The occasional, often ill-considered thoughts of a Roman Catholic permanent deacon who is ever grateful to God for his existence. Despite the strangeness we encounter in this life, all the suffering we witness and endure, being is good, so good I am sometimes unable to contain my joy. Deo gratias!


Although I am an ordained deacon of the Catholic Church, the opinions expressed in this blog are my personal opinions. In offering these personal opinions I am not acting as a representative of the Church or any Church organization.

Showing posts with label Salvation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Salvation. Show all posts

Thursday, February 19, 2026

Reflection on Salvation: Life in the Spirit Seminar

Note: A  few days ago I gave a reflection on Salvation at a parish "Life in the Spirit" Seminar. I'd given the talk on several previous occasions but made quite a few changes this year. Anyway, my talk follows. And a warning, the reflection is long, a half-hour long, so no snoozing. (Please pardon any typos. No time to proofread today.)

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Praise God! Praise Father, Son, and Holy Spirit!

When Deacon Dick Stevens accosted me and asked me to speak at this Life in the Spirit Seminar, I said, “Well…Okay. But what do I have to do?” His response? “Talk about ‘Salvation.’”

My first thought? “Well, that’s a nice concise, well-defined topic – let’s see, our sole reason for being, the entirety of our human existence.“

Then he said something like, “No more than 30 minutes.” Of course, it was more than month away, so I really didn’t think much about it. But a few days ago, I realized time was running out. Then I remembered speaking on salvation at one of these seminars some years ago.

Sadly, though, my home PC died a while back and I lost a lot of my homilies and talks, including my earlier talks on salvation. All I could find was a brief outline. So, I had no choice and turned to the Holy Spirit, praying for inspiration. I figure if anyone can give us the Word of Salvation He can.

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I’ll begin with a couple of questions.

Do you believe that God will save everyone?

OK, let me rephrase it.

Do you believe God can save everyone?

Ah, that’s better.

After all, we can’t deny that all things are possible for God.

After all, we pray for that all the time, don’t we?

At the conclusion of yesterday’s Mass, Fr. Glen prayed the “Prayer after Communion.” Yet, how often do we really pay attention to the words? Here’s what he prayed in our name:

O God, who have willed that we be partakers
in the one Bread and the one Chalice,
grant us, we pray, so to live
that, made one in Christ,
we may joyfully bear fruit
for the salvation of the world.
Through Christ our Lord.

And we all responded with, “Amen.”

Don’t you just love that?

“…that…we may joyfully bear fruit for the salvation of the world.”

And yet, how many of us look at the world joyfully, especially today, and want God to save everyone? Do any of you pray the Rosary? Recall that little prayer we say after each decade? Join me…

“Oh, my Jesus, forgive us our sins and save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls to Heaven, especially those in most need of Thy mercy.”

“Lead all souls to heaven…” Yep, we pray for that, too, don’t we? The irony here is that most Christians really don’t believe that could ever happen…sort of an “OK, God, yeah, You can do it; but You won’t.” If we really think that way, why do we pray for it?

You see, we should believe that God will find a way to bring everyone to salvation. Wouldn’t that be wonderful. Will He really do that? I haven’t a clue, simply because I’m not God. We do, however, know that God wants this. As St. Peter reminded us:

“The Lord does not delay his promise, as some regard ‘delay,’ but he is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.” [2 Pt 3:9]

And Paul, too, writing to Timothy, tells us:

“This is good and pleasing to God our savior, who wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth” [1 Tim 2:3-4]

I find it interesting that Peter joins salvation with coming to “repentance”, while Paul connects salvation with coming to “knowledge of the truth.” But I really think they’re the same thing. For Paul, the overwhelming truth about humanity is that we are sinners. And what do sinners need? Exactly what Peter says, “Repentance.”

I begin with this just to remind you (and me) that God is infinitely more powerful than we could ever imagine. You and I, trapped in time and space, too often place our God in a similar box. We know He creates, redeems, forgives, loves…yes, His greatness, His power, His love…it’s all far beyond our comprehension.

God created us in His image and likeness, but that’s so very hard to live up to. How can we? So we instead create God into our image and turn Him into a big version of ourselves. And  then we read the Gospels and all those passages, the words of Jesus, that seem to tell us a lot of folks won’t be saved.

How did the risen Jesus put it to the Apostles? 

“Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved; whoever does not believe will be condemned” [Mk 16:16] 

That seems pretty clear, doesn’t it? And Jesus says similar things elsewhere in the Gospels. One thing we know for sure, again because Jesus told us:

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

And so, Jesus is the means of salvation. Does that eliminate all but Christians? What’s it all mean? For me it means two things:

1. I don’t know the mind of God, so all I can do is struggle to do as He tells us: “Repent, and believe in the Gospel.” Repentance and faith.

2. He wants all to be saved, so I must do what ever I can to lead others to the saving grace the Holy Spirit will shower on anyone who comes to Jesus, through Him.

In truth, when we get right down to the ditty-gritty, it means something different to each one of us. You and I are each on a unique journey to salvation.

Let me begin by describing my own journey to salvation, to life in the Spirit, a journey that began long ago, but reached its peak when I married Diane. Dear Diane, brought up a Southern Baptist, had spent time among the Methodists, and during her college years settled in with the Pentecostals. It was then that she experienced a Baptism in the Holy Spirit.

By the time we married, she had converted to Catholicism. When I proposed to her, she asked, "You know, I speak in tongues...does that bother you?"

A few years later, living in Monterey, California, she encouraged me to attend a Life in the Spirit Seminar put on by our parish’s charismatic prayer group. And not long after that I experienced my own vivid Baptism in the Spirit, an event that completely changed me and ultimately led me to the diaconate.

Anyway, about five years after this, I guess it was about 45 years ago, Diane and I and three of our little ones (I think she was pregnant with Brendan, number four) were enjoying a day at the San Diego Zoo when we were approached by a couple of teens, a boy and a girl.

They were members of a strange cult, popular in Southern California at the time. As I recall, they called themselves the “Children of God”. They handed me one of their tracts and then the boy asked me, “Are you saved?”

I simply replied, “Yes, I hope so, but I’m still working on it.”

I don’t think they knew what to make of that response, and so the girl said, “If you’re saved, you’re saved. That’s all there is to it.”

This, of course, was a challenge, so told them I was just relying on the Holy Spirit and following St. Paul‘s advice to the Philippians:

“…work out your salvation with fear and trembling” [Phil 2:12].

I was used to coming to the Spirit for help, so I did, and He led me to Jesus’ words in Luke

"For the holy Spirit will teach you at that moment what you should say” [Lk 12:12]

and again in John:

"He will teach you everything…” [Jn 14:26]

In effect the Holy Spirit told oly Spirit tols Hme not to be consumed by worry. And one day in prayer I heard these words, heard them just as clearly you’re hearing my words now:

“…Stay close to me,” he said.

Anyway, the boy couldn’t help himself and said, “Well, Paul was wrong. Jesus told us not to fear.” They then scooted off to accost someone else.

Of course, Paul wasn’t wrong; they were. St. Paul and Jesus were speaking of two very different fears. Paul wasn’t speaking of the servile fear of the slave, or the fear of punishment. He was speaking, instead, of a reverential fear that moves us to do God’s will because of our love for Him.

It’s that miraculous gift of the Holy Spirit, the “fear of the Lord” that is a true reflection of reality. It’s a sense of reverence and awe at the majesty of God and a healthy revulsion at the very thought of sinning against Him. But the Incarnation alters things a bit. By becoming one of us Jesus narrows the vast gulf between God and us. He becomes our brother.

In Scripture we’re told not to fear again and again. But it’s a different kind of fear: a fear of the things of this world. This is the fear we must abandon, for it keeps us from a personal and trusting relationship with Jesus Christ. If we’re afraid of the world, how can we trust in Jesus? And so many today are afraid. Let me give you an example.

On the evening of September 11, 2001, I had an appointment to bless a parishioner’s home. We were personal friends. When I arrived John asked me to speak with his wife, who wouldn’t leave the kitchen. The events of that day had crippled her with fear, the wrong kind, a fear of the world and its evils. Her fear was almost paralytic. We talked and prayed and turned to God’s Word, and her fears eased a bit. But it was weeks before she left her house and even went to church.

We’ve all experienced fear to some extent; it’s part of the human condition. As a Navy pilot in wartime, I encountered my share of scary situations, times when fear could easily rise up and take control. Of course, one good thing about being a pilot in bad times is that you're so busy, just trying to keep the aircraft flying and staying alive. I really didn’t have time to fear. That came later.

But I always turned to the Holy Spirit in trust, and told Him, “It’s yours, guide me, lead me.” And do you know something? He always did.

But what does all this talk about fear have to do with our salvation? Actually, quite a lot. My mom and dad ran a little Bible Study of sorts every Saturday morning. Mt dad, the colonel, called them "staff meetings." At one of those sessions, Mom asked us: “How do you get to heaven?”

