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: Saturday, 17th Week in Ordinary Time

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

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

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

Let not the abyss swallow me up…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Homily: 2nd Sunday of Advent (Year B)

 Readings: Is 40:1-5,9-11; Ps 85; 2 Pt 3:8-14; Mk 1:1-8

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 "Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths."

Can’t you just picture John shouting these words, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins? It’s a message that resounds today as we prepare for the coming of Jesus, as we struggle through this most unusual of Advents, masked and isolated, forced along paths that seem far from straight. But the question remains: How and what are we to prepare? Quite simply, we are called on to prepare ourselves through conversion.

A few moments ago, Father Nielson, praying today’s Collect for all of us gathered here today, asked God to “let no earthly undertaking hinder those who set out in haste to meet your Son.” This is how we make straight the Lord’s path – by removing the obstacles that we, in our sinfulness, place in His way.

The trouble is, when we pray these words, do we truly mean them? Or are we like the Christian that C. S. Lewis described as praying faintly – for otherwise God might actually hear him.

“Let no earthly undertaking hinder” us.

For most of us, these undertakings, these obstacles, represent the habits of a lifetime, and are very much a part of our nature. To remove them is almost unnatural. It’s not natural to be selfless when our human nature is basically selfish. It’s not natural to love God and our neighbor when love of self keeps getting in the way. It’s not natural to step out of our busy lives, away from those “earthly undertakings” and listen to God’s voice as He calls on us to change our way of life, as He calls us to conversion. For this is what Advent is: a call to conversion, a call to change.

Today, from across the centuries, John the Baptist gives us some down-to-earth advice on how to respond to God’s call.

Make straight His paths…[Mk 1:3]

John tells us to fill in the valleys – those dark nooks and crannies of our lives that we foolishly try to seal off from God. These are the dark corners that we don’t want disturbed, that we think will keep God at bay. We all have some darkness in our lives because we’re all sinners. And only light dispels darkness, the light of God’s love.

John tells us to level the mountains – mountains of pride, of bigotry, of anger that we build up because we think so much of ourselves and so little of others. To profess that we love God while remaining indifferent to the plight of others is a contradiction.

Advent, indeed, every season, demands humility. How can we have a personal relationship with God if our egos compete with Him? To accept the Kingdom we must realize we’re neither king nor queen. Shed the old. To experience what’s possible with God, forget that which is humanly impossible.

What in our lives needs conversion? What obstacles have we placed in God’s path? What mountains and hills do we erect in a vain attempts to prevent him from coming close. Prepare the way of the Lord…by making room for God in your hearts.

Every Sunday we recite the Creed in a renewal of our faith because discipleship demands faith. But it demands a living faith, one that goes out into the world to proclaim the Good News [Mk 16:15]. It demands listening to God’s Word and acting on it by changing our lives.

Christ cannot save us without our cooperation. He makes His Presence known but waits to be invited. As Peter reminds us in today’s 2^nd reading [2 Pt 3:9], our merciful Father wants no one to perish, for He is patient with us, allowing us time to come back to Him. Yes, for us who live in time, every day is an opportunity, every moment of life is a gift of God’s mercy.

Advent is really the story of God’s own eternal persistent waiting, of His plan to let us search for Him again and again until finally He finds us. Until finally we turn to Him and say, “Yes!”

Of course, wanting to change and actually changing are very different things. Because conversion comes only through love – not love as an emotion but love as a decision, for we must be imitators of God. From the beginning God acted totally out of love – the love that created the universe, that moves the sun and the stars, a love that reaches out to move our hearts as well, to bring us to salvation. And the great sign of God’s will to save, the great sign of His love, is His Son, Jesus Christ.

God reaches out to us in Christ. “Here is your God,” Isaiah proclaims in today’s 1^st reading. “He comes with power…Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs” [Is 40:9-11].

This is the saving power of Christ, God’s love personified.

“The Lord does not delay” [2 Pt 3:9], Peter tells us in our 2^nd reading. The day of salvation has already dawned in Christ.

“He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit” [Mk 1:8], says John the Baptist. And this Spirit, once given in Christ, is the constant renewal of the Father’s love.

When we invite Jesus into our lives, when we make room for Him in our hearts, we become like John the Baptist.

Our lives become an announcement, telling everyone, through acts of kindness, honesty, and faithfulness, that Christ is among us.

For many people, those you know, those you encounter, you might be the only manifestation of that Gospel they ever experience.

Never tire of proclaiming the Kingdom.

As we await Jesus’ return and the age to come, let us not forget that a day will come in each of our lives when we will meet Jesus face to face.

Our life is a continual advent for that moment, so let’s not delay preparing for this coming of the Lord.

