Homily: 2nd Sunday of Lent (Year C)

Readings: Gn 15:5-12,17-18; Phil17-4:1; Lk 9:28b-36

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As I prepared this homily and thought about our parish and its demographics, I finally concluded that we’re all pretty old. And given all those years behind us, I’m sure we’ve all witnessed a lot of transformations in our lives, changes in people and places.

Back in the early 1950s, just a few years after the end of World War II, my family spent a year in Germany. I was only 7 or 8 years old, and my father, an Army officer, wouldn’t live in Army housing or send us to Army schools. We lived in a tiny walk-up flat and went to German schools.

It was a remarkable time, for the destruction caused by the war was still very evident. In fact a house close by had been completely destroyed. In some cities, almost everything was gone -- homes, apartment houses, shops, small businesses, large factories – all had been turned into unrecognizable piles of brick and smashed concrete.

But thanks to the Marshall Plan and the power of the human spirit, rebuilding had already begun. And by the time I returned ten years later, Western Europe had been completely transformed. It was a vivid example of the human spirit, in its darkest hour, rising to accomplish remarkable things.

But human events like this resurrection of post-war Europe pale in comparison to what God has promised us – the miraculous restoration He will accomplish in our resurrection from the dead. In our 2^nd reading St. Paul reminds us:

"…our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we also await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will change our lowly body to conform with His glorified body."

And today's Gospel passage from Luke gives us a glimpse of what Christ's glorified body is like. Before His Resurrection, Jesus' body was just like ours, subject to hunger and thirst, pain and pleasure, weakness and strength. After the Resurrection, Christ's body was glorified, transfigured by His divine nature. And because His Spirit lives within us, God will do the same for us.

The eternal life God has promised those who love Him isn’t merely some sort of spiritual existence. It will include our material bodies, but bodies very different from what we now have. More than that we cannot say. What really matters is how our faith in the resurrection affects what we do in our lives today.

This is why the surprising event Luke describes, the Transfiguration, took place. For the Transfiguration was not only a manifestation of Jesus’ divinity, but also a glimpse into the future that God has planned for us, and a wake-up call for the here and now. Indeed, it really was a wake-up call, for Peter, James, and John had been asleep. How did Luke put it?

"Jesus took Peter, John, and James and went up the mountain to pray…"

Then, just moments later, Luke tells us:

"Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep."

Of course, this was nothing new. In fact, the disciples spent a remarkable amount of time asleep, and when they weren’t asleep, they were afraid, oblivious, blind, or hiding away. Jesus often had to wake them up, open their eyes, calm their fears, and bring them out of hiding.

By the time Peter, James, and John went up that mountain to pray with Jesus, they had seen Him heal the sick and cast devils into the sea. They heard unclean spirits shriek and watched while a paralytic simply picked up his pallet and walked away. They had seen him walk on water and change water into wine.

In the past few months, Jesus had challenged all their fears; He’d revealed and forgiven all their sins. They found themselves eating with sinners, laughing with tax collectors, talking to lepers and harlots and thieves. They’d left their predictable, comfortable lives behind, and set out on the adventure of a lifetime.

And yet…and yet despite all this – despite all their waking up and growing up and sitting up in wonder, when they followed Jesus up that mountain, they still fell asleep. Only eight days before the Holy Spirit had moved Peter to declare Jesus to be "the Christ, the Son of the Living God." (Mt 16:16) But when Jesus spoke of His passion and death…well, Peter and the others would have none of it!

On that mountaintop, though, flanked by Moses and Elijah, the Law and the Prophets, Jesus is transfigured before them. As His divinity is revealed, Peter, James, and John awaken, and their own transformation begins. Peter wanted to stay there. He wanted the moment to last forever. Is it any wonder? Just imagine what it must have been like.

But God tells them, No. Not now. You must return to the world. You must do my work. You must take my love and my Word to all. You must do what my beloved Son tells you.
“Listen to him”, the Father’s voice demands.

Listen, do as He’s commanded you, and you will share in the glory you see today.

Listen…and be transformed.

Yes, Jesus tells them, He has sent Me to announce Good News to the poor, to proclaim release for prisoners, and give sight to the blind; to let the broken victims go free.

Listen…and be transformed.

Do not be afraid. From now on, you will be fishers of men. Make disciples of all nations. And I will be with you even until the end of time.

Listen…and be transformed.

I haven’t come to invite the righteous, but to call sinners to repentance. Your sins are forgiven you. Go and sin no more.

Listen…and be transformed.

Blessed are you who accept your spiritual poverty, for the kingdom of God is yours.

