of the Magi’s journey from their distant homelands to greet this unknown King.

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a Journey, and such a long journey;
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.

Why did they do it? And why did they alone recognize the signs that compelled them to make this first Christian pilgrimage? 

Again, who were these three men? One thing we know for certain: they were Gentiles, not Jews. Were they kings? Probably not. Were they astrologers? Also, probably not, at least not in today's superstitious sense. More likely, the Magi were sages of their people, men committed to the propagation of wisdom, committed to finding the truth. And it’s this search for truth that brought them to a stable in a cave in the little village of Bethlehem.

The Hebrew Scriptures, what we call the Old Testament, were not unknown among the people of the ancient Middle East. As true wise men, they might well have been familiar with these Scriptures, perhaps even with Micah's prophecy of Bethlehem as the birthplace of a great King from the House of David. Had they also read Isaiah?

“Nations shall walk by your light, and kings by your shining radiance… the wealth of nations shall be brought to you…bearing gold and frankincense, and proclaiming the praises of the Lord” [Is 60:3,5-6].

Perhaps they had, and armed with God's Word, they went to meet the Word of God Himself. Spurred on by a heavenly sign, they encountered the One Who will proclaim the Kingdom of Heaven. Led by the Holy Spirit, they found Him to Whom the Spirit always leads.

These wise men came to Bethlehem in search of the truth, but at the end of their journey, they had a revelation. They discovered that the Truth is not a something, but a Someone.

"I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life" [Jn 14:6], Jesus tells us. When we follow His Way, we are led to Him, the Truth; and the reward is eternal Life. 

But along that Way we encounter the Cross. The Magi brought gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh – symbols of royalty, priesthood, and suffering. Yes, the Cross is there, even in the stable at Bethlehem.

In their encounter with this Truth, the Magi learn that Jesus is not just another earthly king. He instead wants to become King of their hearts – and enthroning Him in their hearts requires a conversion – a change in the very core of their being. Later in his poem Eliot describes this shock of recognition: 

…were we led all that way for Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,

We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,

But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.

They realized they must die to their earlier lives, lives that don’t include Jesus…for this Jesus is not a king for the Jews alone, but as St. Paul tells us in today's second reading:

"…it has now been revealed…that the Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body, and copartners in the promise in Christ Jesus through the Gospel" [Ep 3:5-6].

The Magi sensed this promise – a promise that brings life, yet demands we die to ourselves and to the world. The Magi discovered they had to face something called death at the very moment in which they witnessed a birth. But in doing so, they were among the first proclaimers of the Good News. Today, here in this church, on this altar, we do the same.

From this manifestation of Jesus to the Magi, to the world, we’re led to the celebration of the Eucharist, the living memorial of the sacrifice, the Death and Resurrection, of our Savior. We make a leap in time from the simple, precious days of Jesus' birth to that awesome moment when He offers Himself on the Cross for the salvation of the world.

"…and the Word became flesh" [Jn 1:14], John reminds us. Jesus became man, and this meant He would die. Our re-birth through Baptism requires that we must die with Him by our sharing of the Eucharist, in which Christ is truly present once again on the Cross at Calvary. This is why Jesus was born. He came into the world to witness to the truth that God the Father wants each of us to be saved through the willing sacrifice of His Son, a sacrifice in which we are privileged to share at every Mass. 

In his Gospel, St. Matthew doesn't tell us what happened to the Magi afterwards, but as we read the final words of Eliot's poem, we're allowed to speculate on the outcome:

We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

And so, we’re left with a choice. We can be like the pagans and continue to clutch the little gods we create for ourselves. Or we can be like Herod, reject God’s presence, and fight a losing battle that leads to death, not life. Or perhaps, like the Magi, we can accept the universal call of Christ. We can turn to the Truth and carry His message of salvation to the world.

This, brothers and sisters, is what Epiphany is: a manifestation, a showing. And as Catholic Christians, we are called to manifest Christ's presence in the world by our faith and how we live our lives. We’re called to evangelize, to epiphanize…I’m not sure if that’s a real word, but it should be.

Like Matthew’s world of the Gentiles, our world, too, is "in darkness…a land overshadowed by death” [Mt. 4:16]. Only Christ’s Presence can bring God’s saving light into this world, and that’s where you and I come in. We must, then, be the God-bearers, those who, like Jesus, must act always in love, carrying Him and His healing Presence to those who know Him not.

Let that be our prayer today: that God will lead us, as He led the Magi, to those who need His glorious Presence in their darkened lives. 

