Homily: 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

Readings Gn 18:1-10a; Ps 15; Col 1:24-28; Lk 10:38-42

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Over 21 years ago, shortly after we moved to The Villages, my wife, Diane, decided it would be good to help out at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen. And like a good deacon’s wife, she volunteered me along with herself. Yes, I was volunteered.

We ended up serving there for well over 15 years, with Diane as the Thursday cook and I doing whatever she told me. I also stumbled onto the board of directors where I served for a bunch of years. But with the onset of COVID, abetted by some physical issues and limitations, Diane and I decided to step away from the Soup Kitchen and let others continue running this ministry.

I used to say, only partly in jest, that on Monday I could lose all 200 of those who served at the Soup Kitchen and replace them all by Friday -- perhaps an exaggeration, but barely.

The Soup Kitchen is really a wonderful ministry, a true ecumenical ministry in which those in real need are served by dozens of volunteers representing upwards of 30 local churches.

Among the many things I learned from this experience is that people serve there for all kinds of reasons. I’d occasionally ask them: "Why are you here?" and was amazed by the variety of answers.

Some just loved being in the kitchen, and the opportunity to help cook a few hundred meals. While others were bored in all the free time retirement brought, and came just to stay busy.

Some were lonely. The soup kitchen was a kind of social event, a chance to form friendships. And a few felt guilty. Their affluence was a burden to them, and they hoped to ease that burden by helping those in need.

Some simply want to serve others, and the soup kitchen is a wonderful way to satisfy that need. They’d inevitably say, "It makes me feel good." 

But there were always some who told me they served out of love. They saw Jesus Christ in every person who walked in the door and were overwhelmed by a love for God and neighbor. These are the folks who follow the Gospel mandate to feed the hungry and welcome the stranger. Indeed, that was our guiding principle at the soup kitchen: 

“We don’t serve meals; we serve Jesus Christ.”

When it comes right down to it, it’s really a ministry of hospitality; and yet those who exercise this ministry are driven by so many different motives, often by multiple motives.

I couldn’t help but think of all this as I reread today’s Gospel passage from Luke. Jesus Christ, Son of God and Son of Man, the fullness of life and truth, walked into the home of a pair of sisters named Martha and Mary.

Both women immediately recognized the privilege of having Jesus in their home and set to work fulfilling the sacred duty of hospitality. But the two sisters had conflicting ideas of what that duty entailed.

Martha’s response is very recognizable, typical of how most of us would probably react. Open the best wine, the expensive stuff, or brew some good coffee. Get out the good china and silver. Use whatever food you have in the pantry to whip up your best assortment of hot and cold dishes. And pray He won’t want a dessert.

My mother’s name was Martha. When I was about 16, I asked her if she’d be like Martha in the Gospel if Jesus came to our house for dinner. Without a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Oh, no, I’d call a caterer.”

But while Martha was busying herself in the kitchen, Mary took a different approach to hospitality. For her, the greatest compliment she could pay, greater even than the best of foods, was to give Jesus her full attention. 

It’s interesting that we hear nothing from Mary in this passage, but we sense she somehow knew that Jesus, the fullness of truth, had come to her home to nourish, enlighten, and transform her. She saw Jesus as a gift, and not to receive and unwrap this wonderful gift was an insult to the giver.

And so, Mary listened.

She listened to the Word as He spoke the Word. Mary became to Jesus what no rabbi at the time would probably let any woman become…Mary became His disciple. 

This was pretty radical stuff back then. Women were expected to prepare and serve the meals, and wouldn’t be encouraged to take part in the discussions. But Luke, throughout his Gospel, stresses that Jesus takes women seriously, that He came for everyone, men and women, and that salvation comes to all who listen to His Word and act on it.

Luke doesn’t relate this incident to endorse laziness, just as Martha isn’t criticized because she simply did what was expected. In our first reading from Genesis, when God, in the form of three travelers, visits Abraham, it’s considered good that Abraham and Sara spare no expense serving them.

No, Martha’s hospitality isn’t the problem. The problem? She placed physical hospitality above discipleship. Her attempts at hospitality became an end in itself, a distraction. It turned Martha into what my mom would have called a fussbudget, so much so she actually got angry because her sister hadn’t joined her.