Blessed are you who show mercy, for you shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall receive comfort beyond your imagining.

Blessed are you who are persecuted because of me, for your reward will be great.

Listen…and be transformed.

Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. If you love only those who love you, what credit is that to you?

Listen…and be transformed.

Take and eat. This is my body given up for you. Take and drink. This is my blood, shed for you and for many, so that your sins may be forgiven.

The Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ nourishes us on the way to our heavenly destiny. In a few moments, as we process to receive Jesus, we symbolize a people together on a journey. We proceed in communion with each other to enter a deeper communion with Jesus Christ. And our firm "Amen" to the Body and Blood of Christ is a sign of our faith in the promise of Jesus:

"Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have life eternal and I will raise them up on the last day."

Yes, sisters and brothers, listen to the Word of the Lord, and be transformed.

But just like Peter, John, and James, we too seem to spend a remarkable amount of time asleep. We spend so much of our lives afraid, oblivious, blind, and hidden away – hiding from the God who loves us.

This season of Lent, Jesus wants us to awaken and open our eyes. He wants to calm our fears and bring us out of hiding. How many of us spend Lent fretting about what we’ll give up? Desserts, movies, coffee, a favorite TV show? And on Fridays we trade pepperoni pizza for fish and chips.

But today's Gospel reminds us that, above all, Lent is a season of transformation, a time to be transfigured by God Himself.

It’s a time to wake up, to open our eyes so that like the three Apostles, we can see Jesus in his glory.

It’s a time to listen, so we can hear His voice calling us to be fully aware and fully alive – to live our faith every moment of our lives.

Lent is a time to take your place beside Abraham, to look up at the sky and count the stars, if you can.

Lent is a time to stand beside Moses and tell stories of liberation; for that's what Jesus gave us – freedom – freedom from sin, freedom to do the Father's will. Like God’s chosen people, we’ve been brought out of slavery, but we’ve been redeemed at a great price, by the blood of the Father’s only Son.

Lent is a time to come out of hiding and walk with Elijah, to spread the Good News fearlessly to all who will hear.

Lent is a time to listen, to hear the urgency of Christ's message to each one of us – a message of love He never tires of repeating.

Lent is a time for prayer, for it’s in and through our prayer life that we are most open to God’s Word.

Yes, brothers and sisters, Lent is a time to listen, a time to be transformed by God Himself. 

Don’t let it go to waste.

Homily: 7th Day in the Octave of Christmas

Readings: 1 Jn 2:18-21; Ps 96; Jn 1:1-18

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Here we are on the last day of the year, ready to say, “Goodbye” to 2024, for which we thank God, and look forward to the beginning of 2025.

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Have you ever noticed that there are no road signs in The Villages that say, “Dead End”? You’ll see them everywhere else, in Leesburg and Wildwood and Lady Lake. But in The Villages the relevant signs read “No Outlet.” My guess is the developer decided that signs proclaiming “Dead” and “End” might not be very well-received in a large retirement community advertised as the “beginning of your new life.”

I really have no problem with that, because for a faithful Christian there are no dead ends. Indeed, the end is always the beginning of something immense and wondrous.

Mary Queen of Scots, who for centuries was treated horribly by most historians, is today undergoing deserved rehabilitation. Anyway, I once read that shortly before her execution she embroidered these words:

“In my end is my beginning.”

For the Christian, then, the life of faith is always the beginning; there really is no end. 

Anna, the Temple prophetess, demonstrated this in yesterday’s Gospel passage. Although she was at the end of her life, she was “looking forward,” not back. We see this, too, in today’s passage where John starts the Prologue to his Gospel with the words, “In the beginning was the Word.…” But in our other reading from John’s First Letter, he begins with the end…

“Children, it is the last hour…"

For John, “the last hour” is also a “beginning.” Of course, to John it's really all of one piece, just as it should be with us. Yes, indeed, God is the beginning and the end...the alpha, the omega...and He’s active through it all.

I think we sometimes forget that. Oh, yes, we know God made the heavens and the earth, but then far too many today go through their lives as if He’s no longer involved with His Creation, no longer involved with us. For we, too – each one of us – are His Creation, and His involvement with us couldn’t be more intimate, more involved, more pervasive than it already is.

John wants to ensure we understand this: the fullness of God’s love for us manifests itself through His Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ. “Fullness” is the correct word, too, because God’s love begins with Creation, redeems us through the Incarnation, and leads us into eternity with His merciful Judgment…and that’s about as full as it gets.

Throughout it all, Jesus is the Word.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” [Jn 1:1].

