Homily: 5th Sunday of Lent - Year C

Readings:  Is 43:16-21; Ps 126; Phil 3:8-14; Jn 8:1-11

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Do any of you watch those TV movies on the Hallmark and Great American Family networks? I recently read they’re the most popular movies on TV. So, it seems a lot of people like these sappy, feel-good movies. 

They depict a world of personal, work, and family problems, all quickly solved by perfect solutions. And the plots? They really don’t vary much, do they? A workaholic or a struggling single parent suddenly encounters someone who at first just adds to life’s challenges. But over time relationships develop, and they’re attracted to each other. But then there arises a seemingly insoluble crisis, followed, of course, by a miraculous resolution, then the happily-ever-after kiss.

Just like real life!

The trouble with real life is that it not only has a present, but also both a past and a future. The past isn’t always pleasant, but we try to forget those unpleasant pieces of it. Unless, of course, your spouse, desiring only to improve you, kindly reminds you of past mistakes.

Today’s readings focus on past problems. In Isaiah, the Jews, exiled in Babylon, had been looking nostalgically to the days of Moses and Joshua, their liberation from Egypt and their entry to the Promised Land. But they were also reminded of their sinfulness and disobedience which led them into exile. Then God, speaking through His prophet, Isaiah, chastised them:

Remember not the events of the past… see, I am doing something new!

Trust in me, God tells them. Put your sins and idolatry behind you and serve the Living God. You remain My Chosen People; and through you I will bring salvation to the world.

In our second reading we find St. Paul facing a past that was hard to forget. Before his miraculous conversion, Paul had been an active persecutor of Christians. Elsewhere, he tells us:

“I not only shut up many of the saints in prison…but when they were put to death, I cast my vote against them.” (Acts 26:10)

Despite this heavy burden, Paul knew that God had given him incredible graces. And so, he could remind us that he was 

“...forgetting what lies behind but straining forward to what lies ahead.”

Paul didn’t forget all God had done for him. And we, too, must thank God for not leaving us where we were. But like Paul, we can’t live in the past.

And that, sisters and brothers, is real life: past, present, and future. And to see it manifested in its fulness, just turn to the Gospel. For Jesus didn’t water down the problems, and the solutions can be hard indeed.

Just consider today’s passage from John. It’s not a little made-for-TV story, is it? No, the situation and the people are very real. It’s about life and death, about sin and hatred and human judgment. It’s about divine forgiveness, about salvation and eternal life.

Picture it: scribes and Pharisees, spiritually entombed by an intractable understanding of the Law, dragged this woman, an adulteress, before Jesus, and surrounded her. They were so sure of themselves, weren’t they?

Yes, they’d used her, this woman who meant nothing to them. The used her to entrap Jesus, whom they considered an ignorant Galilean bumpkin. So they tossed the case to Jesus. Let Him solve this one, in front of everyone, right here in the Temple area.

Should we stone her as Moses prescribed? What do you say, teacher?

A "YES" would deny His own teaching – His behavior with sinners – and also violate Roman law, for only the Romans could execute. A "NO" would violate Mosaic law and show Himself to be a heretic of sorts. Once again, the scribes and Pharisees were certain they had entrapped Jesus.

Just try to imagine how the woman felt. Probably petrified. Is she about to die? Will they stone her? And who is this man? Why did they bring her to Him?

Jesus says nothing. He bends down and with his finger writes in the dust of the ground.

But the mob of holy men is impatient and press Him for an answer. So, Jesus just straightens up and utters those remarkable words:

“Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”

Again, He bent down and wrote in the dirt. What does He write in that dust beneath their feet? Names? Sins? John doesn’t tell us. We can only guess.

One thing we know for certain. Jesus Christ, the Creative Word of God, “Who formed man out of the dust of the ground,” spoke and then wrote words that day in that same dust. And the effect? The scribes and Pharisees disperse, “one by one, beginning with the elders” – presumably those, like many of us here, whose memories are filled with a longer list of sins.

Yes, Jesus confronted a lot of sinners that day. An adulteress, who represents us all, all who need and seek forgiveness. But the scribes and Pharisees represent us too. It’s easy to slide into their kind of sinfulness, their self-righteous judgment of others. How easy it is to condemn rather than extend love and compassion.

The contrast is vivid: The woman, now alone with Jesus, hears His voice.

“Has no one condemned you?…Neither do I condemn you. Go, sin no more.”

You see, brothers and sisters, we are blessed with a God who forgives and forgets. The woman will never forget her past, for it brought her to forgiveness and salvation. But she cannot live in it. For she is all of us, everyone from Adam until judgment day, all of us in need of salvation, in need of forgiveness, in need of a Savior.

She’s the very story of salvation, of sin and mercy, of sin committed and sin forgiven. She, like Paul, like the exiled Israelites, like you and I, cannot live in the past; for all of us are called to a new life brought to us by a Savior, God’s only Son. She must go and sin no more, while striving to know and love the God who refused to condemn her.

No, we can’t and shouldn’t live in the past. A sense of nostalgia is a normal, human reaction to the constant change we encounter in the world, in our lives, in our Church. But to try to live in the past, to focus only on what once was…well, that can blind us to God’s continuing shower of gifts.

The point is, the Church remains God’s community of salvation, in which He acts through His people, through you and me. God acts right here. Through the sacraments, the Holy Spirit sanctifies us, making us holy.

