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: Tuesday, 3rd Week of Lent (Cycle II)

Readings: Dan 3:25,34-43; Ps 25; Mt 18:21-35

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Years ago, when I was working at Providence College, an aged Dominican – he must have been at least 70 – gave me a copy of a prayer written by Venerable Charles de Foucauld. At the time, he had not yet been beatified, and I had never heard of him. Today, years later, Charles is a canonized Saint, having been beatified by Pope Benedict XVI in 2005 and canonized by Pope Francis in 2022.

St. Charles de Foucauld

This remarkable man lived an even more remarkable life. Charles had been a playboy, an Army officer, an explorer, and a Trappist monk. But for the last 10 years of his life, he lived as a hermit among the Tauregs, a Muslim tribe in North Africa. He made no converts, and in 1916, in the midst of World War One, he was shot dead, assassinated in his hermitage by a fierce group of marauders who were also fighting the British and French. His life didn't really bear fruit until after his death. As Jesus told Philip and Andrew, "...unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit." [Jn 12:24]

The prayer I was given by that kind Dominican is a prayer of abandonment. It’s rather brief, something I guess you’d expect of such a prayer. Here's the complete text:

Father, I abandon myself into Your hands. Do with me what You will. Whatever You may do, I thank You. I am ready for all, I accept all.

Let only Your will be done in me and in all Your creatures. I wish no more than this, O Lord.

Into Your hands I commend my soul; I offer it to You with all the love of my heart; for, I love you, Lord, and so need to give myself, to surrender myself into Your hands without reserve and with boundless confidence. 

For You are my Father. Amen.

For years now, I’ve tried to pray these words every morning, except when I'm in too great a hurry, or simply a bit lazy. When I first read it, I realized this kind of selfless faith was, and remains, very difficult for me.

Interestingly, that Dominican gave it to me on Tuesday of the 3^rd week of Lent. I know this because at Mass in the college chapel that day I heard the same reading from Daniel that Patrick just proclaimed here today.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego -- don't you just love those wonderful names? You know, after we were married, I suggested to Diane, "You now, if we had triplets..." Well, that went nowhere.

Anyway, all three were willing to die very painful deaths rather than worship the false gods of King Nebuchadnezzar. But before they were tossed into that blazing furnace, Azariah, as Abednego was called in Hebrew, led them in prayer. This, too, was a prayer of sheer abandonment. He then repeated its essence in a statement to the king himself.

Although speaking to the king, Azariah and his companions reveal their decision to abandon themselves to God’s will. They accept life or death, whatever fulfills God’s plan.

If our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire and out of your hand, O king, let him deliver us. But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods and we will not worship the golden statue that you have set up.

King Nebuchadnezzar, like so many who wield worldly power, disliked being challenged, and had all three tossed into the furnace. But unlike St. Charles, God granted them life.

Perhaps such total abandonment, the offering of our lives in the face of imminent death, isn’t something you or I will ever be called to do. And yet, when we consider the direction our world is headed today, who knows? But real abandonment to God isn't reserved for martyrs. It's something we must all strive for, something that involves much of our everyday lives. 

We see an example in today’s Gospel passage, when Peter questions Our Lord about forgiveness. At this point in his own formation as a disciple, Peter is not concerned about abandonment to God’s will. No, he’s looking for a formula: “How much do I have to forgive? How long must I do things God’s way, before I can do it my way?"

Jesus’ parable provides the perfect answer, doesn’t it? He tells Peter and us that we must forgive as God forgives. Salvation is God’s business, but forgiveness, in imitation of God, is something we are called to do always.

Just consider how we commit ourselves to this In the Lord’s Prayer: 

Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

What a courageous thing to ask of God! Do we really mean it? Every time we pray those words, do we actually think about all that unforgiveness in our lives, just waiting for us?

Forgiveness, of course, is more than words; it also strives to restore that which separates us from each other. Our concerns, our hopes, should not be focused solely on ourselves, but on the good of the other person. Forgiveness is really the most human, the most intimate form of evangelization, a way we can help God lead others to Himself.

