The occasional, often ill-considered thoughts of a Roman Catholic permanent deacon who is ever grateful to God for his existence. Despite the strangeness we encounter in this life, all the suffering we witness and endure, being is good, so good I am sometimes unable to contain my joy. Deo gratias!


Although I am an ordained deacon of the Catholic Church, the opinions expressed in this blog are my personal opinions. In offering these personal opinions I am not acting as a representative of the Church or any Church organization.

Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lent. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 18, 2025

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 2nd 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.


Tuesday, February 28, 2023

Homily: Tuesday, 7th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Sir 2:1-11 • Ps 37 • Mk 9:30-37

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Okay, here’s a question for you…It’s really a rhetorical question; you don't have to answer, but at least think about it. And try to be honest. 

Do you prefer serving or being served?

If you give it some thought, it’s not an easy question to answer honestly.

Back in my consulting days, I was a frequent flyer on almost every airline. And some of my clients would book me first-class. I certainly didn’t demand it, didn’t even ask for it, but it was nice, especially on long flights. You know, first-class, the first to board and the first to leave, big comfortable seats, a flute of champagne even before take-off, food that was actually edible. Yes, indeed, the service was sure a lot better than I usually received back in coach.

But, you know, I always felt a bit guilty enjoying all that great service. I kept hearing those words of Jesus:

"If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all" [Mk 9:35].

Here I was, first and certainly not last, not serving but being served. Yes, I heard those words, but I really didn't dwell on them. And I had an excuse. After all, it was strictly a business transaction: my client paid for good service and the airline and its employees provided it. I was simply an accidental beneficiary.

The trouble is, you and I can get used to it, and begin to think of ourselves as deserving only to be served. Kind of like the apostles, as Mark describes them. Jesus, of course, knew exactly what they were talking about as they walked along the road, along the Way; they were arguing about who was the greatest – who was the GOAT? For you non-sports fans, GOAT is the acronym for Greatest Of All Time…you know, the Tom Bradys and Michael Jordans of the world. Yes, indeed, the apostles were still unformed disciples, all caught up in their distorted understanding of where Jesus was leading them along that Way. 

Of course, the irony of the situation, and the hubris of the apostles could hardly be greater. There they were, in the presence of Jesus – How did Peter describe Him later? “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God” – and they were just strolling along, arguing about who among them was the greatest.

And to make matters worse for them, Jesus had just told them:

"The Son of Man is to be handed over to men and they will kill him, and three days after his death the Son of Man will rise" [Mk 9:31].
Mark tells us they didn’t understand, that they were afraid to question him. But they knew exactly who the Son of Man was. Afraid to question? Yes, because they didn’t want to hear His answer, because they were pretty sure it too would frighten them.

So, what did they do? What we all do when we don’t like where the conversation’s going. We change the subject, usually to ourselves. Of course, the wonderful thing about all this is we’re confronted here by the unconcealed humanity of the apostles; the realization they’re just like us. You see, Jesus didn’t pick holy men and women to be His disciples. No, He picked folks just like you and me, and then He and His Holy Spirit worked through them and made them holy. And believe me, it was a job only God could do. 

A bit later, once inside the house (a symbol of the Church) Jesus sat down to teach. And He taught them, just as He teaches us through His Church and His Word. We must serve, He commands us. And whom must we serve? All. Everyone. No exceptions. All those you and I encounter as we, too, walk along the Way. And it’s not going to be easy. How did Sirach put it?

“My child, when you come to serve the LORD, stand in justice and fear, prepare yourself for trials.” [Sir 2:1]

Tomorrow, we begin Lent, a time to restart, to reboot our spiritual lives, a time of almsgiving, fasting, and prayer…and a time for service. To serve others is to serve the Lord:

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me…” [Mt 25:35]

Jesus emphasized this by choosing a child, a symbol of whom the Jews called the anawim, the lowly, the weak, the vulnerable. By serving them we recognize God’s presence within them.

And yes, there will be trials, and fearful, unjust times. We will be despised and attacked for protecting and serving the most vulnerable among us.

But God will always be with us, for He is Emmanuel!


Saturday, March 26, 2022

Homily: Saturday, 3rd Week of Lent

Readings: Hos 6:1-6; Ps 51; Lk 18:9-14

When we look over the broad scope of these 40 days of Lenten readings, perhaps the most common theme is repentance. Today's Responsorial Psalm (Psalm 51) is certainly an example of this. 

