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: Saturday, December 18 - Year 2

Readings: Jer 23:5-7; Psalm 72; Mt 1:18-25

____________________

Don't you just love the language of Jeremiah?

"I will raise up a righteous shoot of David...This is the name they give him: 'The LORD our justice'" [Jer 23:5-6].

And then the words of Psalm 72:

"He shall govern your people with justice and your afflicted ones with judgment... the lives of the poor he shall save... And blessed forever be his glorious name; may the whole earth be filled with his glory" [Ps 72:2,13,19].

These words, this Word of God, like the entirety of the Old Testament, point to one thing, the coming of a Savior. Yes, the revealed Word of God points to the incarnate Word of God, a revelation fulfilled in today's Gospel passage from Matthew. Matthew begins his Gospel with a genealogy tracing 2,000 years of the human ancestry of Jesus from Abraham to Mary.

But then Matthew's focus changes. No longer does he look down on Israel through the long lens of history. Quite suddenly, Matthew entered the lives of two people in the little Galilean village of Nazareth. And just as suddenly, these two lives, the lives of Mary and Joseph, were changed by the Word of God, a Word that echoed throughout the entire created universe.

In Luke's Gospel the angel announces this Word to Mary, a Word she accepts into her very being. Indeed, her womb now becomes the center of that universe. But in Matthew we witness another annunciation, this time in a dream to Joseph, who responds in full obedience. Yes, Joseph, goes on to protect, to name, to decide, to nurture, to accept all that God reveals to him...for Joseph is a man of deep faith.

But did you notice, in both annunciations, the angel's appearance begins with the words, "Be not afraid"? The angel wouldn't have said those words unless fear were present. And its presence is understandable. God entered into these two lives in an incomprehensible, a fearful way, in a way that even today, after 2,000 years of theological study and speculation, we still don't fully understand.

Yes, the Incarnation is a mystery, the manifestation of the revelation to Joseph:

"...they shall name him Emmanuel, which means 'God is with us'" [Mt 1:23]. 

But what a promise this is! Brothers and sisters, God is with us!

When we see the world shrouded in so much darkness, like Joseph we can trust completely in the light of Christ to guide us, for God is with us.

When we experience deep discouragement in our lives, when we're overcome by fears or worries, when the challenges seem too great to face, we need only recall God is with us...for we are not alone. Like Joseph, we need only accept God's presence. Turn to Jesus today and let Him enter your heart. Push aside the obstacles that you and world place in His path. 

Pope Francis wrote that many today act as if God doesn't exist.  A "practical relativism", he called it, "a lifestyle which leads to an attachment to financial security, or to a desire for power or human glory at all cost." 

Say no to selfishness. Avoid the pragmatism that transforms us into "mummies" - lifeless beings who deny the reality and the hope of Jesus Christ. In the pope's words: "Our faith is challenged to discern how wine can come from water and how wheat can grow in the midst of weeds...Say yes to a new relationship with Jesus."

This is our Advent call: to open our hearts to Jesus' coming today, in the midst of our darkness, often a very personal darkness. If you and I let Him love us, forgive us, tell us we’re not alone, then we can face any challenge with hope, even when our union with Jesus leads us to the Cross, we are with him on the path to eternal life.

"Come, Lord Jesus" [Rev 22:20], into our hearts today.

 

A Look To the Past

A parishioner sent me a link to one of my own posts, written 13 years ago, telling me how prophetic it was. I disagreed strongly. It was not at all prophetic, but merely a statement of the reality we faced at the time. I also chided him for spending any time reading stuff I wrote years ago. I’m sure he had far better things to do.

Anyway, the post was written on September 28, 2008, just weeks before the election of Barack Obama as president. I did not support Obama for many reasons, but primarily because he denied the right to life and the sanctity of marriage. I firmly believe that anyone who supports abortion cannot honestly claim to be a follower of Jesus Christ. Such people are morally and spiritually dysfunctional. We must pray for their conversion.