You can almost feel the tension and pressure building up until it boils over and Martha vents her frustration…but notice she vents it on the wrong person. Martha doesn’t attack Mary; she attacks Jesus Himself:

“Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone…”

How authentically human of Martha – to work out her frustrations on the wrong person, what Freud would have called displaced aggression.

Now, had I been in Jesus’ place, I probably would have said, “Hey, Martha, why are you blaming me?” But not Jesus. He turns to her, and repeating her name -- “Martha, Martha…” – and He calms her down. Then He quietly reminded her that she was “anxious and worried about many things.”

Jesus didn't rebuke Martha her for serving Him – not at all. He simply tells her there’s something better. He turns her to the truth: those who hear the Word of God and keep it are blessed.

I’m suspect more than a few of you out there have a history with the old Baltimore Catechism. Do you remember the answer to the question, “Why did God make you?”

Remember? “God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this world, and to be happy with Him forever in heaven.”

It’s still a very good answer. Before we can serve God, we must first know Him and love Him. After all, how can you love someone you don’t even know? If our lives are spent solely in activity – only in the serving – we can’t take the time to know our God through prayer and attentiveness to His Word.

It’s through prayer, listening to His Word, and through the grace of the sacraments, that we can come to know God, and develop the kind of personal relationship Jesus wants with us. Only through that relationship can we continue to deepen our love for God.

How did St. Paul put it in our second reading?

"It is Christ in you, the hope for glory" (Col 1:27).

You see, it’s through Christ in us that we come to see Him in others, and can accept the call to serve Him by serving them.

Our service, then, must be grounded in love; for it is love, and only love, that calls the Christian to serve others:

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

For Christians, then, the two great commandments – loving God and loving our neighbor – merge into one, a single, inseparable commandment of love. Yes, hearing and reflecting on the Word of God in prayer is a condition for the selfless, loving service of the Body of Christ.

Of course, Martha didn’t appreciate this…at least, not at first. And like so many of us, she worried. How human and how easy it is for you and me, just as it was for Martha, to become obsessed with busyness, to move those things – those accidental parts of our lives – to move them to the center of our lives. And in doing so to send the true center to the sidelines.

Brothers and sisters, this just cannot be.

The fullness of truth, the fullness of life, the fullness of grace deserves our full attention. Jesus can’t be merely a part of our lives. He must be the focus, always at the very center. 

In our excessively busy lives today, too often, like Martha, “we are anxious and worried about many things,” and ignore the quiet call of Our Lord. Every day He knocks on your door and my door, calling us to Himself through the lives of others.

Recall how Abraham pleaded with God Himself: “Please do not go on, past your servant.” In the same way, we must not let these others just pass by unserved.

We must let them into our lives, so that Christ too will be in us, and as St. Paul promised, give us “the hope for glory.”

Homily: 5th Sunday of Lent (Year B)

Readings: Jer 31:31-34; Ps 51; Heb 5:7-9; Jn 12: 20-33

When I was a kid in suburban New York, during the spring and summer months, my mom would sometimes ask me to help her weed her gardens. I always grumbled because she usually called me away from really important stuff, like playing stickball…but I obeyed. If you don’t know what stickball is, just ask someone who grew up in New York.

Anyway, Mom had two gardens, a small vegetable garden in the backyard and a rose garden out front. I’d usually end up in the rose garden, getting attacked by the thorns. I refused to wear the gloves she’d given me because they were pink girly gloves with flowers all over them. Out in the front yard, I couldn’t risk being seen. Some things are more important than pain and suffering.

Mom had names for her two gardens: Eden and Gethsemane. One day I asked, “Why those names?”

“The Garden of Eden,” she said, “far more than our little vegetable garden, was filled with wonderful things to eat, all kinds of fruit and vegetables that God provided for Adam and Eve. It was a very nice place. 

"But our beautiful rose garden, as you’ve discovered, can also be a painful place. I’m sure the Garden of Gethsemane was beautiful with its ancient olive trees, but for Jesus it became a place of deep suffering.”

“Perhaps tonight,” she said, “after supper, we can read about these two gardens in the Bible” – Mom’s way of opening the Scriptures to us.

Thorns Protect the Rose

This memory of long ago came to mind as I read the readings with which the Church blessed us today.