Listen now to the words of today’s Solemn Blessing which Father will extend to you all at the end of Mass:

"…since in all confidence you follow Christ, who today appeared in the world as a light shining in darkness, may God make you, too, a light for your brothers and sisters.”

Homily: Feast of the Holy Family (12/29/2019)

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

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Readings: Sir 3:2-6,12-14; Ps 128; Col 3:12-21; Mt 2:13-15,19-23
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Holy Family Icon

How wonderful it is to be surrounded by family. But for many of us, retired here in sunny Florida, our children and grandchildren live elsewhere. Family gatherings become increasingly rare events, special moments to anticipate and cherish.

Just as individuals grow and change, so too do families. Indeed, for some of us it’s hard to remember that our children are no longer children. And yet families, even in the midst of change, still come together when crises arise. Problems are solved, and crises overcome. So often the slammed doors, quarrels and tears, end in apologies and forgiveness and hugs, with the tears wiped away. Despite 52 years of crises, large and small, Diane and I realize we’ve been blessed when it comes to our children and grandchildren. Even though the struggles continue, we realize it’s God who works His Will through us and through our weaknesses.

Now I realize that within many families the problems can be very serious. Indeed, by most statistical measures, the family’s an institution in sharp decline. Not only are divorce rates high, but many couples are choosing not to marry at all. Far too many fathers abdicate their parental responsibility and abandon both mother and child. Almost half of today’s children are born outside of marriage. And the plague of abortion has devalued not only the child, but human life itself.

Some years ago, our elder daughter was teaching 2nd grade in an inner-city school in California. The fathers of half of the children in her class were in prison. But even among the affluent, too many parents devote themselves solely to their children’s material well-being and success at the expense of their spiritual well-being and moral character.

Single parenthood is a fact of life today, and it carries with it a whole set of financial, emotional, and psychological burdens. If raising a child today is a challenge for a two-parent family, just imagine what’s it’s like to do it alone. Most single parents love and care for their children admirably, but it’s hard to be both mother and father.

Now I’m no sociologist, so I won’t even attempt to explain these problems and their causes. But one thing I know: We need the example of the Holy Family in today's world, a world openly hostile to marriage and the family. Today, celebrating the Holy Family, we’d do well to consider an often-overlooked figure in the Gospels.

In Matthew’s Gospel there emerges a quiet, modest figure, a perfect model for all fathers, St. Joseph. Just consider the sort of man he must have been. He was chosen by God the Father as the guardian, teacher, and guide of His only Son. God chose Joseph to love and protect Mary, the virgin Mother of the Son of God. Yes, Joseph was a very special man indeed.

…a courageous man of honor determined to protect Mary’s reputation. Why? Because he’s a righteous man and this is what God would want.

…a man who then takes Mary as his wife even though the child she carries is not his. Why? Because God told him to take the Child and His Mother to himself. And so, Joseph obeys.

…a man who, to protect his family, leads them on a dangerous journey into exile, into an unknown future. Why? Because God commanded it.

Flight to Egypt

Joseph doesn’t stop to think it over; he doesn’t even spend a day planning the trip. No, he leaves immediately in obedience to God’s command. He “rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed for Egypt.” Matthew glosses over the flight to Egypt in a few words, but the reality was surely nightmare. Leaving in the middle of the night, the Holy Family would have traveled many days across the 300 miles of harsh terrain that led to Egypt. Then, as homeless refugees, they relied solely on Joseph to earn a living during their exile. And just when Joseph had probably established himself in this foreign land, God tells him to return to Israel. Once again, he obeys.

The murderous Herod is dead, but in Judea and Samaria, Herod's son, Archelaus now rules, and Joseph fears him. And rightly so, since Archelaus began his rule by slaughtering 3,000 of Judea’s most influential citizens.

Once again in obedience to God’s command, Joseph takes Mary and Jesus to the safety of a small town nestled in the hills of Galilee, to Nazareth. It’s through the obedience of Joseph that the prophecies are fulfilled. “Out of Egypt I called my Son.” And “He shall be called a Nazorean.”

What a mystery! That God, to protect His Son, the uncreated Word of God, should choose to do so through the mediation of a humble carpenter. It’s a piece of the greater mystery of the Incarnation, in which Father and Spirit now relate to the Son not only as Divine Word but also as incarnate Man.

