Homily: 5th Sunday of Lent - Year C

Readings:  Is 43:16-21; Ps 126; Phil 3:8-14; Jn 8:1-11

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Do any of you watch those TV movies on the Hallmark and Great American Family networks? I recently read they’re the most popular movies on TV. So, it seems a lot of people like these sappy, feel-good movies. 

They depict a world of personal, work, and family problems, all quickly solved by perfect solutions. And the plots? They really don’t vary much, do they? A workaholic or a struggling single parent suddenly encounters someone who at first just adds to life’s challenges. But over time relationships develop, and they’re attracted to each other. But then there arises a seemingly insoluble crisis, followed, of course, by a miraculous resolution, then the happily-ever-after kiss.

Just like real life!

The trouble with real life is that it not only has a present, but also both a past and a future. The past isn’t always pleasant, but we try to forget those unpleasant pieces of it. Unless, of course, your spouse, desiring only to improve you, kindly reminds you of past mistakes.

Today’s readings focus on past problems. In Isaiah, the Jews, exiled in Babylon, had been looking nostalgically to the days of Moses and Joshua, their liberation from Egypt and their entry to the Promised Land. But they were also reminded of their sinfulness and disobedience which led them into exile. Then God, speaking through His prophet, Isaiah, chastised them:

Remember not the events of the past… see, I am doing something new!

Trust in me, God tells them. Put your sins and idolatry behind you and serve the Living God. You remain My Chosen People; and through you I will bring salvation to the world.

In our second reading we find St. Paul facing a past that was hard to forget. Before his miraculous conversion, Paul had been an active persecutor of Christians. Elsewhere, he tells us:

“I not only shut up many of the saints in prison…but when they were put to death, I cast my vote against them.” (Acts 26:10)

Despite this heavy burden, Paul knew that God had given him incredible graces. And so, he could remind us that he was 

“...forgetting what lies behind but straining forward to what lies ahead.”

Paul didn’t forget all God had done for him. And we, too, must thank God for not leaving us where we were. But like Paul, we can’t live in the past.

And that, sisters and brothers, is real life: past, present, and future. And to see it manifested in its fulness, just turn to the Gospel. For Jesus didn’t water down the problems, and the solutions can be hard indeed.

Just consider today’s passage from John. It’s not a little made-for-TV story, is it? No, the situation and the people are very real. It’s about life and death, about sin and hatred and human judgment. It’s about divine forgiveness, about salvation and eternal life.

Picture it: scribes and Pharisees, spiritually entombed by an intractable understanding of the Law, dragged this woman, an adulteress, before Jesus, and surrounded her. They were so sure of themselves, weren’t they?

Yes, they’d used her, this woman who meant nothing to them. The used her to entrap Jesus, whom they considered an ignorant Galilean bumpkin. So they tossed the case to Jesus. Let Him solve this one, in front of everyone, right here in the Temple area.

Should we stone her as Moses prescribed? What do you say, teacher?

A "YES" would deny His own teaching – His behavior with sinners – and also violate Roman law, for only the Romans could execute. A "NO" would violate Mosaic law and show Himself to be a heretic of sorts. Once again, the scribes and Pharisees were certain they had entrapped Jesus.

Just try to imagine how the woman felt. Probably petrified. Is she about to die? Will they stone her? And who is this man? Why did they bring her to Him?

Jesus says nothing. He bends down and with his finger writes in the dust of the ground.

But the mob of holy men is impatient and press Him for an answer. So, Jesus just straightens up and utters those remarkable words:

“Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”

Again, He bent down and wrote in the dirt. What does He write in that dust beneath their feet? Names? Sins? John doesn’t tell us. We can only guess.

One thing we know for certain. Jesus Christ, the Creative Word of God, “Who formed man out of the dust of the ground,” spoke and then wrote words that day in that same dust. And the effect? The scribes and Pharisees disperse, “one by one, beginning with the elders” – presumably those, like many of us here, whose memories are filled with a longer list of sins.

Yes, Jesus confronted a lot of sinners that day. An adulteress, who represents us all, all who need and seek forgiveness. But the scribes and Pharisees represent us too. It’s easy to slide into their kind of sinfulness, their self-righteous judgment of others. How easy it is to condemn rather than extend love and compassion.

The contrast is vivid: The woman, now alone with Jesus, hears His voice.

“Has no one condemned you?…Neither do I condemn you. Go, sin no more.”

You see, brothers and sisters, we are blessed with a God who forgives and forgets. The woman will never forget her past, for it brought her to forgiveness and salvation. But she cannot live in it. For she is all of us, everyone from Adam until judgment day, all of us in need of salvation, in need of forgiveness, in need of a Savior.

She’s the very story of salvation, of sin and mercy, of sin committed and sin forgiven. She, like Paul, like the exiled Israelites, like you and I, cannot live in the past; for all of us are called to a new life brought to us by a Savior, God’s only Son. She must go and sin no more, while striving to know and love the God who refused to condemn her.

No, we can’t and shouldn’t live in the past. A sense of nostalgia is a normal, human reaction to the constant change we encounter in the world, in our lives, in our Church. But to try to live in the past, to focus only on what once was…well, that can blind us to God’s continuing shower of gifts.

The point is, the Church remains God’s community of salvation, in which He acts through His people, through you and me. God acts right here. Through the sacraments, the Holy Spirit sanctifies us, making us holy.

Of course, we can also crumble under life’s challenges, and they come in many flavors: debilitating illness, financial problems, aging, assisted living, death of a spouse, wayward children, addictions, family problems…so many things that can turn us from God’s love. If we allow it, they can diminish us, tempt us to look only to happier, more stable times…

But as Christians the glory days aren’t in the past; they’re still ahead: life with Christ in glory. We must keep growing until we die; for full oneness with the living Christ, is never perfected here.