But the next most common theme is the call to humility. I suppose that makes good sense because I’ve always considered humility as the pre-requisite virtue, without which no other virtue can stand. After all, if we don’t possess a humble heart there’s only one other possibility: pride. And we all know where pride leads us. Just as humility is the foundation stone of the virtuous life, pride is the foundation stone of the sinful life.

Humility, you see, is nothing less than an acceptance of reality. Humility is the awareness that we are the creatures and God is the Creator. But more than that, humility is the joyful realization that God created you and me, each one of us, in individual acts of love. Humility is the shock of recognition, our breathtaking grasp that this love is supremely manifested in God’s humbling of Himself to become one of us, and give up His life for us. Indeed, can anything be more humbling than an awareness of our poverty before God? True humility also helps us avoid the ephemeral piety condemned in our first reading from Hosea:

"...like morning mist, like the dew that disappears early" [Hos 6:4].

Pride, of course, takes God out of the picture. It must. Pride, you see, is the inordinate love of self, the love of self above all else. How can one be filled with pride, then, and accept the greatness of God, a greatness far beyond our comprehension? In a very real sense, the prideful person substitutes himself for God, placing himself and his needs and wants above God and everyone else. If you are prideful, how can you love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself? [Mt 22:36-40] You can't.

Just consider today’s Gospel passage from Luke. It’s one of those clear, straightforward passages, a parable that exposes pride for what it really is, while at the same time allowing us to grasp the path to true humility.

First of all, Luke tells us to whom Jesus addressed this parable:  

“…to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else” [Lk 18:9].

In other words, to an audience of the prideful.

It’s also interesting that Jesus’ cast of characters includes only two men: a Pharisee and a tax collector. Jesus often castigated the one and the people despised the other. The Pharisee, while seemingly at prayer, took up a position of prominence. But note that he prays not to God but, as Jesus tells us, “…spoke this prayer to himself” [Lk 18:11]. And how does he begin this prayer offered to himself? “Oh, God…” Yes, indeed, as only the prideful can, he substitutes himself for God, even in prayer. He goes on to thank himself for being so much better than the rest of humanity, revealing a heart devoid of humility. And he especially scorns that sinful tax collector who stands far behind him praying humbly with head bowed.

Both the Pharisee and the tax collector are spiritually impoverished, but only one of them realizes it. The Pharisee’s pride prevents him from recognizing the truth about himself, while the tax collector’s humility leads him to a recognition of this truth. Listen again to His prayer:

“O God, be merciful to me a sinner” [Lk 18:13].

With these few words he acknowledges his total dependence on God and willingly exposes his true condition to the only one who can heal him.

Jesus also reminds us that only God knows our hearts, that we should resist making judgments based on our personal biases. Because of his humble prayer, the widely despised tax collector “goes home justified” while the esteemed and self-exalted Pharisee must still be humbled.

The Eastern Church has long encouraged praying a version of the tax collector’s prayer, revealed in a wonderful little book, The Way of the Pilgrim.

Called the “Jesus Prayer,” and prayed throughout the day to the very rhythm of the body’s breathing, it too is simple:

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

Although prayed by the humble, I can think of fewer prayers more exalting.

Maybe we should all try that throughout the day for the remainder of Lent.

 

Sunday, February 28, 2021

Homily: 2nd Sunday of Lent - Year B

 Readings: Gn 22:1-2,9-13,15-18;Ps 116; Rom 8:31-34; Mk 9:2-10

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Not long ago I thought my wife’s hearing might not be what it used to be, so I decided to conduct a little test. I stood some distance behind her and said softly, “Diane, can you hear me.” Getting no answer, I moved closer and again asked, “Diane, can you hear me?” Again having received no answer, I moved right up behind her and said softly, “Diane, can you hear me?” And that’s when I finally heard her say, “For the third time, Yes!”

Well, that’s pretty much how you and I communicate with God. We’re so intent on making sure He’s listening to us, that He doesn’t miss all those needs and wants we’re always placing before Him, that we neglect the more important task: We fail to listen to Him. We forget, or simply can’t believe, that God hears our every prayer, that He knows our every need. Not only does God hear us, but He also speaks to us…and He does so definitively.

We need only listen, listen as the Father commanded us. That’s right, twice in the gospels the Father speaks aloud regarding Jesus. At Jesus’ Baptism the Father said:

This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.

