Homily: Tuesday, 1st Week of Lent

Readings: Is 55:10-11; Ps 34; Mt 6:6-15

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The “Our Father” is likely the prayer we pray the most. And the version we just heard from Matthew’s Gospel is the more complete version, the one with which we’re all familiar. Yes, indeed, the Our Father – or the Lord’s Prayer – gets a lot of coverage in our lives as Christians.

It was certainly among the first prayers I learned as a child. Our mother taught us the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Glory Be, and the brief Guardian Angel prayer-poem. We learned them all by heart, back when we were still smart and could remember things well. And I expect most of you had similar experiences as children.

And most of us still pray the Our Father daily. Of course, we pray it during every Mass, and each time you pray the Rosary, you pray the Our Father six more times. Depending on how often you pray, it probably finds its way into other parts of your prayer life. I know it’s my last prayer before I go to sleep each evening. There’s just something soothing and all-encompassing about this prayer that Jesus taught to His disciples.

How did Isaiah put it in our first reading?

“So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return to me void, but shall do my will…”

And because of this, because it’s the prayer of Jesus, it comes from the mouth of God and must have special meaning for all of us.

For me the very fact that Jesus asks us to call God our “Father” is particularly wonderful, especially for the Baptized who are His adopted children. That's a very special, very personal relationship that perhaps we don’t appreciate as we should. 

Jesus goes on to remind us that the Father’s name is holy, beyond anything we can imagine. He then includes the truth that our God’s will rules the entirety of creation, fulfilled in both heaven and on earth. A nice reminder that perhaps we should suppress our sinful wills and unite our wills to His.

Those few words should also generate a deep sense of humility within us. I’ve always believed humility to be the foundational virtue, without which no other virtue can exist. Humility is simply a manifestation of the reality of existence, an acceptance of the vast difference between God and me. It also helps me understand that I am no better than anyone else created by God.

The prayer then turns to a plea, asking the Father to provide all that we need to live His gift, this gift of life. Yes, we ask for “our daily bread” that which sustains us physically, but more than that, even spiritually, for Eucharistic Bread also sustains us, and provides the indwelling of God promised by Jesus Himself.

We then beg our Father for forgiveness, don’t we? But it comes with a qualification, doesn’t it?

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

How many of us consider the depth of these words? That we tell God not to forgive us if we fail to forgive others…for that’s exactly what we’re saying.

Now I’m not a priest. I’m just a deacon, a servant, but a lot of folks seem to confess a lot to me – not in a sacramental confession, just a human one. Most often they don’t realize they’re confessing. You see, they just talk to me and in doing so complain about all kinds of things. But so often it’s really about their anger, anger about something their kids or grandkids have done, or something a neighbor said or did, something they tell me they just “can’t” forgive. Of course, in truth it’s just something they won’t forgive, and I tell them so. They usually don’t like that.

I find it interesting that immediately afterwards this is the part of the prayer on which Jesus focuses. Perhaps Jesus sees it as the most important part since it can have such an effect on our salvation. I get the sense He wants to ensure we understand what we’re praying. Forgiveness is easy, brothers and sisters. After all it’s what we sinners expect from God and in our efforts to become more Christlike, God simply calls us to do the same.

Maybe that would be a good Lenten task for us today. Is there someone in need of your forgiveness? Don’t delay. Offer it to them. Or perhaps you need another’s forgiveness for something you’ve said or done. Humble yourself and ask for it. After all, by doing so you give them an opportunity to become more Christlike by forgiving you.

I think that’s enough.

God’s peace…

 

Homily: Tuesday, 1st Week of Advent - Year 2

Readings Is 11:1-10; Psalm 72; Lk 10:21-24

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I’m going to get a little nostalgic this morning. I’m not sure why. I suppose it’s just that time of the year. It's Advent, a glorious, hopeful season I've always enjoyed.

When I was a child, my family would begin each day of Advent by opening the particular day on the Advent calendar. My dad had bought a bunch of Advent calendars in Germany, because they made especially nice, picturesque versions.

Mom or Dad would then open the big family Bible, the one with all the neat etchings by Gustave Doré, and read a Gospel passage, along with a passage from a prophet – always relating to the coming of the birth of Jesus. We had to pay attention because we’d usually be asked what we thought of the readings. Fortunately, as the younger son I wasn’t expected to come up with anything very interesting.

Then we’d pray for those who suffered – family, friends, and others, even those we didn’t know. After breakfast, Dad would go off to work and we’d get ready for school, at least until Christmas vacation began. It was a special and comfortable morning routine, different and longer than our brief family prayer during the rest of the year. Yes, indeed, Advent was special.