You and I must “strain forward” as Paul did; and keep dying with Christ so as to live more fully. For the true disciple of Jesus Christ, tomorrow is always better than yesterday. Each day is a new creation in the presence of a living, loving, merciful God.

And just like the woman in the Gospel, we must learn to accept Christ’s forgiveness. So many people don’t. They go through life, wallowing in guilt, afraid of hell, tormented by their pasts, burdened by brokenness and human frailty. This isn’t why God became man. This isn’t why He died that death on that dark Friday afternoon.

“Christ loved me,” St. Paul insisted, “and gave Himself for me.” And that love is present, even in my sinfulness. So, fix your eyes not on yesterday’s sin, but on today’s forgiveness and tomorrow’s hope. Repent, yes, but to repent is to re-think, to change. Repentance that saves is not a ceaseless self-scourging, but fresh self-giving, a new birth of love.

Barely two weeks of Lent remain. If you really want to rise with Christ, repeat the song He sings to you:

“Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth.”

Come to think of it, as Christians, we are the new thing. And it’s far better than any Hallmark movie. Why not spring forth? 

Do so gloriously, rejoicing in God’s mercy, His forgiveness, and the New Life, the eternal life He offers to every one of us.

Homily: 3rd Sunday of Advent - Year C

Readings: Zep 3:14-18a; Phil 4:4-7; Lk 3:10-18

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Gaudete Sunday – Today, smack in the middle of Advent, in this season of prayerful repentance and preparation, we are called to be joyful. It’s a time to rejoice, for that’s what Gaudete means: this Latin imperative: “Rejoice!” Hence, the color of our vestments and the candle we light today on our Advent wreaths – the color rose is offered as an outward sign of our joy.

But why? Why this focus on rejoicing? What’s its source? We rejoice today because our salvation is at hand. It’s especially fitting in anticipation of our celebration of the birth of our Savior on Christmas Day. Two Old Testament readings today, prophecies from Zephaniah and Isaiah, then a passage from Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, and finally the words of John the Baptist in Luke’s Gospel, all reminding Israel and us of God’s promise of salvation.

We’re told to shout for joy, to sing joyfully, to cry out with gladness, to exult with all our hearts, not to be discouraged, to leave anxiety behind, to fear nothing. Sisters and brothers, if you missed that message, you just weren’t paying attention.

In our first reading, Zephaniah completes his prophecy by telling us to rejoice:

“Shout for joy, daughter Zion! Sing joyfully, Israel...

But because he’s a prophet, inspired by the Holy Spirit, he speaks not only to the people of his time, but to those in the time of fulfillment, and that includes you and me:

"The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a mighty Savior…"

Zephaniah was also called to prepare God’s people by telling them how they are to receive their Savior:

“…I will leave as a remnant in your midst a people humble and lowly, who shall take refuge in the name of the Lord.”

Is Zephaniah speaking to us? To us, who have received a mighty Savior in our midst and continue to receive Him in His Eucharistic Presence? Yes, indeed, for Zephaniah’s words are God’s Word, inspired by the Holy Spirit and given to the Church for the salvation of all.

A remnant…a people humble and lowly? It that the Church? Is that us? Are we humble and lowly? 

My! That sure goes against the grain, doesn’t it? To be lowly in today’s world is to be a loser, because anyone who’s anyone strives to be a winner. Fame and fortune beckon and the lowly will be left behind. Yes, indeed, humility’s not something we see a lot of these days. As my father used to say, only partially in jest:

“Humility’s a strange commodity. Once you know you have it, you just lost it.”

You never hear saints talking about their humility, because for them humility is simply reality, the reality of our existence. We are all children of God, none better than the other, all loved into existence by our great God, Who created everything. Now, that's humbling.

Does this remnant of humble, lowly ones rejoice in God’s gift of salvation? Do evangelists of the last days prepare the world for the Son’s return? Yes, indeed, for God so often takes the weak and powerless, and through them does wondrous things. Or He allows us to be weakened, so we so come to experience true humility.

Some years ago, driving north, Diane and I stopped by Jacksonville to see dear old friends, a retired admiral and his wife, Scott and Marnie. I’d known Scott for years, and flown with him back in our Navy days. But now he was dying of cancer, and we wanted to see him once more.

That day, as we ate lunch together, Scott’s drawn face suddenly filled with peace. He smiled and said:

“You know, Dana, I’m so looking forward to seeing our Lord, I can hardly stand it. Isn’t that weird?”

Scott died exactly one week later. And that comment, made over a salad at a Longhorn restaurant, was a gift. Speaking with us several weeks later, Marnie said, “Scott saved me from a lot of grief because he was so joyful about the life to come.” We are to welcome the Lord with joy, however and whenever He might come to us.

We hear a similar message in our Responsorial Psalm. It’s really not one of the Psalms, but a prayer of praise, joy, and thanksgiving from Isaiah. We need only pray again our response:

“Cry out with joy and gladness: for among you is the great and Holy One of Israel.”

Accepting this, we believe our Savior is among us now, and that God is calling us to prepare the world for His ultimate return. We must, then, try to understand what God desires of us. And to find out, let’s revisit today’s Gospel passage from Luke.

Many picture John the Baptist as some odd zealot, dressed in animal skins, roaming about the desert, telling everyone to repent while they still have time – in other words, kind of a scary guy. John was certainly a bit fierce, mainly because he understood the holiness of God, the effects of sin, and so preached the need for repentance. And yet, he was among the sweetest of men – a saint of indescribable humility, and perhaps the most joyful saint in Scripture.

For John had met and acknowledged Jesus before both were born. Filled with the Holy Spirit, John leaped in his mother’s womb at the sound of Mary’s greeting – an unborn infant filled with joy at his Lord’s arrival. As Luke reveals to us: Called by the Word of God, John “went throughout the whole region of the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” We too are called to experience this same joy as we prepare for our own meeting with Jesus.