Notice how, throughout Matthew’s brief narrative, God doesn’t reveal everything to Joseph at once. Instead, Joseph remains continually dependent on God’s next word. For Joseph, the just man, is nevertheless fully human, and like all of us must learn to grow in God’s love and grace. He must experience, as we all must, the trial of faithfulness, the trial of perseverance in seeking out the will of God in our lives. Joseph waits patiently for God to speak, just as God waits patiently for Joseph to grow in fidelity.

It’s in Nazareth, in the home of this family, that Jesus grows to maturity.

It’s here that Joseph teaches Jesus to recite his prayers, to sing the age-old Psalms of David, and to read from the Law and the Prophets.

It’s here that Joseph teaches Jesus to appreciate, firsthand, the importance of following the laws and customs of His people.

In Nazareth, working alongside Joseph in his carpenter's shop, Jesus comes to recognize the value and dignity of work.

Learning His Trade

Here, in Joseph’s home, Jesus encounters a man happy to be poor in spirit, to be meek, just, and merciful, happy to be pure of heart.

Later, during His public ministry, Jesus often spoke of God the Father as “Abba” or Daddy. It was from the loving and caring Joseph that in his humanity Jesus first learned what a daddy was.

At the very heart of Joseph’s sanctity is an unquestioning obedience to accept the will of God in his life…and to act on it. And because he obeys, God comes to him again and again. God walks in Joseph’s soul just as He walked with Adam in the Garden. Is it any wonder He entrusts to Joseph what is most precious to Him?

Joseph Hears and Obeys

Mary and the child Jesus remain almost hidden in this Gospel narrative, wrapped in the decisions and actions of Joseph. Joseph leads but doesn’t dominate. He leads by serving – by serving His God and His family. And then his work is finished. Jesus, whom he has loved, taught, and protected, must now step forward into the light of history. Joseph, like John the Baptist, like you and me, can also proclaim: "He must increase. I must decrease."

We Catholics have always had a deep devotion to Mary, the Mother of God. How it would please her if we would deepen our devotion to her husband. With Jesus we owe honor to Joseph; and honored indeed would Joseph be if fathers today would accept him as their model. And pray, too, that single mothers turn to him, asking for his fatherly intercession in the lives of their children.

Today, on this beautiful feast of the Holy Family, let us pray for our families, for fathers, for mothers, for children, for grandchildren and grandparents.

Back in the 8th grade, Sister Francis Jane began each day by saying: “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, pray for us.”

Should we not do the same?

Homily: The Passion of St. John the Baptist (August 29)

Readings: 1 Thes 4:9-11; Ps 98; Mk 6:17-29

Today we celebrate the passion or martyrdom of John the Baptist, the one whom Jesus called the greatest of all men, the greatest of prophets.

I suspect that most of us really don't think very much about John the Baptist, and John's probably very happy that we don't. After all, in his humility, a humility rarely duplicated, he considered himself no more than a sign pointing away from himself, pointing the way to Jesus: "He must increase; I must decrease" [Jn 3:30].

John focused solely on Jesus: in his birth and his life, even in his death. John's birth and life were a signal to humanity, an announcement: the Lord is coming; be prepared. Indeed, John announced the Lord's coming even before he was born. As Luke tells us, when a pregnant Mary traveled to Judea and approached Elizabeth. who was also expecting a son, John leaped in his mother's womb, greeting the unborn Jesus [Lk 1:41].

Elizabeth and Mary Rejoice

Even before birth John was moved by the Holy Spirit to fulfill his life's mission. Some theologian's have suggested that John, at the moment he greeted Jesus, was baptized by the Holy Spirit and, therefore, was born without original sin. Whether or nor this is true, John was still called to announce the Lord's presence from the very beginning.

At his birth John's father, Zechariah, proclaimed that his son will be "prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare His ways" [Lk 1:76]. And so, John's life was totally committed to preparing the world for Jesus, the Lamb of God, preaching the baptism of repentance. 

Imagine if you can the extraordinary impression the figure and message of John the Baptist made in Jerusalem’s highly charged atmosphere. Many Jews must have thought, “At last we have a prophet again.” What a furor he must have raised. Consumed by his mission to prepare God’s chosen people for the arrival of their Messiah, He roused them from their complacency and turned them from their petty concerns to the things of God.

In his Gospel, Mark makes John’s impact clear: “People of the whole Judean countryside and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins” [Mk 1:5].

“…all the inhabitants of Jerusalem…”  Not a few, not a lot, but all. Yes, John had a tremendous impact. He could have claimed to be the Messiah and started a major uprising, exactly what many Jews sought. This alone was reason enough for Herod to lock him up. How did Mark put it? “Herod feared John, knowing him to be a righteous and holy man, and kept him in custody” [Mk 6:20].