Of course, we can also crumble under life’s challenges, and they come in many flavors: debilitating illness, financial problems, aging, assisted living, death of a spouse, wayward children, addictions, family problems…so many things that can turn us from God’s love. If we allow it, they can diminish us, tempt us to look only to happier, more stable times…

But as Christians the glory days aren’t in the past; they’re still ahead: life with Christ in glory. We must keep growing until we die; for full oneness with the living Christ, is never perfected here.

You and I must “strain forward” as Paul did; and keep dying with Christ so as to live more fully. For the true disciple of Jesus Christ, tomorrow is always better than yesterday. Each day is a new creation in the presence of a living, loving, merciful God.

And just like the woman in the Gospel, we must learn to accept Christ’s forgiveness. So many people don’t. They go through life, wallowing in guilt, afraid of hell, tormented by their pasts, burdened by brokenness and human frailty. This isn’t why God became man. This isn’t why He died that death on that dark Friday afternoon.

“Christ loved me,” St. Paul insisted, “and gave Himself for me.” And that love is present, even in my sinfulness. So, fix your eyes not on yesterday’s sin, but on today’s forgiveness and tomorrow’s hope. Repent, yes, but to repent is to re-think, to change. Repentance that saves is not a ceaseless self-scourging, but fresh self-giving, a new birth of love.

Barely two weeks of Lent remain. If you really want to rise with Christ, repeat the song He sings to you:

“Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth.”

Come to think of it, as Christians, we are the new thing. And it’s far better than any Hallmark movie. Why not spring forth? 

Do so gloriously, rejoicing in God’s mercy, His forgiveness, and the New Life, the eternal life He offers to every one of us.

Homily: Wednesday, 2nd week in Ordinary Time (Year 2)

The following are a brief reflection on the day's readings offered during Eucharistic Adoration after Mass. 

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Readings: 1 Sam 17:32-33, 37, 40-51; Ps 144; Mk 3:1-6

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A couple of years ago, during a Bible-study session, someone asked me why the Pharisees lacked faith, but the Apostles didn’t. At the time we were reading today’s Gospel passage from Mark, so I asked the group if they noticed anything different about Jesus before he healed the man with the withered hand.

Almost immediately someone said, “Jesus is angry.”

Mark is the only Gospel writer who mentions the anger of Jesus. Oh, John tells the story of Jesus driving the buyers and sellers from the Temple, but he never explicitly says that Jesus was angry. Only Mark does that.”

Jesus had just asked the Pharisees a question: “Is it lawful to do good on the Sabbath rather than to do evil, to save life rather than to destroy it?” It’s a pretty simple question. And so how do the Pharisees answer it?

They don’t. “But they remained silent,” Mark tells us. And it’s easy to see why. A “Yes,” would be a lie and would highlight their hypocrisy. But a “No,” would be a public admission of their lack of charity. They had set out to trap Jesus and, once again, he had trapped them. Usually, it was their words that exposed them. This time it was their silence. What happens next? Well, Mark tells us that Jesus looked “around at them with anger and grieved at their hardness of heart,” and then went on to heal the man’s hand. 

Pharisees Silent

It's interesting, virtually every scene in the Gospels has at one time or another been the subject of a painting. Except this scene. I know of no painting that shows Jesus looking around at the Pharisees with anger. I suspect such a painting wouldn’t be very popular among those who have this distorted image of a warm and fuzzy Jesus who roams through Galilee and Judea dispensing hugs.

It reminds me of a woman who told me she had left the Church to “join a denomination that wasn’t so judgmental.” I just told her to read the gospels and then tell me Jesus doesn’t judge.

“Why was Jesus angry?”

One translation says, “Because they had closed their minds.” And another, “Because of their hard-heartedness.” Closed minds or hard hearts -- these only seem different. The mind is open by its very nature. Notice how young children are very open-minded, always ready and able to learn. It’s only when they grow up and get stupid like the rest of us that they do otherwise; for it is the heart that closes the mind.

But these particular Pharisees had lost any sense of compassion for others. They had ceased being childlike. They had stopped loving. And because love couldn’t penetrate their hearts, their minds were closed as well, so tightly that they couldn’t even recognize the hand of God in the miracles that occurred right before their eyes. They had created an almost impenetrable barrier to the gift of faith.

The Apostles, on the other hand, were in a sense more childlike, more open to the Spirit’s urgings, more open to receiving the gift, more willing to love.

You see, brothers and sisters, hatred closes, and love opens. Indeed, love is itself an opening, a kind of wound.

The 14^th century mystic, Julian of Norwich, when she prayed, prayed for “the wound of true compassion.”

Let’s all pray today that we may never be healed of it!

Homily: Thursday, 28 Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Rom 1:16-25; Psalm 19; Luke 11:37-41

In my previous parish, a retired bishop who summered in our town used to help us out by celebrating one of the Sunday Masses. One Sunday, just before the dismissal, the bishop blessed a couple who were celebrating their 50^th wedding anniversary. As you might expect, after the blessing the entire congregation applauded.