Did you notice that everyone John encountered, everyone he baptized, asked the same question: “What are we to do?” How should we live our lives? And John told them all – the crowds, the tax collectors, the soldiers, everyone who asked him – that they must live their newfound faith. They must prove it through works of charity, honesty, faithfulness, and justice.

Yes, indeed, “What are we to do?”

Well, God gave us a pretty simple command: Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength; and love your neighbor as yourself.

“What are we to do?”

About 25 years ago, ministering in another parish, I was asked that same question. A couple, in their early 40s, approached me after Sunday Mass and asked if they could meet with me. I didn’t know them. I’d been a deacon for only a few years, but I agreed to meet privately the next day.

We began the meeting with a brief prayer, then the man told me they were seasonal visitors, living in their new summer home. It seems they had just sold their business, a software development company, for over 50 million. My immediate thought? Oh, a big donation’s coming. 

But no, it was the wife who spoke next and said, “We’ve both been unfaithful, but want to save our marriage.” And with that, her husband looked at me and asked, “What are we to do?”

Hearing that question – What are we to do? – threw me right back into Luke’s Gospel, and caused me to ask myself, "What am I to do now?"

I first told them to go to the sacrament reconciliation and receive God’s forgiveness and taste His mercy. And because I’m no marriage counselor, I referred them to a faithful Catholic counselor, one whom I knew would help them. Then I just said: “Love, repentance, forgiveness, and mercy.”

That they were there, together, demonstrated their love for each other. Repentance, though, means far more than being sorry for our sins. The very word – repent – means to re-think, to change our thinking, and from that to change how we act. As St. Paul reminds us, repentance demands change.

“…put on the new self, created in God’s way, in righteousness and holiness of truth.”

Forgiveness and mercy…well, they go together, for they are the most vivid manifestation of God’s love, the same love we are called to imitate. We should, of course, begin in our own families, forgiving those who love us, those whom we love, those to whom we can sometimes be most unkind indeed. 

But don’t stop there. Do what John told the crowds as they prepared to meet their Lord: Give to the poor, not just from your surplus but from your own need. Be honest, loving, caring people.

Called by God as His messenger, John prepared the world to receive Jesus Christ, the Word of God Incarnate. John awakened those he encountered, pulled them out of their complacency, led them to repentance so they would understand Jesus when He came.

And it’s no different today. To shake the world out of its indifference, to heal the hatreds, the divisions, the Church needs us all to be true witnesses to God’s love for the world. Today, because our God calls us all to rejoice in our salvation, we need people of joy – not just on one Sunday of Advent, but every day.

St. Paul, in our reading from Philippians, said it best:

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice!”

And he wrote those words from a Roman prison, as he awaited execution. Yes, “Rejoice in the Lord always.”

I’m reminded again of the words of my dying friend, Scott:

“I’m so looking forward to seeing our Lord, I can hardly stand it.”

Here, indeed, is the peace of God that surpasses all understanding. And this, sisters and brothers, is the Good News of Jesus Christ. Live it! Share it!

 

Homily: 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Readings: Is 53:10-11; Ps 33; Heb 4:14-16; Mk 10:35-45

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One hot summer day in 1941, in the infamous death camp of Auschwitz in southern Poland, the Nazis sentenced 10 prisoners to die by starvation in retaliation for an escape. One of the ten had a wife and children, so a 47-year-old Polish, Franciscan priest offered himself in his place. The man's number was crossed off the list and the priest's inserted: number 16670.

That very day ten men entered the starvation bunker, just an underground pit -- no light, no air, no food, no clothing, nothing…nothing but the love of God radiating from one simple priest. Two weeks later they injected him with a fatal dose of carbolic acid, then incinerated his wasted body on the feast of the Assumption. Forty-two years ago, on October 10, 1982, Pope John Paul II celebrated the canonization of this man, St. Maximilian Kolbe.

Maximilian lived the Gospel to the fullest, conformed his will to God’s, regardless of consequences, and answered God’s call personally, without question. Only a few are called to give witness to God's love as martyrs, although their numbers have increased greatly in recent years. But the word “martyr” simply means witness, and we’re all called to witness, and sometimes to lead radically Christian lives in the circumstances in which God places us.

Sometimes the Gospel message almost knocks us flat with its firm but unmistakably clear demands.

Sometimes it shakes the very foundation of our world, turning our lives upside down.

Just consider the Zebedee boys, James and John, in today’s Gospel passage. Jesus had just told His Apostles, for the third time, about His passion, death, and resurrection. Their response? Silence. This just isn’t something they want to think about. So, instead of focusing on Jesus and what He has just told them, they change the subject, to their favorite subject: themselves. Don’t you just love how the two brothers approach Jesus?

“…we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”

But they don’t really ask, do they? No, then they give Our Lord an order, as if they’re in charge:

"Grant that in your glory we may sit one at your right and the other at your left." 

They simply tell Jesus exactly what they want. Sadly, it reminds me of the way I sometimes pray. Do you ever do that, just give God orders? I not only tell Him what to do, but how to do it.

"Dear Lord, I’ve got this problem, and here’s how I want you to solve it…"

Like many of us, James and John don’t seem to be overflowing with humility, do they? Convinced they had earned it, they demanded prime seats, essentially telling Jesus:  Lord, seat us in glory right beside you. We’re your special ones, Jesus. These other guys…well, they’re okay, but they really don’t measure up, do they?

Like these two brothers, we too are often driven by pride, aren’t we? Even those seeking holiness can fall prey to a kind of spiritual greed. So, Jesus gives them the first of two lessons. Because they don’t know what they are asking, Jesus first tells them what their demand means.

They must first drink from the Lord’s chalice, and undergo His baptism of suffering, something that they had not yet understood or accepted. 