Homily: Solemnity, Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Readings:  Rv 11:19a; 12:1-6a, 10ab; Psalm 45; 1 Cor 15:20-27; Lk 1:39-56

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A warm welcome this morning to the members of our own Marian Servants of the Word Incarnate, who have gathered here today on this most special day, their Day of Commitment. And how fitting that we should celebrate their commitment as Marian Servants today, on the Solemnity of the Assumption. For Mary, the lowly servant of God who proclaimed the greatness of the Lord, was raised to new heights and glorified.

Yes, indeed, the Almighty has done great things for her. And now, in the eternal presence of Father, Son and Spirit, she continues to do God’s work – she lifts up the lowly, fills the hungry with good things, and challenges us all to join her in God’s work in the world.

Some years ago, Diane and I spent a week in Venice. We visited the Frari Basilica, just so we could see Titian’s amazing painting of the Assumption. It's a three-tiered painting: the Apostles below, gazing up in awe; Mary in the center, looking equally astonished, being lifted up and surrounded by angels; and above it all, the Father, with a crown for the Queen of Heaven and Earth.

Believe me, just to see that painting was worth the airfare, for it reminds us of the greatness of today’s solemnity. (I've always considered it the greatest of all paintings.)

Titian's "Assumption of the Virgin" (Click to enlarge)

The Assumption, though, wasn’t officially declared a dogma of faith until Pope Pius XII did so on November 1, 1950. Even so, this dogma of Mary’s assumption into heaven wasn’t something new; it simply confirmed long-held beliefs regarding the uniqueness of Mary.

In the Eastern Church we find homilies on the Assumption, or the “Dormition” as it’s called in the East, dating back to the fifth century. And in the Byzantine Catholic rite there’s a beautiful prayer that echoes this anticipation of resurrection:

“In giving birth you kept your virginity; in your Dormition you did not leave the world, O Mother of God, but were joined to the source of Life. You conceived the living God and, by your prayers, will deliver our souls from death.”

The Church, then, has long been celebrated Mary’s singular participation in her Son’s Resurrection by which she was taken up body and soul into heavenly glory when her earthly life had ended. For us the Assumption offers a glimpse of what we can expect of our own resurrection on the last day; for it is the destiny of all those in Christ. As St. Paul tells us in our 2^nd reading, we shall be raised up from the dead with a glorified body like that of Christ Himself to experience complete and perfect union with God.

In a sense, though, Mary’s body is extraordinarily special; for Mary, conceived without sin, carried in her body the Incarnate Body of God Himself. As the Council of Ephesus confirmed, as the Mother of Jesus Christ, she is also the Mother of God. Yes, these two are joined not only as mother and Child, but also in a mystical, mysterious way, so that when her life on earth was ended, God glorified her, both body and soul.

We see the implications of this in our first reading, from the Book of Revelation, a passage chosen not for its literal meaning, for still for more than a mere convenience of words. We recognize Mary as the woman clothed with the sun, with a crown of twelve stars, and with the moon under her feet -- as one who is above all creation.

Although this passage certainly applies to the Church, still Mary is Mother many times over -- Mother of God, Mother of us all, and Mother of the Church -- the symbol of what we all should be.

Today, then, we celebrate Mary as Theotokos, the God-bearer, the Mother of God, and Our heavenly Mother. But she’s more than that. As a disciple of Jesus Christ, she’s also our sister. As the perfect disciple, she’s our model, our model of how to live the Christian life, our model of faith and hope.

Theotokos

She is among "the first-fruits" that Paul refers to, the first fruits of "all those who belong to Jesus" and who share in His triumph. We see her in this role most clearly in today's Gospel passage from Luke.

The young Mary, now Mother of the Incarnate God, is told by Gabriel of her aging relative’s pregnancy. In a humble act of love, Mary makes the difficult journey from Galilee to Judea to visit Elizabeth.

Mary, servant and first disciple, is greeted by her kinswoman, Elizabeth: “Blessed are you among women...” Not to be outdone, Elizabeth’s son, John, “leaped in her womb” at Mary’s greeting.

"Blessed are you among women..."

Mary responds in humility and acknowledges the grace that fills the whole scene: her Son is the reason for the leaping with joy.

“My soul proclaims the greatness of the lord; my spirit rejoices in God my savior” [Lk 1:46-47].

All three, Mary, Elizabeth, and John, are filled with the Holy Spirit, filled with joyful anticipation of the fulfillment of God's promise of a Savior.