And the Word of God is creative, for "all things came to be through Him..." And when God speaks, things happen:

“Then God said: Let there be light, and there was light.”

The Father, then, speaks through His Son, the Word, and all is created. But when you or I speak, we’re lucky if anything happens. Heck, even my little dog, who left us last year, obeyed me only when it suited her.

And then John shares those words that mean so very much to us:

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us…”

Yes, Jesus became one of us, blessing our human existence with His Divinity, infusing us with His glory, if only we accept it.

Today, then, as we consider making New Year resolutions, perhaps we should just start anew.

I remember reading about a monk who confessed how he used to complain about the number of steps in his abbey. As he aged, he found that climbing those steps wore him down.

“I used to count them as I climbed,” he wrote, “just to help me get through them. But then, one day in prayer I realized my spiritual life needed, again and again, to start at the beginning. Now, as I go up the steps, I count each step aloud, “One, one, one…”

Consider today and every day a new beginning, asking God to come into our hearts and lead us as we struggle to follow Him on the Way.

Sisters and brothers, Sacred Scripture has depths beyond our understanding, and I often pray after our weekly Bible Study that I haven’t misapplied them or mangled them too badly as I try to share them with others. But, as we read God’s Word, and pray it, and live it, we become like the two on the road to Emmaus, because Jesus walks with us, from one beginning, not to the end, but to a new beginning.

God love you all...and Happy New Year.

Homily: 5th Sunday of Lent (Year B)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thorns Protect the Rose

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Olive Tree in Gethsemane

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

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

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

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

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

“God made His Son perfect through suffering”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus speaks:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How many?

 

Homily: Christmas Weekday - January 5

Readings: 1 John 3:11-21; Ps 100; John 1:43-51

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Today’s readings are so remarkably appropriate given the condition of our world, given the state of the hearts and minds of so many.

We seem to be immersed, almost smothered, in a world lacking any kind of spiritual unity, a world too often typified by division and hatred. We watch the news, we scan the internet, read all the social media posts, and we must dig deep to encounter true faith, or to see the signs of hope that should mark our lives.

And how easy it is to add to the divisions and hatreds that increasingly separate us from each other. Families are torn apart because of political differences, or moral confusion, or a simple lack of trust. And the bonds of friendships dissolve for many of the same reasons. So many are simply unwilling to set it all aside and just love each other.

As John, the Apostle of Love, reminds us in his first letter, “Whoever does not love, remains in death.” He’s speaking here of spiritual death, a rejection of everything good, a rejection of God’s call to “love one another as I have loved you” [Jn 13:34].

John goes on to remind us that words mean little unless they are manifested in “deed and truth”, or to use a more common expression: to walk the talk. Who in your life needs the touch of your love, of God’s love? A family member? A friend, perhaps someone who hurt you, someone from whom you have withheld forgiveness? A maybe just a neighbor who irritates you no end? Reach out to them, not to receive anything, simply to extend God’s love.

Often enough we form little personal biases, pre-judgments that are hard to shatter. Just look at Nathaniel in our Gospel passage. Philip told him wondrous things about Jesus, that He is the one promised by God through Moses, a promise every Jew kept in his heart.

“I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their kindred, and will put my words into the mouth of the prophet; the prophet shall tell them all that I command” [Dt 18:18].

But none of this impressed Nathaniel, who like Philip was probably from Bethsaida, and thought little of folks from Nazareth. The villages of Galilee, places like Bethsaida, Cana, and Nazareth, were just small country towns, subject to the same petty jealousies and rivalries that affect us today. 

I lived on Cape Cod for 25 or so years. It's a lovely little slice of God's earth, but the old-timers can be a bit...well, provincial. Here's a local story that displays how rivalries between the small towns manifest themselves: 

Two elderly men, both from the town of Chatham and both from old Cape families, were standing at the fence separating their front yards lamenting the number of tourists filling their Chatham streets. One said to the other, "Pretty soon, with all these tourists, there'll be no room for us natives." The other gave a snort and replied, "Natives? I heard that your great-great grandfather was born in Harwich." (Harwich was a neighboring town.)  

Yes, those Galilean villages were no doubt similar to our own versions, even here in The Villages. Not long ago, speaking with a woman who lives in a village that abuts ours, she said: “Our village is wonderful. We all love to get together in block parties and holiday celebrations. But I've noticed your village doesn’t do a lot of that.” This, of course, was just a slightly nicer way of saying, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” [Jn 1:46] 

I wish I could say that, meeting me, she immediately changed her attitude. But no, she just continued with more of the same. But not Nathaniel. Philip, accepting his new role as evangelist, said to his friend: "Come and see." 