Yes, it can be frustrating on that human level when the others remain unrepentant. But you and I don’t save people. We are simply God’s instruments who are sometimes called to open the door so He can step in.

Once again, salvation is God’s business. And the actual healing often takes place long after you and I have done our little bit, have opened the window just a crack, so God’s Holy Spirit can rush in and do His work in the hearts and minds of those He places in our lives.

 

Homily: Saturday, 8th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Sir 51:12-20; Ps 19; Mk 11:27-33

The conversation described by Mark took place just after Jesus had cleansed the Temple, and believe me He had upset more than the tables of money changers. He had also upset the chief priests, the Temple elders, and scribes, most of whom had a financial stake in the selling and money-changing that Jesus had stopped.

Yes, indeed, they had long been looking for ways to get rid of Jesus, ways to discredit Him, perhaps accuse Him of blasphemy, hoping He would claim in public what He had reportedly said privately. And so they ask Him by what authority He did what He did in God’s Temple. They thought they were being so very clever. How could this Jesus not answer the question? But unlike Ben-Sirach in our first reading, these men didn’t pray for wisdom before the Temple, but sought only personal gain.

Jesus, though, the very personification of divine wisdom, spoke and acted with the authority of God, and for the people who truly listen to Him, it was a liberating authority. In His wisdom Jesus asked them a question they wouldn’t answer because their primary concern was not the truth but their own welfare and interests.

But all authority isn’t always easy to accept. I remember, years ago, when I was a new junior officer in my Navy aircraft squadron. On my first day, assigned as a division officer of the avionics division – all the electronics technicians who maintain all the radios, radars, and associated electronics – I called all the enlisted troops together. I went around the room, asking each about their specialties, and what they liked and disliked about their work.

The discussion went well, until one young petty officer asked, “Why should we listen to you? What do you know about avionics?” I just shrugged and said, “I know enough. I have a degree in electrical engineering, so I’ll understand all the technical stuff. But more importantly, I’ll support you all, all the way up the line, as long as you’re straight with me. Our commanding officer has given me the authority to lead this division, but if you undermine me, if you don’t listen to me, things probably won’t go very well.” Not a long speech, and as a young 25-year-old, I held my breath. There was no mutiny, so it seemed to work. Perhaps one of my better days...there have been others with different endings.

I suppose, when it comes to authority, the real issue for all of us, is who or what will we accept as our authority. You and I have to respond to a lot of different human authorities – to law enforcement and judges, to elected leaders, to all kinds of people who exert authority in limited ways over little pieces of our lives.

But to whom do we listen when it comes to the truly important things of life?

The Gospels assure us that Jesus embodies the authentic authority of God, as I said, a liberating authority that empowers us to become fully human and fully alive. Only by accepting the authority of God, an authority He has given to His Church, can we live truly happy and fulfilled lives.

Remember how, at Caesarea Philippi, Jesus extended God’s authority to Peter:

“And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” [Mt 16:18-19].

I’m pretty sure Peter didn’t realize exactly what Jesus had just given him, but in time he would come to understand the extent of it all.

But do you know something? That Church Jesus gave Peter is our Church, and it possesses the full authority of God Himself. How blessed we are to know that, when the Church speaks on faith and morals, we don’t just hear the words of men, but we are listening to the very authority of God Himself.

And how sad for those priests, and scribes, and elders that they rejected this authority that came from the very mouth of God Himself.

Homily: Tuesday of Holy Week

Readings: Is 49:1-6; Ps 71:1-2, 3-4a, 5ab-6ab, 15 and 17; Jn 13:21-33, 36-38

A few years ago, I read a remarkable novel by Gene Wolfe about a soldier, a mercenary who fought for the Persians during the Greek-Persian Wars in the fifth century before Christ. 

What made it so interesting is that our hero suffered a head wound that left him with almost no short-term memory. By the end of each day, he’d forgotten everything that happened the day before. And so he kept a diary on a scroll, keeping track of people, events, conversations. Each day he read the scroll, or at least parts of it.