First, we heard the prophet Jeremiah, as he revealed the purpose of all that had come before, the fulfillment of the promises, the covenants God made with Abraham, Moses, and David. All will be fulfilled, Jeremiah tells God’s People, through a New eternal Covenant, very different from the Old. The Holy Spirit revealed to the prophet that God will pour His Law into His People and write it on their hearts. “All will know me,” says the Lord, ”from the least to the greatest.” This is the New Covenant fulfilled by Jesus, the eternal High Priest, the Son of God who offers Himself in sacrifice for the salvation of all, the salvation of everyone, from the least to the greatest.

Moments from now, Father will take the chalice in his hands and proclaim the words of consecration, Jesus’ words at the Last Supper:

“For this is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the New and Eternal Covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.”

Did you catch all that? The New Covenant is sealed in the Blood of the Son, the Blood of the Lamb of God, Blood poured out for us. Why?

“I will forgive their evildoing and remember their sin no more.” We are redeemed.

As Mom explained to me, “It began in Eden, in that garden filled with good things. But sin brought it all to an end, which led to more sin, to illness and pain and suffering, and to death itself.”

Those weren’t very happy words to throw at a ten-year-old kid, but Mom always spoke the truth to us. Then, pointing to the crucifix, she said: “God made a promise. Jesus, who is God Himself, died for us on that Cross, so we might be forgiven of all of sins, and live forever with Him in heaven.”

Well, pretty good catechesis. It hit the high points and heaven sounded better than suffering and death. So, I asked, “What about the rose garden?” Her answer?

“Jesus spent the night before He died in the Garden of Gethsemane to prepare Himself for the Cross. He saw all the bad things people had done…so hard for Him that His sweat became like drops of blood. And those band-aids on your hands are just a tiny sign of what Jesus suffered for you and me.” Then like every Catholic mother in those days said to her kids when they companied, “Offer it up!”

Olive Tree in Gethsemane

In John’s Gospel, speaking to Andrew and Philip, Jesus looks to His Passion, and His humanity is there in His words:

“I am troubled now. Yet what should I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? But it was for this purpose that I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.”

…and again, we’re reminded of this in today’s 2^nd reading from Hebrews:

“…He offered prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save Him from death.”

Yes, Jesus knew He would have to suffer. But it’s also in Hebrews where our unknown author makes an astounding theological claim:

“God made His Son perfect through suffering”

We ask ourselves, “How could God’s Son need to be made perfect? And why through suffering?” But that’s not all. Hebrews goes on to tell us, “He learned obedience from what He suffered.”

What does it all mean? For Jesus to be made perfect doesn’t mean He was ever morally flawed. No, He freely chose to take on human nature in its fallen state, with its weaknesses, pain, and death; and through His suffering to perfect His human nature in holiness. In the Garden and during His Passion, Jesus allowed the evil of the world to pour over Him, and out of this to create the most perfect act of love, trust, and obedience to God that could ever come from a human heart. It was in this furnace of suffering that His human nature was refined to perfection, transformed for His entrance into divine glory through His Resurrection.

To make us holy, Jesus had to become one with us. As St. Paul reminds us, our salvation comes from God, Who lowered Himself to share our very being, in all but sin. Jesus, then, Son of God and Son of Man, is not ashamed to call us His sisters and brothers. Indeed, He’s overjoyed, for He became one of us in the most radical way: He became our blood relative.

All of this sets a pretty high standard for you and me. How did He put it in the Sermon on the Mount?

“So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.” [Mt 5:48]

Again, what does it all mean for us? Let’s look first at ourselves, then turn again to the Gospel.

Here we are, most of us retired, living comfortable lives in central Florida. From a global perspective, materially, we’re probably in the top 10%. And for those of you still working, thank you. Thank you for funding our social security.

Yes, indeed, we have lives worth living, don’t we? But are they lives worth loving? 

Jesus speaks:

“Those who love their life lose it, those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

For Jesus, loving earthly life means placing it above all else. To hate our life in this world just means it must never outweigh our striving for eternal life. Yes, unless the grain of wheat dies, it cannot bear fruit. Can we die to this life? Can we, too, accept our suffering, the thorns in our lives, that lead to the perfection God desires of us.

