Homily: Tuesday, 20th week in Ordinary Time (Year 1)

Readings: Jgs 6:11-24a • Ps 85 • Mt 19:23-30

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Today’s readings always make me more than a little uncomfortable.

Our first reading from Judges really addresses something we’ve all encountered. No, we all don’t have to face armies of nomadic Midianites out to destroy us. But we’ve all experienced times in our lives when things seemed to be crumbling, when all that we hoped for seemed suddenly unattainable. Or when work problems or family problems or health problems just erupted and got to the point where we simply couldn’t handle them well.

And so, like Gideon, we turn to God and ask that question: “Dear Lord, You know I’m faithful; if You’re with me, why is this happening?”

We pray every day, we attend Mass, we read our Bible, we do what we can to serve the poor and we give freely of our treasure to those in need. How come God doesn’t seem to see all the good we’re doing?

And then, inevitably, when all seems to be going so wrong, God brings some level of healing into our lives. We come to realize there’s only so much we can do ourselves, that the only real solution is to let God handle it, most often by leading us to where we need to be.

Unlike Gideon, one of the Judges of the Israelites, God has never sent an angel to guide me – at least one that I could see. But He has sent me others – perhaps they were angels – but they were often the least likely people, and yet they inevitably showed me the way.

Looking back on my odd life, I find myself concluding that God is truly responsible for all the accomplishments I like to take credit for. But it’s not just my successes that are touched with pride. Even in my failures, I find it hard to admit that I was the cause…and that’s pride too.

Yes, it’s all pride. St. Augustine called pride "the love of one's own excellence." I’ve come to think that sums it up pretty well. When we’re doing well, it’s hard to admit that everything is a gift from God.

Then, we’re faced with today’s Gospel passage. After the sad meeting with the rich young man who could not accept Jesus’ invitation to be a disciple, Our Lord comments on the effects of wealth. In doing so, He offers us the wonderful metaphor that it’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God. Some say Jesus was referring to a narrow gate in Jerusalem’s city wall called the “eye of the needle.” But if so, that still means little, since He’s really telling us it’s next to impossible – except for God.

So, what does the Gospel mean by being rich? I think it means having a large surplus while around us are so many who lack the basic needs of life. With all that going on around us, but too often unnoticed, how can we claim to belong to the Kingdom, the reign of God, which is a kingdom of love and justice?

Later in his Gospel, in chapter 25, Matthew describes our judgment, at a time when Jesus equates Himself with those in deepest need.

“I was hungry, you gave me no food; I was thirsty, you gave me no drink; a stranger, you didn’t welcome me; naked, you didn’t clothe me; ill and in prison, and you did not care for me.”

When I hear this, and stop, and look inward, I see all the things that trouble me, everything that takes up my time, all the stuff I think is so very important…and discover it all has nothing to do with caring for "the least" of Jesus' brothers and sisters.

And yet, this is how we will be judged. It’s all about how we use the gifts God has given us. You see, it all belongs to Him, not to us. And so, we’re called to return it all to him, by serving those He loves.

Dear friends, God is omniscient; He knows and sees everything we do, and it gives Him great joy when we live the Gospel.

But for too many today, this is a hard thing to accept, a hard thing to do, especially here in our little Florida island of moderate affluence.

Homily: Saturday, 3rd Week of Lent

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In other words, to an audience of the prideful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Homily: Wednesday, 2nd Week of Lent

Readings: Jer 18:18-20; Ps 31; Mt 20:17-28
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Generals, politicians, business leaders, and yes, even cardinals and bishops…sometimes the great among us make the headlines for all the wrong reasons. 

Isn’t it sad when famous people fall prey to human failings, when they forget the real purpose of their lives and work, and become ruled by greed or pride or any of the other deadly sins?

Of course, it’s easy for you and me to shake our heads at those who get caught up in such things, and forget that we too are susceptible. Maybe our sins don’t make the headlines, but they still separate us from God; they’re still sins. And it’s nothing new. Just look at today’s readings.

The Prophet Jeremiah...Weeping

Prophets are like whistleblowers, always telling people things they don’t want to hear. And they tend to be treated like whistleblowers too. Jeremiah’s family had already turned against him, and now the religious and political authorities were plotting to do away with this troublesome man who constantly challenged their decisions and motives. And in our Gospel reading, the mother of James and John seeks to wrangle a promise out of Jesus:

“…that these sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom” [Mt 20:21].

Mother of James & John Pleads with Jesus

If Scripture tells us anything, it’s that God’s plans aren’t advanced by personal ambition. But as Christians what should be our attitude regarding those who do these things? Actually, Jeremiah tells us when he says an essential attitude for the disciple is prayer for the welfare of others. How did he put it?

“Heed me, O Lord...Remember that I stood before you to speak in their behalf, to turn away your wrath from them” [Jer 18:20].

Like Jeremiah, we’re called to seek their goodness, their repentance, their peace, their life. 