But it really didn’t help him very much, because so much of life is defined by relationships with others. For him, all others were strangers, even those who’d normally be considered close friends. Eventually he saw his affliction as a kind of blessing, and memory as a kind of curse. Lacking memory all became new and interesting. Like a child, he appreciated the world as it unfolded before his eyes.

Anyway, I couldn’t help but think of this book as I reread John’s Gospel the other day. We’ve heard or read the Gospel story so often that the wonder of it all can be lost. Thanks to our memories, we know what will happen next, and this can cause us to ignore that which is most meaningful. This time, as I read John, I tried to read it as if for the first time, as if I were one of the disciples, living these events without the benefit of hindsight.

What struck me was how reasonable the disciples seemed in their on-again, off-again belief. Before I’d always been exasperated with them and found myself saying, “Oh, c’mon guys, how stupid can you be? Haven’t you figured out who Jesus is?” But now, I could even empathize with the Pharisees.

I found myself viewing the Gospel from a human point of view, a perspective that also caused me to see both Peter and Judas differently. Both men were put to the test, weren’t they? And both failed miserably.

Judas Departs

And yet, when we look at them, we can’t help but notice the difference. Judas deliberately betrayed his Master. We can’t fully grasp his motives, but from all indications it was a cold and calculated act. 

But Peter…Peter acted impulsively, out of human weakness and cowardice. He neither intended, nor expected to do what he did. And in a moment of weakness, Peter’s bravado crumbled. He denied His Lord with an oath and a curse.

Peter's Betrayal

Peter seems to be one of those guileless people whose words mirrored his thoughts, who always spoke with his heart, even though he would ultimately betray those words because of a weak will. Peter vows to die for Jesus. It’s a vow he will break that very night, but one he will ultimately keep, years later.

But Judas…he makes no vow that night, but in his treachery, he brings about Jesus' death, a death that redeems us. John tells us Satan entered into Judas when he rejected Jesus and departed to complete his deadly errand.

That’s what Satan can do, brothers and sisters, but only if we let him. He can twist love and turn it into hate. He can turn holiness into pride, discipline into cruelty, affection into complacency, trust into despair.

Peter, though, even in his sinfulness, rejected Satan and continued to trust in Jesus. He continued to trust in our loving, forgiving God. While Judas, in his sinfulness, fell into despair, a despair that denies forgiveness, a despair that denies love, a despair that rips any vestige of hope from the heart.

Brothers and sisters, we know we’re all sinners. We all betrayers of sorts. But I like to think you and I are more like Peter, sinners who still love the Lord, and who never forget how much He loves us, and how willing He is to forgive us, again and again.

Homily: Saturday, 7th Week of Easter

Readings: Acts 28:16-20,30-31; Ps 11; Jn 21:20-25

My! Today's readings sure give us a lot on which to reflect, to pray, and to preach; so, I decided just to turn it over to the Holy Spirit and ask for His help.

You see, today’s readings complete the Easter season by presenting us with the final verses of both the Acts of the Apostles and John's Gospel. In a sense they sum up all that’s gone before.

Luke began and ended his Gospel in Jerusalem, and it's in that city, too, where he began his second book, the Acts of the Apostles. In Acts we follow Paul on his journeys through the Greek-speaking world, as he establishes local churches and calls people to Christ while moving inexorably toward his destination, toward Rome – in one sense, the new Jerusalem.

In today's reading we encounter Paul in the final days of his ministry. Imprisoned in Rome, he awaits execution at the hands of Nero, the emperor who will also take the life of Peter. And it's there, in Rome, Luke tells us, that Paul "with complete assurance and without hindrance proclaimed the Kingdom of God and taught about the Lord Jesus Christ" [Acts 28:31]. Yes, Paul remains the true disciple as he completes his earthly journey of faith.