This all comes to mind whenever I read the passage from Isaiah we just heard.

After my dad read to us about lions and lambs, and wolves and leopards and goats, I recall him telling us how wonderful the world will be when Jesus returns. “He will come and judge the world,” Dad told us. Then Mom joined in and told us we must always be good, so we are not punished, at least not too severely.

When I asked her what God did to the bad people, she merely said:

“God will handle that, because only He knows what’s in their hearts. And we must always remember that God loves everyone. Never forget that.”

I also recall her comment about the last part of today’s Gospel passage, when Jesus instructed the disciples privately:

"Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I say to you, many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it."

She told us that we are just like the disciples who saw Jesus every day, and are blessed just as they were. When my brother asked her what she meant because we don’t see Jesus like they did. “Isn’t He in heaven?” he asked her,

“Yes,” she said. “But He’s also right here with us. We see Him at Communion time at Mass when we receive Him and He is within each of us. He’s present in the host, just as present as He was to the Apostles as they walked and talked and ate with Him.

“He’s also present in everyone we meet, especially those who are poor or suffering. He told us that, and we must never forget it:

‘…whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’ (Mt 25:40)

“So, we must always help those in need.

“Jesus is with us always,” she said, “and we're with Him when we are with each other because He is in all who love Him, all who go to Him, all who seek Him. So, you see, we see Jesus every day.”

It’s amazing, isn’t it? Here I am in my 80s and those lessons learned are still with me. Although I’ve forgotten many of those mornings we spent together as a family, I can’t explain why some were forgotten, while others are as vivid as they were when I was physically there as a child. Perhaps God lets me recall what I need to hear in my life now.

Take some time this Advent to look back on your life to recall the truths you learned as a child. Most are among the most basic and therefore most important truths of our faith. As faithful adults, those are the things we tend to share with children. I think it’s good for us to recall them; after all, God reminds us that the Father, through the Holy Spirit, has “revealed them to the childlike.”

I know they’ve helped me, especially when I’ve had to face difficult times and even difficult people.

God love you.

Homily: 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

Exodus 17:8-13; Psalm 121:1-8; 2 Timothy 3:14-4:2; Luke 18:1-8

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The other day Walmart was packed. I tend to avoid those self-checkout lines, so I picked a check-out aisle with a relatively short line and waited patiently. I soon realized my mistake. I was behind a pregnant mom with two little ones, maybe 4 and 6 years old. Standing next to mom, holding onto the cart, the two children weren’t as patient as the deacon. The older one, a boy, began to poke his sister. She started screaming, looking to her mother for justice. The line behind us grew, people were getting antsy.

It was then that brother and sister simultaneously realized two things: First, the nearby shelves in the check-out aisle held candy and small toys; and second, they had their mom in a highly vulnerable position. They went on the attack. The boy grabbed a toy and began to beg just as his sister, cleverly grabbed a bag of M&Ms off the opposite shelf.

I was impressed. It was as if they had worked it all out in advance. This battle of wills went on for maybe a half-minute, and like any parent I pulled for Mom. She was tough. She got the toy back on the shelf but then noticed her daughter had opened the M&Ms and was eating them. Instantly, all was lost. Mom had to buy the candy, and to keep the peace, retrieved the toy and tossed it on the counter as she pulled out her credit card. The kids looked pleased. Mom simply looked relieved.

Now you might find this hard to believe, but as I watched the three of them head for the exit, I found myself thinking about today’s Gospel reading. Do you see what Bible Study does? It leads us to find echoes of Scripture in our everyday lives.

Like the widow in the parable, the children knew their persistence would eventually pay off. And like the judge, the young mom just wanted some peace and to avoid what could turn into a public embarrassment. 

In Jesus’ parable, the corrupt judge had absolute authority to settle cases before him however he chose. The young mom at Walmart had both parental authority and the credit card. And the widow and the children? They seemed to be virtually powerless, and yet actually possessed real power. But any power we possess exists only to the extent that it is recognized, accepted, and exercised.

Years ago, I used to teach a course on negotiation for corporate clients. One small element addressed something I called “the power of no power.” Centuries of martyrs have shown this to the world’s powerful. They willingly suffered death, driven by an unseen power, a power their enemies couldn’t comprehend.