After Mass a parishioner approached me in the parking lot. He was very upset because of the applause which he felt was entirely out of place at Mass. At first, I thought he was joking, and my reaction probably wasn’t what he’d hoped for. He went from upset to furious. I tried to calm him down by explaining that when something especially good happens in the lives of members of our parish community, it’s entirely appropriate for the community to share in their joy. Applause is simply our culture’s way of expressing that joy. And doing so at the end of Mass, right before the dismissal, is also appropriate. It didn’t work. Family in tow, he stormed off to his car. I should have asked him why he complained to me and not to the bishop. I’m just a deacon.

Sadly, he always seemed to come across as a dour, joyless person, more focused on others’ faults than on the good in them. I didn’t doubt his faith, but I didn’t see a lot of Christian love there. But he seemed to be devout, and because only God knows his heart, I won’t judge him. We all have some of the Pharisee in us – some more, some less – and I mention this man because it seemed a bit more evident in his case.

In today’s Gospel reading Luke describes a meal Jesus had at a Pharisee’s home. I find it interesting that, for a group who didn’t trust or like Jesus very much, the Pharisees seemed to have Him over for dinner a lot. Well, as it turned out, Jesus neglected to perform the ritual washing before dinner – an omission that offended his host. I’m sure Jesus didn’t forget, but did this intentionally to put the spotlight on the man’s hypocrisy. Certainly, that was the result.

Our Lord used some harsh words in His rebuke:

“…you Pharisees! Although you cleanse the outside of the cup and the dish, inside you are filled with plunder and evil. You fools! Did not the maker of the outside also make the inside?”

Of course, He’s no longer talking about cups and dishes. He’s talking about the human heart. Jesus isn’t criticizing the ritual washing itself. No, He’s criticizing the Pharisee’s placing more importance on the ritual than on obeying the commandment to love God and neighbor.

For example, as Catholics we observe many rituals. We’re observing one now by following very specific rubrics as we celebrate this rite today. And this is as it should be, because the rite is as old as the Church itself, designed to bring us closer to God through hearing His word and receiving Jesus in the Eucharist. But the ritual is a means, not an end. The end brings us into communion with Jesus. When we let this happen, Jesus becomes one with us, and transforms our hearts and minds. In other words, what we do on the outside should help us change on the inside.  But when we focus solely on the externals, we break this connection.

Although not directed at Pharisees, Paul’s words today could be applied to them as well:

“…for although they knew God, they did not accord him glory as God or give him thanks. Instead, they became vain in their reasoning, and their senseless minds were darkened. While claiming to be wise, they became fools…”

Yes, we're all Pharisees sometimes, focused on the outside. And the more devout we are, the more susceptible we are to this not so little vice. We become so focused on the externals, that we neglect the internal. We can get so wrapped up in our devotions and rituals that our focus shifts to ourselves at the expense of others.

We won’t get to heaven by just worrying about ourselves and our own salvation. It’s another of those great Christian paradoxes: we’ll only reach our goal if we forget about ourselves and devote our efforts instead to helping others achieve theirs. When I talk with engaged couples, I always tell each of them, that their most important task is to help the other get to heaven. That's what true love is all about.

Gerard Manley Hopkins, the 19^th Century Jesuit poet, frequently corresponded with the poet laureate of England, his friend Robert Bridges. Bridges, an agnostic, once wrote, asking Hopkins how he could learn to believe. I suppose he expected some deep theological answer. Hopkins replied in a letter with only two words, the words Jesus left with the Pharisees: “Give alms.”

Yes, brothers and sisters, give alms. Care for others. Wash some feet. Imitate Jesus. Heal, forgive, and serve each other. Then everything will be clean for you, inside and outside.

Homily: Saturday, 20th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Ez 43:1- • Ps 85 • Mt 23:1-12

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Today we celebrate St. Bernard of Clairvaux, a 12^th-century monk who had a powerful influence on the Cistercian reform of the Benedictines. He never turned away from conflict and criticized the Benedictines for their wealth and what he considered their lax spiritual life. He also received a lot of after-the-fact, and probably unfair, criticism for his strong support of the Second Crusade, an effort that ended in disaster.

But despite all this, he had a very positive impact on the Church during those challenging times. He was also a true mystic, and his writings, especially his work on the Love of God, are still widely read today. Indeed, we told that Pope John XXIII read from St. Bernard’s work every evening.

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When we hear Jesus castigating the Pharisees and Scribes, we must be wary of the tendency to believe His words were aimed solely at those men whom Jesus encountered so often.

But what Jesus has to say in this passage shouldn’t be thought of only as a diatribe against people in the past, those nasty Scribes and Pharisees. Doing so, we forget that it’s for our benefit and reflection that these words of Jesus have been included in the Gospel. Indeed, the same attitudes were found among the early Christians just as they are all too common today. Yes, the Gospels were written to us and for us.

We must also realize Jesus wasn't attacking every Scribe and every Pharisee. Afer all, they included many good men, just and honest men like Gamaliel (Acts 5) and Nicodemus (Jn 3). Jesus is really attacking wrong attitudes that are behind the hypocrisy and sinfulness so common then and now.

He turns first to those in authority, and challenges them to practice what they preach. He sees through their open hypocrisy, that "all their works are performed to be seen" [Mt 23:5], that they relish the attention and honors they receive.

Hearing these words of Our Lord, I'm forced to look at myself and examine my own attitudes. Of course, we deacons don't pack a lot of authority, and that's as it should be. The very meaning of our title is "servant." But maybe that's the problem. After all, how often do I remind myself that I am called only to serve?