Yes, indeed, come and see Jesus and you will be changed. After only a few minutes with Our Lord, Nathaniel exceeded even Philip:

“Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel” [Jn 1:49].

Declaring what the Spirit has revealed to him, he joined Philip and followed Jesus in "deed and truth.” And this is what every encounter with Jesus is like, or should be like.

Maybe we should spend more time away from all the modern, technological wonders that clutter our lives and our minds, and, like Nathaniel, just sit down for a while under our own figurative fig trees, and let God come to us. How good it is to just experience God’s creation and enjoy the peace that He extends to us.

I think it especially interesting that in 1^st Kings, we encounter the fig tree as a symbol of peace:

“During Solomon’s lifetime Judah and Israel lived in safety…all of them under the vines and the fig trees.” [1 Kgs 5:5]

And in Zechariah, an angel of the Lord assured the high priest with the words:

“On that day you will invite one another under your vines and fig trees” [Zech 3:10].

Our homes and our communities should also be places of safety, places of peace, places on invitation, where love overcomes all conflict. Then we, too, can join the psalmist and “serve the Lord with gladness…give thanks to Him; bless His name” [Ps 100:2,4]

Homily — Memorial: Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church (May 24)

Readings: Gen 3:9-15; Ps 87; John 19:25-34

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Today we celebrate a rather new feast, the Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church. Although instituted in 2018 by Pope Francis, it has its roots in apostolic tradition and in the witness of the Chrch Fathers.

For example, St. Augustine wrote that "The Virgin Mary...is acknowledged and honored as being truly the Mother of God and of the redeemer...She is clearly the mother of the members of Christ...since she has by her charity joined in bringing about the birth of believers in the Church, who are members of its head."

And, then, in the year 431 the Council of Ephesus gave Mary the title, Theotokos, a Greek word meaning “God Bearer” or “one who gives birth to God” or as we say today, “the Mother of God.” By giving her that title, the council didn’t mean that Mary was the Mother of God from eternity. But because Jesus Christ is true God and true man, and Mary gave birth to Him, she is, therefore, the Mother of God in time.

It’s the misunderstanding of the Church’s long-held teaching on this relationship between Mary and Jesus that has led some Christians to think that we Catholics worship Mary as some sort of goddess. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. From the reality of this relationship, we can fulfill her prophecy in the Magnificat and can call Mary the “Blessed Mother.”

Today’s reading from Genesis sets the stage at the very beginning when God promises redemption to our first parents, whose prideful disobedience brought humanity to its fallen state.

“I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; He will strike at your head, while you strike at his heel” [Gn 3:15].

It is these words to Satan that the Church has long called the proto-Evangelium or “first Gospel” because they point to the Redeemer who will enter into the world through a new Eve, through Mary. It was a promise fulfilled when Gabriel told Mary:

“Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” [Lk 1:31-33].

Mary, then, knew from the first that this child of hers was the “Son of the Most High.” But in the years that follow, she is given only glimpses of what it will all lead to: the visits of shepherds and Magi, the prophecy at the Presentation, the long trek to Egypt, the Passover pilgrimage to Jerusalem – in each event Mary finds herself in the dark, but in every instance, she ponders these things in her heart.

She need not fully understand it all, and how could she understand? And so, she ponders. She steps away from the crowd, seeks the quiet of contemplation, and savors all that has been revealed to her. She ponders, she returns to the source, to that day when the angel proclaimed her to be, “full of grace” [Lk 1:28], to that day when her heart overflowed.

And in that pondering, Mary teaches the Church how to pray, how to accept God’s will, how to abandon oneself to God’s love. The pondering heart of Mary focuses solely on Jesus. “Do whatever He tells you” [Jn 2:5], she commands at Cana, for Mary is single-hearted. She trusts in God, just as she trusted when Gabriel asked for her response.

At the foot of the Cross, that same trusting, pondering, immaculate heart begins to understand the crucifixion of her Son. It is then that Jesus gives her to the Church and to the world. It’s a double commissioning, and the order is important.

“Woman, behold, your son” [Jn 19:26], Jesus tells His Mother, commissioning her, giving the Apostle, giving the Church, to her.

Only then does He say to the Church, to that faithful Apostle, “Behold, your mother” [Jn 19:27].

With these words, the Mother of God becomes Mother of the Church. Now her prayerful heart is focused on you and me, interceding for our salvation. And as Mother of the Church, she intercedes too for unity among Christians.