Humility, righteousness and holiness were foreign to Herod. And because he couldn’t understand John, He feared him. Fear always accompanies power because the powerful fear that which threatens their power. Yes, Herod feared John’s popularity.

But before John was imprisoned, while he was still baptizing in the Jordan, Jesus came to him and allowed John to baptize Him, an event that signaled Jesus’ public ministry. This was also John’s sign to step aside, to send his disciples away, pointing to the Lamb of God [Jn 1:29].

"Behold, the Lamb of God"

“…the Lamb of God” were words that must have had an amazing effect on the people. After all every day lambs were being sacrificed in the Temple. But here was John, pointing at Jesus and calling Him God’s Lamb, the One who would be sacrificed for the sins of all. How this must have shocked those first-century Jews.

Jesus takes John's disciples  and turns them into saints, into miracle workers, into tireless missionaries, into priests of the New Covenant. John is the voice because Jesus is the Word. John would die in Herod's prison at the whim of a spoiled daughter, a conniving wife, and a weak, drunken king. And yet, he knew his death was necessary, for only in death could he truly decrease, only in death could he ensure the Jesus would increase.

The Beheading of St. John the Baptist

That, brothers and sisters, is the measure of John's life. He decreased to the point that he had nothing to say for himself and everything to say for Jesus. In losing his life, John found his life. He disappeared into greatness, just as Jesus promised.

But Jesus also says "the least in the kingdom of God is greater than he" [Mt 11:11]. What a beautiful reminder for us -- to remember our dignity as baptized Christians, For we are called to share God's life through baptism and the gift of God's grace. Of course, this demands that we live according to our dignity.

Are our lives like John’s, an offering to God? God wants to fill us with His glory all the days of our lives. Like John, we too were chosen by God before we were born, chosen to proclaim God’s goodness through our lives.

Allow yourself to be touched deeply by God’s love for you. Resolve to live today out of love for God, and like John, carry this Good News wherever you go.

Homily: Feast of Holy Innocents (Dec 28)

Readings: 1 Jn 1:5-2:2; Ps 124; Mt 2:13-18

More than any other day in the liturgical year, Christmas is a celebration of life. It’s the day we celebrate the remarkable gift of the Father – the gift in which He gives us His Son, Jesus Christ, by having Him share in our human life, by becoming one of us. On this day God sends Himself into the world. The Word is made flesh and dwells among us. He becomes Emmanuel – God with us. Yes, Christmas is a wonderful manifestation of God’s love for us. It shows how greatly He cherishes His gift of life.

Herod orders the slaughter of Innocents - Altamura Cathedral, Puglia, Italy

But in today’s Gospel reading we witness how man so often rejects this gift. Herod, so afraid of losing his earthly power, a power that cannot last, turns that fear into hate, and that hate into the destruction of innocent life. Like many of today’s political leaders, Herod foolishly believes he can defeat the will of God. Driven by fear and hatred, he becomes a mass murderer of the most innocent among his people.

Today we are faced with something very similar, but really something far worse. Since 1973 over 50 million of our nation’s most innocent have been slaughtered by abortion. And that’s just a small percentage of the global total. It’s time to stop this child-killing and put the Life back into Christmas.

And I’m convinced this won’t come about through politics. No, it will happen only when we as God’s People undergo a change of heart, when we all begin to lead the Christian life the Gospel calls us to lead.

Catherine Doherty, Servant of God and founder of Madonna House, phrased it best when she titled her book, The Gospel Without Compromise.

We can start by following St. Joseph and obeying God’s commandments – quite simply, doing what He tells us, even if He tells us to get up in the middle of the night and go to Egypt.

We are called also to love, and that means loving even the Herods of today’s world. Love them into God's kingdom by calling them to repentance, forgiving them, praying and suffering for them, and sharing the love of Jesus with them.

We, too, are called to repentance, to ask God to heal our apathy, our lack of faith. As John told us in our reading today, "If we acknowledge our sins, He Who is just can be trusted to forgive our sins and cleanse us from every wrong" [1 Jn 1:9]. When we are right with God and His Church, when we repent and accept God's forgiveness, all things are possible.

You see, brothers and sisters, you and I aren’t battling people. No our real battle is with Satan. By prayer and fasting we can drive out the demons of abortion and hatred. 