As Jesus begins His ministry that culminates in His death and resurrection, and in our salvation, we learn that the Father sent Him to become one of us; that He is Emmanuel, God with us. Yes, the Father states unequivocally, that He is well pleased with His Son: this Jesus, My Son, has met all My demands for holiness, for righteousness, for goodness. What greater statement could God have made about His Son?

And then, in today’s Gospel passage, the Father again speaks aloud:

This is my beloved Son; listen to him.

With these words we are given our primary responsibility as disciples of Jesus.

Listen to Him.

It’s a simple message, for God never complicates, He always simplifies. Simple but profound, God’s message isn’t obscured by some long to-do list of responsibilities and behavioral expectations; rather, it consists of one, simple command, “Listen to him.” For this is the essence of discipleship, and it hasn’t changed since the days of Abraham.

I can remember as a child -- I think I was about seven years old -- being fascinated by our family Bible. Every week my father would open it up, read aloud whatever passage happened to interest him that day, and then discuss it with us. To be honest, I was probably more interested in the remarkable illustrations in our Bible.

One in particular both fascinated and terrified me. It was a brilliantly clear picture of an old man forcibly holding the body of a young boy against a stone altar. Even more disturbing was the large knife in the man’s hand, a knife pointed straight at the boy. That painting, by Caravaggio, was my introduction to Abraham and Isaac, and the caption beneath it consisted of a single word: “Ready!”

I remember thinking, ready for what? And so I asked my father, and he said, “Ready to sacrifice his son.” Well, that certainly didn’t help; nor was it very reassuring. I asked more questions and received more puzzling answers that pretty much boiled down to: “Because God asked Abraham to do it, and because Abraham loved God.”

It was all very confusing. I also found myself looking at my father a little differently, wondering if God might ask him to do what He’d asked Abraham. Eventually, though, I came to realize that Abraham and Isaac were a kind of special case.

God might not test us as He tested Abraham, but He still wanted us to listen, to obey, to be ready. Yes, Abraham loved and trusted God so deeply, He believed in God so faithfully, that he was ready to do whatever God asked of him. And God, seeing Abraham’s readiness, provided the ram to be sacrificed in place of Isaac. Years later, I learned that this readiness to do God’s will is the mark of the true disciple.

Brothers and sisters, in today’s Gospel passage, they apostles are generations away from Abraham, on another mountain where they encounter another who is ready. Peter, James and John follow their Master up its slopes, separating themselves from the world.

On that mountaintop Jesus gives them a glimpse of what is to come, a glimpse of the promise they don’t yet understand, a glimpse of God, of eternity – and they see it all through Jesus. Standing in His glory with Moses and Elijah, Jesus is fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets.

There was no caption explaining that scene for the apostles, but maybe Peter was starting to get the picture. Maybe deep down he’d come to realize another Biblical sacrifice was about to be offered. Like Isaac, another Son would carry his own wood of sacrifice up yet another hill.

Unable to grasp this fully, Peter is overwhelmed by the moment: Let’s build tents and just stay here forever. It’s so good to be here. But to be content with the present is not a statement of readiness, is it? It’s a statement of complacency. And complacency isn’t the mark of the disciple.

To help Peter and the others understand this, God speaks, and Peter hears the voice of God, the voice that causes a healthy fear:

This is my beloved Son – listen.

In this Lenten season, as we page through our history as a people…as we are presented each week with the stories of God’s faithfulness…as we picture the scenes and try to understand the captions God writes beneath them…as we do all these things, let’s remember what we’re called to do: to listen and to be ready to act.

Will we listen to Jesus as he speaks to us in so many ways: through the Gospel; through the Church; through each other?

But are we ready, ready to act, ready to sacrifice? We’re asked to make only one sacrifice: total dedication to God – to be ready to serve Him always.

Ready to listen and respond to His call.

Ready to put sin behind us.

Ready to name grace when we see it.

Ready to love the unloved.

Ready to defend Christ and His Church in the public square.

Ready to challenge the world when it turns its back on Christ, when it embraces not life but death.

Here lies the very essence of our Christian spirituality: having hearts and minds spiritually tuned to hear what God is telling us. These days of Lent should be our listening time.

Days begun with a moment of quietness, a moment when we pray young Samuel’s simple prayer: Speak Lord, your servant is listening.