How fitting for us today, that the world’s Savior was greeted first by a child in the womb, an unborn infant who responded to the Holy Spirit’s revelation of the King of Kings. Mary, then, filled with the Spirit and full of grace, the first and best of Jesus’ disciples, receives wholeheartedly the beauty and bounty of God. Through the power of the Holy Spirit we, too, experience God’s indwelling presence, his kingdom; for through the Spirit God reigns within each of us. 

Think of the scene – this encounter of two gifted women almost overwhelmed by the love of God, a scene that offers us a glimpse of how our God visits us in the ordinariness of our lives.

In this simple scene we see how God, the Presence that holds us up, remains with us in all our human activities. As Paul reminded the philosophers of Athens: 

“In Him we live and move and have our being” [Acts 17:28]. 

It’s through these daily, ordinary encounters with God, that you and I experience God’s tender mercies.

As our model of faith and hope, Mary shows us all how to live as God’s humble servant. She accepted her mission with uncompromising faith and obedience. She acted with unwavering trust because she believed God would fulfill the Word he had spoken. Her great hymn of praise echoes the song of Hannah and proclaims the favor of the Lord: God exalts the lowly and he fills the hungry.

What a gift God has given us in Mary!

And so, today, as we experience God’s indwelling presence in the Eucharist, let’s ask Mary, our Mother, to intercede for us, so that, through the Holy Spirit, we might receive the Body and Blood of her Son worthily, all for the Glory of God.

Homily: 3rd Sunday of Advent - Year A

I've embedded below a video of this homily preached on December 15, 2019, the 3rd Sunday of Advent (Gaudete Sunday). The complete text of the homily follows the video.

Readings: Is 35:1-6,10; Ps 146:6-10; Jas 5:7-10; Mt 11:2-11

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Today is Gaudete Sunday, the Sunday of Joy, a day on which we wear these rose-colored vestments to symbolize the joy that should fill us in anticipation of our celebration of the birth of Our Lord. Looking out at you all, I don’t see a lot of joyful faces, so how ‘bout a smile or two. That’s better. 

Sadly, in today’s world far too many people live joyless lives. And interestingly, the most joyless of these are not the poor, but rather those who are among the most affluent. Having so much, they can’t understand why they aren’t happy.

Back in the seventies the wife of a friend just upped and left him and their children, saying that she had to “find herself.” There was a lot of that going around back then – men and women leaving their families in search of something else, presumably something better. I’ve always found that a bit odd – people going off in search of themselves, when what they really seek is right there in front of them and within them. They search for meaning but look in all the wrong places.

St. Teresa of Avila, whose works are certainly worth reading, made a point of teaching that it is only in the search for God that we can uncover and discover our own true selves. Yes, indeed, as Christians we believe no one can encounter themselves until and unless they encounter Jesus Christ.

But who is this Jesus? Is He God? Is He man? Is He both? Do we accept or reject Him as the Way, the Truth, and the Life? Do we acknowledge Jesus as the Incarnate Word of God? Our answers determine both our entire worldview and how we view ourselves; for once we accept Jesus for who He is, those identity crises disappear. In a word, we find ourselves. When we find ourselves in Jesus, He becomes the very center of our being. It’s then we begin to experience the distance between who we are and who we’re called to be.

In today’s Gospel reading, John the Baptist has his disciples ask these same questions of Jesus.

“Are you the one who is to come, or do we look for another?” [Mt 11:3]

I’ve always believed John knew full well the answer to his question, but his purpose was to release his disciples, to turn them into Jesus’ disciples. After all, wasn’t John the one who said, 

“He must increase, and I must decrease”? [Jn 3:30]

Didn’t John, as an unborn infant, leap in Elizabeth’s womb when Mary arrived at his mother’s doorstep? If the infant knew who Jesus was, then surely the adult knew as well. And hadn’t John, as he baptized Jesus in the Jordan, watched the Spirit descend and heard the voice of the Father praising the Son?

"He must increase..."

No, John he knew his mission was ending. Locked in Herod’s prison, facing execution, John had only to convince his disciples of this same truth. Indeed, this would be the final act of his mission: to send his disciples to Jesus, He who must increase. John’s question was not about himself; it was about Jesus. John didn’t need to find himself; he needed to help others find Jesus. That had been His mission all along.

How fitting this all is. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus had just sent out his disciples to evangelize, to bring His saving presence to others. And then John sends his disciples to Jesus, seeking answers: Is Jesus the One revealed by the prophets, the fullness of Revelation? John teaches his disciples one more thing: “Go to Jesus. Ask Him yourselves, and you will see.”

“Are you the one who is to come, or do we look for another?”