Ironically it was James, the elder son of Zebedee, who was the first of the apostolic martyrs. Perhaps he and his brother would have understood had they actually listened to Jesus and also pondered the words of Isaiah from our first reading. 

Yes, hundreds of years before the Incarnation, God reveals, through His prophet, what the Son of God made man must suffer to redeem the world of its sins. Just a moments ago we heard these prophetic words…

“…through his suffering, my servant shall justify many, and their guilt he shall bear.”

But I suspect Isaiah’s Suffering Servant was far from the minds of James and John. They couldn’t imagine Jesus, in an act of divine humility, emptying Himself, suffering, and dying on a Cross, like a slave, before entering His Kingdom.

The other Apostles were no different. Upset with the brothers, they were really driven by the same motivations: Lord, we’re just as good as those two.

And with that, Jesus teaches calls them all together and teaches His second, more important, and more challenging lesson:

“…whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all.”

Is there a more politically incorrect word today than slave? And yet, here’s Jesus, telling His Apostles, and telling us, to be like slaves. We are slaves, you know. That's why Christ can ransom us through His suffering. Someone truly free doesn’t need to be ransomed, but slaves do.

You see, like James, John, and the others, we too can become self-absorbed, something that will ultimately enslave us, enslave us to sin. Jesus is telling us to turn away from ourselves and turn to others. From a worldly perspective St. Maximilian was enslaved by the Nazis; and yet, in truth, his faith made him free, free to offer himself, Christ-like, and give his life to ransom the life of another.

The call Jesus extended to the Apostles, and its example manifested by St. Maximilian while surrounded by the evil of Auschwitz, is a call to love, a call of loving humility. It’s a message that the Apostles ultimately learned and lived, and one that we must learn as well.

My dad once told me, humility is the foundational virtue that supports all other virtues. Lacking humility, the value of any virtue is lessened. If, for example, a wealthy person gives generously to charity or the Church but is motivated solely by the public recognition he receives, the poor may certainly reap some benefit. But what about the giver's soul? 

And then Dad followed this thought with another: “Humility’s a very strange commodity, because once you know you have it, you just lost it.”

Yes, it's funny, but he was right. You don’t hear saints talking about their humility, because they know that true humility merely reflects reality, divine reality. God created each of us in a divine act of love; but created each no better than the other. Yes, we are all so very valuable, everyone from conception until natural death must be loved and protected. To grasp this perhaps every morning we should all read the final verses of chapter 25 of Matthew’s Gospel, the only place in Scripture where the last judgment is described in any detail.

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.”

Jesus is telling us how valuable we all are, that He became one of us, took on our human nature, so we should see Him, the divine, creative and incarnate Word of God, in everyone we encounter. God calls us to love Him and each other, and in return for our response, for our submission to His Will, He promises a treasure far greater than you and I can ever imagine.

Here I am, after 80 years of a life with very little suffering, it’s easy to consider opting for a finishing leisure and just sit back and enjoy the rest of my days. But then the Spirit calls to mind St. Maximilian, the Apostles, so many others, and especially the world-redeeming suffering of our Lord, Jesus Christ. And so we ask: What does God have in store for each of us? As He revealed in our reading from Hebrews, we can only…

“…confidently approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and to find grace for timely help.”

Yes, we all plead for God’s timely help during these times of our lives, as we struggle to be seen worthy of the gift. 

But only arms that are empty of self can stretch out to receive that gift…just as St. Maximilian did when he held out his arm for that fatal injection. And just as Jesus did when He emptied Himself giving everything on the Cross.

"I am the way, the truth, and the life," Jesus tells us; therefore, nothing should take precedence over Christ in our lives, over His right to rule over our hearts. For that which we place first in our lives – when it is not God – becomes a prison. And that's the paradox: only as servants, as servants of God and each other, can we experience true freedom.

Homily: The Queenship of Mary - August 22

Readings: Is 9:1-6; • Ps 112 • Lk 1:26-38

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Today’s feast, this Memorial of the Queenship of Mary, is really fairly recent…at least in terms of the long life of the Church. It was established by Pope Pius XII back in August of 1954, and coincidentally my folks happened to be in Rome that very day.

I was just a lad of 10, but I remember how excited my mom was when she told me all about it after they returned home. She also said they should have taken me on their trip, and apologized for leaving me and my brother behind. Uh-huh, right, Mom.

But in truth they parked us with relatives, and I won the lottery because I got to stay with Uncle Billy and Aunt Lilly, two former Vaudeville entertainers. Billy played the piano and Lilly sang, and they were just about the coolest people I’d ever known. But I digress…

Mom also gave me a miraculous medal blessed by Pope Pius that day, a medal I still wear. And the readings the Church gives us today are the perfect readings for Mary, the Galilean teenaged girl who would become the Mother of God and the Queen of Heaven and Earth.

We get a first taste in the reading from Isaiah, when he reveals that God will “make glorious…Galilee of the nations.”  Really? Who would ever think of backward, rural Galilee in those terms? Nobody but a God who loves to surprise us by turning the less than ordinary to the extraordinary, the spectacular. And what exactly will happen?

“For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

Yes, this messianic prophecy gives the Jews of Isaiah’s day a first taste of the Savior who will set them free…set them free not from the slavery of Egyptians, or Assyrians, or Babylonians, or Persians, or Greeks, or Romans… No, this Savior will free them and all of humanity from the slavery of sin. He will open the very gates of heaven for us all.

But how does will this happen? How does the Savor come to us? Once again, God turns what the world sees as the ordinary into the extraordinary, and Luke tells us the story.

It’s the story of a young woman named Mary, a virgin in Nazareth, a small town in Galilee. And on this remarkable day she is visited by one of God’s mighty messengers, the Archangel Gabriel. Gabriel doesn’t waste words and he delivers his message to Mary.