I hear Jesus' words about relishing "greetings in the marketplaces, and the salutation 'Rabbi'" [Mt 23:7]. Now I'm no rabbi, but I can hardly go to Publix without someone greeting me as "Deacon" and too often saying nice things about me. Do I relish these greetings? It's hard not to, so I usually ask the other to pray for me and the ministry to which God has called me, reminding myself that His call and all that comes with it is undeserved. It's still hard, until God, in His own unique way, humbles me. He does that a lot.

How about you? do you really accept, as Jesus reminds us, that we are all brothers and sisters in Christ, adopted children of the Father? Do we accept that any differences among us, any human achievements (all that human "greatness") and any talents -- that these are all gifts, that none of us is greater than another. For as Jesus commands:

"The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted” [Mt 23:11-12].

If we pay attention to our reading from the prophet Ezekiel, perhaps we can better understand this command. After all, when placed in God’s presence, as Ezekiel was, it’s hard not to be humbled. Ezekiel was reminded that God, despite the sinfulness of His people, remain with them always. Once again, the covenant is renewed. And it’s renewed again and again, but it’s never God who breaks it, for God is merciful and forgiving. The final covenant, the New Covenant, will be made through Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Son of God, Who pours out His blood for the love of us all.

As we learn from Ezekiel, the glory of the Lord is always ready to enter our lives, if only we humble ourselves before Him. We are called, then, to follow the example of Our Lord. We are called to humble ourselves just as He did – our God Who emptied Himself to become one of us.

Today He humbles Himself further as He comes to us, Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity, but in the simple form of bread and wine so we may take Him to us, that our God may reside within us: the Son, in the Father, through the Spirit.

We are on our way, brothers and sisters. But we must become the Church of the meek, a Church of the humble that approaches God in repentance. It’s what we’re called to do. God allows us, the faithful, to “start afresh…from the beginning,” to forgive sinners and embrace and console the innocents, to share the Good News, and do so in faith, in humility, and in love.

Homily: Saturday, 1st Week in Ordinary Time - Year 2

Readings: 1 Sam 9:1-4,17-19; 10:1 Ps 21; Mk 2:13-17

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In Rome, not far from the touristy Piazza Navona, is the church of San Luigi dei Francesi (St. Louis of the French). In one of its side chapels are several paintings by Caravaggio depicting events in the life of St. Matthew. They’re all masterpieces but one is especially wonderful: “The Call of Matthew.”

Caravaggio: The Call of Mattthew

The painting depicts the same scene Mark describes in today’s Gospel passage: the call of Levi, the tax collector, a man you and I know better as Matthew. Caravaggio depicts an indoor scene, with Matthew seated at his money table, surrounded by a group of his well-dressed associates. Unlike these others, Jesus is barefoot, as if His simplicity and holiness separate Him from everyone else in the scene. Peter stands beside Jesus.

Although the room is rather dark, a beam of light appears to extend from Jesus, who is pointing directly at Matthew. And Matthew? Seated there with a questioning look on his face, he points his finger as well, but at himself, as if to say, “Who me? You’re calling me?” We seem to sense that Matthew was surprised by this call from our Lord.

Jesus had just called four fisherman -- Simon, Andrew, James and John – and I suspect they, too, were skeptical of this latest choice, the tax collector. After all, the people had nothing but contempt for tax collectors, who not only worked for the despised Roman rulers, but were also known for enriching themselves through a form of legal extortion.

But isn’t it remarkable? Matthew didn’t hesitate. Indeed, he responded immediately. As Mark tells us, “He got up and followed Jesus.” How different from the call of the future King Saul we heard in today’s reading from 1^st Samuel. Matthew and Saul both respond to God’s call, and both will stray. But one repents in faith and becomes apostle and evangelist, while the other continues in his obstinate rejection of God’s will.

Mark then takes us to Matthew’s house, where Jesus and the disciples join the tax collectors and others for a meal. The Pharisees, of course are scandalized that Jesus, this reputed holy man, would associate with these public sinners. But those who consider themselves holier than others are always scandalized, aren’t they?

How does Jesus respond?

“Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do. I did not come to call the righteous but sinners” [Mk 2:39].

Indeed, you and I should love and cherish these words because we’re the sinners he’s talking about. How did Paul put it to the Romans: 

“…for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” [Rom 3:23]. 

Six months ago, I had my semi-annual meeting with my physician, a man I think the world of. He informed me that, despite my age and all my aches and pains, I was doing OK, and was probably good for another six months as long as I do as he tells me. Hopeful reassurance indeed. I guess I’ll find out next week when I meet with him once more.

But in Jesus we have a divine physician who promises us, not six months of health, but eternal life.

Brothers and sisters, that He came to call sinners should fill us with hope. As Jesus reminds us, to be a sinner is to be sick, sick spiritually. It’s an illness for which only He has the cure. But we’re called to celebrate that cure and to carry it to others.

Sometimes, though, as a Church, I think we spend an awful lot of our time and resources preaching and teaching and evangelizing the already converted – to the righteous, as Jesus called them.

Now, I know we can’t ignore those who are faithfully following the Way. But how present are we to others, to those who really need to hear the Gospel message? How present are we to those locked in their sinfulness?

It’s easy to fall into the trap of the Pharisees and avoid those who have drifted far away from God, those who believe they have no hope because they’ve never heard God’s saving Word or experienced His healing touch.