I was probably 10 or 11. My older brother and I had never thought much about this, so we gave rather standard answers: obey the commandments; go to Church on Sunday; give part of our allowance to the Church. I think I added, “Don’t pick on your little brother.” All practical answers, but not very useful. We really hadn’t a clue.

Mom finally said, “Boys, you can’t earn your way to heaven. That’s not how it works.”

She opened our family Bible and turned to Luke’s Gospel, and read this passage from chapter 23:

Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us.”
The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply, “Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation?
And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.”
Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
He replied to him, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

I’ve always found this to be one of the more fascinating passages in the Gospels.

Two criminals. Were they thieves or murderers? We don’t know. Luke simply says they were criminals and apparently they believed they deserved their punishment.

The first simply mocked Jesus:  If you’re the Messiah, save yourself and us. Did he believe Jesus was the Messiah? No, not likely.

The other criminal has a name, Dismas. Actually, his name appears in an apocryphal books, among them, The Gospel of Nicodemus and it seemed to stick. And so, we’ll use it. Dismas utters only three sentences, but three remarkable sentences. The first:

“Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation?

In responding to the other criminal, he simultaneously responds to the Holy Spirit who has blessed him here, in his last moments of life, with a gift: fear of the Lord.

Yes, the Spirit is within him, the indwelling that Paul tells us will lead us to salvation. Dismas then makes an act of contrition, an act of true repentance

“…we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal.”

Indeed, Dismas confesses -- we have sinned and are receiving a just, earthy punishment -- but this Jesus, He is no criminal, for He is something much greater than any of us.

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

And here Dismas knows he’s been forgiven, even before Jesus says a word`. You see, the Spirit has also given him the gift of faith. He knows that Jesus Christ is King and redeemer of the world. And he simply asks for salvation.

Jesus’ reply is brief, dramatic, all-encompassing, a divine, on-the-spot canonization:

“Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

There is some conflict about this statement: the placement of the comma before or after “today.” But I prefer the way it's stated above.

Do you see the process here, what leads Jesus to call Dismas to salvation? Faith, acceptance of our sinfulness, true repentance, love of God…It’s really all of one piece, wrapped up in those three theological virtues of faith, hope and love.

Faith, we are told is a gift, a gratuitous gift; and I think we can all accept this, since in our sinfulness we certainly don’t deserve any gifts. But this is where the Holy Spirit steps in, for He is the gift-giver. He’s the source of that desire, that need for God, that movement within us, which opens us to the gift.

He rends our hearts; He tears open the human heart so Father and Son can dwell there. Speaking with the twelve the night before He died, Jesus told them:

“Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him” [Jn 14:23].

This indwelling is the work of the Holy Spirit, for Jesus had already told the apostles:

“The Father…will give you another Advocate to be with you always, the Spirit of truth…it remains with you, and will be in you” [Jn 14:16-17].

Yes, the Spirit, the Advocate, does God’s work in the world, and He does God’s work in each of us. I sometimes refer to the Holy Spirit as God’s Workhorse. It’s just a metaphor. He does God’s work in the world, the behind-the-scenes manifestation of God’s Presence.

Every Sunday, we come together and proclaim the Nicene Creed aloud, confirming the totality of our faith. And in doing so we utter those words:

“I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life…”

What life? Well, the Creed doesn’t qualify it, or give exceptions. The Holy Spirit is the giver of all life. He is the giver of our bodily, earthly, material life and the giver of eternal life. He stands abreast that path to salvation, calling us, directing us.

And so, with this in mind, let’s return to Dismas. Filled with the Spirit, and with the hope He offers, he’s moved to confess to Jesus. As my mother used to say, “Faith fuels our hope.” And hope moves us, drives us, despite our fears, despite everything the world throws at us.

Did Dismas fear? Well, fear of death might be there, but I think that was now behind him. There he was surrounded by those who despised him. And yet it was all overshadowed, crushed by the love of Jesus from the Cross. Only Jesus showed him love.

Because he had accepted the Spirit’s gift of faith, a supernatural gift that dissolves all fear, that instills hope, a gift that calls us to trust, that calls us to a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

It was through his acceptance of that gift that the Holy Spirit moved Dismas to repentance, gave him hope, allowed him to accept the forgiveness Jesus offered and revealed to him the divine person of Jesus...one divine gift after another, all leading to salvation.

Do you see what happened here? The Spirit revealed several things to Dismas:

  • He is a sinner, but forgiveness is available to him; he need only repent;
  • The Lord, Jesus Christ, is the very source of forgiveness;
  • His hope is real, forgiveness is his. Salvation awaits.