Today’s Gospel passage is really a lesson on God’s power and how, through His love, He has given us the ability to tap into it. Jesus revealed to His disciples that the Father gives us access to His power through prayer. We are called to be persistent, just like the widow, and not lose heart.

Right before He related this parable, Jesus had described the time of tribulation, trials, persecutions, martyrdom, even a final failure of faith. Hearing this, the disciples were afraid. How could they endure such trials? How could they remain faithful to the end? Don’t be anxious, Jesus told them, don’t lose heart, for the power of the Holy Spirit will be with you. Then God will come and establish His kingdom in justice. He will right all wrongs. He will deliver men and women from sin and death.

20 centuries of Christian martyrs all the way back to St. Stephen, give testimony to the power God grants to those who believe in His love. In the face of a worldly power that ultimately took their lives, a power they rejected, these saints persisted in their faith. They didn’t lose heart.

One common trait shared by all the saints and martyrs is prayer. Through prayer we gain access to God, and to the divine power He desires to share with us. 

Prayer gives us strength; it helps us do things we could otherwise never do. Through prayer God invites us into His world, one very different from ours. How did Jesus put it as He prayed in the presence of His apostles the night before He died?

“I gave them your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world.” (Jn 17:14)

We are called to live in the world, but not be of the world. Hard stuff when the world surrounds us and calls to us constantly. Prayer, then, takes us from the world and lets us go beyond human hopes, human reasons, human fears, human desires.

Recall Jesus in the garden the night before He died. Wracked by human fears and the vision of the world’s sinfulness, He fell prostrate in prayer to the Father. Jesus turned His eyes to the Power of His shared divinity and found the strength He needed from the Father: “Thy will be done!”

The very next day, Jesus was nailed to the Cross with arms outstretched. Did anyone witnessing the crucifixion see the image of Moses, with his arms also outstretched and “the staff of God in his hand” until the battle was won?

Moses’ prayer formed a channel for God’s power. But even then, Moses couldn’t do it himself, could he? Without Aaron and Hur holding up his arms, those pesky Amalekites would have defeated Joshua and his army, changing the course of human history.

But who helped Jesus on the Cross? What did the witnesses scream at Him?

“If you are the Son of God, come down from that cross.”  (Mt 27:40)

But Jesus would not, not until the battle was won, until He had conquered sin and death, until He had made death merely a thing of this world, a thing of time, but one that led to eternal life.

And we shouldn’t overlook that Moses needed Aaron and Hur, just as we need each other. God calls us to communion, Communion with Him in His Eucharistic Presence, and communion with each other on our journey to eternal life. Yes, we need each other. As I like to tell married couples, your primary task is to help the other get to heaven. 

Although, as Christians, we continue to wage spiritual warfare against the powers of this world, Jesus has already won the decisive battle for us…and the outcome is assured. But prayer gives us more than the strength to fight these daily battles. It gives us the insight necessary to accept God’s will in our lives.

Prayer also connects us to the power of God’s love. Prayer, driven by the Holy Spirit, focuses our attention on the needs of others instead of our own. 

And without prayer, our faith will wither and die. Mother Teresa put it beautifully, “Prayer is the oil that keeps the lamp of faith burning brightly.”

How brightly does our faith burn? Did not Jesus ask:

“But when the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?”

Will we have lost heart because we’ve trapped ourselves in our world, and lost sight of God’s?

Sometimes we excuse ourselves by saying we haven’t the time to pray. And yet we manage to find the time to eat, to study, to work, to play. We nourish our bodies and our minds. We fill our lives with activity, but we starve our souls and deprive our lives of their fruitfulness.

St. Paul instructs us to “pray without ceasing,” because he knew our lives must be a continual prayer. Like breathing, prayer is a necessity. For only through prayer can we receive the help and strength we need to get safely through this life to our true home in heaven.

One pressing problem is that we just love to tell God what to do. We pray only for what we want, never considering what we need…and then we expect instant results. 

Sisters and brothers, we can tell God nothing He doesn’t already know. He won’t refuse what’s good for us, and grants what we ask in His time, not ours. 

But always remember, it's His will, not ours, that will bring peace and goodness. When we get our prayer right, it’s always a prayer that God’s Will be done, in our lives and in the world. Then all will fall into place. 

It doesn’t matter if we’re joyful, depressed, or angry. It doesn’t matter if we’re confused or aimless, if we’re giving thanks or need forgiveness. It doesn’t matter if we’re ashamed of how we’ve lived and sinned. When we pray, we’re in the presence of a dear friend who understands and forgives, a dear divine friend who shares in our humanity.

