Homily: 5th Sunday of Lent (Year B)

Readings: Jer 31:31-34; Ps 51; Heb 5:7-9; Jn 12: 20-33

When I was a kid in suburban New York, during the spring and summer months, my mom would sometimes ask me to help her weed her gardens. I always grumbled because she usually called me away from really important stuff, like playing stickball…but I obeyed. If you don’t know what stickball is, just ask someone who grew up in New York.

Anyway, Mom had two gardens, a small vegetable garden in the backyard and a rose garden out front. I’d usually end up in the rose garden, getting attacked by the thorns. I refused to wear the gloves she’d given me because they were pink girly gloves with flowers all over them. Out in the front yard, I couldn’t risk being seen. Some things are more important than pain and suffering.

Mom had names for her two gardens: Eden and Gethsemane. One day I asked, “Why those names?”

“The Garden of Eden,” she said, “far more than our little vegetable garden, was filled with wonderful things to eat, all kinds of fruit and vegetables that God provided for Adam and Eve. It was a very nice place. 

"But our beautiful rose garden, as you’ve discovered, can also be a painful place. I’m sure the Garden of Gethsemane was beautiful with its ancient olive trees, but for Jesus it became a place of deep suffering.”

“Perhaps tonight,” she said, “after supper, we can read about these two gardens in the Bible” – Mom’s way of opening the Scriptures to us.

Thorns Protect the Rose

This memory of long ago came to mind as I read the readings with which the Church blessed us today.

First, we heard the prophet Jeremiah, as he revealed the purpose of all that had come before, the fulfillment of the promises, the covenants God made with Abraham, Moses, and David. All will be fulfilled, Jeremiah tells God’s People, through a New eternal Covenant, very different from the Old. The Holy Spirit revealed to the prophet that God will pour His Law into His People and write it on their hearts. “All will know me,” says the Lord, ”from the least to the greatest.” This is the New Covenant fulfilled by Jesus, the eternal High Priest, the Son of God who offers Himself in sacrifice for the salvation of all, the salvation of everyone, from the least to the greatest.

Moments from now, Father will take the chalice in his hands and proclaim the words of consecration, Jesus’ words at the Last Supper:

“For this is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the New and Eternal Covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

Did you catch all that? The New Covenant is sealed in the Blood of the Son, the Blood of the Lamb of God, Blood poured out for us. Why?

“I will forgive their evildoing and remember their sin no more.” We are redeemed.

As Mom explained to me, “It began in Eden, in that garden filled with good things. But sin brought it all to an end, which led to more sin, to illness and pain and suffering, and to death itself.”

Those weren’t very happy words to throw at a ten-year-old kid, but Mom always spoke the truth to us. Then, pointing to the crucifix, she said: “God made a promise. Jesus, who is God Himself, died for us on that Cross, so we might be forgiven of all of sins, and live forever with Him in heaven.”

Well, pretty good catechesis. It hit the high points and heaven sounded better than suffering and death. So, I asked, “What about the rose garden?” Her answer?

“Jesus spent the night before He died in the Garden of Gethsemane to prepare Himself for the Cross. He saw all the bad things people had done…so hard for Him that His sweat became like drops of blood. And those band-aids on your hands are just a tiny sign of what Jesus suffered for you and me.” Then like every Catholic mother in those days said to her kids when they companied, “Offer it up!”

Olive Tree in Gethsemane

In John’s Gospel, speaking to Andrew and Philip, Jesus looks to His Passion, and His humanity is there in His words:

“I am troubled now. Yet what should I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? But it was for this purpose that I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.”

…and again, we’re reminded of this in today’s 2^nd reading from Hebrews:

“…He offered prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save Him from death.”

Yes, Jesus knew He would have to suffer. But it’s also in Hebrews where our unknown author makes an astounding theological claim:

“God made His Son perfect through suffering”

We ask ourselves, “How could God’s Son need to be made perfect? And why through suffering?” But that’s not all. Hebrews goes on to tell us, “He learned obedience from what He suffered.”

What does it all mean? For Jesus to be made perfect doesn’t mean He was ever morally flawed. No, He freely chose to take on human nature in its fallen state, with its weaknesses, pain, and death; and through His suffering to perfect His human nature in holiness. In the Garden and during His Passion, Jesus allowed the evil of the world to pour over Him, and out of this to create the most perfect act of love, trust, and obedience to God that could ever come from a human heart. It was in this furnace of suffering that His human nature was refined to perfection, transformed for His entrance into divine glory through His Resurrection.

To make us holy, Jesus had to become one with us. As St. Paul reminds us, our salvation comes from God, Who lowered Himself to share our very being, in all but sin. Jesus, then, Son of God and Son of Man, is not ashamed to call us His sisters and brothers. Indeed, He’s overjoyed, for He became one of us in the most radical way: He became our blood relative.

All of this sets a pretty high standard for you and me. How did He put it in the Sermon on the Mount?

“So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.” [Mt 5:48]

Again, what does it all mean for us? Let’s look first at ourselves, then turn again to the Gospel.

Here we are, most of us retired, living comfortable lives in central Florida. From a global perspective, materially, we’re probably in the top 10%. And for those of you still working, thank you. Thank you for funding our social security.

Yes, indeed, we have lives worth living, don’t we? But are they lives worth loving? 

Jesus speaks:

“Those who love their life lose it, those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

For Jesus, loving earthly life means placing it above all else. To hate our life in this world just means it must never outweigh our striving for eternal life. Yes, unless the grain of wheat dies, it cannot bear fruit. Can we die to this life? Can we, too, accept our suffering, the thorns in our lives, that lead to the perfection God desires of us.