He believes, he repents, he’s forgiven, he loves, and he is saved.

Through this simple process of faith, repentance, forgiveness, and love Jesus offers Dismas the gift of salvation:

“…today you will be with me in Paradise.”

Salvation is his eternal reward. But that’s not all. There’s also a temporal reward. He adds the word, “today.” And so, today it happens for you, today here in this world…yes, today becomes an eternal day in paradise.

That’s what I learned from my mom when I was probably 11 years old.

Now, some Christians consider salvation a one-time experience in the life of the Christian – that we need only accept Jesus in faith as our Lord and Savior and we are saved…no matter what

Such a teaching, however, ignores the reality of human life, of human nature itself. It also ignores a lot of what Jesus told us. You see, sad as it is, you and I remain sinners, constantly in need of repentance and forgiveness, called to love until our last breath, called, as Paul reminds us, to work out our salvation with fear and trembling.

Salvation is a gift, one demanding more than intellectual and emotional acceptance. It demands continual acceptance, confronting us with a choice: We can reject the gift, turn away from God, either out of fear of the worldly consequences, or out of despair because of the magnitude of our sinfulness. Or we can accept the gift and turn to Him in love.

This demands a radical change, an abandonment of the life that precedes it. Once again Dismas shows us the way. Dismas ignores the other criminal, he who mocks God, the one Satan used to turn him from Jesus, and though his sins are many, he doesn’t despair.

The Spirit had revealed to him what Jesus had taught his disciples when He referred to Himself as the Good Shepherd:

“I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy; I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly” [Jn 10:9-10].

Understanding this, Dismas turns to Jesus in complete trust, just as sheep trust their shepherd. Given abundant life, he offers the only thing he can: his faith and his love. He’s made a decision to change, to accept God’s gift of forgiveness, to accept with a humility that most of us can only imagine.

You see, brothers and sisters, salvation demands a living faith. And the path to salvation is the path of discipleship. The call of the disciple is to follow Jesus. Dismas, then, becomes the ultimate disciple, who follows Jesus right through the gates of heaven.

Let me add another saint who goes against the grain, and reminds me of St. Dismas, another man most of us would never expect to be a canonized saint. 

His name is Andries (Andrew) Wouters, and I'd never heard of him until a few months ago. A Benedictine monk gave me his prayer card and a few days later I was told by my doctor I'd need surgery for a pesky hernia.

Anyway, I decided to do a little research and discovered that Wouters, born in the Netherlands in 1542, was ordained a priest but lived a scandalous life. A known womanizer, he was known to have fathered several children with different women.

During the Dutch revolt against the Spanish, a Calvinist rebel group set themselves up to battle the Catholic Church in the Netherlands. In June 1572, the town of Gorkum fell to the Calvinists and the rebels captured nine Franciscan friars, two lay brothers, along with several parish priests, including Wouters.

Imprisoned at Gorkum from 26 June to 6 July 1572, the nineteen were moved to Brielle, arriving on 8 July. Ordered to abandon their belief in Transubstantiation, and Papal supremacy, all refused to renounce the faith. All 19 martyrs, hanged that July from the roof of a turf-shed.

Wouters' last words were remarkable: "Fornicator I always was; heretic I never was.” He had confessed his sins to one of the other priests.

A century after their deaths, after many miracles attributed to their intercession, particularly the curing of hernias, the 19 martyrs were beatified. They were canonized in 1867 by Pope Pius IX. Their relics are in the Church of Saint Nicholas in Brussels, Belgium.

What a wonderful example to all those plagued by their earlier sins. St. Andrew Wouters, pray for us. When the evil one reminds us of past failings, help us to recall that Christ has already conquered sin and death, and that we only need to remain in Him to be saved.

Salvation is a gift of joy. It’s the Good News, given to us and received by us. I’m pretty sure Deacon Dick will agree with me. At Mass when I go to the ambo to proclaim the Gospel or preach, and look up at the thousand faces before me, I often have to search for a happy face.

Here I am about to proclaim the Good News and it looks as if they’ve all just received bad news. The Good News is salvation itself, and we must live its acceptance as joyful Christians. How can there be any other kind of Christian? And from what source do we receive this additional gift of joy? St. Paul reveals it, as he completes his letter to the Romans:

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” [Rom 15:13]

That certainly sums it all up, doesn’t it?