Fear not…God is with you…has filled you with His grace…and you will bear a Son named Jesus, the Son of the Most High, and He will reign over the house of Jacob forever.

When young Mary hears this, she responds, more than a bit perplexed: “I’m a virgin. How can I bear a child?” A reasonable question, don’t you think? But Gabriel has an answer:

”The Holy Spirit will come upon you…and the child will be holy, the Son of God.”

And with that, this “handmade of the Lord”, this servant, says “let it be done” and in an instant she becomes the Mother of God.

It only took the Church about 400 years to confirm this. Back in the year 431, at the Council of Ephesus, the Church gave Mary the title “Theotokos” – the God Bearer, the Mother of God. Of course, the faithful had long believed and expressed this, but it still had to be affirmed at Ephesus since the Arians were going around at the time saying stupid things.

And then, just a mere 15 centuries later, in 1954, Pope Pius XII, speaking for the Church declared that Mary, the Mother of God, also deserved the title of Queen. This, too, was nothing new, and most often, on these occasions, the Church simply expresses what the Church already knows, what its people have long believed. After all, they’d been singing Marian hymns for ages, indeed since the Middle Ages…”Hail Holy Queen” and praying the fifth decade of the Glorius Mysteries.

Pope Pius actually gave three reasons:

1.    Mary’s close association with Jesus’ redemptive work;

2.    Her preeminent perfection of holiness;

3.    Her intercessory power on our behalf.

Good theological reasons with which all of us would agree. But for me, and for so many others, she’s simply the only Queen we’ve ever known.

And, believe me, she’s no “sit on the throne” and just look important kind of Queen. No, indeed, she loves to get right into the midst of the lives of her subjects, doing whatever is needed to help them out. For her, interceding is a full-time job.

And as I’m sure her Son will verify, she’s pulled me out of a lot of very difficult situations. And all I had to do was ask. Now that’s a Queen!

Mary, Queen of Heaven and Earth, Mother of God…Pray for us. Intercede for us.

Reflection: Exposition and Adoration (3/22/2023)

Readings for Today's Mass: Is 49:8-15; Jn 5:17-30

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I like to listen to radio preachers. Many are quite good, and I learn a lot from them. But some...well, they're burdened by different theologies. I suppose I learn a lot from them too.

The other day, driving to the National Cemetery in Bushnell, I happened to hear a radio preacher telling his listeners their sins would lead inevitably to God’s punishment. “Your sins will open wide the gates of hell,” he told us. Then he added, “and there’s not much you can do about it.”

My first reaction was, “Well if we can’t do anything about it, why are you even telling us?”

He later softened his message a bit and mentioned the need for repentance. But even then he didn’t sound very hopeful. By the time I arrived at the cemetery, I realized I’d been listening to him for close to 15 minutes and not once did he mention the Good News of Jesus Christ.

I wonder how many Christians think of God only in terms of judgment and punishment. I was surprised this preacher never mentioned the gift of God's grace. Maybe that came later, after I'd turned off the radio.

Anyway, he was right about judgment. Indeed, in today’s Gospel passage Jesus explicitly tells us the Father gave Him the power to exercise judgment. Yes, we will all be judged. But we’ll be judged by a God of mercy, a God of forgiveness, a God who gave His life for us, a God who gives us a lifetime in which to return to Him in repentance. What could be better than that? Do you see how good the Good News is?

This Good News, this Gospel, isn’t new to the New Testament, because it’s proclaimed throughout the Old Testament as well. The prophets, after all, were in the business of pointing exclusively to the Good News. Perhaps more accurately, often enough without knowing it, thanks to the Holy Spirit they pointed to one person: to Jesus Christ.

In today’s reading from Isaiah, can’t you hear the prophet preaching the Good News of Jesus Christ?

…as he tells the prisoners to “Come out!”

…and pleads with those in darkness to “Show yourselves!”

No longer shall you hunger and thirst, “For the LORD comforts his people and shows mercy to his afflicted.”

And our passage ends with some of the most comforting words in all of Scripture:

“Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you.”

Prophetic, consoling words…and so fitting today when so many are without tenderness for infants in the womb.

Yes, Isaiah preached the Good News 700 years before the Incarnation, and gave the world a taste of God’s love, of God’s forgiveness. Like John the Baptist, whom he foretold, Isaiah also walked in the wilderness to “prepare the way of the LORD!” – to prepare the way for Jesus Christ.

For it is Jesus, Who forgives the sins of the repentant.

Jesus, Who heals bodies and minds and souls.

Jesus, Who offers eternal life to those who believe.

Jesus, Who preaches this Good News to all.

Jesus, Who gives us His Church, the sacramental font of God’s grace.

Jesus, Who sends us the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, to guide us and teach us.

And He does it all out of love for the Father, and love for us.

Do we really hear and accept the Good News Jesus offers us? Or do we only pretend to hear, remaining closed to the Word of God because sharing it demands a changed heart? Maybe you and I, every day, need to ask Jesus to touch our hearts so we’ll be open to His Word.

And never doubt God’s love, but recall those words from Isaiah: "I will never forget you." – words intended to strike the heart, words we all long to hear from those who love us.

Today, as we move into these final days of Lent, let’s just keep this simple truth in mind: God will never forget me.

Carrying all the sorrows, worries, and fears that plague me, I will go to Calvary, realizing Jesus wants to share those burdens with me, and I will pray: "God will never forget me."

Knowing that my own death awaits, I will go to the Empty Tomb, and I will pray:  "God will never forget me."

I will take all my brokenness, my sinfulness, and yes, my hopes and joys, to God and pray "God will never forget me."

Then, filled with God’s love, maybe I can ask myself:

“Who is God asking me to ‘never forget?’"