Our journey of discipleship is much the same – one of discovery, and praise, and wonder, and stumbling, and prophecy fulfilled – a journey filled with a lifetime of experiences, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Like Paul, we, too, sometimes encounter obstacles or outright barriers, or simply head off in the wrong direction, only to be called back by the Holy Spirit. Just like Paul, we need to rest along the way and regain our strength, for discipleship is no easy road. Jesus knows this, for He experienced it too. He knows our weaknesses, all those little pieces of us that crave attention, all that call us away from Him. And so, He comes to us again and again, giving us a taste of that which awaits us.

How did Paul put it to the Jews who visited him in Rome, and to us? We share in the hope of Israel, a hope fulfilled in Jesus’ death and resurrection [See Acts 28:20]. Keep the faith, Paul says, don’t let all the stuff of our lives distract us from the eternal.

Peter, too, learned and preached this. But as John’s Gospel comes to a close, we find Peter just beginning his formation as a disciple. Filled with questions, Peter still awaits the fulness of the Holy Spirit. In his heart Peter knows he’s been given a very special task – “Feed my lambs…feed my sheep” [Jn 21:15,17] – and no doubt he fears all it will bring.

Suspecting Jesus has given him the hardest road to travel, he points to young John, the fair-haired boy, the one whom Jesus loved, and asks, “What about him?” Peter is so devilishly human, isn’t he? He’s so much like you and me, so worried about himself, always comparing himself to others, unaware that God doesn’t compare, that God sees each of us exactly as we are.

Jesus tells Peter this, in effect saying: “Look, Peter, don’t worry about John, or my plans for him. It’s really none of your business. Just do the work I’ve given you.” And to ensure Peter understands, he adds, “You follow me!” [Jn 21:22]

How often are we just like Peter, so caught up in what others are doing that we neglect the work God has given us.

What is God calling you to do – not next week or next month – but what’s His will for you today, right now? Life is a gift, brothers and sisters, and it can end at any moment.  If we take each of those moments that God gives us, and simply follow Him, always doing His will in all those seemingly little things, one moment to the next, He will lead us to the big things.

Even though we’re struggling and broken and torn and sinful, God continues to call us to the work He has for us. He calls us in the moment, in the little things of our lives, in the things He knows we can handle.

This is what Divine Mercy is really all about: it’s about God’s love bringing us back to Him, repeatedly, one tiny piece at a time.

And discipleship? It’s nothing complicated, just a total offering of self, an offering of all those pieces, an offering that God willingly accepts. Through His love, His mercy, and the working of the Holy Spirit, He makes us whole again so we can do our part to complete Christ’s mission on earth.

Yes, indeed, we tend to complicate things, but Jesus keeps it simple: Just follow me!

Homily: Monday, 7th Week of Easter (Year 1)

Readings: Acts 19:1-8; Ps 68; Jn 16:29-33

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Did you happen to catch those words proclaimed in our first reading?

“…the Holy Spirit came upon them, and they spoke in tongues and prophesied” [Acts 19:6].

The Holy Spirit really likes to surprise us, doesn’t He? He takes our so very human, super-rational view of the world and overwhelms it with the supernatural. He wants us to realize that there’s far more to creation than the material world that surrounds us.

In the Talmud, the rabbis tell us it’s well we can’t see the spiritual world, for we would be overwhelmed by the presence of countless angels and demons, surrounding us, fighting for our souls. Interestingly, St. Thomas Aquinas seems to agree with them.

Yes, indeed, there’s far more to God’s creation than what we see with our eyes. And the Holy Spirit occasionally gives us glimpses into that reality. 

But He always gives us a choice, the same choice Jesus gave those who witnessed the miraculous “signs” of His divinity. We can either assume it’s all an illusion, perhaps some clever trick and just walk away…or we can realize we have witnessed and been blessed by the Presence of God Himself.

Just as Jesus performed the miraculous, all those signs, to give people a reason to listen to His Word, so too, did the Spirit give these new Corinthian Christians the supernatural gifts of tongues and prophecy. The people, having witnessed these manifestations of God’s presence, would then listen to Paul as he preached the Gospel of Jesus Christ in the city’s synagogues.