All the issues I addressed in that post remain with us today. They differ only in their degree of acceptance by the American people. We are still aborting millions of unborn children and a large percentage of American Catholics and other Christians continue to support and elect pro-abortion politicians. Despite the scandal surrounding former Cardinal McCarrick, too many bishops still tolerate active homosexual priests. Sadly, the scandals of the past will likely continue into the future. As for our society, greed has penetrated every level, and has especially driven our largest corporations. In particular, the huge social media multinationals have become so big and so supportive of big government that our nation is beginning to mirror the traditional fascist state in which complete control of the population becomes the overriding goal. 

That these evils remain among us today is not at all prophetic, but merely a reflection of what happens when a society, when our nation, turns its back on the God who loved us into being. God asks for a response. He asks for our repentance, our faith, and our obedience. Did not Our Lord Jesus begin His public ministry with the words, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the Gospel” [Mk 1:15]?

Here’s a link to that earlier post: Elections and Disintegration

Take some time to pray today and thank God for creating you, for giving you the wondrous gift of life.

Homily: Monday, 4th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 2 Sm 15:13-14, 30; 16:5-13; Ps 3; Mk 5:1-20
-----------------
 “Legion is my name. There are many of us” [Mk 5:9].   

When I was much younger, I thought those words were among the most frightening in the Bible. There was just something very chilling about them. Part of it was the demon’s brazen declaration of who he and his gang were. Was that name, “Legion”, supposed to scare Jesus? Well it might have scared me, but it certainly didn’t scare Jesus. It was also the idea of that poor man possessed by so many demons. After all, a Roman Legion could have as many as 6,000 fighting men.

And yet, if you think about it, Satan is the father of lies and his minions follow suit. How many were there? We don’t know. And I suppose the last thing they resembled were the disciplined soldiers who made up a legion. To be disciplined is to obey and that’s one thing Satan doesn’t do.

Recall how Jesus commissioned the disciples:

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

Yes, “…all that I have commanded you.” In other words, through obedience to His commands the Church will remain united. Jesus calls us to unity.

But Satan…his name in Greek – diabolos (διάβολος) – means the scatterer. He doesn’t unite; he scatters. He strives to destroy community, to create dissension. He tears apart all that is good. This is exactly what he did to the Gerasene community that Jesus and the apostles visited.

This was not a Jewish community. The Gerasenes were gentiles, pagans…and Jesus encountered three types of beings during His brief stay.

The first was the man who meets Jesus on His arrival. Living among the tombs, a kind of wild-man, he was being destroyed by the demons who possessed him. But he came to Jesus didn’t he? He saw Him from a distance, ran up to Him, and fell down before Him.

Was this the act of the man himself, and not the demons who possessed him? Did he exert what little free will he still had? Driven by the Spirit, did he run to Jesus, and throw himself to the ground in a silent act of worship? Is that what happened? I’d like to think so.

But that’s when Jesus encountered the second being, the demon who spoke for them all. He, too, recognized Jesus, the “Son of the Most High God” [Mk 5:7].

He also knows that his time is up. He came face to face with the power of God Himself. “…do not torment me” [Mk 5:7], he begged. He also asked to remain among the Gerasenes. Apparently the pickin’s were good there. And he saw an opportunity to divide further, to scatter. “Send us into the swine” [Mk 5:12], he begs. And Jesus does just that. 2,000 swine, valuable livestock, run off a cliff into the water and drown.

With this Jesus encounters the third group of beings, the people of Gerasene. The swineherds, who had witnessed it all, told the locals everything that had happened. They saw the possessed man standing before them as normal as can be; indeed, more normal even than they. It was all too much for them. As Mark tells us, “…they were seized with fear” [Mk 5: 15] and begged Jesus to leave them, to go away. They saw the work of God but refused to recognize His presence among them.

Yes, Satan did his work, didn’t he? He scattered. And Jesus allowed it…for now. Satan probably thought he’d won. After all, Jesus was sent away. But the scatterer failed to notice something important…because Jesus didn’t really leave, did He? At least not entirely. For His Word remained there in the person of a disciple.

Jesus sent the one he freed from Satan’s grasp to proclaim the Good News. Unlike Satan, he obeyed. Yes, this man, once possessed by a legion of demons became the first missionary to the Gentiles.

Jesus chooses the most unlikely among us to demonstrate His power and His mercy. No matter how we’ve failed in the past, no matter how sinful, how unworthy, God continues to call us. He will never stop extending His bountiful mercy. For God is love and can do nothing else.