And how blessed we are today…because we have the Church, her sacraments, and her graces. When we decide to turn to God in trust, we too are saved: by rejecting Satan and sin; by praying in and with the Holy Spirit and being open to His movement in our lives; by active participation in the Church’s sacramental life; and by extending God’s love to all.

These are no less than the promises that define our sacramental Baptism.

Let me leave you tonight with the words of St. Jude, in perhaps the least read little book of the New Testament, when he calls us to:

“Pray in the Holy Spirit; keep yourselves in the love of God; wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life” [Jude 20-21].

God love you all.


Tuesday, December 24, 2024

Homily: 3rd Sunday of Advent - Year C

Readings: Zep 3:14-18a; Phil 4:4-7; Lk 3:10-18

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Gaudete Sunday – Today, smack in the middle of Advent, in this season of prayerful repentance and preparation, we are called to be joyful. It’s a time to rejoice, for that’s what Gaudete means: this Latin imperative: “Rejoice!” Hence, the color of our vestments and the candle we light today on our Advent wreaths – the color rose is offered as an outward sign of our joy.

But why? Why this focus on rejoicing? What’s its source? We rejoice today because our salvation is at hand. It’s especially fitting in anticipation of our celebration of the birth of our Savior on Christmas Day. Two Old Testament readings today, prophecies from Zephaniah and Isaiah, then a passage from Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, and finally the words of John the Baptist in Luke’s Gospel, all reminding Israel and us of God’s promise of salvation.

We’re told to shout for joy, to sing joyfully, to cry out with gladness, to exult with all our hearts, not to be discouraged, to leave anxiety behind, to fear nothing. Sisters and brothers, if you missed that message, you just weren’t paying attention.

In our first reading, Zephaniah completes his prophecy by telling us to rejoice:

“Shout for joy, daughter Zion! Sing joyfully, Israel...

But because he’s a prophet, inspired by the Holy Spirit, he speaks not only to the people of his time, but to those in the time of fulfillment, and that includes you and me:

"The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a mighty Savior…"

Zephaniah was also called to prepare God’s people by telling them how they are to receive their Savior:

“…I will leave as a remnant in your midst a people humble and lowly, who shall take refuge in the name of the Lord.”

Is Zephaniah speaking to us? To us, who have received a mighty Savior in our midst and continue to receive Him in His Eucharistic Presence? Yes, indeed, for Zephaniah’s words are God’s Word, inspired by the Holy Spirit and given to the Church for the salvation of all.

A remnant…a people humble and lowly? It that the Church? Is that us? Are we humble and lowly? 

My! That sure goes against the grain, doesn’t it? To be lowly in today’s world is to be a loser, because anyone who’s anyone strives to be a winner. Fame and fortune beckon and the lowly will be left behind. Yes, indeed, humility’s not something we see a lot of these days. As my father used to say, only partially in jest:

“Humility’s a strange commodity. Once you know you have it, you just lost it.”

You never hear saints talking about their humility, because for them humility is simply reality, the reality of our existence. We are all children of God, none better than the other, all loved into existence by our great God, Who created everything. Now, that's humbling.

Does this remnant of humble, lowly ones rejoice in God’s gift of salvation? Do evangelists of the last days prepare the world for the Son’s return? Yes, indeed, for God so often takes the weak and powerless, and through them does wondrous things. Or He allows us to be weakened, so we so come to experience true humility.

Some years ago, driving north, Diane and I stopped by Jacksonville to see dear old friends, a retired admiral and his wife, Scott and Marnie. I’d known Scott for years, and flown with him back in our Navy days. But now he was dying of cancer, and we wanted to see him once more.

That day, as we ate lunch together, Scott’s drawn face suddenly filled with peace. He smiled and said:

“You know, Dana, I’m so looking forward to seeing our Lord, I can hardly stand it. Isn’t that weird?”

Scott died exactly one week later. And that comment, made over a salad at a Longhorn restaurant, was a gift. Speaking with us several weeks later, Marnie said, “Scott saved me from a lot of grief because he was so joyful about the life to come.” We are to welcome the Lord with joy, however and whenever He might come to us.

We hear a similar message in our Responsorial Psalm. It’s really not one of the Psalms, but a prayer of praise, joy, and thanksgiving from Isaiah. We need only pray again our response:

“Cry out with joy and gladness: for among you is the great and Holy One of Israel.”

Accepting this, we believe our Savior is among us now, and that God is calling us to prepare the world for His ultimate return. We must, then, try to understand what God desires of us. And to find out, let’s revisit today’s Gospel passage from Luke.