Do you think all that speaking in tongues and prophesying are hard to accept? If so, you’re in good company. Many early Chirstians felt the same. 

Indeed, a few chapters earlier, back in Acts 10 some Gentiles began to speak in tongues and glorify God, and Peter decided that was reason enough to baptize them. But when some of his fellow Chirstians questioned thuis, Peter said:

“Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people, who have received the Holy Spirit even as we have?” [Acts 10:47]

Today, perhaps more than any other gift, we need the gift of prophecy in the midst of the Church, the Word of God proclaimed in truth. Of course, the question is: would we listen? Sadly, in our weakness too often we ignore or even distort that truth.

In our Gospel passage the apostles laid it on kind of thick, didn’t they? 

Oh, yes, Jesus, “we believe that you came from God” [Jn 16:30]. They acted as if they finally understood all that Jesus had told them. But, of course, they didn’t, and so, Jesus questioned the depth of their faith. How did He put it?

“…the hour…has arrived when each of you will be scattered to his own home and you will leave me alone” [Jn 16:32].

Oh, yes, these men, chosen by Jesus, had such deep faith and understanding that on that very night they deserted Him. The only one Jesus could count on was the Father:

“But I am not alone,” He told them, “because the Father is with me” [Jn 16:32].

For this is the core truth of the Trinity: where Jesus is, so is the Father, and so too is the Holy Spirit.

Because of the disciples’ human weakness, Jesus knew He couldn’t count on them until they’d received the Spirit.

Utlimately, it took our loving God’s greatest gift, the gift of the Holy Spirit, to bring the twelve back to Jesus, and to strengthen them, for they had been sent out “to make disciples of all nations…” [Mt 28:19] and they certainly couldn’t do that on their own.

How about you and me? As we prepare to celebrate the Spirit’s live-giving work at Pentecost, work that brought the Church to life through the minds and hearts of Mary and the disciples…How about us? Do we accept the Spirit and His gifts?

It’s through the work of the Spirit that the Church – and that’s not just the pope and the bishops, that’s you and me… It’s only through the Spirit  that we can accomplish God’s work in the world.

Pray to the Spirit, brothers and sisters. Pray to Him daily. He wants to do wondrous things in your lives. He will surprise you just as He surprised those new Christians in Corinth.

He is the Lord and the giver of life, and at every Mass the celebrant invokes Him to give us new life through the Body and Blood of the Lord. Through that new life we can join Him, helping Him as He does His saving work in the world.

Today Jesus offers us hope, a glimpse of light to overpower the darkness of our world:

We are not alone, He reminds us. God is with us, Jesus is with us, the Spirit is with us…now and forever.

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?

 

Bible Study Reflection #24: Healing

Years ago, when I was an altar boy, perhaps 11 or 12 years old, I witnessed a remarkable incident. Weekday morning Mass had just ended, and the church emptied quickly as people rushed off to work. I was in the sanctuary extinguishing the candles when I noticed a man walking up the center aisle carrying a young boy in his arms. The boy looked to be about five years old and his legs draped loosely over the man’s arms. When they arrived at the altar rail, the man lowered the boy to the floor and knelt facing the altar. I stood there, maybe 20 feet away, ignored by both man and boy. I still remember their faces, the faint smile on the boy’s and the look of determination on the man’s. After a moment he said, loud enough for me to hear, “Lord, Jesus Christ, he’s yours. Heal my son. Save my son.” He then picked up the boy, turned, and walked back down the aisle and out the front door.

At the time I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d just witnessed, but I knew it was something special. I wish I could tell you the story had a miraculous ending, but I can’t. I never saw either the man or the boy again. But this incident from 65 years ago always comes to mind when I read this passage from Matthew, chapter 15:

And Jesus went on from there and passed along the Sea of Galilee. And He went upon the mountain, and sat down there. And great crowds came to Him, bringing with them the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute, and many others, and they put them at His feet and He healed them, so that the throng wondered, when they saw the mute speaking, the maimed whole, the lame walking, and the blind seeing; and they glorified the God of Israel [Mt 15:29-31].