Oh, yes, I didn’t mention one group of people who were there with Jesus during His visit to Gerasene: the apostles. And yet we hear nothing from them, do we? They say not a word. Perhaps they too were frightened by those chilling words and all that took place that day. Only later would they realize why Jesus had taken them to that dark place: to give them a taste of what they would encounter as they “make disciples of all nations.”

And how about us? Do we extend mercy to the most unlikely, the most unloved, those rejected by the world? Do we carry Jesus’ Word and His merciful love into the dark places of our world?

Or do we instead do the work of the scatterer?

Homily: 19th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Kgs 19:4-8; Ps 34; Eph 4:30-5:2; Jn 6:41-51

Some years ago, a high school student asked me why, if God really exists, He doesn’t manifest Himself in some obvious way. “I mean,” he said, “like, if Jesus really is God, why doesn’t he just appear, you know, in the sky or somewhere? Or maybe He could perform some really big miracle, something that everyone could see.”

“And what would that accomplish?” I asked.

He stared at me as if I were, as they say, totally clueless. “Well, you know, everyone would have to believe in Him. I mean, how could anyone ignore it?”

“And you think that this would change people?”

“Well, yeah. Wouldn’t it change you?”

I admitted that a miracle of the sort he envisioned would no doubt have its effect on me. It would certainly reaffirm my faith in Jesus as the Son of God.

“But what of those who don’t already believe?” I asked. “Or those whose faith is weak, and whose lives reflect this weakness? Would they suddenly transform their lives, become holy and obey God’s commandments?”

“Sure.” he said, “I mean, it would be pretty dumb not to.”

For a moment, I considered my own faith...and my sinfulness, and my inability to justify the disparity between them. Yes, I found myself thinking, it is pretty dumb to believe and yet to continue resisting God’s Will through sin and disobedience.

In today’s second reading, St. Paul chastises the Christians at Ephesus on this very point. Don’t grieve the Holy Spirit, he tells them, with your bitterness, your anger, your malice, your slander toward one another. In other words, it’s not enough to say we’re Christians; we must be Christians -- as Paul says -- “imitators of God,” imitators of Christ.

 But like the Ephesians we instead let ourselves be consumed by anger, by hatreds, by lust, by greed. In varying degrees, we all do it, don’t we?

We see it in families, in homes where love is absent and communication is limited to criticism, angry outbursts, and worse.

We see it in the workplace, where too often the just wage is sacrificed on the altar of investor’s profits. Or where commercial decisions are made with no thought given to their moral implications. As the chief executive of a large corporation once said to me, “I don’t see where personal morality has any place in business decisions.” And he claims to be a Christian.

We see it in our professions, where, for example, some doctors supposedly committed to healing devote themselves to bringing only death...to the unborn, to the sick, to the elderly.

We see it in our popular culture, in movies and on TV, on the Internet, in our music... where immorality reigns supreme, where God’s Word and His Church are mocked, where the Ten Commandments are consigned to the dust heap of irrelevance. "Hey, it's a new millennium," they tell us.

Sometimes we even see it in the parking lot after Mass, but that’s a subject for another homily.

Like some of the Ephesians who so exasperated St. Paul, too many of us try to compartmentalize our lives into Christian times -- pretty much restricted to Sunday mornings -- and other times, when just about anything goes.

Strange behavior, isn’t it? Here we are, believing Christians, who are told by Jesus -- No, commanded by the Son of God -- to repent, to change the direction of our lives so they reflect the Gospel. And instead of obeying, we carry on as if...well, as if He didn’t exist. And yet it’s He, the Creative Word of God, who sustains our very existence. In the words of my teenage friend, “pretty dumb” of us, isn’t it? Maybe that’s why Jesus was so fond of comparing us to sheep, perhaps the least intelligent of His warm-blooded creatures.

Back now to that conversation with the young man…

To convince him that God knows what He’s about, that spectacular miracles in themselves don’t create faithful Christians, I turned to chapter 6 of John, the source of today’s Gospel reading.