Many picture John the Baptist as some odd zealot, dressed in animal skins, roaming about the desert, telling everyone to repent while they still have time – in other words, kind of a scary guy. John was certainly a bit fierce, mainly because he understood the holiness of God, the effects of sin, and so preached the need for repentance. And yet, he was among the sweetest of men – a saint of indescribable humility, and perhaps the most joyful saint in Scripture.

For John had met and acknowledged Jesus before both were born. Filled with the Holy Spirit, John leaped in his mother’s womb at the sound of Mary’s greeting – an unborn infant filled with joy at his Lord’s arrival. As Luke reveals to us: Called by the Word of God, John “went throughout the whole region of the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” We too are called to experience this same joy as we prepare for our own meeting with Jesus.

Did you notice that everyone John encountered, everyone he baptized, asked the same question: “What are we to do?” How should we live our lives? And John told them all – the crowds, the tax collectors, the soldiers, everyone who asked him – that they must live their newfound faith. They must prove it through works of charity, honesty, faithfulness, and justice.

Yes, indeed, “What are we to do?”

Well, God gave us a pretty simple command: Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength; and love your neighbor as yourself.

“What are we to do?”

About 25 years ago, ministering in another parish, I was asked that same question. A couple, in their early 40s, approached me after Sunday Mass and asked if they could meet with me. I didn’t know them. I’d been a deacon for only a few years, but I agreed to meet privately the next day.

We began the meeting with a brief prayer, then the man told me they were seasonal visitors, living in their new summer home. It seems they had just sold their business, a software development company, for over 50 million. My immediate thought? Oh, a big donation’s coming. 

But no, it was the wife who spoke next and said, “We’ve both been unfaithful, but want to save our marriage.” And with that, her husband looked at me and asked, “What are we to do?”

Hearing that question – What are we to do? – threw me right back into Luke’s Gospel, and caused me to ask myself, "What am I to do now?"

I first told them to go to the sacrament reconciliation and receive God’s forgiveness and taste His mercy. And because I’m no marriage counselor, I referred them to a faithful Catholic counselor, one whom I knew would help them. Then I just said: “Love, repentance, forgiveness, and mercy.”

That they were there, together, demonstrated their love for each other. Repentance, though, means far more than being sorry for our sins. The very word – repent – means to re-think, to change our thinking, and from that to change how we act. As St. Paul reminds us, repentance demands change.

“…put on the new self, created in God’s way, in righteousness and holiness of truth.”

Forgiveness and mercy…well, they go together, for they are the most vivid manifestation of God’s love, the same love we are called to imitate. We should, of course, begin in our own families, forgiving those who love us, those whom we love, those to whom we can sometimes be most unkind indeed. 

But don’t stop there. Do what John told the crowds as they prepared to meet their Lord: Give to the poor, not just from your surplus but from your own need. Be honest, loving, caring people.

Called by God as His messenger, John prepared the world to receive Jesus Christ, the Word of God Incarnate. John awakened those he encountered, pulled them out of their complacency, led them to repentance so they would understand Jesus when He came.

And it’s no different today. To shake the world out of its indifference, to heal the hatreds, the divisions, the Church needs us all to be true witnesses to God’s love for the world. Today, because our God calls us all to rejoice in our salvation, we need people of joy – not just on one Sunday of Advent, but every day.

St. Paul, in our reading from Philippians, said it best:

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I shall say it again: rejoice!”

And he wrote those words from a Roman prison, as he awaited execution. Yes, “Rejoice in the Lord always.”

I’m reminded again of the words of my dying friend, Scott:

“I’m so looking forward to seeing our Lord, I can hardly stand it.”

Here, indeed, is the peace of God that surpasses all understanding. And this, sisters and brothers, is the Good News of Jesus Christ. Live it! Share it!

 

Tuesday, August 20, 2024

Homily: Tuesday, 20th Week in Ordinary Time (Year 2)

 Readings: Ez 24:15-23 Dt 32:18-21 • Mt 19:16-22

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Today we celebrate St. Bernard, a Cistercian monk and abbot, a doctor of the Church, a brilliant 12th-century theologian who, for a monk certainly got involved in a lot of stuff outside the monastery.

St. Bernard had a tremendous impact on the Church of his day and defended its teachings against the rationalism of Abelard and others like him, who tended to lift human reason to an almost divine level. Much of what he wrote applies as well to today’s confused world. Indeed, in some ways he mirrored Ezekiel’s message in today’s reading.

Reading Ezekiel’s words, it’s hard to believe they were written several thousand years ago. One would think they were written today and aimed directly at those who seem to think they actually control human life on earth. How did Ezekiel put it?