How many today make the pleasures, comforts, wealth of their earthly lives ends in themselves? Indeed, we live in a world that preaches the denial of mortality, that offers a thousand ways to ease physical or mental pain, that promises youth even to the oldest among us, yet leaves us spiritually dead.

Some weeks ago, while visiting a parishioner in the hospital, I had a brief chat with the patient who shared his room. His first words to me: “My wife died years ago, but now because of my heart, I can’t play golf anymore. It’s made my Ife no longer worth living.”

How very sad that nothing in his life was more important. Yes, “those who love their life lose it.”

What, then, is more important than our life in this world? Jesus provides the answer:

Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

Yes, our confession of faith is necessary, but also insufficient. We must live our faith. We must serve.

Perhaps this should be our focus during these final days of Lent.

I can’t tell you how God is calling each of you to serve. His call, what He expects of us, is the fruit of our own prayer life, our willingness to listen to God’s Word as He speaks to us. God calls some, like the rich young man in the Gospel, to sell everything, and give it all to the poor. And yet, He doesn’t ask that of everyone. But to all of us, God commands: “Follow me and serve!” Get you hands dirty, brothers and sisters…

Feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, visit the sick and imprisoned…and inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.

All of us aren’t called to be global missionaries, but how many lonely, despairing people in your neighborhood live forgotten lives? Do you know?

How many, like the Greeks who came to Philip, would like to see Jesus, to see Jesus in their lives, to hear His Word, to taste His goodness?

How many are waiting…waiting for you or for me or for someone else to share God’s love with them?

How many?

 

Homily: Day 5 - Octave of Christmas

Readings: 1 Jn 2:3-11; Ps 96; Lk 2:22-35

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When describing the divine and human natures of Jesus, the Fathers of the Second Vatican Council wrote:

"He worked with human hands, He thought with a human mind, acted by human will, and loved with a human heart. Born of the Virgin Mary, He has truly been made one of us, like us in all things except sin...[and His human will] does not resist or oppose but rather submits to His divine and almighty will" [Gaudium et spes, 22].

Christmas, of course, reminds us of Jesus' humanity, that He chose to enter into the world just as helpless as you and I once were. He didn’t place Himself above us. He entered directly into the human story, sharing our humanity, our flesh and blood, our physical mortality. Although a divine person, He accepted everything that came with His humanity, all the messiness, all the ordinariness, all its limitations. It was by accepting these limitations that He could “advance in wisdom and age and favor before God and man” [Lk 2:52].

Today’s passage from Luke is offered to remind us of both the humanity and divinity of our Lord.

According to Jewish law, a firstborn son belonged to God. Forty days after his birth, the parents would present their son in the Temple, in effect, buying him back with a sacrifice of turtledoves or pigeons. On that day, the new mother would also be ritually purified. Indeed, the feast of the Presentation was originally known as the feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin. Here we see the Holy Family, a Jewish family, living under God’s Law, doing as the Law prescribed.

Jesus’ mission, then, is rooted in God’s revelation, expressed in the Law and the Prophets. It’s there, in the Old Testament, that God’s plan of salvation is first revealed; a plan fulfilled and brought to completion by the Incarnation.

 

As Mary and Joseph entered the Temple to fulfill the law, they were greeted by old Simeon who, filled with the Holy Spirit, welcomed Jesus and revealed Him as the redemption of the entire world:

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

He then gave Mary a taste of the sorrows she would experience, for a sword would pierce her heart, a sword forged by our sinfulness.

The birth of Christ, then, is revealed by three kinds of witnesses each in a different way: the shepherds, led by an angel; the Magi, guided by a star; and Elizabeth, Simeon, Anna, all inspired by the Holy Spirit.

God chooses whomever He wishes to do great things, and guided by the Holy Spirit they will reveal Jesus Christ to the world. The Spirit works, providing opportunities to take God’s love to others, an evangelization that begins right in our own families where holiness is first nurtured. In the midst of the chaos in our families there are glimpses of God’s presence, moments of grace when God reaches deep into the clutter of our lives and hands us a present we never expected.

When my mother died, over 40 years ago, our elder daughter, 6-years-old at the time, told Diane, “Don’t cry, Mommy. Grandma is with Jesus now, happy in heaven.”

In moments like this God ignores the barriers and debris we place between ourselves and our redemption, reminding us we are called to holiness.

In those moments, sticky hands are transformed into instruments of grace. Stories of the playground and classroom, or the words of a child to her mother, become words of wisdom.

In those moments, ordinary events take on new meaning and the dinner table becomes like an altar.

These elusive, often sudden, and unexpected moments are rarely captured on film or video. Sometimes, as with Mary and Joseph, they came in the form of words that amaze. Yes, Mary knew her Son was special. What had the angel revealed to her?

"He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High...the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God." [Lk 1:32,35]

But to hear this and more in the Temple from Simeon…this too was something Mary would long ponder and cherish.

This visit to the Temple strikes a chord in all new parents who wonder and worry about the future of their child. It’s a story for every mother who has looked into the face of her newborn, the face of innocence, and prayed that God would help her raise that child to holiness. It's a story to remind us that as parents we will experience disappointment, sorrow, sometimes great tragedy…but in the midst of it all we encounter Emmanuel, God with us.

It reminds us of the depth of God’s love, of His arms open wide with forgiveness and mercy – a reminder that God calls us into families, not just to protect us physically, but to nurture us in faith, to prepare us for a journey that leads only to Him.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph – pray for us.