I’m convinced that it will be through Mary, through her prayerful intercession that the unity Jesus Christ prayed for in the upper room will finally arrive. Fifty years ago, we never heard of Protestants praying the Rosary, but no longer. Today thousands join in this prayer of intercession. And just a month ago, as Diane and I drove through South Carolina, we passed a church with the surprising name: Virgin Mary Baptist Church.

Yes, indeed, Mary, Mother of the Church, is active interceding for the salvation of all. It is she whom we honor today, Theotokos, the Mother of God and Mother of the Church.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, pray for us. 

And please pray for me today on the 24th annversary of my ordination. As the old saying goes, "Time flies when you're having fun..."

Homily: Eucharistic Adoration

Readings: Jas 3:13-18; Psalm 122; John 14:23-29

Listening to St. James is always a bit of an awakening. He certainly didn’t pull any punches. His Letter is filled with wonderful truths about living our faith; but when reading this passage, I was especially struck by his words, “…in the humility that comes from wisdom” [Jas 3:13].

I'm pretty sure He's telling us that wisdom means having a true sense of the reality of things. And perhaps the greatest of all realities is the vast difference between us and the God who created us. Recognizing this difference can do nothing but fill us with humility. Yes, indeed, humility comes from wisdom, the acceptance of God’s greatness and our seeming insignificance.

And yet, our God created us in love…

He wants us to spend an eternity with Him, out of love…

He humbled Himself to become one of us, out of love…

He blesses us with His greatest gift, the gift of Himself in the Eucharist…again, out of love.

And as St. James reminds us, the fruit of it all is God’s peace, a peace that frees us from anxiety and fear.

Of course, we hear much the same from Jesus.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid” [Jn 14:17], He told the Apostles – a message for all of us.

Are you afraid? If so, you're in good company. The apostles were certainly afraid and confused.

Jesus spoke to them about His death, His execution at the hands of His enemies. In our passage from John, we can almost sense their confusion. 

If He’s the Son of God, one with the Father, how can this happen? How would they cope without Him? Would they also be arrested and executed? Yes, they were afraid, and fear undermined their faith. They began to doubt. 

These fears remained, throughout Jesus' Passion and Death, and even after His Resurrection. Only with the arrival of the promised Holy Spirit on Pentecost did their fears evaporate, replaced by God's peace.

“Peace is my farewell to you; my peace is my gift to you” [Jn 14:27].

And, yes, God’s peace is so very different from the peace the world offers.

For God doesn’t promise the absence of war or conflict. His peace doesn’t free us from suffering or persecution, from pain or illness. It’s not the peace of a tranquil life, nor is it peace of mind.

This is the peace the world promises, always unfulfilling, superficial, misleading, ephemeral, and unjust.

It’s not the peace Jesus gives us. How did He put it?

“Not as the world gives do I give it to you” [Jn 14:27].

Because the peace that Jesus promises completely transcends anything the world can offer us.

Victor Frankl, an Austrian psychotherapist who died in 1997, spent much of World War II as a prisoner in Auschwitz and other death camps.

Frankl, a Jew, wrote a book of his experiences called, “Man's Search for Meaning.”

In it he describes how, in the midst of brutality and degradation, he encountered so much remarkable faith and unselfish love.

Amazed by those who had achieved victory over the sinfulness that surrounded them, Frankl had a revelation. He wrote:

“Then I grasped…The salvation of man is through love and in love.

For the first time in my life, I was able to understand the meaning of the words, ‘The angels are lost in perpetual contemplation of an infinite glory.’”

Yes, in the midst of the horror that was Auschwitz, Victor Frankl had encountered God’s peace. 

This is the peace proclaimed by Christ, a peace that is achieved by victory over sin, something that comes only through the power of God.

The basis of peace, the peace of soul Jesus promises, is God and God alone.

And the very soul of peace is love, which comes only from the love of God and expresses itself through us in our love for others.

Only by turning to God can we rid our lives of all that is driven by selfishness and greed, by hatred and bitterness. For whatever takes away God’s peace from your soul cannot come from God.

Only by turning to God can we replace the evil in our lives with love for God and neighbor, with forgiveness, with the will to help others, and the desire to share the Good News of Jesus Christ.

The secret of peace? Trust, trust in the will of God.

Too often we trust only in ourselves. We think we can achieve peace in our lives by our own efforts, but in doing so we become only like the Pharisees.

How different are the saints…who sought only to love and serve God.

For the saints knew that one doesn’t become a saint. It is God who makes saints…out of sinners who trust in Him and accept His will for them.

No saint ever had a plan to become a saint. Had this been the case, he would have become only a perfectionist, not a saint.