The scene depicted took place in the synagogue at Capernaum the day after Jesus had fed thousands by multiplying a few loaves and fish. His listeners, many of the very same people who had filled their bellies with bread at that miraculous picnic on a Galilean hillside, were all attentive until He began to reveal His true identity. “I am the bread which came down from heaven,” he told them.

Ignoring the miracles they had witnessed, instead of listening to Him, they challenged Him: “Now, wait just a minute. You’re not from heaven. You’re from Nazareth. We know you. You’re the son of Joseph and Mary.”

Interesting, isn’t it? They’re simply unable to reconcile their earthly knowledge of Jesus as the local boy who helped out in Joseph’s carpenter shop with what they’ve seen Him do or with the claim He’s just made.

Like Elijah in today’s first reading, Jesus is rejected; and the parallel doesn’t stop there. Elijah had just performed a spectacular miracle in God’s Name in which he had defeated the priests of the pagan god, Baal. And the result? Elijah was forced to flee into the desert for his life.

But Jesus doesn’t flee. He persists and says, “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. I will raise him up on the last day.”

Faith, then, isn’t something we can achieve through our own efforts, like a promotion at work. It’s a gift from the Father, a free, totally gratuitous gift. We must, however, be disposed to receive it. And we must cherish it, nourish it, and help it grow through prayer and acts of love.

“Follow the way of love,” St. Paul instructs us, “even as Christ loved you.”

But Jesus goes on, and adds these remarkable words, “I am the bread of life...If anyone eats this bread he shall live forever; the bread I will give is my flesh, for the life of the world.”

Here Jesus reveals the very essence of the Good News: He has come for one reason: to offer His Life so that we may share in eternal life with the Father. As we will see in next Sunday’s Gospel, with these words Jesus also introduces God’s most extraordinary gift: the Eucharist, the bread of life, the true miracle performed daily on this altar and thousands of others throughout the world.

You see, Jesus knows us far better than we know ourselves. He knows how we struggle on this brief journey to Eternity. He knows how we suffer through the illnesses, the sacrifices, the addictions, the rejections, the fears of this life. He hears our cries when those we love are hurting, for He, too, has suffered.

To strengthen us, to nourish our souls, to keep us close to Him, the Father gives us His gift of Love. He gives us His Son, body and blood, soul and divinity, under the appearances of bread and wine. He permits us to share, again and again, in the sacrifice of Christ.

The people in the synagogue at Capernaum rejected this message, the Good News of salvation. They rejected the gift. And they rejected Jesus Himself. Why? Because it all got in the way of what they thought they knew.

From our perspective. 2,000 years later, we see that human nature has remained essentially the same. Spectacular miracles won’t guarantee faith. Faith demands a receptive heart open to God’s Word, and a willingness to transform our lives.

So, as we receive the Bread of Life at Communion today, let’s approach with faith-filled hearts, committed to living the Christian life that God wants for each of us. Then, in the words of today’s psalm, we too can “Taste and see how good the Lord is.”

Homily: 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)

Readings: Ez 18:25-28: 7; Ps 103; Phil 2:1-11; Mt 21: 28-32
_________________

Some years ago, a friend, a retired a State Trooper, told me of the time he pulled over a well-known politician for speeding and reckless driving. As he was handed the citation, the politician looked at the trooper incredulously and asked, "Don't you realize who I am?"

"Yes, sir," my friend responded, "and that's why you you're not getting a warning. Someone in your position should have more respect for the law than you demonstrated today."

Not a career-enhancing move on the part of the trooper, but a satisfying story for the rest of us.

"Don't you realize who I am?"

Perhaps one day historians will look back on our era and label it, "The Age of Self-esteem". Obsessed with feeling good about ourselves regardless of our behavior, we’re unwilling as a society to accept responsibility for the ills that plague us.

Our children kill each other, so we look for solutions in legislatures and courts, never dreaming that the cause lies much closer to home. But to question our own values and those we instill in our children might damage the self-esteem of both parent and child. And so we slide down the cultural slope ignoring the impact of abortion and euthanasia and capital punishment on the value we place on human life. Protect us from the unwanted, the expendable!