God, in His Love, always listens. For love calls for love in return, and prayer is an act of love. So maybe we can keep all of this before us and rouse ourselves to love our merciful God – Father, Son, and Spirit – through prayer. Don’t lose heart, brothers and sisters. Believe in His love. Believe in the power of your prayer.

Oh…and please pray for that mom in Walmart. I think she needs lots of prayers.

 

Homily: Tuesday, 2nd Week of Easter, Year 1

Readings: Acts 4:32-37; Ps 93; Jn 7:7b-15

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Did you get the sense that Nicodemus maybe didn’t want to be seen with Jesus? After all he was an important guy, a mucky muck. What did Jesus call him? "The teacher of Israel." 

Maybe Nicodemus was concerned that the wrong folks might see him making this visit, so he goes to Jesus at night. And yet he does go to Jesus, doesn’t he? At heart Nicodemus is a man of God, a seeker of truth.

He’s probably heard reports, maybe even witnessed, Jesus' miracles and has seen the crowds that follow Jesus everywhere. But he was different from his colleagues who see Jesus as a threat to their control of the people. Jesus simply refused to be created in their image. Such men never learn because they're so sure that they already know all the answers.

Dorothy Day once said: "Jesus came to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable." And the Jewish leadership of Jesus’ time was comfortable indeed.

Nicodemus, to his credit, recognizes the signs, as John calls them. How did he phrase it?

"We know you are a teacher come from God…"

And he decides to find out for himself.

The Pharisees questioned Jesus in public, intent only on trapping Him, but Nicodemus met with Jesus privately, for he seeks the truth. But the truth that he hears from Jesus is not what he expects. Begotten from above? Born again? What can these things mean? Confused, he struggles to understand.

Nicodemus probably expected a theological discussion, but Jesus instead speaks of conversion.

Nicodemus expected a meeting of the minds with a peer. But Jesus demands a meeting of the hearts.

Nicodemus is looking for rabbinic exegesis, an encounter with Scripture. Instead, he gets a personal encounter with Our Lord.

Nicodemus was theologizing, while Jesus was evangelizing.

The lesson for us? We take up the revealed word of God for one reason only: to encounter Jesus, the incarnate Word of God. The Scriptures must first be accepted into our hearts before they make any sense to our heads.

Jesus simply took Nicodemus to the next level, to another encounter, an encounter with the Spirit.

"No one can enter God's kingdom without being begotten of water and the Spirit."

You and I, by the grace of Baptism and Confirmation, have been born again from above by water and the Holy Spirit. But what happens sacramentally must now be lived existentially.

How is such a thing possible? Nicodemus’ question is our question – all the helplessness of it, the longing, the discouragement? How can I ever hope to share in all that is Jesus? And Jesus replies: You can’t, not alone.

You and I and Nicodemus must make a free decision – not to change, but to be changed, to allow the Spirit to move us and to lead us with His gentle Love. To be born again in God is only a beginning, an infancy, as St. Paul calls it.

That’s the second lesson Jesus taught Nicodemus: you can't do it yourself. It demands an act of faith and surrender. In faith, you must abandon yourself totally to the Spirit of God.

Such an act can come only through prayer. The trouble is, so much of our prayer life is occupied by telling God what He already knows. God knows your needs. But do you know God's Will for you? Pray daily to be continually renewed by the Holy Spirit, to have the strength to be weak in the presence of God's Will.

And finally, Our Lord introduces Nicodemus to the depth and breadth of His Love. And it's a Love centered on the cross. Just as Moses lifted the bronze serpent in the desert, Jesus would be lifted up on the cross. And those who look on Him and "believe will have eternal life in Him."

This act of faith on our part is also an act of love, for the two are intimately connected. To embrace the cross, the sign of God's infinite Love, and be grounded in truth. For it is love that lifts us up on our own crosses, and helps us realize that a painless, crossless Christianity is a Christianity without love. And it is the truth that enables us to experience the revelation of God's glory in a broken world.

Lord, send us your Spirit that we may be recreated. Give us a new mind that we may grasp your truth, and a new heart that we may grasp your love.

Let that be our prayer today.

Homily: Tuesday, 2nd Week of Lent

Sometimes, after I've prepared a homily, the priest will let me know that he'd like to preach. And that's OK, never a problem. It's good for me to prepare so I can appreciate God's Word even more. The below homily is the one I didn't preach today, but thought my tiny band of readers might find it of some benefit.