Maybe that’s what you and I should do today, shine a little beam of light, the promise of salvation, on another trapped in darkness.

Homily: Saturday, 1st Week of Advent

 Readings Is 30:19-21, 23-26; Psalm 147; Mt 9:35–10:1, 5A, 6-8

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What’s really remarkable is how unbelievably busy Jesus was. Listen again to how Matthew describes this typical day in the public life of our Lord:

“Jesus went around to all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the Gospel of the Kingdom, and curing every disease and illness” [Mt 9:35].

The Pharisees had just accused Jesus of collaborating with Satan: "He drives out demons by the prince of demons" [Mt 9:34]. It was, after all, a rather stupid thing to say, so Jesus simply ignores them, and immerses Himself in His ministry. He teaches and preaches in the synagogues, helping the synagogues flourish from within, for it’s the people who hear Him, it’s the people who will be changed by the Word of God. But he teaches and preaches to the crowds as well – to Jews and Gentiles – in the streets, on the hillsides, along the lakeshore. Nobody is forgotten, no one is exempt. As He later commissioned His disciples: “Go, therefore, make disciples of all nations” [Mt 28:19].

And healing? Oh, yes, the healing power of the Holy Spirit flows like a torrent through the hands of the Word. He cures disease, injury, blindness, every imaginable disability, but these are always secondary, aren’t they? For what He seeks above all is the repentant soul, the sinner who, in all humility, seeks salvation through the healing power of Jesus.

He was on the go, non-stop, preaching, teaching, and healing. And then what did He do? Why He told the apostles to do exactly the same: to proclaim the Good News of the Kingdom; to “cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, drive out demons” [Mt 10:8].

I read those words and let them sink in, and then I recall what my bishop said at my ordination when he instructed us, telling a group of soon-to-be deacons how our lives would change.

“You are called to preach, to teach, and to heal,” he told us. “Easy words to say today, but not so easy to carry out.” I remember thinking to myself, Okay, I think I can handle the preaching and teaching, but what’s this about healing?

There I was, just minutes before ordination, and I’m questioning whether I can handle or even understand what God wants of me. And then my bishop added, “But don’t get all self-important; this isn’t just your calling; it’s really the calling of every disciple of Jesus Christ.” That was about 25 years ago, and despite all my supposed busyness, my days are lazy indeed when compared with the ministry of Jesus.

What about you? How often do you proclaim the Good News of the Kingdom? How many of your friends, your golf buddies, the folks you play cards with…how many of them even think about the arrival of the Kingdom? The Good News is really good, brothers and sisters. And if you’re a disciple, a follower of Jesus – and I assume you are – then you and I better get busy.

And then there’s that healing thing. It took me a while before I came to understand what it all meant, and God wanted of me. And it was all because of Diane. She decided we should be hospital chaplains.

Now, I really didn’t like spending time with sick people, but God always calls us to our weakness, doesn’t He? He does that so we’ll come to understand that it’s through His power, His grace that we can accomplish anything.

In the beginning I would walk into a hospital room and greet the patient, “Hello, I’m Dana, today’s on-call chaplain. How are you today?”

And he’d just look at me and reply, “I’m in the hospital. How do you think I am?”

Not a good beginning, so I learned to ask different questions, to stick to the basics…

“Have they been treating you well?”

“Where are you from? Do you have family here?”

“Have you been talking with God much lately?”

“How about you and I just take a moment to pray together?”

Before you know it, I’m listening to the stories of their lives, the challenges they face, their fears and worries. That’s when I came to realize that God actually does work through us and in us, that others come to know God’s love and to know God because we reflect His Presence.

How many people in your life need God’s Presence in their lives? Will you take the time, just as Jesus took the time, to share God’s healing, forgiving love with them?

Yes, indeed, discipleship is a fulltime job.

 

 

Homily: Feast of St. Matthew

Readings:  Ephesians 4:1-7, 11-13; Psalm 19; Matthew 9:9-13

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Calling Matthew to be an apostle, Jesus picked one of the unlikeliest of men. Matthew -- called Levi by Mark and Luke -- was a tax collector who probably worked for Herod Antipas, collecting taxes and customs duties. It was lucrative work, and rife with corruption.

Tax collectors set rates at whatever they thought the market would bear, paid the government a prearranged amount, and kept the rest for themselves. There were no poor tax collectors in the Roman Empire…and they were universally despised. Not only were they usually corrupt, but they also worked, either directly or indirectly, for the hated Romans, pagans who had subjugated the Jews.

By selecting a tax collector as an apostle, as one of His key disciples, Jesus must have caused quite an uproar, particularly among the Pharisees. The Pharisees scrupulously avoided the company of those they considered sinners and certainly wouldn’t sit down for a meal in one of their homes. That Jesus would actually accept Matthew’s dinner invitation and share a meal with tax collectors and sinners shocked their sensibilities.

But even more unlikely than the call of Jesus was Matthew’s readiness to accept that call. Why would Matthew leave everything, including his friends and occupation and fortune, to follow Jesus? Quite simply, he was touched by the grace of God. For that’s what Jesus’ call to discipleship is. God calls all Christians through Baptism, but He also extends, to whomever He chooses, a further calling. The special grace of this call allowed Matthew to give up the good life and follow Jesus.

Matthew saw in Jesus the hope of true friendship and peace with God. He saw in Jesus a wealth far beyond the material wealth he had accumulated and would have continued to accumulate.