Addictions -- drugs, alcohol, gambling, pornography -- devour the lives of millions and devastate families. So what do we do? Governments go into the gambling business. TV networks air shows glamorizing drug dealers. Government agencies fund the pornographic and sacrilegious because the grant request self-servingly labeled it "Art". But perhaps our most insidious cultural attitude is the idea that a person’s value is best measured by wealth and position – which just leads to another addiction.

A few years ago, I had a conversation with a man who was demonstrably proud that he and his wife, both business professionals, earned nearly a half-million a year. Their children? Well, they were being raised by schools, day-care centers, au pairs, and baby-sitters.

“To succeed today you have to work hard,” he explained. “That means long hours. But we grab all the quality-time we can, and try hard to pass our values on to our children." Lucky kids.

He also mentioned that he and his wife were planning a two-week vacation to the islands…without the children. "Parents need an occasional break from the pressures of family life," he said. I couldn't help but think, "What family life?"

Ezekiel in Exile

How we rationalize to avoid responsibility for our actions and to please ourselves.

Of course this is nothing new. Indeed, in today's first reading the prophet, Ezekiel, reprimands the Jewish people who were then held captive in Babylon. They actually blamed God for their problems, believing He had punished them unfairly for the sins of their ancestors. But Ezekiel tells the exiles, "No!" It’s not God who’s unfair, but you who are sinful. You alone are responsible for your sinfulness, and this will keep you from salvation.

He goes on to explain that they have a choice: they are either for or against God. There’s no avoiding it, no comfortable middle ground, no room for compromise, no acceptable rationalizations to preserve their self-esteem. Ezekiel, the prophet of personal responsibility, leads God's people -- and leads us if we’ll listen -- along the only path to salvation.

We hear a similar message in today’s brief Gospel parable of the two sons [Mt 21:28-32]. One son, when asked by his father to do some work, willfully refuses, but later he thinks better of it and does what was asked of him. The other son at first says "Yes" to his father's request, but ultimately does nothing.

Jesus told this story in the temple in Jerusalem, speaking to the elders and chief priests, men who were overly fond of the power and esteem and wealth that came with their positions. Aware of their self-righteousness and hypocrisy, Jesus wants them to take personal responsibility for their behavior. He contrasts them with those they considered the greatest of sinners: tax collectors and prostitutes.

The people's dislike of tax collectors didn't stem from cultural hostility to the idea of taxation. No, the Jews disliked tax collectors because they viewed them as pawns of the Romans, an occupying power, and because many were corrupt, becoming rich from bribes and over-taxation. Matthew, this Gospel’s author, was himself a tax collector when he responded to the Lord's call. Jesus’ association with Matthew and public sinners brought only scorn from the self-righteous elders.

This leads Jesus to compare his audience to the parable’s second son, the outwardly pious son, who says all the correct things, but then goes on to lead a life of self-serving disobedience. And the tax collectors and prostitutes? Like the first son, they repented of their disobedience, accepted God's loving forgiveness, and went on to devote their lives to doing His will. Jesus makes it clear which of the two will be welcome in God's Kingdom.

And so we are left with one word ringing in our 21st Century ears, a word that clashes mightily with our modern sense of who we are: Obedience.

How can I possibly think well of myself if I’m constantly forced to do the will of another? Think of the effect on my self-esteem. Am I not a free person? Do I not have the right to do as I wish…at least within the boundaries of the reigning political correctness? "Don't you realize who I am?"

As usual, St. Paul supplies the answer. Yes, we have the freedom to choose; and with freedom comes personal responsibility for the results of our decisions.

In our second reading Paul instructs the Christians of Philippi to "humbly regard others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not for his own interests, but also for those of others" [Phil 2:3-4]. Yes, Paul stands our modern mantra on its head by asking: "Don't you realize who they are?"

Then, in one of the most beautiful passages in the New Testament [Phil 2:6-11], he holds up Jesus as the example of freely chosen obedience to God's Will. It's a hymn that reflects both the divinity and the self-effacement of Jesus, Jesus who is God in His very essence: unchangeably, inalienably.

The key is what is called Jesus' kenosis (a Greek word meaning emptiness). It’s the act of Jesus emptying Himself, pouring Himself out until there’s nothing left. He didn't shed His divinity, but rather He shed the privileged status of His divine glory. He didn’t come to exalt Himself by shouting "Don't you realize who I am?" No, He humbled Himself. And for what? For the love and the salvation of the world. Instead, He asks us, “Don’t you realize how much I love you?”