Days when we look for God and His message in life’s simple experiences and our encounters with others.

Days that end with a moment of thanksgiving.

Do we thank God for the love that gave us our very being?

Do we thank Him for the sacrifice that promises us eternal life?

Do we thank Him for each other?

Brothers and sisters, the Father who spared Isaac’s life, spared nothing in sacrificing His own Son.

You and I are asked to do no less. But are we ready?

 

Friday, February 28, 2020

Videos: Morning of Reflection - Three Women

The parish's Council of Catholic Women asked me to conduct a Morning of Reflection -- really about a one-hour series of talks -- on Saturday, 22 February 2020. For a topic I chose to speak about three women: one from the Old Testament, one from the New Testament, and third from the Church. The women I chose were certainly not famous. Indeed, the two women from Sacred Scripture are unnamed, and the third is hardly well-known, and had her parents had their way, she might well have remained unnamed. But each of the three particularly manifested one of the three theological virtues: faith, hope, and love.

I have embedded videos of each of the three parts of my reflection below. Each talk is about 20 minutes long and was followed by a few minutes of silent reflection. For obvious reasons, I have edited out the periods of silence, and just included the talks. 

If I have time I will later add the complete text of each of the three talks.
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Part 1 of the Morning of Reflection focuses on the FAITH of the Widow of Zarephath, who fed the prophet Elijah, as described in 1 Kings 17. A video of Part 1 follows:




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Part 2 of the Morning of Reflection focuses on the HOPE manifested by the "sinful woman" who approached Jesus at the home of Simon the Pharisee, bathes His feet with her tears, dries them with her hair, and anoints Him with precious nard, as described in the final verses of Luke 7. A video of Part 2 follows:




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Part 3 of the Morning of Reflection focuses on the LOVE of God and neighbor shown by Blessed Margaret of Castello (1207-1320), a remarkable woman who suffered much and yet shared God's love with all whom she encountered. This year, on April 13, 2020, we will celebrate the 700th anniverary of Blessed Margaret's death at the age of 33.




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Finally, I have added a video of our brief concluding prayer:




Monday, March 25, 2019

Homily: Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord

Readings: Is 7:10-14; 8:10; Ps 40; Heb 10:4-10; Lk 1:26-38

It's especially fitting today, in the midst of Lent, that we should celebrate this wonderful Marian solemnity, the Annunciation of the Lord.

"Mary, full of grace" [Lk 1:28] the angel exclaimed, and that's exactly what he meant. Mary is literally full of God's grace, so full there's no room for any sin within her. And how could it be otherwise? For God incarnate must enter the world via a spotless vessel, born of woman but a woman without sin.
"Hail, Mary, full of grace..."
Here Mary reminds us how to celebrate Lent. She's the perfect Lenten figure because on this day she anticipates the Paschal Mystery. Without her fiat, without her declaration of faith, without the word of Mary, the Word of God could not be Emmanuel, God with us.

What did the angel tell her? 
"You shall conceive and bear a son...the Son of the Most High" [Lk 1:31-32].
And Mary agreed: 

"Let it be done to me according to your word" [Lk 1:38].
With this, Jesus is not simply in her thoughts and hopes, in her prayers and yearnings. He is in her flesh. His flesh is her flesh. Hers is His. She waits only to see His face and offer Him to the world. She knows she is blessed, for she told us...
"...He has looked with favor on his lowly servant. From this day all generations will call me blessed: the Almighty has done great things for me, and holy is his Name" [Lk 1:48-49].
Words we too should pray every day, because God has done great things for us well. He has given us His Son, a Son who in complete humility takes on our flesh, redeems us through His passion and death, and defeats death through His Resurrection. Christ's redemption of the world requires the consent of Mary.

Brothers and sisters, we are created in and for love. Had God imposed His will on us, we couldn't share His divine life, which is freedom. If Jesus were incarnate Himself, without the free consent of Mary, it would not be true love. Through her love of Jesus, Mary is the first disciple, and the one who lived discipleship to the fullest. Jesus told us clearly what it means to be a disciple:
"Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother...the ones who listen to the word of God and act on it" [Mk 3:35; Lk 8:21]
The Visitation
This is Mary: she who hears God's word and acts. We see it throughout Luke's gospel. What does she do after the Annunciation? She visits her kinswoman, Elizabeth, who was with child. Elizabeth was old and needed the help of her young relative. Mary's first act as Jesus' mother is to carry him, not for herself, but for someone in need. No wonder that when Mary greeted Elizabeth, John the Baptist leaped for joy in Elizabeth's womb.