Because you are haughty of heart, you say, “A god am I”…And yet you are a man, and not a god, however you may think yourself like a god.

Just a few days ago, I read the words of a technology guru and he dropped a few interesting comments, all related to the emergence of artificial intelligence:

“If you have a problem in life, you don’t ask God, you ask Google or Facebook.”

And if that weren’t enough, he went on to say:

“…religions have been organized around fake news. Just think of the Bible. Fake news lasts forever in some cases….eternal fake news.

And he concluded with:

“Human history began when men created gods. It will end when men become gods.”

These are the words of more than just one man. They reflect the beliefs of many who claim to be smarter than the rest of us, smarter even than the God they don’t believe in, the God who created them. Yes, they believe they can create their own form of divinity, even if it all must take place in shadows. They are indeed gods, little gods, not unlike the false gods that the Chosen People had to deal with in Ezekiel’s time. They are men and women who look at creation and see only themselves.

I’ve been reading a lot of the Early Church Fathers lately, and St. Ephraim the Syrian, an interesting fourth-century theologian, left behind some wonderful thoughts in the form of little prayers. 

Yesterday I came across one of these, a St. Ephraim one-liner, a tiny prayer that sums up the spiritual needs of so many of us today:

“Inside I am not what I appear to be. Heal me.”

Of course, it’s a plea, asking the Holy Spirit to heal us of our spiritual hypocrisy, that human tendency to project an image to others that bears little resemblance to the true state of our soul. We want others to see a better version of ourselves, while we keep our true self hidden, even from ourselves. And when we do experience those rare moments of self-awareness, we find ourselves asking the same question asked by the disciples:

"Who then can be saved?"

In a sense they’re really saying, “Well, if I can’t be saved, how can anyone be saved?”

Jesus simply tells them and us that salvation is not something we can earn or achieve on our own, an impossible task for us sinners.

“For men this is impossible, but for God all things are possible.”

…and with this, He gives us hope. 

But, as usual, Peter so often assumes our role, demonstrating how clueless we all are in the presence of God. Ignoring what Jesus has just said, Peter responds with a self-absorbed statement and question:

"We have given up everything and followed you. What will there be for us?"

Peter, no doubt speaking for all of them, is looking for a kind of super-reward. After all, Jesus, this discipleship hasn’t been easy.

Jesus lets him know that there will be wonderful things for “you who have followed me.” But then, with His final words, Our Lord tells them they’re not yet there, that they’re still far from being fully formed disciples. How did Jesus put it?

“But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”

At this point, those words were probably a bit too subtle for them, but I’m sure, with the help of the Holy Spirit, they understood them later.

Like those first disciples, brothers and sisters, we all have a way to go…to lower ourselves, to be healed of the pride of the world, and accept the reality of humility.

As St. Ephraim prayed: Yes, Lord, “Inside I am not what I appear to be. Heal me.”

 

Tuesday, March 5, 2024

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 3rd 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.

 

Sunday, January 21, 2024

Homily: Third Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Readings: Jon 3:1-5,10; Ps 25; 1Cor 7:29-31; Mk 1:14-20
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One theme present in today’s readings is time, or perhaps more specifically, the passage of time. Of course, at my age – and I suspect this is true for a few of you – the passage of time is very evident.

When we were children, time crept by, carrying us slowly and deliberately through our young lives. What a blessing this was! The movement of time let us anticipate and savor so much of life – to observe, learn, absorb all that we encountered…and if we were fortunate, to distance us from the not so good.

For several years, Diane and I took foster children into our home. We had four children of our own, but we took on emergency cases, children who often came from difficult family situations.

Amazingly, regardless of the tumult and confusion these little ones had endured, they were often able to set it aside. Moved by love for their parents, their fervent hope was to return, to return to a renewed family where all would be set right. One need only look at a child to see the true manifestation of hope as a virtue.

But as we age, time moves along more quickly, doesn’t it? It hurries us through our days, pushing us relentlessly to the very culmination of our lives. It’s as if time, like today’s readings, pleads with us, reminding us we cannot bargain with it; that for each life, time has a limit, one that can come on quickly.

In our second reading St. Paul doesn’t pull any punches, but comes right out and tells the Corinthians and us that, “time is running out…the world in its present form is passing away.”

Paul wants us to be ready, to prepare for all that is to come, to prepare for God’s transformation of the world, and to prepare for judgment. He calls us to prepare – not by our own power, but through God’s gift of grace.