It was all a freely chosen act of obedience to the Will of the Father, a heroic obedience that accepted even the degradation of death on a cross! From that lowest point, the Father exalted Him, and in Paul's words, "bestowed on Him the name above every other name" [Phil 2:9]. For Jesus is the master of all life, brothers and sisters, the master of all creation. We can give Him nothing but the obedience, love and loyalty that no one else can possibly deserve -- not in slavish, broken submission to power and might, but out of recognition of what He did for us. But out of love for Him.

"Don't you realize who He is?"

Jesus Christ is Lord! [Phil 2:11]

Homily: Solemnity of St. Joseph, Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary

March 19

Readings: 2 Sm 7:4-5,12-14,16; Ps 89; Rm 4:13,16-18,22; Mt 1-16,18-21

St. Joseph, whom we honor today, is one of those great figures whom we often overlook. From the Gospel story of the conception, birth and childhood of Jesus, there emerges this quiet, modest figure, the perfect model for fathers today.

Just consider the sort of man he must have been. God the Father, out of all the men who ever lived, chose one, Joseph, to be the guardian, the teacher, the guide of His only Son, Jesus. He also chose Joseph to love and protect Mary, the virgin Mother of the Son of God. Yes, Joseph must have been a very special man indeed.

Take some time today and read those first two chapters of Matthew’s Gospel, to remind yourself of the kind of man Joseph was. There we see a courageous man of honor who wants to protect Mary’s reputation. Why? Because he’s a righteous man and this is what God would want.

We see a man who takes Mary as his wife even though the child she bears is not his. Why? Because God told him to take the Child and His Mother to himself. And so Joseph obeys.

We see a man protects his young family by leading them into exile, into an unknown future. Why? Because God told him to. Joseph doesn’t wait to think it over. No, he leaves immediately in obedience to God’s command. He “rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed for Egypt” [Mt 2:14]

What a mystery for us to ponder! That God, in order to protect His Son, the uncreated Word of God, should choose to do so through the mediation of a humble carpenter. It’s all a piece of the greater mystery of the Incarnation, in which Father and Holy Spirit now relate to the Son not only as Divine Word but also as incarnate Man.

Matthew glosses over the flight to Egypt in a few words, but the reality would have been a nightmare. Traveling by night, hiding by day, the Holy Family would have required perhaps three or four weeks to travel the 300 miles through an inhospitable desert from Jerusalem to Alexandria. Once in Egypt, as homeless refugees, the family would rely solely on Joseph to earn a living during their years of exile.

Just when Joseph had probably established himself as a carpenter in this foreign land, God tells him to return to Israel, and once again he obeys. The murderous Herod was dead, but in Judea and Samaria, his son, Archelaus ruled, and Joseph rightly feared him, since Archelaus began his rule by slaughtering 3,000 of Judea’s most influential citizens. And so Joseph, again obedient to God, guides Mary and Jesus far to the north, to the safety of a small town nestled in the hills of Galilee, to Nazareth. It is, therefore, through the obedience of Joseph that the prophecies are fulfilled. “Out of Egypt I called my Son” [Hos 1:1]. And “He shall be called a Nazorean” [Mt 2:23; Is 11:1]

God doesn’t reveal everything to Joseph at once. Instead, Joseph remains continually dependent on God’s next word. For Joseph, the just man, is nevertheless fully human, and like all of us he must learn to grow in God’s love and grace. He must experience, as we all must, the trial of faithfulness, the trial of perseverance in seeking out the Will of God in our lives. And so Joseph waits patiently for God to speak, just as God waits patiently for Joseph to grow in fidelity to His Will.

It’s in the home of Joseph and Mary, that Jesus grows to maturity. It’s here that Joseph, according to Jewish custom, teaches Jesus to recite his prayers, to sing the age old Psalms of David, and to read from the Torah, the Law of Moses. It’s from Joseph that Jesus learns to appreciate, first hand, the importance of following the laws and customs of His people. It’s from Joseph the carpenter that Jesus comes to recognize the value and dignity of work.