 

Holy Bats?

A follow-up to yesterday's rant about bats in our residential belfry... 

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Today, after the 8 a.m. Mass, as I was standing in the narthex saying goodbye to parishioners, one of my Bible Study regulars approached me and said:

"Read your blog last night, about the bats, and wondered if the Bible says anything about bats. Do you know?"

"Don't eat them," I replied. "I think that's the only bat reference in Scripture, but I'll check."

This happens far too often. My Bible Study participants -- and we now have 100 or more -- are always putting me to work. They assume I'm some sort of Scriptural scholar, which I certainly am not, and think I can just rattle off passage and verse.  In fact, the older I get, the harder it is to remember pretty much anything. I not only forget basic facts, as well as passages I once knew by heart, but I also forget that I even once might have known them.

Anyway, I was aware of several references to bats in the Torah, certainly in Leviticus, but also in Deuteronomy. I had a fuzzy recollection that both addressed the fact that bats were considered "unclean" and should not be eaten. 

When I got home, I decided to see if I were correct and checked out the relevant references. Here's what Leviticus has to say:

"Of the birds, these you shall loathe; they shall not be eaten, they are loathsome: the griffon vulture, the bearded vulture, the black vulture, the kite, the various species of falcons, the various species of crows, the eagle owl, the kestrel, the long-eared owl, the various species of hawks, the little owl, the cormorant, the screech owl, the barn owl, the horned owl, the osprey, the stork, the various species of herons, the hoopoe, and the bat" [Lev 11:13-19].

I found it interesting that the bat is listed last among the "birds." I'm sure Moses and Aaron realized the bat isn't a bird. After all, one look at a bat and you can see it's a mammal. But because it has wings and flies it probably seemed to fit this category better than any other.

Deuteronomy also addresses the fact that bats are unclean; indeed, the passage is almost a verbatim repetition of the passage from Leviticus:

"You may eat all clean birds. But you shall not eat any of the following: the griffon vulture, the bearded vulture, the black vulture, the various kites and falcons, all kinds of crows, the eagle owl, the kestrel, the long-eared owl, all species of hawks, the little owl, the screech owl, the barn owl, the horned owl, the osprey, the cormorant, the stork, any kind of heron, the hoopoe, and the bat" [Dt 14:11-18].

Once again, the bat is listed last, right after the hoopoe, whatever that is.

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Okay, I couldn't just let it ride. I had to check out the hoopoe. Here's a photo: 

...an odd-looking bird. Probably doesn't taste like chicken…maybe that’s why it's unclean.

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...back to bats. I thought these were the only two Scriptural bat references...but I was wrong. There's another, from Isaiah 2. I've probably read these words 100 times, but just never captured the bat reference in my aging brain. Here's the passage:

"Then human pride shall be abased, the arrogance of mortals brought low, and the Lord alone will be exalted on that day. The idols will vanish completely. People will go into caves in the rocks and into holes in the earth, at the terror of the Lord and the splendor of his majesty, as he rises to overawe the earth. On that day people shall throw to moles and bats their idols of silver and their idols of gold which they made for themselves to worship" [Is 2:17-20].

The words are a portion of Isaiah's prophecy describing the Lord's Day of Judgment." It is the day of God's glory and its effect on all people. Earlier in this same chapter we read those famous words:

"They shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; one nation shall not raise the sword against another, nor shall they train for war again" [Is 2:4].

The fact that bats, along with moles, will be recipients of now useless idols of silver and gold doesn't add much to their stature. But the reference fits the situation, since "people will go into caves...and into holes," exactly where one might encounter bats and moles. At least God has given them a well-defined purpose on His glorious Day of Judgment, and by fulfilling that purpose, they serve Him. Let's pray that you and I do the same.

I think I'm beginning to like these critters a little more...but I still want them out of my house.

Homily: 21st Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Is 66:18-21; Ps 117; Heb 12:5-7,11-13; Lk 13:22-30

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When Isaiah proclaimed the remarkable prophecy we heard in our first reading, the Jews of his time must have been shocked. From the time of Abraham, they’d seen themselves as God’s Chosen People; and indeed they were. But for what purpose were they chosen? They saw salvation as something only a few would experience, namely them. God’s heavenly banquet would be for a select few.

Then they hear Isaiah, a prophet, speaking in God’s name and telling them something very different. Isaiah describes a holy gathering where people of every nation of the world enter God’s house. God invites all; all are brought into His presence; all worship the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; and to all of them He reveals His glory.

But there’s more. God tells Isaiah: “Some of these I will take as priests and Levites.” And so, here in the depths of this Old Testament prophecy, we find Jesus Christ present; for it is Jesus who will institute a new priesthood, derived not from genealogy or inheritance, but from faith. It will be a priesthood that ministers to both Jew and Gentile, that takes the Word of God to the world, a priesthood founded by Christ Himself and made present through the apostles.

Isaiah is preparing God’s people to accept the truth that God desires salvation for all – a desire later fulfilled by Jesus when He instructs the apostles to announce the Good News:

“Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always…” [Mt 28:19-20]

Yes, this is the new heaven and new earth that Isaiah speaks of later in this same prophecy. And how it must have shaken those who heard it, who no doubt asked, if only to themselves, “Is salvation really for all these people?” Hundreds of years later, this same question is posed to Jesus in today’s Gospel passage: “Lord, will only a few people be saved?”

Why did this unnamed person ask it? Is he simply asking, “Hey, Jesus, what are the odds I’ll win the salvation lottery?” Or maybe, as a Jew he thought he had an inside track on salvation: he knew the Law, obeyed the rules, did all he was supposed to do as a sign of his justification.