How many today make the pleasures, comforts, wealth of their earthly lives ends in themselves? Indeed, we live in a world that preaches the denial of mortality, that offers a thousand ways to ease physical or mental pain, that promises youth even to the oldest among us, yet leaves us spiritually dead.

Some weeks ago, while visiting a parishioner in the hospital, I had a brief chat with the patient who shared his room. His first words to me: “My wife died years ago, but now because of my heart, I can’t play golf anymore. It’s made my Ife no longer worth living.”

How very sad that nothing in his life was more important. Yes, “those who love their life lose it.”

What, then, is more important than our life in this world? Jesus provides the answer:

Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

Yes, our confession of faith is necessary, but also insufficient. We must live our faith. We must serve.

Perhaps this should be our focus during these final days of Lent.

I can’t tell you how God is calling each of you to serve. His call, what He expects of us, is the fruit of our own prayer life, our willingness to listen to God’s Word as He speaks to us. God calls some, like the rich young man in the Gospel, to sell everything, and give it all to the poor. And yet, He doesn’t ask that of everyone. But to all of us, God commands: “Follow me and serve!” Get you hands dirty, brothers and sisters…

Feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, visit the sick and imprisoned…and inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.

All of us aren’t called to be global missionaries, but how many lonely, despairing people in your neighborhood live forgotten lives? Do you know?

How many, like the Greeks who came to Philip, would like to see Jesus, to see Jesus in their lives, to hear His Word, to taste His goodness?

How many are waiting…waiting for you or for me or for someone else to share God’s love with them?

How many?

 

Homily: Tuesday, 7th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Sir 2:1-11 • Ps 37 • Mk 9:30-37

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Okay, here’s a question for you…It’s really a rhetorical question; you don't have to answer, but at least think about it. And try to be honest. 

Do you prefer serving or being served?

If you give it some thought, it’s not an easy question to answer honestly.

Back in my consulting days, I was a frequent flyer on almost every airline. And some of my clients would book me first-class. I certainly didn’t demand it, didn’t even ask for it, but it was nice, especially on long flights. You know, first-class, the first to board and the first to leave, big comfortable seats, a flute of champagne even before take-off, food that was actually edible. Yes, indeed, the service was sure a lot better than I usually received back in coach.

But, you know, I always felt a bit guilty enjoying all that great service. I kept hearing those words of Jesus:

"If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all" [Mk 9:35].

Here I was, first and certainly not last, not serving but being served. Yes, I heard those words, but I really didn't dwell on them. And I had an excuse. After all, it was strictly a business transaction: my client paid for good service and the airline and its employees provided it. I was simply an accidental beneficiary.

The trouble is, you and I can get used to it, and begin to think of ourselves as deserving only to be served. Kind of like the apostles, as Mark describes them. Jesus, of course, knew exactly what they were talking about as they walked along the road, along the Way; they were arguing about who was the greatest – who was the GOAT? For you non-sports fans, GOAT is the acronym for Greatest Of All Time…you know, the Tom Bradys and Michael Jordans of the world. Yes, indeed, the apostles were still unformed disciples, all caught up in their distorted understanding of where Jesus was leading them along that Way. 

Of course, the irony of the situation, and the hubris of the apostles could hardly be greater. There they were, in the presence of Jesus – How did Peter describe Him later? “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God” – and they were just strolling along, arguing about who among them was the greatest.

And to make matters worse for them, Jesus had just told them:

"The Son of Man is to be handed over to men and they will kill him, and three days after his death the Son of Man will rise" [Mk 9:31].

Mark tells us they didn’t understand, that they were afraid to question him. But they knew exactly who the Son of Man was. Afraid to question? Yes, because they didn’t want to hear His answer, because they were pretty sure it too would frighten them.

So, what did they do? What we all do when we don’t like where the conversation’s going. We change the subject, usually to ourselves. Of course, the wonderful thing about all this is we’re confronted here by the unconcealed humanity of the apostles; the realization they’re just like us. You see, Jesus didn’t pick holy men and women to be His disciples. No, He picked folks just like you and me, and then He and His Holy Spirit worked through them and made them holy. And believe me, it was a job only God could do. 