Jesus’s answer, neither “Yes” nor “No”, must have disappointed some, but I’m sure John understood. For in answering the prophet’s question Jesus turned to Isaiah, another prophet. The passage, originally written to celebrate the return from the Babylonian Exile, is also a revelation describing the reign of the Messiah.

Calling on Isaiah, Jesus testifies to the signs that are taking place…by Him, in Him, and through Him. The blind see; the deaf hear; the lame walk; the poor —the outcasts, the hopeless; they all hear the Good News. The Kingdom of God is at hand.

And Jesus adds a beatitude, a blessing: tell John that those who take no offense at me, who are not disappointed in me, are blessed. After this we hear no more of John. Stripped of his disciples, his mission complete, he dies at the hands of Herod: “He must increase. I must decrease.”

The Messiah has come, but we still wait don’t we? 

Yes, Jesus is present and working through His Body, the Church, and He will come again in glory, but He must still come more fully into each of our lives. Jesus heals. Jesus cleanses. Jesus forgives. Jesus brings back to life that which was dead. Jesus brings good news to those who despair.

In a few moments Father Cromwell will pray these words in today’s Preface to the Eucharistic Payer: 

“It is by His gift that already we rejoice…so that He may find us watchful in prayer and exultant in His praise.”

Are we doing that? As individuals, as a Catholic community here at St. Vincent de Paul, are we “watchful in prayer and exultant in His praise?” So many have yet to know the deep joy of becoming whole in Christ. In the words of Pope Francis, 

“The joy of the Gospel fills the hearts and lives of all who encounter Jesus.”

But do we share our joy, and do so with the same patience and love urged by St. James in our 2nd reading?

Our Christian vocation is really not unlike John’s. We’re called to prepare the way for Jesus to come into our hearts and the hearts of others, so that they, too, may "experience the joy of salvation" [Ps 51:14], the healing, wholeness and holiness we all long for and which alone give real meaning to our lives. 

What will be the message others receive about your life and mine? Do our lives bring hope to others? To those who are searching? So many today search in vain, looking in all the wrong places, seeking themselves, but finding nothing.

To those for whom Jesus is simply a name? When they ask -- “Is Jesus the One, or do we look for another?” -- How do you and I respond? Will our lives, our voices, open their ears to the Word of God? Do we give the answer Jesus gave? Do we offer them the light of Christ, the light of hope that helps the spiritually blind see, the light that reveals the presence of God’s salvation in our lives?

And the lame, those crippled by hatred. Or today’s lepers – the ostracized, the cast-offs, the forgotten – those filled with self-hatred. Will you and I take Jesus and the hope of salvation to them, or will they look for another? Go to the nursing homes, the soup kitchens, the shelters. Bring hope where there is despair. Bring the good news to those who hear so much bad news.

We’re also sent to raise the dead, but don’t look for them in the cemetery. No, to find the dead, the spiritually dead, go to the prisons and jails. Put all that is hurting, stained, impoverished, and dead and lay it at the Lord’s feet. He’ll pick it up, so nothing will come between us and Jesus Christ. Shame and hatred and sin paralyze, brothers and sisters. Only the love of Christ brings healing.

This is our vocation: to be healers and prophets, to pave the way for Jesus Christ in the world. Our lives must reflect God’s Love within us, so the world might experience conversion, and know that the Kingdom is here, in Christ and in His Church!

Christmas is a time of gifts -- giving and receiving. Include Christian joy among the gifts we take to others, the joy we celebrate on this Sunday of Joy.

The world doesn’t need to find itself. It needs only to find Jesus Christ. And you and I are the ones God sends into the world so those in search of Jesus need not look for another!

Blessed are those who are not disappointed in us.

Homily: 2nd Sunday of Advent

I have embedded a video of this homily below. Preached on Sunday, December 8, 2019, the full text of the homily follows the video.

Readings: Is 11:1-10; Ps 72; Rom 14:4-9; Mt 3:1-12

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"Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths" [Mt 3:3].

My dad used to read the Gospels to us on Saturday morning, and I remember him reading this passage from Matthew about John the Baptist, and liking the sound of that phrase, “…make straight his paths.” I asked who John the Baptist was and Dad told me he was a saint and also Jesus’ cousin. Well, I thought of my own cousins for a moment and decided John was pretty fortunate.

About a week later, my dad, my brother and I were riding our bikes in a town park when we came upon a surveying team. We stopped to watch them. When I asked my dad what they were doing, he said they were making a new path through the park, making sure it was straight and level.

At about that time the supervisor, who apparently knew my father, came over and said hello. A moment later he turned at me and said, “Hi there.”

My reply? “You’re John the Baptist, aren’t you?”

Well, it seemed logical to me. Hey, I was only six. And so was added another snippet of family lore.

"Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths."

Although John the Baptist wasn’t a surveyor, he was something far greater, a prophet who proclaimed a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. This is the message and the meaning of Advent: Preparing for the coming of Jesus.

The question for us: How and what are we to prepare?

Quite simply, we are called on to prepare ourselves through conversion. A few moments ago, during today’s opening prayer, Father Cromwell, praying for all of us gathered here today, asked God to…

“Remove the things that hinder us from receiving Christ with joy.”

This is how we make straight the Lord’s path – by removing the obstacles that we, in our sinfulness, place in His way. The trouble is, when we pray these words, do we truly mean them? Or are we like the Christian that C. S. Lewis described as praying faintly – for otherwise God might actually hear him.

“Remove the things that hinder us…”

For most of us, these things, these obstacles, represent the habits of a lifetime, and are very much a part of our nature. To remove them can be painful. It’s almost unnatural.

It’s not natural to be selfless when our human nature is basically selfish.

It’s not natural to love God and our neighbor when love of self keeps getting in the way.

It’s not natural to step out of our busy lives, if only for a moment each day, and listen to God’s voice as He calls on us to conversion.

For this is what Advent is: a call to conversion, a call to change. And this morning, from across the centuries, John the Baptist gives us some down-to-earth advice on how to respond to God’s call.

"Make straight His paths… "

John tells us to fill in the valleys – those dark nooks and crannies of our lives that we foolishly try to seal off from God. These are the dark corners that we don’t want disturbed, even though we know they prevent God from entering into our innermost being. We all have some darkness in our lives because we’re all sinners. And only light dispels darkness, the light of God’s love.

John tells us to level mountains -- mountains of pride, bigotry, anger that we build up because we think so much of ourselves and so little of others. To profess that we love God while remaining indifferent to the plight of others is a contradiction.

And so, our journey through Advent demands humility, because it’s impossible to have a personal relationship with God when our egos are in competition with Him.

To see the new, we have to be willing to shed the old. To see the possible, we have to stop believing the impossible. 

What in your life needs conversion? What obstacles have you placed in God’s path? What in your life is preventing Him from coming close?

“Remove the things that hinder us…”

All of this making room for God in our hearts can be a time-consuming and demanding business. It forces us to change so much in our lives. It demands that we actually accept God’s rule in our lives.

You know those signs you see every so often along the highway? 

“Jesus saves!”

Well, they’re right. Jesus does save, because you and I can’t save ourselves. But for Jesus to save us, he needs our cooperation, for He’s a benign ruler. He doesn’t force Himself on us. He doesn‘t demand. He doesn’t even ask. He simply invites, and waits for you to accept His invitation.


And God is patient. He’ll wait as long as it takes, up until the moment we take our last breath. But He calls us to persevere, not to put it off. As Paul tells the Romans:

“…by endurance and by the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope” [Rom 15:4]

This patience of God’s is for our benefit: He wants no one to perish. And so, for us who live in time, every day is an opportunity to respond, a gift of God’s mercy.

Advent is the story of eons of God’s own eternal persistent waiting. It’s the story of His plan to let us search for Him until finally we simply allow Him to find us. And then, finally, we can respond with our own “Yes.” 

Of course, saying ‘Yes’ to conversion is means more than just a word. It means living God’s Word, accepting and sharing God’s love in our lives.

Have you ever considered that for many of the people you know and encounter, you may be the only manifestation of the Gospel they ever experience? 

We must, like God Himself, act out of love. It was love that created the universe and keeps creation in existence. And it’s love that reaches out to move our hearts as well, to bring us to salvation. He reaches out to us through Jesus Christ, the great sign of the Father’s love, the manifestation of His will to save. Isaiah describes this sign in today’s first reading:

“Not by appearance shall he judge, nor by hearsay shall he decide, but he shall judge the poor with justice, and decide aright for the land’s afflicted” [Is 11:3-4].

This is the saving power of Christ, God’s love incarnate.

The day of salvation has already dawned in Christ. He will baptize in the Holy Spirit, John tells us. And this Spirit, once given in Christ, is the constant renewal of the Father’s love. 

When we invite Jesus into our lives, when we make room for Him in our hearts, we become like John the Baptist. Our lives become an announcement, telling everyone, through acts of kindness, honesty and faithfulness, that Christ is among us.

As we await Jesus’ return and the age to come, let’s not forget that a day will come in each of our lives when we will meet Jesus face to face. Our life is a continual advent for that moment, so let’s not delay preparing for our own personal coming of the Lord.

Homily: Saturday, 17th Week in Ordinary Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John Chastises Herod

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

Salome with the Head of John the Baptist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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