Mary, the perfect disciple, follows Jesus. She is blessed, not only because she bore God's Son, but also because she is the prime example of those who listen to the word of God and keep it. She follows Jesus all the way to the Cross, and beyond. She remains faithful even after her Son's death, listening to the Lord, joining the apostles in prayer, waiting for the coming of the Holy Spirit.

Just as Jesus came to Mary in poverty and human weakness, He comes to us today, not in glory, but in helplessness.

Just as He came to Mary as a powerless infant, Jesus comes to us in the hungry and thirsty, in the stranger, in the lonely, in the sick and dying, in the confused and troubled, in the addicted and the imprisoned. Again in her Magnificat she sings:
"He has scattered the proud in their conceit. He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty...for he has remembered his promise of mercy" [Lk 1:51-55]
The trouble is, today God chooses to feed the hungry not with miraculous manna from heaven, but through us. The hungers of humanity cry out to us: hunger for bread, hunger for justice, hunger for love, hunger for truth, hunger for God. The cry is more than a human cry; it is God's Word calling to us.

I can't tell you what God is calling you to do, for God works differently through each of us. But I can assure you He's not telling you to do nothing; for we are Jesus' disciples, in imitation of Mary, only if we listen to his word and act on it.

Lent, then, is a time for action. How did Jesus put it? 
"Repent and believe in the Gospel" [Mk 1:15].
This kind of discipleship is not without cost. "A sword shall pierce your heart," Mary was told - just as it must pierce the heart of every true disciple. But like Mary we can take comfort in God's presence within us. As Jesus told us, if we love Him and keep His word, His Father will love us and they will come and make their home with us.

Christ within us. Christ all around us. Christ leading us. We need only murmur with Mary, "Whatever you say, Lord," and then do it.

Sunday, March 10, 2019

Homily: 1st Sunday of Lent (Year C)

Readings: Dt 26:4-10; Ps 91; Rom 10:8-13; Lk 4:1-13
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One of the more disturbing attitudes I encounter among many Catholics today is a one of mild desperation...and sometimes not so mild. They look at the world and its troubles and its sinfulness and see nothing else. It's as if they wear blinders of pessimism, forgetting that God has promised to be with us always.

Indeed, in today's first reading from Deuteronomy, we see how a people who had lived for generations in slavery reaped the benefits of God's promise of freedom.

Pessimism really has no place in the mind and heart of the Christian, for the Gospel, the Good News of Jesus Christ, is a message of unabashed optimism. And trust me, it's alive and well in the world. In the event you're not convinced, let me share some experiences with you.

A few years ago, my wife, Diane, and I made another pilgrimage to Rome. We had a great time. But the magnificent basilicas, the ancient landmarks, the breathtaking art of Michelangelo, even the wine and pasta - it all paled in comparison to an experience in St. Peter's Square one sunny Wednesday morning.

I managed to get good seats for the audience, up on the platform, just about 30 feet from the Holy Father. But as I looked out at the huge crowd I noticed that most were young people from dozens of nations. The expressions on their faces - of expectation and joy, of optimism and deep faith - were simply beautiful. 
Pope Benedict Surrounded
Still not convinced? Well, a couple of years later I had the opportunity to visit our seminary and meet our young seminarians.

Another wonderful experience - to spend time with these young men, to share in their hopes, to pray with them, and to experience the love and optimism that define their lives. We are blessed to have future priests with such remarkable faith and total commitment. 

This, brothers and sisters, is what Lent is all about. It's a time of optimism and renewal; a time to turn away from yesterday, focus on today, and look forward expectantly to tomorrow.

Look again at today's Gospel. Jesus' time in the desert is a time for prayerful communion with the Father, a time of formation, a time to prepare Himself for His ministry and, ultimately, for His passion, death and resurrection. In many respects it was the defining turning point in His life, a sharp dividing line between His hidden private life and His public ministry.

Did Jesus have to go into the desert? Did He have to perform such a radical sacrificial act? Did He have to subject Himself to the direct and personal temptations of Satan?

Of course not! His Divinity guaranteed the outcome. He did it all for us, offering Himself to us as a model. Jesus Christ, true God and true man, like us in everything but sin, voluntarily submitted Himself to temptation.