When you think of it this way, you can almost hear the complacency in the question, can’t you? Or maybe he was complacent because he knew Jesus…that as a disciple he thought he had it made...had walked by Jesus’ side as He taught in the streets...had shared meals with Him. Wouldn’t this be enough? Whatever his reasons, I’m sure he was surprised when he didn’t get a simple Yes or No answer.

But it was really the wrong question. How many will be saved isn’t the important thing. The important question, the one you and I should really be concerned about is: “How can we be saved?” And this is the question Jesus answers.

You see, brothers and sisters, salvation is a gift. It’s nothing you or I can earn; rather it’s the result of Christ’s saving sacrifice on the Cross. Although everyone is invited to share in God’s Kingdom, accepting that invitation means obeying His call to repentance and struggling to do His Will. Thankfully, God’s ways are so very different from ours. His judgment and His mercy are perfect, but they are so different that we always question.

Some years ago, at a vigil service for a parishioner who had just died, his wife spoke to me about him. “He rarely went to Mass,” she said. “He fought in two wars, and encountered unspeakable things. He saw a lot of death, some of it he caused himself. I think he spent a lifetime trying unsuccessfully to come to grips with it all. I know he hadn’t gone to confession in years.” And then she asked me, “How will God judge him?”

It’s really the same question, isn’t it: “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” It seems to be a question we never cease asking.

About twenty years ago, I worked for a high-tech firm in New England. One morning a co-worker, one of our young salespeople, knowing I was deacon, asked if we could speak privately. She began to talk about her older brother. He was her hero, a bright, talented, seemingly happy young man who could do no wrong in her eyes. He had a good job with a major public relations firm, and even talked about starting his own business one day soon. He seemed to be doing so well. And then for reasons she could not understand he turned to hard drugs. He became addicted. Within months he’d lost his job and had even been arrested in some drug buying sting operation. Then tragically, the week before, he died of an overdose, which they suspect was intentional. “He was always so good, so kind, so helpful to everyone,” she said. And then she asked, “Will Mark spend eternity in hell?”

Once again, we hear it: “Lord, will only a few people be saved?”

How I answered isn’t important. How Jesus answered is. Jesus took this simple question and used it to teach us about salvation. Yes, the door is narrow and we can’t pin our hopes on being paid-up church-going people. And those words “depart from me” are a stark and chilling reminder that the stakes are high.

But God in His mercy calls us…again, and again, and again. Only He knows what’s in the human heart. Or as we heard in today’s 2nd reading from Hebrews: 

“…do not disdain the discipline of the Lord…for whom He disciplines, He loves” [Heb 12:5-6]

It’s no coincidence that the words discipline and disciple have the same Latin root: discere, to learn.

And so, when we ask that question – “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” – are we willing to accept His answer? We don’t fully understand this mystery of salvation, a salvation not limited by law, ritual, or our own expectations of who will or won’t be saved. There is no formula for salvation. Salvation is a gift from a God whose love is so expansive it includes the entire human family.

Our God respects our freedom, takes our decisions seriously, and accepts the consequences of our decisions, even when we choose to reject Him. But this same loving God has a heart overflowing with mercy and forgiveness, always offering us His healing grace.  Yes, we should do our part, but we shouldn't be too quick to condemn ourselves, and we certainly shouldn’t condemn others.

Maybe when we’re upset about the things we’re getting wrong, we can count ourselves among the 'last' of Luke's Gospel and I suppose that’s good. Maybe then we’re more likely to accept help, help from others, and God’s help and forgiveness.

You and I are far from perfect but when the time comes, I hope we’ll be pleasantly surprised to find ourselves in God’s presence…and perhaps also surprised by the others we’ll meet there, just as they’ll be surprised to see us.

We might well encounter that parishioner, plagued by his memories of those battlefields, who spent a life wrestling with his conscience and with God. Or the young man who in his last moments turned to His Savior in repentance and thankfulness for the offer of salvation.

Yes, brothers and sisters, the stakes are high, and I know the last thing I want to hear from God is, “Depart from me.” How much better to hear Him say, “'Well done, my good and faithful servant…Come, share your master’s joy.”

So, instead of judging others, those who seem so lost, whose lives are filled with pain, instead of judging them, let’s do as Jesus commanded and simply love them to salvation. And offer prayers for those who have gone before us, prayers that depart our time-plagued world and enter God’s eternity where their effects are beyond our imagining.

Homily: Saturday, 14th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Is 6:1-8; Ps 93; Mt 10:24-33

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Today we have a few options. We celebrate Saturday in the 14^th week in Ordinary Time. But we also celebrate the optional memorial of St. Augustine Zhao Rong and 120 other Chinese martyrs who gave their lives over a period of three centuries. Finally, we celebrate the Saturday memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary. So, Father and I decided to wear white, knowing that those dear martyrs would gladly celebrate Mary along with us.

Turning to today’s readings, we find they’re all about calling…well at least in part. Calling is what God does, but that’s just one side of the equation. The other side, the part that really makes far more difference to us as individuals, is our response. And that’s really what these readings are all about, how we respond to God’s call. Now the Good News, and Sacred Scripture is all about Good News, is that God never stops calling us.

I’m going to get a little autobiographical today, always a scary thing to do, giving you a glimpse at my many imperfections. Looking back on my own, confusing life, I realize God began calling me very early. In fact, I was ten years old when I first heard His call. Back then, I didn’t think of it as a call. I simply didn’t know God well enough, and thought of it more as a nagging, not a calling.

Anyway, I had no idea what He wanted of me. He really wasn’t explicit, but He wouldn’t stop calling. Did you ever hear a song on the radio, one that just stuck in your head all day. I think the kids call it an “ear worm” – a pretty good metaphor. Well, that’s what God’s call was like for me. It just wouldn’t go away.

But I was involved in a lot of stuff, so I just pushed it aside and tried to go on with my life. High school, Georgetown, the Naval Academy, flight training, marriage, Vietnam, children, graduate school, my career as a Navy pilot, teaching, a consulting business – it was an intense time, but throughout it all I sensed the tug, the unspoken call. But for what, I didn’t know.