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Readings: Is 1:10, 16-20; Ps 50; Mt 23:1-12

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I have to admit, listening to today’s Gospel passage from Matthew always causes me to cringe a little.

Jesus, of course, was talking about the Pharisees and Scribes and their hypocrisy, and warning the people, especially His disciples, about following their example. As we see throughout the Gospels, these spiritual leaders of the Jewish people didn’t really hide their hypocrisy too well. It wasn’t just obvious to Jesus, but we suspect everyone saw it.

Indeed, Jesus offers us a sad litany of their offenses, everything from grasping honor and privileges for themselves to making life unbelievably difficult for others. But Jesus is also letting His disciples know that they, too, can fall prey to these same failings, and so the warning extends across the centuries to us as well. And there’s one sin -- and I think we can safely call all these failings sins -- that strikes me with the greatest force. It’s when Jesus says, “For they preach but they do not practice.”

You see, as a deacon, a man once declared by my bishop to be a true “servant of God” – he actually said that to all of us at our ordination. Anyway, when I hear Jesus say this about those Pharisees, I find myself wanting to hide behind that “seat of honor” over there.

It’s a very obvious seat isn’t it? Comfortable too. Yes, indeed, no matter how crowded the Mass, I’ve always got a great seat don’t I? Heck, the parish even gives me a parking place, so the old deacon doesn’t have to tire himself out.

But it’s really that preach and practice thing that troubles me. I’m preaching right now, and soon enough I’ll probably be telling you how to live your lives during this season of Lent. I did just that at a couple of Masses this past weekend.

And yet, like you, I too am a sinner. Most of the faults I address in homilies and the remedies I preach have their source in my own behavior, or in that of those I love and know best. Yep, it’s always easier to identify the sins of family and friends, isn’t it? We know them so very well, just as they know us.

Anyway, as I dig deeper into my own conscience to uncover my faults, I realize how different I am from the man I was 30, 40, or 50 years ago. I guess my spiritual life, my struggle toward some degree of holiness, has actually progressed, not as far as I’d like, and certainly far below the Lord’s hopes…

On a wall in our home, hangs a rather large portrait of Jesus – it’s the Divine Mercy image – and I’m serious, but sometimes when I glance at it, Jesus seems to be shaking His head at me…Maybe it’s just my aging vision, but I think it’s more than that. He’s just showing me I have a long way to go.

Lent, though, is a good time for introspection, a time to take a good, hard look at ourselves – a time to let God reform us, to transform us, into His ways

It’s also a time for simplicity, a time to turn away from the busyness of the world and its false attractions and promises.

But perhaps most importantly, it’s a time for sacrifice. So often we try to avoid any kind of sacrifice because sacrifice often means suffering, and yet it’s there, in our sacrifices, where Jesus Christ comes to meet us.

It’s there, when we bear our everyday crosses, that He comes to us and carries them with us.

Jesus never said that living the Christian life would be easy; but He did promise we wouldn’t be alone. He would join us.

Yes, I suppose I’m guilty of a touch of hypocrisy, but thanks to Jesus’ words, at least I know it, and can repent. Maybe some of those Scribes and Pharisees also came to recognize their hypocrisy when they listened to Jesus, and then they too repented.

Perhaps they, too, heard Isaiah’s message, one they would have known well:

“Wash yourselves clean!...[and] set things right”

And how do we do that? We change, for that’s what repentance means.

“Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes; cease doing evil; learn to do good. Make justice your aim: redress the wronged, hear the orphan's plea, defend the widow.”

Oh, yes, so let me leave you with another thought:

Don’t be too critical of deacons and priests, of bishops and popes, for we too are human and subject to the whole range of human failings.

How much better simply to pray for us, as we pray for you.

  

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.

 

Overcoming Hatred and Evil

"There will be peace in the Middle East only when the Arabs love their children more than they hate Israel.” ~ Golda Meir

Have you been listening to the ongoing controversy about the attack on the Gaza hospital? If you haven't, you must be stranded on a desert island awaiting rescue. Apparently, according to Hamas (a collection of rapists, torturers, and murderers of women and children), as well as every Islamic nation, and most Western media, Israeli aircraft bombed a Gaza hospital and killed hundreds of patients and medical personnel. Did the mainstream media question this assertion by Hamas, an organization whose leaders cannot open their mouths without lying? Did they tell us they were investigating these claims to see if they were true? No, they simply accepted them as true. But then Israel stated it has extremely convincing evidence that the catastrophe at the hospital resulted from an errant missile fired by Islamist terrorists supporting Hamas. Our own intelligence agencies have confirmed the same. And, believe me, anyone who knows anything about the effects of bombing know full well the damage was not the result of a bomb dropped by an aircraft. This has been generally ignored by all the usual suspects who, as expected, accept the word of baby killers and rapists over the that of the Israeli government and our intelligence agencies. One underlying belief that motivates all those accusing Israel, or just blindly accepting the Hamas lies, is what we like to call anti-Semitism, which I will translate into the far more descriptive, “hatred of Jews,” especially those who live in Israel.