God has given us a Redeemer whose love for us is boundless. No matter what sufferings, pains, or temptations we experience, our God leads us, giving us confidence in His mercy, since He too has experienced it all.

During these 40 days, Jesus calls us to let the Holy Spirit lead us, to confront our own personal deserts. And we all have deserts, don't we, those inhospitable places of our lives. Don't be afraid to confront them and then turn from them!

Has your relationship with God become a desert? Has your prayer life become arid, something you struggle through mechanically only on Sunday morning? 

Dou pray only when you want something from God? Have you forgotten how to thank and praise God? St. Paul, after all, instructs us to "Pray without ceasing" [1 Thes 5:17]. But what does this mean? 

Quite simply, God wants you to place everything, all your plans, burdens, worries, pains and heartaches at His feet. He'll pick them up and bear them with you. Come to Him in prayer. Share your sorrows and joys with Him, and taste His goodness.

Is your family life like a chaotic storm roaring across the desert? Has mutual respect and patient understanding been replaced by arguments and bitterness aimed at the hearts of those you love? Forgive as the Father forgives; love as the Father loves. Come together in prayer and God will unfold miracles in your lives.

Is yours a desert of self-absorption or materialism? Do you ignore the hungers of others, concentrating instead on your own needs and wants? People hunger for more than bread. They hunger for a kind word, for someone who will listen, for a reassuring touch. And most of all they hunger for God's love. Will you be the one who brings it to them?
The Bread of Life
Do you suffer in the desert of habitual sin? Put it behind you. Taste the forgiveness and mercy of God this Lent in the sacrament of reconciliation. The temptations which Jesus rejected are the same temptations we all face, temptations that ultimately merge into the temptation to pride, that dark polluted spring, the source of all other sin.

Satan tempted Jesus just as he tempts us: to trust in one's own power; to trust in the power of the world; to trust in Satan's power, the power of evil. They all amount to the same thing. That's the great temptation: to imagine we can achieve what only God can give.

Remember how they taunted Jesus on the cross:
"He trusted in God; let God deliver him if he wants to" [Mt 27:43].
No angels came to Jesus on the Cross, but God's plan was not suspended. Abandoned on this side of the tomb, His trust in the Father never wavered. Nothing separates Jesus from the Father, not a desert or a Cross. Jesus sets His heart on the Father, believes and trusts in Him. And the Father vindicates the Son when and where He chooses. 

Through His resurrection Jesus assures us that victory is ours if only we persevere in faith and trust. This is why the Church calls Lent "a joyous season." Yes, Jesus calls us to repentance, but He doesn't stop there. "Repent and believe in the Gospel" [Mk 1:15]. Yes, indeed, believe in the Good News.

Brothers and sisters, the Good News is life, Christ's life and your life, life here and eternal, life now and forever. Lent is about today, not yesterday. Today is life. Breathe it in and thank God for every life-giving breath.

If you want to repent, live! Come alive! Let Christ live in you and through you. Open your life to Him and to the will of the Father. 

Yesterday is sin. Today is love. God's love for us and the love He wants us to share with others. It's the love that keeps His commandments, the love that overcomes even death, the crucified love that takes away the sin of the world.

If you want to repent, love! Love God and love one another.

Yesterday is despair, the despair of a world without a living, loving God. The despair of horoscopes and palm-readers, and séances, the despair of New-agers resigned to become one with an uncaring universe, the despair of gloomy theologians preaching the heresy of predestined damnation.

Today is hope. Hope in God's message of love and forgiveness, the Good News of eternal life.
If you want to repent, hope! Come to know the mercy of God.

Yesterday was slavery, slavery to sin, to pride, to fear. But today is freedom! Not license, the false freedom of doing whatever we want, but true freedom, the freedom to choose good over evil.

If you want to repent, be free! Open yourself to God in free obedience to His commandments, and to each other in unforced love.

And you don't have to do it alone. Indeed, you can't do it alone. Call upon the Lord and He will send His Holy Spirit to lead you just as the Sprit led Jesus.

As St. Paul reminds us in today's first reading:
"Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved" [Rom 10:13].
Can anything be better than that?