Usually, when we read or hear this passage, we focus on the multiplication of loaves and fishes that immediately follows. But today, at least at first, I’d like to focus just on these three brief verses. It’s really a remarkable little passage.

To me, this passage highlights, among other things, the difference between the common people of Galilee – with the obvious exception of the envious hometown folks of Nazareth – and the urban sophisticates of Jerusalem. The former, having witnessed firsthand the miraculous works of Jesus, “glorified the God of Israel.” The latter, apparently hoping for an earthly liberator, cry out as Jesus enters the city:

Hosanna! Blessed is he who  comes in the name of the Lord, the king of Israel! [Jn 12:13].

…and then, only days later, call for His crucifixion.

We also notice that the events described by Matthew mirror the Old Testament story of the Exodus. Once again… “Jesus went on from there and passed along the Sea of Galilee. And He went up on the mountain, and sat down there” [Mt 15:29]. Just as God led His chosen people across the sea and then to the mountain in Sinai where he sat in glory, Jesus passes by the sea, and then takes his place on the mountain top.

It’s only fitting that Jesus, the King of Creation, should use the earth as His very throne. And there He sits, on that mountain between heaven and earth, resting, saying nothing, full of God’s expectant silence. Yes, there he sits, in Paul’s words, “the one Mediator between God and men” [1 Tim 2:5], waiting to dispense to anyone who comes to Him truth and healing, life and breath, and everything good.

This decision by Jesus to sit down does not simply indicate His need to rest, but perhaps more importantly, reflects the posture of the rabbi, the teacher, who is always seated when He teaches. But no sooner does Jesus sit down than the needy flock to Him in great numbers, as if drawn by some irresistible force. Who are they? Matthew tells us: “…the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute, and many others.” Ah, yes, you might think, the usual suspects – the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute -- those same unfortunates we encounter throughout the Gospels.

But Matthew adds something else, doesn’t he? “…and many others.” What others? Why, all of us, for the healing power of Jesus is universal and we are all in need of it.

In this remarkable event we see the fulfillment of the Psalmists’ prophecies:

Serve the LORD with fear, with trembling kiss his feet…Blessed are all who take refuge in him [Ps 2:11-12].

Cast your burden on the LORD, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved [Ps 55:22].

Because he cleaves to me in love, I will deliver him; I will protect him, because he knows my name [Ps 91:14].

Your people will offer themselves freely on the day you lead your host upon the holy mountains [Ps 110:3]. 

In the Old Testament we find frequent close encounters with God’s power, a power He must wield frequently enough to keep His chosen people together and holy. But now, under the New Covenant, mercy and power come together; Jesus judges only to save:

I have come as light into the world, that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness. If anyone hears my sayings and does not keep them, I do not judge him; for I did not come to judge the world but to save the world [Jn 12:46-47].

So, the next time you see one of those roadside signs that shouts out to the passing world, “Jesus Saves!”, you should loudly exclaim, “Amen!”

Sometimes, I think, as we hear the Gospel proclaimed, we pay too little attention to what it reveals. For example, Matthew tells us “great crowds came to Him,” all looking for healing. The word had spread throughout Galilee, hadn’t it? This Jesus of Nazareth cures everyone who comes to Him. Yes, indeed, the WORD gets around, and draws all to Him.

Following our brief passage, “Jesus summoned His disciples and said” to them:

My heart is moved with pity for the crowd, for they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat. I do not want to send them away hungry, for fear they may collapse on the way [Mt 15:32].

We see, then, that these folks didn’t just come and go; no, these “great crowds” stayed with Jesus…for three days. The people knew, instinctively, that they needed more than physical healing, for wherever Jesus went, He not only healed, He also preached and taught. They needed to hear the Word of God, the Word of mercy and forgiveness that leads to the salvation God wants for all of us.