Of course, our president, while declaring his full support for Israel, just can’t bring himself to mention the nasty elephant in the room: the terrorist Islamic Republic of Iran. Addressing the states that support Hamas and hate Israel, which presumably includes Iran, he tells them all not to do anything rash by saying, “Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.” What exactly does that mean? If our enemies don’t know, they will logically assume we don’t either. The president’s words are certainly no real threat to those who plan to do Israel and us real harm. How much more effective it would be if President Biden simply told them bluntly that by joining in this conflict, they might well precipitate World War III. To prevent this we would be forced to attack them in their homelands, destroying their military and industrial infrastructures. It would seem, however, the administration will continue to deal with our enemies as if they were rational beings. But that is not the case. Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran, and too many others are zealots who have no problem sacrificing their own people for their quasi-religious cause. Life and death mean little to those driven solely by their hateful ideology. These are not easy people to deal with, but one thing we know: they respect power only when believe it will be used against them.

The next few months should be very interesting. Sadly, Hamas is run and staffed by vicious people so there’s little chance they will change without God’s help. This is true also of Hezbollah, Iran, and far too many others blinded by sheer hatred. Continued peace for Israel will likely require a lengthy and challenging effort to destroy the war-making capability of Hamas and remove it from power in Gaza. There is much our nation can do to lessen the threat to Israel, and the greater threat to Western civilization. I’m just not very confident our current political leadership has the courage and the will to do what must be done. We pray for peace, but for continuing peace. Pray, too, for the conversion of all who despise the Lord and His people. After all, with God, all things are possible.

 

Homily: Mass and Healing Service - Thursday, 27th Week in Ordinary Time

Note: On Thursday evening, Father Glen celebrated a special Mass, which was followed by a Healing Service for all who sought healing of any kind, whether physical, mental, spiritual, or the healing of broken or damaged relationships. Many came and were prayed over by our prayer teams who laid hands on each person and asked the Holy Spirit to provide the healing they sought.

I was humbled to have been asked to preach to this gathering of the faithful who came to hear God's Word and then joined together in Eucharistic Communion with our Lord Jesus Christ and with each other.

My homily follows...

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Readings: Mal 3:13-20b • Psalm 1 • Gospel: Lk 11:5-13

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Good evening, everyone. Praise God. Praise Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Because we’re here in Jesus’ name, the Holy Spirit is with us in all His power, in all His glory, so that in Him we can come to know our loving Father better, all through Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Let me begin by saying I’m in deep water today, way out of my depth…but that’s the way it usually is whenever we set out to do God’s work. So often we’re sure we know what God is calling us to do, but then suddenly He teaches us otherwise. After all, it’s not our work; it’s God’s work. And you and I can never approach God’s work from a position of strength. It’s always from weakness.

I worried a bit about what I’d say tonight, but then finally, did what I should have done from the beginning, I prayed…and I asked the Spirit to guide me, to tell me what to say.

As God revealed through the prophet Malachi, we will see “the distinction between the one who serves God, and the one who does not.” He calls us only to serve Him.

Healing is such a personal thing. No two of us come to healing from the same place; each journey is different, and so is the baggage we carry with us. Because we’re all so amazingly and wonderfully different, what can I say that will apply to us all? But then the Spirit turned my aging brain to the parable staring me right in the face.

“Ask and you shall receive; seek and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened to you...”

Comforting words, aren’t they? But I think too many of us take those words and extract only what we want to hear. We focus so much on the things of our lives, the uniquely human activities and distractions that occupy so much of our time. Distracted by these “things,” we often misinterpret what Jesus is telling us about prayer – for that’s what this parable’s all about. We focus on our problems, our hurts and illnesses, our burdens, our confused lives…and then, like the unrelenting friend in the parable, if we just pray really hard, and persist, then God will finally say, “Okay, okay,” and give us whatever we ask.

To believe this is to see this parable from a very literal, very human perspective, one that sees God as this sleepy neighbor who only responds if we nag Him relentlessly. We forget, it’s a parable, and God is no sleepy neighbor who needs persuading.