Notice, though, Matthew doesn’t take the initiative, and neither do you or I. It’s Jesus who calls, and, like Matthew, we each respond to that call with an individual, personal decision. God calls, but He never insists.

Matthew could easily have said, “Not today, Lord, tomorrow. First, I have to put my accounts in order. I’m really not ready right now.” But this excuse and any other excuse are merely signs of selfishness and fear. And “tomorrow” – there are many tomorrows – and all run the risk of being too late.

Like the other apostles, Matthew was called in the midst of the ordinary circumstances of his life -- like Peter, Andrew, James, and John, he was called while at work. If you think about it, even St. Paul was called while at work. It might have been the work of persecution, but it was nevertheless the work he, as a Pharisee, honestly believed he was supposed to do. An interesting detail, isn’t it? We don’t normally think of God’s call coming to us while we are at work in our secular jobs, or even in our retirement. And yet that’s exactly what Jesus did, and continues to do. 

"Follow me," he calls to each of us.

Too often we compartmentalize our lives, separating our religious from our secular lives. But being a Christian, a disciple of Christ, isn’t part-time. It must permeate and overflow into every aspect of our lives -- because only then can we effectively share His message with others.

That’s why we must guard against the attitudes of the Pharisees, who were so critical of Jesus’ associating with sinners. For we’re all sinners, but Our Lord still calls us. He came to redeem us all, not just a select few. It’s dangerous to ignore this truth. If we don’t recognize our own sinfulness, our own need for redemption and forgiveness, we’re close the door to God’s saving grace.

And don’t be scandalized by the sins of others, since without God’s grace, we’re each capable of committing the worst of sins. Neither should you become depressed over your failings. Just look at the apostles: a collection of weak, sinful men that Jesus turned into saints. Their grace was their willingness to recognize their sinfulness and repent. Indeed, recognition that we are sinners is the only correct attitude for us to have in the presence of God.

Yes, we can learn much from Matthew. He’s really an apostle for all of us.

The sinner who became a saint.

The man who heard God’s call and responded immediately.

The one who was lost, until Jesus found him.

Jesus reached out to Matthew, and Matthew went on to reach out to the world as an Evangelist, and, through his Gospel, to all of us until the end of time.

Homily: Monday 3rd Week of Advent

I have embedded bellow the video of this homily for Monday of the 3rd Week of Advent, preached at St. Vincent de Paul Parish, Wildwood, FL, on 16 December 2019. The complete text of the homily follows the video.

Readings:  Nm 24:2-7,15-17; Ps 25; Mt 21:23-27
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Balaam Blessing the Israelites

As we continue into this third week of Advent, we're invited to be watchful, for "the Lord is near." What a great reminder, even though the Lord is always near, dwelling within us thanks to His gift of the Eucharist. But during this time of year, the message becomes all the more real to us. 

In our Old Testament reading from the Book of Numbers, we encounter Balaam, a Gentile soothsayer or magician from Mesopotamia. Balaam had been summoned by Balak, the King of Moab, who feared that this huge horde of Israelites coming out of the wilderness would overwhelm his kingdom. He therefore tells Balaam to curse the Israelites. But God also speaks to Balaam, commanding that he bless and not curse the Israelites. 

Now Balaam was a complex character, a man motivated largely by selfishness and greed. And yet Balaam fears the God of the Israelites, this God who is near, who speaks to him and commands him. Fearing God more than the Moabite king, Balaam does as God commands. And embedded in his blessing is a Messianic prophecy:

"I see him, though not now; I observe him, though not near: A star shall advance from Jacob, and a scepter shall rise from Israel” [Nm 24:17].

Notice that God chooses whomever He wills. Even Balaam, whose motives are far less than pure, when he submits to God’s will, becomes a prophet, a messenger from God. 

Balaam's prophecy of a "rising star of Jacob, and a scepter…from Israel" is seen as one of the earliest Messianic prophecies. 

Interestingly, the ancients believed strongly in the power of blessings. Balaam certainly did and so did the Israelites. But what about you and me? How do we respond to the blessings we receive from the hand of God? Have you ever considered that every talent and ability you have was given to you by God?

But that’s not all. God doesn’t’ simply distribute blessings and talents. No, He wants you to use them to fulfill the mission for which He created you. In other words, every blessing is meant to be shared in the service of God. I suppose that’s the question we must ask ourselves: do we imitate the selfish Balaam who ultimately turned away from God’s direction, or do we submit to God’s will?

In our Gospel passage from Matthew we find the Pharisees resisting Jesus’ teachings, God’s will, out of fear. They feared Jesus because He threatened their authority.

I can sympathize with them because it’s not easy to let go of the comfortable way of life we’ve created for ourselves. Yes, indeed, it’s hard to turn away from what we think we know, and embrace the Way, the Truth, and the Life. It’s hard to leave our predictable world behind and open ourselves to the mystery of God working in ways we could never imagine.

Pharisees Fearful of Jesus

In truth, we must become like children, open to the Holy Spirit’s movement in our lives, allowing Him to lead us on the path to holiness. This was something the Pharisees could not do. Unable and unwilling to listen to Jesus, they could only test Him, measuring Him against their human understanding.