For God comes to us. He comes to us here in His Word, proclaimed in our hearing, entering into our minds and hearts.

He comes to us in the Eucharist, joining our very being with His Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity, joining us to one another in this shared Communion. Do we ever think of that? As we depart here today, we are surrounded by the Real Presence of Jesus in each other. Yes, through the Eucharist each of us becomes a God-bearer, called to take Jesus Christ to others.

He comes to us, too, when we encounter Him daily, especially in His least brothers and sisters. Do we see Christ in them? At the Wildwood Soup Kitchen, we told our volunteers, “We don’t serve meals; we serve Jesus Christ.” But do those we serve, experience Jesus in us? Do they turn to us in expectation, in hope? That marvelous writer, the late Flannery O’Connor, once wrote to a friend: “You will have found Christ when you are concerned with other people’s suffering and not your own.”

How foolish we are when we ignore these daily encounters. And yet so many of us do just that when we make the mistake of thinking the little slice of time we’ve been given belongs to us.


"Follow me and I will make you fishers of men."

The apostles didn’t make that mistake. They had encountered Jesus in the flesh – hearing, seeing, touching Him – and realized that they had been called, called in God’s time, not theirs. They had no time to do anything but drop their nets, turn away from their former lives, and follow Jesus. They didn’t fully understand it, not then, but moved by the Spirit, they knew it was a special time.

Indeed, in that same brief Gospel passage from Mark, Jesus begins His public ministry with the words, “This is the time of fulfillment.” Here is Jesus, the Lord of History, standing at the very center of all time, bringing everything that went before to fulfillment – truly, a most special time. The very thought of the Incarnation, God’s thought, was made in eternity, outside of time itself. And with His coming, everything changed.

The time of the Old Covenant pointed forward, away from itself, to Jesus Christ, its fulfillment. Yes, Jesus tells us, all of time that came before, every moment from the creation of time itself out of eternity, is brought to completion. His coming thrust us into God’s time; and Jesus, our God become man, is now ever-present.

Yes, indeed, it’s His time; it’s God’s time, for Jesus goes on to tell us: “The Kingdom of God is at hand.” To be sure, then, this fulfillment of time also means the time of the Kingdom of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

But other than this, Jesus really tells us very little about this time, or what we can expect as it unfolds. He tells us only that God has acted and fulfilled all. Then, continuing His teaching at that first moment of His ministry, Jesus commands us to act as well – for we must do our part.

“Repent,” Jesus commands, “and believe in the Gospel.”

Instead of telling us what we can expect, Jesus tells us what God expects of us. First, we are to repent. Translated from the Greek, metanoia, it means a change of mind and heart.

Time and change — repentance calls us to look back, if only to acknowledge the sinfulness of our lives; but then, filled with hope, to look forward to conversion, to forgiveness, and to the joy of the Good News. Jesus calls us to faith, to accept the Gospel, and to love our God and to love each other. Then, with minds and hearts turned toward God, we can experience the surprising joy of the Good News.

Sisters and brothers, Jesus spoke those words to the people of Galilee gathered around Him that day. He spoke to each one of them, personally, individually, calling them to accept His gift of faith, calling them to repentance, conversion, and joy. And He speaks this message to each us as well; for we, too, are called…and as Paul reminds us, “time is running out.”

Are we like the people of Nineveh? Like all of us they needed to repent. They had turned from God…until He placed that ultimatum before them. God set a 40-day time limit to their lives, and when they heard Jonah’s message, the message of the most reluctant of all the prophets, they realized their time was running out.

But they didn’t wait, not for a moment. No, they acknowledged their sins, turned to God in repentance, and He lifted the dire sentence He had placed on them.

Nineveh Repents

Repentance, conversion, salvation, and joy.

What about our time? People move here to our little corner of the world to have the time of their lives, don’t they? But all too often they forget that the time of their lives is coming all too quickly to an end.

Christ’s message, then, is one of urgency. It’s a message that demands an answer. To put it off is to run the risk of missing the coming of the Kingdom into our lives.

This Gospel message is for every single one of us, for all of humanity stretched out over the entire span of time. It’s a message aimed directly at the heart, in which God marks each of us for repentance, and for the salvation He desires for us.

Brothers and sisters, that we're here today means you and I believe in the Good News of Jesus Christ, in the salvation He offers us. Our Lord calls us to live that belief in lives that glorify God by loving and serving Him and each other.

Have you and I done much God-glorifying lately? Maybe it’s time to give it a try. Then, through the grace of God, we really can have the time of our lives.