Jesus continues with another brief parable, this time referring to that special human relationship between parent and child.

“What father among you will give his son a snake if he asks for a fish, or hand him a scorpion if he asks for an egg?”

And we all say, “I’d never do that!” — because we love our children. And because God loves us even more, obviously He’ll give us whatever we ask. The trouble is, too often, instead of asking for a fish or an egg, we ask for the snake or the scorpion. Then, dissatisfied with God’s response, we do act like children. We get angry with God. We throw little tantrums and turn away from Him. After all, we asked, but didn’t receive.

Do we think we can manipulate God, that if we ask Him repeatedly, we somehow obligate Him? Or maybe we think, “If God is a loving and caring Father who gives only ‘good’ things, why must we persist in asking? Why do we have to ask at all?”

Let’s not forget that Jesus tells us to pray to the Father, “Thy will be done.” Persistence in prayer – as Paul reminds us, “pray without ceasing” – is for our benefit, not God’s, so we must pray boldly for conformity with God’s will. If the will of the child doesn’t conform to the will of the Father, the child, disregarding all personal desire, must repeat with Jesus in the Garden, “...not my will, but yours.” You see, Jesus wants us to pray for everything good. This is what the Father wants for us.

Then, at the end of the parable, we encounter a gift:

“If you, with all your sins, know how to give your children good things, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?”

What Jesus promises is far better than anything we had in mind. He promises the Holy Spirit, the fullness of the love shared by Father, Son and Holy Spirit. What could be better than that?

And yet, how often in prayer do we ask for the Holy Spirit? Only God’s grace, given freely by the Holy Spirit through the saving power of the Son, can save us from our sinfulness and raise us to new life in Him. In the Creed we call the Holy Spirit, “the Lord and Giver of Life.” This is the healing we all need. Anything else is just God’s little surprise for us. Immersed in that holy flow of grace, what we receive is totally aligned with All Goodness, All Love, all perfect answers to our fervent prayer.

And if you receive exactly what you asked for, rejoice! Jump for joy because you are one with the will of our loving God…your prayer was answered! Sometimes the answer Is “No”, or “Maybe later”, or “I have a better solution.” We can be ok with those answers when we realize they’re given in love. Always in love, sisters and brothers, no matter how difficult and contrary they seem at the moment.

Reviewing my own life, all its stupid mistakes, its sinfulness, self-built obstacles, and crazy moments, I see the work, the signature, of my loving God. I can say only, “Thank You, Lord, for being there always, even when I didn’t realize it.”

In prayer, then, as in all things, Jesus is our model. Recall the raising of the dead Lazarus, and how Jesus prayed:

“Father, I thank you for having heard me. I know that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd, that they may believe that you sent me.”

You and I are in that crowd; it’s all meant for us. The all-powerful intercession we rely on when we pray in Jesus’ name, and conform our own prayer to His. You see, what Jesus is really telling us is that our prayer must be an act of simple trust, the kind of trust you see in the face of a child who knows his parent will never harm him. And like that child, we often don’t know what’s good or bad for us. But God, the good parent, tells us, “Trust me. You’ll thank me for it later.”

You and I can teach God nothing, but we can ask everything of Him, entrusting to Him the judgment of our real needs. It’s our duty to ask, to pray. We’re His children, and should want to receive everything from His hand. But we should ask, seek and knock so that we may discover God’s will for us, and then ask for the courage and strength to do it.

Certainly, we can always ask God for specific things, but more important is to enter into His presence in silence and solitude of heart. For the Holy Spirit dwells in the depths of your soul, at the very center of your being. We can best reach Him only when we grow silent. Interior silence and the ability to love God in a kind of nakedness of spirit are gifts of the Holy Spirit, sent by the Father, and promised to us by the revelation of His Son that “Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.”

Because of this we’re certain of the Father’s love.

Because of this we can leave behind all anxiety and fear, all uncertainty, all distrust.

Because of this we need not worry about our future; or to calculate the state of our relationship with God.

Because of this we can come to want what God wants, to acknowledge that good, and nothing but good, comes only from God, only from Our Father.

Yes, Our Father: not just mine, not just yours, ours. By the very fact that we are put into relationship with God, as sons and daughters of the Father, we find ourselves in relationship with one another. So together, in Eucharistic communion with Jesus Christ and each other, let’s enter into prayerful conversation with our God, to get a real relationship going in our asking, seeking, and knocking, and prepare to be surprised. To be loved. To be healed.