Hard to do, isn’t it? It goes against the grain of our human nature. Indeed, we can’t do it on our own. Jeremiah demonstrates this when he curses his enemies. He’s not proud of himself for doing so; he’s simply being honest and open before God, saying, in effect, “Here’s, how I feel, God. Help me.” By turning to God in prayer for others and for himself, Jeremiah demonstrates his belief in God’s plan for all his people.

And here we encounter another essential attitude of the disciple: to seek the Lord’s will in all things. As St. Paul reminds us, God’s will is revealed in... 

“God’s secret plan…the mysterious design which for ages was hidden in God, the Creator of all” [Eph 3:9].

Jesus demonstrates this when, deferring to the Father, He promises Mrs. Zebedee nothing regarding her sons.

Why does Matthew include this incident? To embarrass the Zebedee family? No, not at all. It’s there to remind us not to seek special status or to focus on our own needs and ambitions, while forgetting the needs of others.

Only through prayer can we keep in touch with God’s hopes for us and begin to sense the small part we are to play in “God’s secret plan.” Today’s Gospel passage begins and ends with an announcement of Jesus’ impending death:

“Just so, the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life...” [Mt 20:28].

Like Jesus, then, all the work we do in God’s vineyard is Godly and holy only when it raises others above ourselves and places them before God, whom we should thank and praise for all things. As the psalmist reminds us:

“Not to us, Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory” [Ps 115:1].

Homily: Saturday, 17th Week of Ordinary Time - Year 2

Note: The following is a homily unpreached. One of our visiting priests always celebrated our parish's Saturday morning Mass and always asked the assisting deacon to preach. But he is no longer with us, so that particular preaching opportunity left with him. I had already prepared this homily so I thought I should share it with my small but faithful group of followers. God's peace...
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Readings: Jer 26:11-16, 24; Mt 14:1-12
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Matthew, in these verses and in those that precede and follow, seems to offer us a litany of rejections, as we encounter scribes and Pharisees, priests and kings, and even ordinary folks, all rejecting Jesus. 

Each seems to reject Jesus out of a kind of personal pride, that same lack of humility that plagues the human race and leads us to believe we are such independent beings we really don't need the God who created us out of love. 

Matthew's rejecters are actually pretty interesting.

Those scribes and Pharisees, along with the priests and Levites, all wanted to be recognized and respected for their knowledge and scholarship. They wanted to be admired by the people as holy and justified. They certainly didn't want to be criticized and embarrassed, or called out in public as hypocrites, especially by some nobody like Jesus [Mt 15:1-9].

Jesus Rejected by the Pharisees, et al.

Even the people, the ordinary folks of Nazareth, wanted to be lifted up out of their anonymity and the banality of their everyday lives. But they simply couldn't accept that one of their own was something very special [Mt 13:54-58].

Jesus Rejected in Nazareth

Then we encounter a king, Herod Antipas, actually a rather small-time king, who wanted to satisfy his every desire and maintain his power. And Herod, much like his father before him, would exert that power over others to do so [Mt 14:1-12]

It's as if Matthew is running all these people by us, one after another, so we can identify the reasons for our own rejection of Jesus. 

And yet each reason is just a symptom of the same spiritual sickness, one that prevented all of them from recognizing Jesus as He truly is. Yes, indeed, they were all wrapped up in themselves, so tightly wrapped that their minds and hearts couldn't accept the reality that faced them.

As for us, whether we accept Jesus with faith or reject Him with indifference, our choice, like the choices these others made, will reflect our circumstances and our desires. Just look at Herod Antipas and his desires, his weaknesses, his fears...

Matthew presents this son of Herod the Great as a self-important, power-hungry, lustful little man, whose shabbiness symbolizes the evil and sin that rule his life. 

We also encounter a fearful man, one so afraid of John the Baptist's moral authority that he must shut him up by locking him up. Like the prophet Jeremiah in our first reading, the Lord sent John to Herod "to speak those things for you to hear" [Jer 26:15]. Of course Herod didn't want to hear them.

John the Baptist Rebukes Herod and Herodias

Herod killed John to satisfy his lust and his pride, and his wife's anger and need for revenge. And then in a communion of evil, at a self-absorbed feast celebrating his birthday, he had John's head brought to Salome, his niece and stepdaughter, on a platter.

Passion of John the Baptist (Caravaggio)

It seems that even Herod had a conscience, though one grossly deformed, deformed by his fears. But It's not a fear of God that motivated Herod; rather a fear that this Jesus, who has such mighty powers, might be John resurrected. How would the people react to that?

Then, speaking of John, he uttered those words that seem blasphemous from one such as Herod, for they are the same words the angel speaks to the women at Jesus' tomb:

"He has been raised from the dead" [Mt 14:2; 28:6-7].

We sense that Herod didn't see God at work in this false resurrection, but that he believes those "mighty powers" are more like the magical powers of Satan and his followers. No, Herod couldn't bear the thought of God and His justice, or even His mercy.

Perhaps this petty king hoped this evil distortion of the true Resurrection would free him of the guilt he carries for John's murder and so much else. 

Satan was certainly working overtime in Herod's palace.

And note the verbs Matthew used to describe Herod's actions: arrested, bound, imprisoned, feared, killed, beheaded...Yes, Herod wanted a world safe for his desires and would do anything to maintain it.