Brothers and sisters, we can possess the peace of Christ, a fruit of the Holy Spirit, but only if God’s Spirit lives within us.

As Jesus promises us:

"If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him" [Jn 14:23].

And that’s exactly what our loving God does when we receive Him worthily in the Eucharist.

When God dwells within you, there’s no room for anything else, no room for anything but God's peace – and certainly no room for fear.

Fear never comes from God. To escape it simply turn to our Lord in total trust.

And remember, wherever Jesus is, so too is the Holy Spirit – with us to guide us, strengthen us, encourage us, just as He guides, strengthens, and encourages the Church.

Anyway, what is there to fear when you have been promised eternal life?

As St. Paul tells us again and again, Christ – and only Christ – is our peace [Eph 2:14].

 

Homily: Wednesday, 2nd Week of Lent

Readings: Jer 18:18-20; Ps 31; Mt 20:17-28
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Generals, politicians, business leaders, and yes, even cardinals and bishops…sometimes the great among us make the headlines for all the wrong reasons. 

Isn’t it sad when famous people fall prey to human failings, when they forget the real purpose of their lives and work, and become ruled by greed or pride or any of the other deadly sins?

Of course, it’s easy for you and me to shake our heads at those who get caught up in such things, and forget that we too are susceptible. Maybe our sins don’t make the headlines, but they still separate us from God; they’re still sins. And it’s nothing new. Just look at today’s readings.

The Prophet Jeremiah...Weeping

Prophets are like whistleblowers, always telling people things they don’t want to hear. And they tend to be treated like whistleblowers too. Jeremiah’s family had already turned against him, and now the religious and political authorities were plotting to do away with this troublesome man who constantly challenged their decisions and motives. And in our Gospel reading, the mother of James and John seeks to wrangle a promise out of Jesus:

“…that these sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom” [Mt 20:21].

Mother of James & John Pleads with Jesus

If Scripture tells us anything, it’s that God’s plans aren’t advanced by personal ambition. But as Christians what should be our attitude regarding those who do these things? Actually, Jeremiah tells us when he says an essential attitude for the disciple is prayer for the welfare of others. How did he put it?

“Heed me, O Lord...Remember that I stood before you to speak in their behalf, to turn away your wrath from them” [Jer 18:20].

Like Jeremiah, we’re called to seek their goodness, their repentance, their peace, their life. 

Hard to do, isn’t it? It goes against the grain of our human nature. Indeed, we can’t do it on our own. Jeremiah demonstrates this when he curses his enemies. He’s not proud of himself for doing so; he’s simply being honest and open before God, saying, in effect, “Here’s, how I feel, God. Help me.” By turning to God in prayer for others and for himself, Jeremiah demonstrates his belief in God’s plan for all his people.

And here we encounter another essential attitude of the disciple: to seek the Lord’s will in all things. As St. Paul reminds us, God’s will is revealed in... 

“God’s secret plan…the mysterious design which for ages was hidden in God, the Creator of all” [Eph 3:9].

Jesus demonstrates this when, deferring to the Father, He promises Mrs. Zebedee nothing regarding her sons.

Why does Matthew include this incident? To embarrass the Zebedee family? No, not at all. It’s there to remind us not to seek special status or to focus on our own needs and ambitions, while forgetting the needs of others.

Only through prayer can we keep in touch with God’s hopes for us and begin to sense the small part we are to play in “God’s secret plan.” Today’s Gospel passage begins and ends with an announcement of Jesus’ impending death:

“Just so, the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life...” [Mt 20:28].

Like Jesus, then, all the work we do in God’s vineyard is Godly and holy only when it raises others above ourselves and places them before God, whom we should thank and praise for all things. As the psalmist reminds us:

“Not to us, Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory” [Ps 115:1].

Audio Homily - Solemnity of Body and Blood of Christ

Our IT people at the parish recorded my homily last Sunday and gave me a copy. Apparently it was supposed to be a video recording but some glitch left the video screen pitch black. And so my voice comes from out of the darkness. 

Anyway, if you liked the printed version that I posted a few days ago -- click here: Homily -- you can listen to the audio version below. Just don't expect to see anything.

...and don't forget, God loves you in spite of yourself.

Homily: Saturday, Octave of Easter

Readings: Acts 4:13-21; Ps 118; Mk 16:9-15
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Today, as we approach the end of the Easter Octave, our eight-day celebration of the Lord’s Resurrection, we find in it the perfect sign of hope. The Resurrection of Jesus is the ultimate demonstration of God’s love. Really, could God provide us with any better guarantee of what He has in store for us?