Jesus did “not want to send them away hungry.” They also needed food. And what better food to nourish them on their journey home as they follow “the way” than the Bread of Life itself? The feeding of the 4,000 that follows is a foreshadowing of the Eucharistic feast Jesus will introduce at the Last Supper. We are called back to His words proclaimed in the synagogue at Capernaum, words that shocked those who heard them:

Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you; he who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is food indeed, and my blood is drink indeed. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so he who eats me will live because of me. This is the bread which came down from heaven, not such as the fathers ate and died; he who eats this bread will live forever [Jn 6:52-58].

Many, indeed many of His disciples, were shocked by these words, so shocked they no longer followed Him, leaving only the twelve and perhaps a few others. It’s then John shares with us this brief yet wonderful dialog between Jesus and Peter:

Jesus said to the twelve, "Do you also wish to go away?" Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life; and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God" [Jn 6:67-69].

Today, we thank Peter for his decision to remain with Jesus, a decision that likely influenced the other Apostles to stay as well. And we thank, too, the Holy Spirit who inspired Peter, leading his heart and mind to follow the will of the Father. Yes, God inspires us and offers us His grace, but He doesn’t force Himself on us. He allows us to accept or reject His saving grace. But had Peter made the wrong decision, had he rejected the Lord as so many others had, had he led the other Apostles to turn away from Jesus at this critical time, would we have had the Last Supper? Would we have the Eucharist, the “bread which came down from heaven” and gives us eternal life? Fortunately, it’s a question we don’t have to answer, for Peter accepted the inspiration and the grace he received that day in Capernaum.

Let’s return now to our initial verses and those who came to Jesus in need of healing. Notice that those whom Jesus cured were prevented by their very afflictions from going to our Lord on their own. They found themselves at Jesus’ feet only because their friends, relatives, neighbors – perhaps even a stranger or two – carried them there.

The people in need are placed at Jesus’ feet – actually a better translation of the Greek is that they are cast at Jesus’ feet -- in a sense, thrown down, at the feet of the King, almost as a sacrifice. They are placed there in an act of submission to Jesus’ person and power, so that they may be freed from their brokenness and become whole. For it is only through the saving power of Jesus Christ that we become truly whole in both body and soul.

What seems at first to be simply the start of a rather ordinary scene in which Jesus makes His way up the mountain and sits down, in just a few verses, is magnified into a universal event of salvation that creates new life. It’s all of a piece isn’t it, all blended together in this remarkable series of events? The physical healing, the spiritual healing, the Eucharistic teaching, the promise of eternal life, and so much more, all become one as all are bound together by our Lord.

I’m reminded once again of that event I witnessed in my parish church so many years ago. The man who carried his son to the altar of the Lord took hm there out of love, knowing the boy could not make the pilgrimage on his own. He needed another, just as so many of us need others as we struggle along the path to salvation, as we make our broken way along The Way. Yes, we need physical healing often enough, but we are always in need of spiritual healing.

That father spoke aloud his short prayer as he knelt before the altar of the Lord, but perhaps in its brevity, we encounter the abundance of the perfect prayer.

“Lord, Jesus Christ, he’s yours. Heal my son. Save my son.”

He accepts that his son belongs to God, and by expressing this, he tells the Lord to care for this child, to what he, his earthly father, has been unable to do. He calls on God to heal this son of theirs, to heal him physically. But then he concludes his prayer by asking God to grant this boy, their son, salvation.

I’ve always believed that this father’s act of humility and perfect prayer brought the answer he sought from the Divine Healer, our Lord, Jesus Christ.

Do you see our responsibility? Your responsibility? Yes, brothers and sisters, each of us has a part in each other’s story of salvation. And for what end? Why the same end that Matthew reveals in our Gospel passage: “and they glorified the God of Israel.”

For this is what human life is all about. We are to make a gift of ourselves to God, so that, as Paul reminds us,

…having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which He has called you, what are the riches of His glorious inheritance in the saints” [Eph 1:18]. 

…that our lives may glorify our God.