Thursday, March 7, 2019

Homily: Ash Wednesday

Readings: Joel 2:12-18; Ps 51; 2 Cor 5:20-6:2; Mt 6:1-6,16-18
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Gerard Manley Hopkins, S.J.
Gerard Manley Hopkins, the 19th Century Jesuit poet, frequently corresponded with the poet laureate of England, his friend Robert Bridges. In one of these letters, Bridges, an agnostic, asked Hopkins how he could learn to believe, expecting, I suppose, some deep theological answer.

Hopkins replied in a letter with only two words: "Give alms."

What a wonderful answer! Even though it was probably lost on Mr. Bridges. You see, in his own search for truth, a search that ultimately led him to the Catholic Church, Hopkins had learned something most people never grasp. He hoped to show his friend that the love of God is experienced most fully in our love for others.

Only in loving others that we recognize and experience the source and being of all love.

Only in loving others can we see in every other person the divine image.

Only in loving others can we come face to face with Jesus. 

How did Jesus put it? 
"...whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me" [Mt 25:40].
But Jesus didn't stop there, did He? For in today's passage from Matthew, He tells us not only to give alms, but to take it a step farther, to do what doesn't come naturally: He tells us to give alms in secret.

Imagine that? Being charitable but telling no one. Taking no credit for the good we do? No bows, no bouquets, no recognition, no thanks. Why, it's almost inhuman. Well...actually...it is inhuman, because it's what the Father wants, and He will repay us.
As we begin this Lenten season of repentance, this season when we look forward to the joy of Easter, let's remember that in giving up we're also called to give. But real almsgiving is a giving of ourselves, a giving of time, a giving of talent, a giving of our presence to others in need...

...to those who are ill and suffering

...to those who hunger and thirst, not only for food and drink but for the Word of God

...to those who are dying and afraid, who need the touch and reassurance of another

The opportunities are all around us, brothers and sisters. The question is: will we respond? Will we be the ambassadors for Christ that Paul says we are?

But Jesus talks about more than almsgiving, doesn't He?

He also calls us to prayer. And here too he tells us to act in secret, to withdraw from others, to pray to the Father in the intimacy that comes from contemplative prayer.

Public prayer, the faithful coming together, as we assemble here today, is a necessary and holy act. But as Christians we're also called into an intimate, personal relationship with God. Now that certainly takes place through the Communion we experience through the Eucharist. Indeed, can anything be more personal, more intimate?

But this relationship must also be continually reinforced through prayer, through the private prayer commanded by Our Lord. This is the kind of prayer that leads to the interior transformation for which we strive during Lent.
And that's not all. Jesus continues by telling us to fast; and here, too, He urges discretion, to fast without ostentation, to avoid praise.
Once again we're in conflict, because the world admires only the spectacular, even when it comes to sacrifice. It places little value on hidden and silent sacrifice.

The Church, then, following Jesus' command, fasts during Lent.

As a worldwide community of faith, then, we give alms, we pray, and we fast.

We recognize and turn away from our sinfulness.

We reject self-absorption and greed, hate and despair, and once again heed the first call of our baptism.

Pope Benedict, on the day he announced his resignation, wrote few words on his Twitter account:
"We must trust in the mighty power of God's mercy," he said. "We are all sinners, but His grace transforms us and makes us new."
Yes, we are all sinners, and only God's grace can transform us. Only through God's grace can we do as the Prophet Joel proclaims: "Rend your hearts..." [Jl 2:13] allowing God to tear open the secret places of our hearts so He can enter and be present to us. 
"Rend your heart..."
To rend our hearts: to see ourselves as God sees us, to let Him shows us our innermost being. And that can be a scary thing, to come face to face with the real me, to come to an understanding of who I really am. For whom do I live?  Do I live just for me, or do I live for the God who brought me into being? 

To rend our hearts: to open ourselves up to others because God's infinite love demands it.

To rend our hearts: to perform the great works of Lent - almsgiving, prayer and fasting.

Yes, we are all sinners, but we are still called to mirror God's love and forgiveness in our own lives. 

Lent is an opportunity to share in and alleviate the sufferings of others. But Lent is also an opportunity to be forgiven for our refusal to forgive; to be cured of our secret pride and hatreds.
"Repent, and believe in the Gospel" [Mk 1:15].
Moments from now, as your forehead is marked with the sacramental sign of ashes, you will hear those words of Jesus. 

Yes, indeed, we are called to repent and to believe the Good News, the promise of redemption, the gift of eternal life. 

We need only open our hearts to God's healing presence.