A bit later, once inside the house (a symbol of the Church) Jesus sat down to teach. And He taught them, just as He teaches us through His Church and His Word. We must serve, He commands us. And whom must we serve? All. Everyone. No exceptions. All those you and I encounter as we, too, walk along the Way. And it’s not going to be easy. How did Sirach put it?

“My child, when you come to serve the LORD, stand in justice and fear, prepare yourself for trials.” [Sir 2:1]

Tomorrow, we begin Lent, a time to restart, to reboot our spiritual lives, a time of almsgiving, fasting, and prayer…and a time for service. To serve others is to serve the Lord:

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me…” [Mt 25:35]

Jesus emphasized this by choosing a child, a symbol of whom the Jews called the anawim, the lowly, the weak, the vulnerable. By serving them we recognize God’s presence within them.

And yes, there will be trials, and fearful, unjust times. We will be despised and attacked for protecting and serving the most vulnerable among us.

But God will always be with us, for He is Emmanuel!

Timely and Saintly Words

Struggling as so many are, dealing month after month with pandemic restrictions and separation from others, I thought perhaps we all needed some words of encouragement and even redirection. It's easy to become a bit too inward-focused as we live out this odd cocoon-like existence and find ourselves actually looking forward to Face-time calls and Zoom meetings. Yes, indeed, we could all use some words to lift up our hearts and turn those same hearts to the Lord.

Here are a few comments by saintly men and women who managed to live extraordinary lives despite the difficult challenges they faced.

“Bodily suffering makes wicked souls miserable, but borne with fortitude it purifies souls that are good.” - St. Augustine

“Make sickness itself a prayer.” - St. Francis de Sales

“He causes his prayers to be of greater advantage to himself, who offers prayer also for others.” - Pope St. Gregory I

“God’s will is as much in sickness as in health.” - St. Francis de Sales

“Rise, let us be on our way!” - St. John Paul II

“Let us throw ourselves into God’s arms, and be sure that if He wants something from us, He will give us the strength to do everything He wants us to.” - St. Philip Neri

“Nothing can happen to me that God doesn't want. And all that He wants, no matter how bad it may appear to us, is really for the best.” - St. Thomas More

"Let the brothers ever avoid appearing gloomy, sad, and clouded, like the hypocrites; but let one ever be found joyous." - St. Francis of Assisi

“It does us much good, when we suffer, to have friendly hearts whose echo responds to our suffering.” - St. Thérèse of Lisieux

"Imagine yourself always to be the servant of all, and look upon all as if they were Christ our Lord in person; and so shall you do Him honor and reverence." - St. Teresa of Jesus

“He prays best who does not know that he is praying.” – St. Anthony of the Desert

“God allows failure but does not want discouragement.” - St. Teresa of Calcutta

“Don’t become discouraged. I have seen you fight ... Your defeat today is training for the final victory.” - St. Josemaría Escrivá

“Joy, study and piety: this is the best program to make you happy, and is the one that will most benefit your soul.” - St. John Bosco

“True love is hidden in the depths of the virtues, and manifests itself in any adversity.” - St. John of the Cross

“It is proper of faith to make us humble in happy events and unperturbed in setbacks.” - St. Clare of Assisi

“Have great confidence in God: His mercy is infinitely greater than our weakness.” - St. Margaret Mary Alacoque

"Humility is the mother of salvation." -- St. Bernard

"There is no love without hope, no hope without love, and neither hope nor love without faith." -- St. Augustine

 Faith over fear! God's peace.

Priorities

An old friend sent me the below tribute in honor of those who have devoted their lives to defending our country. I don't know who wrote it but the author suggested we pass it along to others, so I thought I'd simply post it on my blog, along with a few of my own comments. 

I'm not a big fan of professional athletics. I haven't watched a major league baseball game in years and haven't attended one in decades. The NBA and NFL have both lost me as well. The NFL, for example, has displaced religion in the lives of many Americans, who would much rather devote their Sundays to football than to "keep holy the Sabbath Day." Indeed, this fanatical focus on professional (and college) sports, along with all the other celebrity worship that permeates our society, is symptomatic of our nation's moral decline. When we remove the "cult" -- the religious foundation -- from our culture, we are left with nothing.