Perhaps this is why Jesus didn’t answer their question. Addressing this in a homily, the early Church father, St. John Chrysostom, said: 

“Even if He had told them, it would have profited nothing, because the darkened will cannot perceive the things that are of the light.”

Yes, brothers and sisters, God alone can save us from the darkness of the world and from our own internal darkness. Only God can save us from emptiness and poverty of spirit, from confusion and error, and from hopelessness and the fear of death. 

The gospel of salvation was the Good News when Jesus preached it 2,000 years ago, and it’s still the Good News for us today. This Advent, then, let’s use our time wisely and come to know the joy and freedom of the gospel.

Father, You have blessed us, creating each of us for a purpose. 

Jesus, You died for us, and called us to complete Your work.

Holy Spirit, through You we carry out the work for which we were created.

Father, Son, and Spirit – teach us to accept your blessings and to use them always for your glory.

Homily: Saturday, 22nd Week in Ordinary Time

I have embedded a video of my homily for Saturday of the 22nd week of Ordinary Time. The full text of the homily follows.

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Readings: Col 1:21-23 • Psalm 54 • Luke 6:1-5
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What a wonderful Gospel passage, a beautiful example of the continuity between Old and New Testaments, where the New fulfills the Old. 

Luke tells us that Jesus and the disciples were walking through a wheat field on the Sabbath; and as they walked the disciples picked the heads of grain and ate them.

Unlawful on the Sabbath?

There are actually several places in Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy that apply here. In fact the Law allows gleaning, or picking grain from another's field [Dt 23:25], but only with your hand. In other words, pick just enough to satisfy your hunger. You can't roll through someone else's field with a combine. And then there are the Ten Commandments, requiring the observation of the Sabbath day by doing no work [Ex 20:10; Dt 5:12-15].

The Pharisees, of course, were shadowing Jesus, intent on finding fault. And so they challenged Him, asking why His disciples were violating the Law. As usual, they interpreted the Law narrowly, but Jesus, as always, turned the tables on them. He began by criticizing their ignorance of Scripture:

"Have you not read what David did...?" [Lk 6:3]

Here He referred to an event described in the 1st Book of Samuel. David and his companions were fleeing from King Saul. Hungry, David approached the priests of the sanctuary at Nob and requested bread. But the only bread available was the Bread of the Presence, which, by Law, was reserved for priests alone [Lev 24:9]. But Ahimelech, the high priest, gave the bread to David. Later, in his anger, Saul killed all the priests at Nob, not because he thought they had violated the Law, but because they had helped David.

Bread of the Presence

Jesus uses this event to explain the true meaning of the Sabbath, that the letter of the Law is not more important than helping those in real need. The letter of the Law might be violated, but not the good the Law intends. In Mark's Gospel Jesus adds the words:

"The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath" [Mk 2:27].

God instituted the Sabbath, Jesus reminds the Pharisees, not for its own sake, but for our benefit. And then He said something remarkable:

"The Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath" [Lk 6:5].

Luke doesn't reveal the Pharisees' reaction to these words, but they must have been horrified. For them this was blasphemy. Using the Messianic title "Son of Man" was bad enough, but He also claimed the divine title, "Lord of the Sabbath."

Here Jesus proclaimed His divinity. It is He who gave the Law to Israel, and the Lord of the Sabbath has authority over the Law.

It's interesting that the Church, in today's Gospel proclamation or Alleluia verse, includes words Jesus spoke to His disciples at the Last Supper:

"I am the way and the truth and the life; no one comes to the Father except through me" [Jn 14:6].

These words, too, also proclaim Jesus' divinity and in a very real sense expand on what He said to the Pharisees.

The Way, the Truth, the Life...It's all encompassing, isn't it? It's a perfect description of His complete fulfillment of the Covenants with Israel, the Good News wrapped up in three one-syllable words.

What is the way? It's nothing other than our Christian faith and the struggle to put that faith into practice by loving God and our neighbor. In our weakness we can't do it alone, and so we follow Jesus on His journey, which becomes our journey through life's struggles, knowing He walks with us.

The truth? Why, it's the Good News - the Good News of Jesus Christ, the Good News of God's mercy and forgiveness, the Good News of Salvation!  It's the truth of Jesus' promise, borne out and proven by His resurrection.

And the life? The life is eternal life, the fruit of Jesus' promise. It's the understanding that we're here for a purpose: to do God's will so that we may spend an eternal life of happiness with Him. It's the knowledge that salvation is a gift, that we can't earn it simply by following the Law.

As St. Paul reminds us in today's first reading, we too hope to stand before God "holy, pure and blameless."

Perhaps, we should begin by considering how we celebrate the Sabbath, the day on which we proclaim Jesus' glorious Resurrection.

Other than attending a vigil or Sunday Mass, what do we do to keep the day holy?

Is it just another day to spend on the golf course, or in front of the TV?

Or do we, like the disciples, take some time to walk with Jesus on the day He has declared holy?

Homily: 22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Readings: Sir 3:17-18,20,28-29; Ps 68; Heb 12:18-19,22-24; Lk 14:1,7-14

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Boy, it's hard to be humble, isn't it? Especially when you're so smart, so competent, so much better than others. Yes, indeed, today self-esteem and self-worth demand self-promotion so others will also recognize our value. And humility? Well it's okay to sound humble on occasion, but to actually be humble, no, that's no way to get ahead.