And finally we can fix our eyes always on Jesus Christ. It is He who welcomes those innocents into the Kingdom, and it is He who can forgive those who took their precious lives. Only Jesus Christ, and the grace He showers on us through His holy Church, can save us from our sinfulness and from eternal death. Only Jesus Christ can give us the gift of life, eternal life…for He is the Lord of Life.

We must never forget that.

Holy Innocents

Tomorrow, December 28, is the Feast of the Holy Innocents, those children of Bethlehem who were murdered by Herod in his bizarre attempt to thwart God's plan. Matthew briefly describes the event in his Gospel:

When Herod realized that he had been deceived by the magi, he became furious. He ordered the massacre of all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had ascertained from the magi.

Then was fulfilled what had been said through Jeremiah the prophet: "A voice was heard in Ramah, sobbing and loud lamentation: Rachel weeping for her children, and she would not be consoled, since they were no more." [Mt 2:16-18]

Slaughter of the Innocents - Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

Matthew relates this horror in just three short verses. How many children were killed? Just a few? Less than a hundred? Several hundred? We don't know. Matthew provides no details, and we can be sure that Herod wanted no records kept of this horrendous act. Today, of course, we keep detailed, accurate records of our killing. Since 1973 our nation has allowed the slaughter of over 50 million of our most innocent, our unborn infants. You don't have to believe me. The federal government proudly publishes the abortion statistics every year. 

Herod's killing of the innocents was met with "sobbing and loud lamentation." Today's killings of innocents are met with a collective shrug. As one woman told me after a Mass in which I had preached a pro-life homily, "You and the Church are wrong. I think the girls should have a choice." 

I didn't mind her calling me wrong. Lord knows I've been wrong time and time again. But not the Church, not when it comes to matters of faith and morals, and not about something the Church has taught consistently for 2,000 years. Her words are simply symptoms of the disease that has infected so many of our citizens. It is a most diabolical form of political correctness, a willingness to be completely absorbed by today's culture of death and to condemn those who champion life. It stems from one thing: an especially insidious form of selfishness that declares openly and without embarrassment, "I am the measure of all things." For unless I believe this, how else can I deny God's will in favor of my own?

A few months ago, during a conversation with a friend, who happens to be a Protestant minister, he mentioned a woman who had applied for an administrative position in his church: "She made a point of telling me she was strongly pro-life. Well, as you can imagine, that eliminated her from consideration." I know I should have responded more strongly, and used the incident as a teaching moment, but I was too flabbergasted that he had said this to me. So I just said, "As you know, I'm a deacon in the Catholic Church. And so I, too, am strongly pro-life. Send her to us."

Radical political correctness has also apparently commandeered our State Department. We hear little from our government regarding the growing persecution of Christians throughout the world. Communist governments, steeped as they are in radical atheism, have always persecuted Christians and will continue to do so. Persecution and oppression are the rule for Christians living in North Korea, China and Vietnam. But how often do we hear anything about this from either the mainstream media or the federal government? After all, China and Vietnam are trading partners, and North Korea? Well, we don't want to upset our diplomatic efforts to bring them into the fold of civilized nations. And so the barbarity continues.

And when it comes to the rapidly growing persecution of Christians in Islamic countries, we encounter a special form of political correctness that seems to say: Islam is good, Christianity and Judaism are bad. Well, pardon me! But I'm a Catholic Christian and I simply won't accept that.

This form of PC wants us to believe that the vast majority of Muslims disagree with the Islamist jihadist terrorists, aka Al-Quaida, Hamas, Salafists, the Taliban, the Muslim Brotherhood, et al. "Don't worry," we're told, "Islam will ultimately reject this aberrant behavior by a few extremists." And yet, as a result of the much praised "Arab Spring," a significant majority of the voters in Tunisia and Egypt voted for these "few extremists" who, among other things, intend to impose sharia law on their nations. It would seem the extremists have now become mainstream. When the governments of other nations with Muslim majorities are overthrown -- Syria, Pakistan, Iraq, Nigeria... -- we can expect much of the same. Christians in these nations will have few options. They will either leave their homelands or they will suffer increased persecution.

Yes, today's innocents will continue to suffer, right here at home and throughout the world. Pray for them and for their oppressors.

Homily: 18th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Is 55:1-13; Ps 145; Rom 8:35,37-39; Mt 14:13-21

In today’s Gospel reading, Matthew tells us about a miraculous banquet – the miracle of the loaves and fishes – one of the few miracles described in all four Gospels. But this passage is actually a story of three banquets.