I find it remarkable that so many of our professional athletes, who have reaped rewards unavailable elsewhere, seem to despise the nation that provided them with the opportunity to achieve such material success. One would think they would be overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude. Instead they pay homage to groups like "Black Lives Matter," a movement founded by committed Marxists whose stated goal is not the saving of all, or even most black lives, but the destruction of the family and religious faith, two major obstacles to the power they seek. It's all very sad, and so we pray for them, knowing we have a loving God who has promised to be with us "until the end of the age."

As for me, I was honored to have been able to serve my country and its citizens for many years as a officer in the U.S. Navy. During all those years, and even afterwards, I lost many Naval Academy classmates and close friends. Some lost their lives in combat, others in aircraft accidents, and some as a result of the lingering effects of wounds or agent orange. But none died in vain, despite what the current crop of neo-Marxist protesters and rioters scream at us as they try to destroy our nation and its history, while belittling all the good the United States has brought to the world.

The tribute (and its fitting rebuke) follows: 
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To the NFL and its players,

If I have brain cancer, I don't ask my dentist what I should do. If my car has a problem, I don't seek help from a plumber! Why do you think the public cares what a football player thinks about politics? If we want to know about football, then depending on the information we seek, we might consult with you, but even a quarterback doesn't seek advice on playing his position from a punter.

You seem to have this over-inflated view of yourselves, thinking because you enjoy working on such a large-scale stage, that somehow your opinion about everything matters. The NFL realizes the importance of its "image" so it has rules that specify the clothes and insignia you can wear, the language you can use, and your "antics" after a touchdown or other "great" play. But somehow you and your employer don't seem to care that you disgrace the entire nation and its 320 million people in the eyes of the world by publicly disrespecting this country, its flag, and its anthem! The taxpaying citizens of this country subsidize your plush work environments, yet you choose to use those venues to openly offend those very citizens.

Do you even understand what the flag of this country means to so many of its citizens before you choose to "take a knee" in protest of this country during our national anthem?

You may think because you are paid so much that your job is tough, but you are clueless when it comes to tough. Let me show you those whose jobs are really tough.

You are spoiled babies who stand around and have staff squirt Gatorade in your mouths, sit in front of misting cooling fans when its warm, and sit on heated benches when its cold. That's not tough, that's pampered.

You think you deserve to be paid excessively high salaries because you play a "dangerous" game where you can incur career-ending injuries. Let me show you career-ending injuries!

You think you deserve immediate medical attention and the best medical facilities and doctors when injured. Let me show you what it's like for those who really need and deserve medical attention.

You think you have the right to disrespect the flag of the United States, the flag our veterans fought for, risked limbs and mental stability to defend, and in many cases died for. Let me show you what our flag means to them, their families, and their friends.

You believe you are our heroes, when in reality you are nothing but overpaid entertainers, who exist solely for our enjoyment! Well, your current antics are neither entertaining nor enjoyable, but rather a disgrace to this country, its citizens, all our veterans and their families, and the sacrifices they have made to ensure this country remains free. You choose to openly disgrace this country in the eyes of the rest of the world, yet with all your money, still choose to live here rather than any other country. People with even the slightest amount of "class" will stand and respect our flag. Where does that put you? You want to see heroes...here are this country's heroes!

You can protest policies, the current government, or anything else you choose. That is your right. But when you "protest" our flag and anthem, you insult the nation we all live in and love, and all those who have served, been wounded, or died to keep it free. There is nothing you can do or say that will make your actions anything more than the arrogance of a classless people, who care about themselves more than our country or the freedoms for which our veterans and their families have sacrificed so much, all to ensure you have the right to speak freely. Our country is far from perfect, but if you can point to any other country with greater freedom and opportunity, then you just might want to go there and show respect for their flag! 
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That's all of it...a fitting tribute to those who, since the Battles of Lexington and Concord on April 19, 1775, have sacrificed their lives and their livelihood for this remarkable nation.

God bless America, folks. 

Homily: Monday, 10th Week in Ordinary Time

I've embedded a video of this daily Mass here -- a video which includes the homily text posted below.

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Readings: I Kgs 17:1-6; Ps 121; Mt 5:1-12
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How many times have I preached on the Beatitudes? And how many homilies have you heard addressing these wonderful words with which Jesus begins His Sermon on the Mount? I’m guessing… a lot.