Pray for the healing of those seated around you, and then let God do His healing work.

Praised be Jesus Christ…now and forever.

 

“Gird Your Loins!”

Back when I was just a kid, our family Bible was a Douay-Rheims translation filled with prints of those wonderful biblical engravings by Gustave Doré. (You can view them all here.) As a young child I would sit on the living room couch turning the pages of that Bible and examining Doré‘s remarkably detailed scenes. My approach to Bible Study at that age was rather random, a hit-or-miss approach in which I would look at one of the pictures, then read the opening passages of the book I thought was associated with the picture. Often enough I didn’t understand much of what I’d read and found myself wondering just what those words were telling me. Many of the words were not yet part of my vocabulary, so I’d occasionally ask my mom what they meant. Once, while reading the opening verses of Jeremiah, I came across the following in which God commanded the young prophet:

“Thou therefore gird up thy loins, and arise, and speak to them all that I command thee…” [Jer 1:17]

So I asked Mom, “What does gird up thy loins mean?” As I recall, she didn’t provide a full explanation, but simply replied, “It means to prepare for battle.” At the time that was enough for the nine-year-old me. I’m guessing it was a few more years before I even knew what loins were. Truthfully, I’m still a bit foggy about it today since loins rarely, if ever, find their way into everyday conversation. 

Anyway, the phrase was not restricted to the Old Testament. St. Paul, for example, used it when writing to the Ephesians:

“Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil…Stand therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the equipment of the gospel of peace; above all taking the shield of faith, with which you can quench all the flaming darts of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” [Eph 6:11,’14-17].

Here the Apostle, using a variety of military images, instructed those early Christians to prepare themselves for spiritual battle, armed defensively with truth, righteousness, the gospel of peace, and faith. St. Peter, addressing new Christians who were undergoing persecution and hardship, used similar language to encourage them in their faith:

“Therefore gird up your minds, be sober, set your hope upon the grace that is coming to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, be holy yourselves in all your conduct; since it is written, ‘You shall be holy, for I am holy’” [1 Pet 1:13-16].

Peter used only part of the “girding” metaphor, telling these Christians, “gird up your minds” and calling them to the holiness God wills for them. 

Until the other day, the last time I heard anyone use the phrase publicly was on April 17, 1970, when the Commanding Officer of our Navy helicopter squadron rose up from his ready room chair and gave some final instructions to the crews who would recover the Apollo 13 astronauts. Chuck Smiley looked out at us all and with a smile on his face said, “You’re all professionals, so I know you’ll do an outstanding job today, so let’s just gird our loins and do what the nation expects of us.” And we did. 

Why my current interest in all this loin-girding?  Because of something I read a few days ago in a news article. As you might have heard, the Los Angeles Dodgers invited a radical anti-Catholic hate group to the team’s June 16 Pride Night game. During the game the group will receive the team’s “Community Heroes” award. The group, calling themselves “The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence,” openly mocks the Catholic faith. The Dodgers invited this extremist trans group, but responding to strong criticism and complaints from Christian groups, the team dis-invited them. But then the leftist hate attacks began so the team re-invited them. 

Drag Trans "Sister of Perpetual Indulgence"

While the Archdiocese of Los Angeles issued a statement condemning this hateful decision by the Dodgers, perhaps the best response came from one of the more courageous of American bishops, Salvatore Cordileone, Archbishop of San Francisco. Archbishop Cordileone accused the Dodgers organization of worshiping “alternative gods” and then added:

“Our Catholic sisters devote themselves to serving others selflessly. Decent people would not mock and blaspheme them. So we now know what gods the Dodger admin worships. Open desecration and anti-Catholicism is not disqualifying. Disappointing, but not surprising. Gird your loins.”

Archbishop Cordileone

Don’t you just love it? “Gird your loins,” the archbishop tells his flock. Like St. Paul and St. Peter, he calls us to prepare for spiritual warfare; indeed, we are already in the midst of the war’s ongoing battles. Satan is pulling out all the stops in what will ultimately be his failing effort to destroy God’s Church. I expect this warfare to go on for quite some time, so it would be best to equip ourselves with that same defensive armor recommended by St. Paul: truth, righteousness, the gospel of peace, and faith. And to these let’s add our most effective offensive weapon: prayer.

Oh, and for all you Dodger's fans out there, I'd suggest switching allegiance to another team or just doing what I decided to do and just avoid Major League Baseball altogether. Or as we New Yorkers say: "Fugeddaboutit!"