What I have done for My Son, I will do also for you. As My Son is now with me in glory, so too will you come and dwell with us in eternal happiness. You need only do what the Son asks of you: “Repent and believe in the Gospel” [Mk 1:15].

These words – “Repent and believe in the Gospel” – are among the first words of Jesus we encounter in Mark’s Gospel. As a writer, Mark didn’t elaborate a lot, but just gave us the bare-bones facts. Indeed, he begins his Gospel with another matter-of-fact statement: “The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God” [Mk 1:1]

No theological subtleties there. No, Mark gets right to the point of it all: Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, and the Son of God. It’s as if Mark is telling his reader: Just keep that in mind as you read this Gospel and all will become clear.

The passage from today’s Gospel reading is no different and includes some of the final verses of Mark’s Gospel. The last verse of this passage is equally straightforward, with the risen Jesus telling His small band of eleven apostles: “Go into the whole world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature” [Mk 16:15]. No exclusions, no dispensations, no excuses. You and all those who follow you – and, that, brothers and sisters, includes you and me – must proclaim the Gospel always and to everyone.

"Go into the whole world and proclaim the Gospel..."

And, remember, these 11 apostles weren’t the most faithful of disciples; and the death of Jesus had pretty much dissolved what little faith they had. They certainly didn’t expect a resurrected Jesus. After all, they believe neither Mary Magdalene nor the two disciples who had encountered our Lord on the road to Emmaus. No, it took Jesus Himself to convince them; and even then they were filled with doubts. It was so bad that Jesus, when He appeared to them, actually chewed them out “for their unbelief and hardness of heart” [Mk 16:14].

But, wasting no time, Jesus continued and gave them that final command, His great commission to proclaim the Gospel to all the world. Matthew, in his Gospel, adds a bit more: “Go therefore,” Jesus commands, “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…” [Mt 28:19-20]

But regardless of the version, it’s kind of a scary command, isn’t it? After all, how much Gospel proclaiming have you and I done this week…this month…this year? I suspect it was scary too for the disciples who actually heard Jesus say it. If His Resurrection were unexpected, then this command was even more so.

“It is impossible for us not to speak..."

But then everything changes! We encounter the power of the Holy Spirit, and we see how, in an instant, He can change minds and hearts. His power is manifested in the remarkable witness of the Apostles in today’s reading from Acts. Peter and John, these fishermen, these “uneducated, ordinary men” [Acts 4:13], were doing miraculous things in Jesus’ name while proclaiming the Gospel throughout Jerusalem. They did so because, in their words, “It is impossible for us not to speak about what we have seen and heard” [Acts 4:20].

And so, if you’re a little behind in your Gospel proclaiming, recall again those first words of Jesus: “Repent and believe in the Gospel” -- for they are the key. Immerse yourself in the sacrament of Reconciliation; in repentance let the Holy Spirit shower you with His grace. Open yourself up to Him in prayer. Ask Him to guide you, to help you proclaim the Gospel by living the Gospel, so you, too, will be a witness to the Good News of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Homily: 2nd Sunday of Lent, Year C

Readings: Gn 15:5-12,17-18; Phil17-4:1; Lk 9:28b-36

I’m sure each of us has witnessed remarkable transformations, in people or places.

Just a few years after the end of World War II, my family spent a year in Germany. It was a remarkable time, for the destruction caused by the war was still very much evident. In some cities, almost everything was destroyed. Homes, apartment houses, shops, small businesses, large factories had been turned into unrecognizable piles of brick and broken concrete.

But thanks to the Marshall Plan and the power of the human spirit, rebuilding had already begun. And by the time I returned ten years later, Western Europe had been completely transformed. It was a remarkable example of the human spirit, in its darkest hour, rising to accomplish wonderful things.

But this resurrection of post-war Europe pales in comparison to the rebuilding God has promised us – the miraculous restoration He will accomplish in our resurrection from the dead. As St. Paul reminds us in the 2nd reading: 

 "…our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we also await a savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will change our lowly body to conform with His glorified body."

Today's Gospel reading from Luke gives us a glimpse of what Christ's glorified body is like. Before His Resurrection, Jesus' body was just like ours, subject to hunger and thirst, pain and pleasure, weakness and strength. But after the Resurrection, Christ's body was glorified, transfigured by His divine nature. And God will do the same for us.

The eternal life God has promised to those who love Him isn’t merely some sort of spiritual existence. It will include our material bodies, but bodies very different from what we now have. More than that we cannot say. What really matters is how our faith in the resurrection affects what we do in our lives today.