Are we all like Herod? One would hope not, but I can speak only for myself, where the difference is perhaps just a matter of degree.

What Herod lacked, and what every sinner lacks is the virtue of humility, the one virtue without which all the others cannot be.

And so perhaps each day, as we wake and greet our loving God, we should thank Him for making us so dependent on His love.

We should thank Him for our smallness, for our weakness, and for the gift of recognizing the presence of His love, His greatness, in all the others we will encounter this day.

And perhaps, too, we should do the same at the end of each day, thanking Him for all the opportunities he gave us to share His love, and repenting for those opportunities we missed.

Then, like John, we too can be joyful as we pray: 

"He must increase; I must decrease" [Jn 3:30]

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

Readings: Ez 18:25-28: 7; Ps 103; Phil 2:1-11; Mt 21: 28-32
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Some years ago, a friend, a retired a State Trooper, told me of the time he pulled over a well-known politician for speeding and reckless driving. As he was handed the citation, the politician looked at the trooper incredulously and asked, "Don't you realize who I am?"

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

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

"Don't you realize who I am?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ezekiel in Exile

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't you realize who He is?"

Jesus Christ is Lord! [Phil 2:11]

Homily: Wednesday, 15th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Ex 3:1-6, 9-12 • Psalm 103 • Mt 11:25-27

A few nights ago I watched a show that discussed a number of recent discoveries by astronomers and physicists, remarkable discoveries that have added to our knowledge of the universe. During the show, one commentator, while discussing the future, remarked,“It won’t be long before we know the mind of God.”

Hubble Telescope photo of hundreds of galaxies found in a tiny sliver of the night sky. Each galaxy contains perhaps 100 billion stars like our sun.

That brought on a chuckle from me. But then, right there in today’s Gospel passage from Matthew, Jesus thanks the Father in heaven for revealing God’s wisdom and knowledge to his disciples.

So maybe knowing God’s mind isn’t completely impossible. Perhaps aided by God’s grace we can come to know God’s plan, at least partially, and share in His knowledge. But I have a suspicion this isn’t at all what our astronomer was thinking when he made that comment.

Let’s look again at Jesus’ prayer. First  He first reminds us that God is both Father and Lord of earth as well as heaven. He is the Creator and Author of all that exists, the first origin of everything, the transcendent authority of creation. At the same time He is goodness itself and takes loving care of all his children. As Paul instructed the Ephesians, all fatherhood and motherhood derives from the Father.

Jesus also warns us that we can deprive ourselves of the knowledge of God and of His love. All it takes is intellectual pride, or coldness of heart, or stubbornness of will and we can effectively shut out God and his kingdom. And the worst of these is pride.

Some years ago, while studying the heresies that have plagued the Church over the centuries, the one factor common to all of them was simple pride: an attitude that one is holier than the Church, or smarter than the Church. No one, of course, is holier than the Church, for the Church is guided and inspired by the Holy Spirit.

Pride is really the root of all sin, the strongest influence that propels us to reject God. It first attacks the heart, making it cold and indifferent toward God. Then it closes the mind to God's truth and wisdom and causes the prideful person to look to himself for life’s answers. Quite simply pride is an inordinate love of oneself at the expense of others; an exaggerated estimation of one's own learning, or abilities, or importance.

Jesus contrasts intellectual pride with the simplicity and humility of a child who sees purely and without pretense, and acknowledges his dependence and trust in one who is greater, wiser, more trustworthy. The childlike, the simple of heart, seek one thing — the greatest good, who is God himself.

True simplicity of heart is always accompanied by humility, because humility inclines the heart toward grace and truth. Just as pride is the root or every sin and evil, so humility is the only soil in which the grace of God can take root.

But it’s hard to be humble, isn’t it? And the truly humble aren’t even aware of their humility. Their entire focus is outside themselves – on God and their neighbor. And so it’s only through humility that we can turn everything over to God, allowing Him to be the Lord of their lives. The Book of Proverbs has a wonderful verse about this -- God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble [Pr 3:34] – a verse that St. James quotes in his letter.

So one question for all of us today is: do we submit to God's word with simple trust and humility? For it’s through our humility that we can reap the benefits of one of the great truths of the Christian faith: We can know the living God.

That’s the essence of Christianity, that which makes it distinct: our ability to know God as our Father. Our knowledge of God isn’t limited to knowing something about God; through Jesus we can know God personally.

To see Jesus is to see what God is like, for as the Church Fathers never tire of reminding us: Jesus is the culmination of revelation. In Him we see God’s perfect love. We see One who cares intensely and immensely about each of us, loving us to the point of laying down his life for us.

Jesus also promises that God the Father will hear our prayers when we pray in Jesus' name, which is why He taught us to pray with confidence, "Our Father who art in heaven…"  And so today, let’s pray to our Father in heaven with joy and confidence in his love and care for us.

Lord, give us the child-like simplicity, the humility and purity of faith to gaze upon your face with joy and confidence in your all-merciful love. Remove the doubts, the fears, and the pride that would hinder us from receiving your word with trust and humble submission. Amen.