And then, when I was about 30, I was sent to teach at the Naval Academy, I discovered my immediate neighbor, an Air Force officer, was also a permanent deacon. That’s when I began to realize what God’s call was all about, but it still took me another 15 years to respond.

In our first reading from Isaiah, we encounter the prophet’s call. Isaiah spent the first 5 chapters delivering a prophecy to the people of Jerusalem and Judea, telling them what they could expect unless they returned to the Lord. Then, in chapter 6, today’s reading, he described his call.

Believe me, Isaiah’s call was a lot more explicit than mine. No Seraphim flew to me or cleansed my lips with coal, so I’d understand what God wanted of me. No, for me God simply sent a stream of wonderful people who pointed the way: deacons, priests, a bishop, and most importantly, a loving wife who apparently saw in me some faint reflection of what God saw.

When we turn to today’s Gospel passage from Matthew, we hear Jesus speaking to His apostles and really to all who must evangelize…and, folks, that’s all of us…every single one of us. He lets us know that we’ll be treated no better than he is treated. What had He said earlier?

"Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness..." [Mt 5:10]

What did the Apostles think when they heard those words? When you go out and preach the Gospel, you'll be persecuted, handed over to courts, be scourged, hated, and probably killed. Yes, indeed, like sheep among wolves.

Had I heard and through about that, I suspect in my weakness I would have been a bit slower to respond to God's call. But not the Apostles! Their love for Jesus was so strong, His message so compelling, that they went out willingly into the world, into persecution. Because of them, because they responded, not to fear, but to love, we are here in this Church today.

Three times in this brief Gospel passage, Jesus tells the Apostles, as He tells us, not to be afraid. If our love of God is just another form of fear -- fear of His power and judgment -- then it's not love at all. As St. John reminds us in his first letter, "Perfect love casts out fear" [1 Jn 4:18]. Jesus calls us not to fear, but to love, to love as God Himself loves. St. Francis de Sales, addressing fear and love, once wrote: "Those who love to be feared, fear to be loved."

25 years ago, on my day of ordination, as I lay prostrate before that altar in St. Anthony’s church in New Bedford, Massachusetts, I could only think of those words of Isaiah: “I am a man of unclean lips…” Perhaps a momentary touch of fear…and then I heard again the Lord’s response, another question:

“Whom shall I send?”

Yes, indeed, send me, unclean lips and all.

And that’s the same question each of us, each of you, should respond to today. God is calling each of us and continues to do so. He calls us despite our many imperfections, with all those fears that we just can’t seem to let go of.

God is calling you. You need only respond, and He will lead you.

Homily: Monday, 30 December - Year 2

Readings: Is 7:10-14; Ps 24; Lk 1:26-38

Don’t you just love Isaiah? The prophet talks a lot about fulfillment, and usually does so fearlessly, even when he must challenge worldly powers. King Ahaz for example, was not a good man. Indeed, he was especially bad, following pagan abominable practices like human sacrifice, even sacrificing his own son. He did many more nasty things which I won’t go into here. Judah was being attacked by the Syrians on one side and the Assyrians on the other, and Isaiah encourages Ahaz to ask God for a sign. Ahaz rejects the idea, but this displeases God and through Isaiah God gives Ahaz a sign anyway.

What we get is a messianic prophecy: a king and heir to David will bring salvation to God’s people. And He will come to the world uniquely:

“…the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel” [Is 7:14]

Emmanuel: "God is with us."  Our Savior, then, will come to us as a child. God will take human form, becoming one of us. This Child not only blesses the world with God's miraculous and divine liberation, but through Him, God becomes present among humanity and the promises heard so often before come true:

“I will be their God and they will be my people” [Jer 32:38]

This fulfillment is proclaimed to us by Luke as Mary is invited to be the Mother of the Savior of the world. This Jesus will be both God's Son and hers. I doubt that Isaiah ever dreamed of this: that the Word would be made flesh and live among us as one of us.

And so, you and I, the entire world, are thrust into the greatest event in all human history: the God of Creation becomes one of us. And what does God do? He makes it all depend on the agreement of a teenage, Jewish girl, simply to convince us that “nothing will be impossible for God” [Lk 1:47].

That’s just how God works: always calling the weakest to greatness. How did Andrew, the future apostle, put it?

“Can anything good come from Nazareth?” [Jn 1:46]

Nothing much, other than the Savior of the World, our Blessed Mother, and the obedient, God-fearing Joseph who devotes his life to protecting his family, protecting God’s family. Yes, indeed, nothing good comes from Nazareth except the Holy Family, except God Himself. And it’s here in Nazareth, not in Rome, or Athens, or Alexandria, where God chooses to enter our world. He appears in a tiny, forgettable Galilean village, in a backwater of the Roman Empire.

But as the prophecies remind us, it’s all been long prepared, a part of God’s unerring plan, so when Gabriel says, “Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you” [Lk 1:28], we know Mary has been chosen from the beginning of time itself.

“Do not be afraid” [Lk 1:30], Gabriel says, and Mary sheds her fears. But the angel’s words echo down through the ages to our own times.

So many today are filled with fears, fears that try to overcome their faith.

So many have forgotten their calling as Christians, to give birth to Jesus in their lives and the lives of others.

Like Mary we have been called to give an unconditional “Yes” to God’s presence in our lives.

Like Mary, we too must ponder and reflect to discern what God is asking of us.

Like Mary at the foot of the Cross, we can be plagued with questions that seem unanswerable.

But like Mary, we, too, can hear and accept Gabriel’s words, “Nothing will be impossible for God.”

Wonderful, hopeful words that bring us peace as we welcome the Prince of Peace.