This is why this surprising event that Luke describes, the Transfiguration, took place; for the Transfiguration was both a glimpse into the future that God has planned for us, and a wake-up call for the here and now.

Yes, a wake-up call, for Peter, James and John had been asleep. How did Luke put it? "Jesus took Peter, John and James and went up the mountain to pray…" Then, just moments later, Luke tells us that "Peter and his companions had been overcome by sleep."

Now, this was nothing new. In fact, the disciples spent a remarkable amount of time asleep, afraid, oblivious, blind, or hidden away.  Jesus often had to wake them up, open their eyes, calm their fears, and bring them out of hiding.

By the time Peter, James and John went up that mountain to pray with Jesus, they had seen Him heal the sick and cast devils into the sea.

They heard unclean spirits shriek and watched while a paralytic simply picked up his pallet and walked away. They had seen him walk on water and change water into wine.

In the past few months, they’d had all their fears challenged; all their sins revealed and forgiven.

They found themselves eating with sinners, laughing with tax collectors, talking to lepers and harlots and thieves.

They had left their comfortable lives, and set out on the adventure of a lifetime. And yet…and yet despite all this -- despite all their waking up and growing up and sitting up in wonder, when they followed Jesus up that mountain, they still fell asleep. Only eight days before the Holy Spirit had moved Peter to declare Jesus to be "the Christ, the Son of the Living God." But when Jesus spoke of His passion and death… well, Peter and the others would have none of it!

Then, on that mountaintop, flanked by Moses and Elijah, the Law and the Prophets, Jesus is transfigured before them. As His divinity is revealed, Peter, James and John awaken, and their own transformation begins.

Peter wanted to stay there. He wanted the moment to last forever. Is it any wonder? But God says, No. Not now. You must return to the world. You must do my work. You must take my love and my Word to all. You must do what my beloved Son tells you.

“Listen to him”, the voice of the Father cries. Listen! Do as He has commanded you, and you will share in the glory you see today. Listen…and be transformed.

He has sent me to announce Good News to the poor, to proclaim release for prisoners and give sight to the blind; to let the broken victims go free. Listen…and be transformed.

Do not be afraid. From now on, you will be fishers of men. Make disciples of all nations. And I will be with you even until the end of time. Listen…and be transformed.

I haven’t come to invite the righteous, but to call sinners to repentance. Your sins are forgiven you. Go and sin no more. Listen…and be transformed.

Blessed are you who accept your spiritual poverty, for the kingdom of God is yours. Blessed are you who show mercy, for you shall obtain mercy. Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall receive comfort beyond your imagining. Blessed are you who are persecuted because of me, for your reward will be great. Listen…and be transformed.

Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. If you love only those who love you,
what credit is that to you? Listen…and be transformed.

Take and eat. This is my body given up for you. Take and drink. This is my blood, shed for you and for many, so that your sins may be forgiven. The Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ nourish us on the way to our destiny. In a few moments, as we process up the aisle to receive Jesus, we symbolize a people on a journey. And our firm "Amen" to the Body of Christ is a sign of our faith in the promise of Jesus: "Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have life eternal and I will raise them up on the last day." Listen to the Word of the Lord…and be transformed.

But just like Peter, John and James, we seem to spend a remarkable amount of time asleep. We spend so much of our lives afraid, oblivious, blind, and hidden away – hiding from the God who loves us. This season of Lent, Jesus wants us to awaken and open our eyes. He wants to calm our fears and bring us out of hiding.

How many of us spend Lent fretting about what we’ll give up? Desserts, movies, coffee, a favorite TV show? And on Fridays we trade pepperoni pizza for fish and chips. But today's Gospel reminds us that, above all, Lent is a season of transformation. It’s a time to wake up, to open our eyes so that like the three Apostles, we can see Jesus in his glory. It’s a time to listen, so we can hear His voice calling us to be fully aware and fully alive – to live our faith every moment of our lives.

Lent is a time to take your place beside Abraham, to look up at the sky and count the stars, if you can.

Lent is a time to stand beside Moses and tell stories of liberation; for that's what Jesus gave us – freedom – freedom from sin, freedom to do the Father's will. We’ve been brought out of slavery, redeemed at a great price, by the blood of the Father’s only Son.

Lent is a time to come out of hiding and walk with Elijah, to spread the Good News fearlessly to all who will hear.

Lent is a time to listen, to hear the urgency of Christ's message to each one of us – a message of love He never tires of repeating.

Lent is a time for prayer, for it’s in our prayer life that we are most open to the God’s Word.

Yes, brothers and sisters, Lent is a time to listen… a time to be transformed. Don’t let it go to waste.