At least that's what to world wants us to believe; and it's done a pretty effective job convincing us. So much so that humility has become today's lost virtue, and is viewed almost as a vice.

But this is really nothing new. How did our first reading from Sirach begin?

"My child, conduct your affairs with humility, and you will be loved more than a giver of gifts. Humble yourself the more, the greater you are, and you will find favor with God" [Sir 3:17-18].

The very fact that these words were written tells us that excessive pride has always been a problem.

In our second reading the author of the Letter to the Hebrews takes his Jewish readers back to the Israelites experience at Mt. Sinai [Ex 18-19]. It was here that God in a very real sense forced humility on them -- the blazing fire, the trumpet blasts, the terrifying darkness and gloom and smoke, the earthquakes, and then God's Word thundering His Law to them.

The Presence of God at Sinai

Yes, God's Presence was so awesome, so frightening that the people begged not to have to witness it again. And so they told Moses, "You go up there. You talk with Him. We're too afraid." Perhaps we too need to be reminded of God's greatness and our poverty, to be humbled by the love He has for us all. 

In today's Gospel passage from Luke, Jesus delivered this same message, but it a far quieter way. He didn't thunder God's Word. No, He simply related two brief parables. 

The passage begins with a sentence that tells us all we need to know about those present.

"On a Sabbath Jesus went to dine at the home of one of the leading Pharisees, and the people there were observing Him carefully" [Lk 14:1].

Who, what, when and where...it's all in that first sentence isn't it?

Jesus had been invited to dine at the home of a important Pharisee, who was no doubt surrounded by all his buddies. We all know what the Pharisees thought of Jesus, so they invited Him on the Sabbath, not to honor Him but to see if He followed the Law. Yes, Luke tells us, they "were observing Him carefully" not as a disciple would observe, hoping to learn, but as an enemy observes, hoping to find fault, to entrap.

Jesus Dining with the Pharisees

What they didn't realize was that Jesus was watching them even more closely. And the one thing He didn't see was humility. Self-absorbed, lacking any generosity, they vied for places of honor at the table. Jesus, then, shared the first of two brief parables with them, one best summed up by its final teaching:

"For every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted" [Lk 14:11].

Quite likely these words were lost on those seated at the table with Jesus. How often do we get caught up in our own version of Pharisaism, complaining about perceived slights and demanding better treatment?

A friend of mine is a retired state trooper who once pulled over a U.S. Senator for speeding. The senator's first words? "Don't you know who I am?"

His response? "Yes, Senator, you're a speeder who was going 85 in a 55 zone. License and registration, please."

My friend told me, "I gave him a ticket, but of course it was fixed by someone far above me on the food chain. And I'm pretty sure that same someone also made note of my indiscretion."

"Don't you know who I am?" I expect Jesus heard those same words on occasion.

Now the point of Jesus' teaching is not about speeding tickets or one's place at the table, Parables, after all, always address something deeper than the events they describe. 

This parable is all about that lost virtue, humility. And humility is nothing other than reality. We can get so caught up in our perceived worth as defined by the world, how we view ourselves compared to others, that we neglect the most important relationship: our relationship with God. And through that neglect we forget we are completely dependent creatures, that without God's creative love, without His grace, unmerited and freely offered, salvation would be impossible. In fact, we would not even exist.

This was the relationship that the Israelites recognized at the foot of Mt. Sinai, the reality that so frightened them. It's the stark reality of a relationship, of Who God is and who we are. And without that understanding, the very foundation of humility, no other virtue is attainable.

This fact comes into play with Jesus' second parable, a teaching He aims directly at His host, that first century V.I.P., or very important Pharisee. But it, too, is a parable and so it's not just about dinner invitations. Once again, it addresses our relationships with each other and with God.

Because we are all completely dependent on God's grace, in His eyes, none of us is greater than another. Jesus emphasizes this when He tells His host:

"...invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you" [Lk 14:14].

In God's Kingdom, as members of His family, we all have equal dignity. Our reality is measured not by position or rank or occupation but by how we love and serve God through our relationships with all others. How others view us is far less important than the care and compassion manifested by how we view them.

Our question, therefore, becomes: How can you and I alter the way we live to express this truth in both word and action? Jesus, then, isn't telling us to reject the gifts God has given us; He's telling us to use them to help others, those with fewer or different gifts. 

And yet, as we examine ourselves, so often we fall prey to a subtle form of pride. "Lord, I think I'm actually pretty good. I'm here at Mass every week, I drop an envelope in the basket. I'm nice to others and try not to cause any harm. Yep, I think I'm doin' okay."

Do you hear the pride in these words? I consider myself, and how often similar thoughts have entered into my prayer. It's the person of one who thinks that because of his perceived goodness, he deserves salvation, which of course he doesn't. None of us does. Far better to kneel humbly before God, accepting the reality of His perfection, the reality of our sinfulness, and simply ask: "Help me, Lord."

In the Collect for today's Mass, Father asked God, the "giver of every good gift," to "nurture in us what is good." This, too, is a prayer of humility in which we acknowledge that everything we have is a gift from God, and that we are called to be sharers of these gifts.

Jesus invites us join those God has specially chosen, the poor, the ill, the forgotten, the dying. He calls us not just to write a check, but to walk alongside those whom God loves with special tenderness, and to share with them table and friendship.

This, brothers and sisters, is what we are called to do on our journey to salvation.