The first is a birthday banquet that King Herod had thrown for himself. It was during this banquet that Herod had John the Baptist murdered, simply to please his wife and stepdaughter. Deeply upset when told of John’s death, Jesus wants to be alone with His apostles, to grieve and pray with them in peace and quiet. So he sets off in a boat, headed for a deserted area along the shore of the Sea of Galilee. But the crowds won’t hear of it and follow him on foot. Jesus can’t escape, even for a few hours.

Feast of Herod and the Beheading of John the Baptist

Seeing thousands of people lining the shore, he’s moved with pity, sets aside his own needs, and spends the day among them, healing the sick, teaching them, caring for them. We get the impression that Jesus almost loses track of time, and as evening comes, the Apostles, those most practical of men, become concerned. Can’t He see it’s late and the people are hungry? He’s spent the entire day with this demanding crowd. Enough is enough! And so some of the Apostles approach Jesus and suggest He dismiss the crowds. Let them go so they can buy food in the surrounding villages.

"Give them some food yourselves"

Jesus’ response is extraordinary: “There is no need for them to go away; give them some food yourselves.” The Apostles must have been shocked. Feed them ourselves? Has He gone mad? We hardly have any money and only five loaves of bread and two fish. These 12 practical men, these realists, still had so much to learn. They had watched as Jesus turned water into wine. They had witnessed thousands of cures. And still they thought only in human terms.

In effect Jesus is telling them, “You seem to have a problem. Go ahead and see if you can solve it yourselves.” But the apostles don’t hear this. Their faith, still in the embryonic stage, allows them to hear only the apparent absurdity in His words. They haven’t yet accepted that there are some problems we humans simply cannot solve without divine help.

And so Jesus, no doubt with a sigh and a shake of the head, orders the crowd to sit down on the grass. He then takes the food, and in words remarkably similar to those He would later use at the Last Supper, blesses and breaks the loaves, and gives them to the disciples, who then distribute the food among the crowd. 5,000 men, and probably many more thousands of  women and children, hungry and weary, eat and are satisfied.

In an ironic twist, Jesus turns the Apostles into waiters at His banquet. The men who wanted to dismiss the crowds become instead their servants. This banquet, this miraculous picnic hosted by Jesus along a normally deserted shore in Galilee, was a banquet of love, so different from the banquet of death thrown by Herod.

Jesus feeds the hungry, and in doing so, gives His Apostles something to think about. Did they make the connection to the psalm we prayed only moments ago? “The hand of the Lord feeds us; He answers all our needs.”

Yes, the Apostles experienced the miracle; it would be hard not to as they watched the bread and fish multiply in their own hands. And yet it would seem they only recognized its full meaning much later. They didn’t recognize the sign of the bread. Neither did they see how Jesus has used them, multiplying the bread in their hands, not His own, and distributing it through them. They didn’t grasp the meaning of the 12 baskets full of fragments, far more then they started with, showing that the Bread of Life, the Bread He would later give the world, would never be exhausted.

"This is my body..."

And so a story that begins with a banquet of death, and moves to a banquet of love, ends with a banquet of life, a banquet of eternal life. Jesus didn’t institute the Eucharist that day in that deserted place; no, He waited until the Apostles were ready. He waited until the night before He died. But He did provide His disciples with a glimpse of the banquet to come, the banquet at His altar, a banquet that would feed, not thousands, but millions every day.

The Eucharist is a marvelous gift. But how much do we value it? When you are hungry or thirsty, do you think only about your next meal, or do you think also about your next Eucharist? When you sit at the dinner table with family and friends, do you take a moment to reflect on the miracle of the Eucharist at God’s table?

Jesus fed the stomachs of the thousands who had followed him in Galilee. Today He feeds the souls of His followers throughout the world, providing them with perfect nourishment, giving them Himself – Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity. The Eucharist is so valuable, it’s invaluable. The fathers of the Second Vatican Council called it “the source and summit of the Christian life.” And the most wonderful thing about the Eucharistic miracle that will take place a few moments from now on this very altar is that God has sent each of us a standing invitation to this banquet.

Today’s Herods also send out invitations to their banquets, invitations to turn away from God in sin, invitations to reject the Bread of Life for a culture of death, invitations that the world pressures us to accept. But as St. Paul tells us in today’s 2nd reading, by accepting Christ’s invitation, we can conquer all that the world throws at us. With the Eucharist to nourish and strengthen us, nothing can separate us from the love of Christ.

Praised be Jesus Christ!