It’s here, where Jesus encounters daily a man who is happy in being poor in spirit, happy in being meek, happy in being just and merciful, happy in being pure of heart, in being singlehearted. Later, when Jesus begins His public ministry, he will often speak of God the Father as “Abba” or Daddy. And it was from the loving and caring Joseph that Jesus first learned what a daddy was.

At the heart of Joseph’s sanctity is his unquestioning obedience to accept the Will of God in his life…and to act on it. And because he obeys, God comes to him again and again. God walks in Joseph’s soul just as He walked with Adam in the Garden. Is it any wonder that He entrusts to Joseph what is most precious to Him?

We owe honor to Joseph, and honored indeed would Joseph be if fathers today would accept him as their model. And mothers would turn to him, asking for his fatherly intercession in the lives of their children.

St. Joseph, pray for us.

Homily: Wednesday, 3rd Week of Lent

Readings: Dt 4:1, 5-9; Ps 147; Mt 5:17-19

I remember the first time one of my children openly disagreed with me. Trust me, it came as a shock.

It was our elder daughter, and I think she was probably 11 or 12 at the time, perhaps even younger. I had pontificated about something at the dinner table, not expecting anything but full agreement, when she said, “No, Dad, I think you’re wrong about that.” The shock was so great I can’t even recall the subject of our disagreement. I remember thinking only, “Our family life is about to undergo a radical change. These children of ours are more than little clones. They’re actually beginning to think for themselves.”

Of course, the four of them had no doubt been thinking for themselves and disagreeing with me for years, but had wisely chosen to remain silent. I also realized that in the future I’d have to give a little thought to what I intended to say or I’d end up having to defend my every utterance.

Naturally, I didn’t change at all. I still pontificated at the dinner table, saying whatever entered my mind. In truth I expected agreement and obedience without having to teach. And as you might expect, our children grew ever bolder in challenging me. This all came to mind thanks to today’s readings.

In Deuteronomy Moses tells God’s People:

“…take care and be earnestly on your guard not to forget the things which your own eyes have seen, nor let them slip from your memory as long as you live, but teach them to your children and to your children’s children” [Dt 4:9].

Then we hear Jesus in the Gospel:

“…whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do so will be called least in the Kingdom of heaven. But whoever obeys and teaches these commandments will be called greatest in the Kingdom of heaven” [Mt 5:19]

In Moses and Jesus, the Old and New Testaments come together, one pointing to the other, one fulfilling the other – and yet both offering the same Word of God.

Moses pleads with us: Don’t forget. Teach them to your children and your children’s children.

And Jesus demands of us: Obey and teach these commandments.

I’m sure you noticed one of the themes common to both: the call to teach. Yes, both call us to teach, and I wonder to myself…

How well did I teach my children? Did I simply tell them what to think, what to believe, how to act…? Or did I really teach? Did I let them question and probe? Did I help guide them to the truth? Or did I simply tell them and expect unquestioning obedience?

To teach well is hard work because it demands that we place another, the one being taught, above ourselves. It demands humility. And when it comes to teaching the Word of God, the best teacher is the one who lives the Word of God.

This leads us to the second common theme found in our two readings. Both Moses and Jesus also call us to obey. But notice they don’t tell us to extract obedience from others. They don’t tell us to force our children to obey the commandments. No, Moses and Jesus both tell us, the teachers, to do the obeying. For we teach best by how we live. We teach best by our own obedience.

To teach another well, to teach as Jesus taught, means taking the commandments to heart. It means loving our God with all that we have and are, and loving our neighbor as ourselves. Benedict XVI, preaching on the parable of the Good Samaritan, once said:

“Struck in his soul by the lightning flash of mercy, he himself now becomes a neighbor, heedless of any question or danger. The burden of the question thus shifts here. The issue is no longer which other person is a neighbor to me or not. The question is about me. I have to become the neighbor, and when I do, the other person counts for me ‘as myself.’”

Here, too, we encounter the attitude of the true Christian teacher.

Here we find the attitude of the good parent and grandparent.

Here we find the one who is able to love the other as he loves himself

Here we find the one who can lift the other, the one who can bring the other closer to God.