Anyway, I thought I’d spare you another and preach instead on today’s first reading. Actually, my homily really addresses only the first verse of the passage. 

It’s good for us occasionally to take a brief walk through the Old Testament, and our reading from 1 Kings is really pretty special. For today we are introduced to a prophet named Elijah.

How special is Elijah? God answered that question for us when, among all His prophets – and there were a lot of them – He chose Elijah to join Moses and be present with Jesus at the Transfiguration. I guess that sums it up. Elijah was special indeed.

Interestingly, most of the other prophets, the major and minor prophets, have books of the Bible named after them: Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Amos, Micah, Daniel, and all the rest. But not Elijah. Although considered the greatest of them all, he appears in only the last few chapters of 1 Kings and the first two chapters of 2 Kings. 

Although his story may be brief, just a few chapters, Elijah’s presence seems to extend throughout all of salvation history. Even his name, Elijah, is in itself prophetic, and means “The Lord is my God” and always reminds me of Thomas’ recognition of the risen Christ: “My Lord and my God” [Jn 20:28].

Elijah's story begins when he presents himself to Ahab, king of the northern kingdom, Israel. Who was Ahab? Well, it’s enough to know what Scripture has to say about him: 

“Ahab, son of Omri, did what was evil in the LORD’s sight more than any of his predecessors.” [1 Kgs 16:30]

Elijah confronting Ahab

Yes, indeed, Ahab, influenced by his pagan wife, Jezebel, worshipped not the God of Israel, but Ba'al, the god of the pagans. Ahab and Jezebel were a dangerous duo, not good people. But Elijah, God’s messenger, goes to Ahab without fear, speaks God’s word, and inflicts a punishment on Israel. Listen again to what Elijah says to the king:

“As the Lord, the God of Israel, lives, whom I serve, during these years there shall be no dew or rain except at my word” [1 Kgs 17:1].

Elijah, you see, has presented himself to Ahab with two words: truth and service. Beginning with the truth – “As the Lord, the God of Israel, lives” – he continues by declaring his relationship to God, one of service – “whom I serve.”

Truth and service. Elijah offers an example to those who follow him – a gift to all of us. For we, too, must always speak the truth, especially the truth to which Elijah points: to the living God, to "the way and the truth and the life" [Jn 14:6], to Jesus Christ. Like the prophet, who confronts Ahab, we must courageously speak the truth to the unbeliever, to those who have strayed, and to each other. But if our lives don’t reflect the truth we speak, if we don’t serve the living God, the truth will never be well-received, indeed, it will be rejected.

But the truth Elijah speaks cannot be rejected. His service to God is so apparent that he need not talk of any special command of God; he need not utter any words of proof. His mere presence is enough, for he embodies God’s power through his mission. God makes this apparent:

“…during these years there shall be no dew or rain except at my word” [1 Kgs 17:1].

“…at my word,” Elijah can exclaim this, for God has given His power to the one He sends, to the one who serves Him. The prophecy begins with God and ends with Elijah and his word.

Israel, the nation, has fallen deeply into sinfulness. Were Elijah to preach, he would be ignored, just as Israel and Judah would ignore the many other prophets God sent to them. Israel’s sin has blocked the path to God; it has blokced "the way," and the people neither understand nor love.

Only through punishment will they learn to be open to God’s Word, a Word of both power and hope. The truth will become evident through the power of Elijah’s word – “…there shall be no dew or rain.” But then they are offered a slice of hope: “…except at my word.”

They hear the “except” – and realize it’s in Elijah’s hands, but he doesn’t tell them when and how. That will demand repentance and acceptance, but only after days and months and years, after seeing the truth of Elijah’s word unfold in a punishing drought. When they confess the truth, when they admit that God is truly the living God, when they return to His service, the mystery enfolding Elijah will be revealed.

In truth, it’s a call, isn’t it? A call to the acceptance of God’s gift of faith. The path Israel is called to follow is no different from that which lies before you and me, one that quite likely lies before many nations, including our own.

Afterwards we see Elijah acting in perfect obedience – “Leave…go east and hide” [1 Kgs 17:3] – for in perfect trust he knew God would care for him. Ravens brought him meat and bread and a stream offered refreshing drink.

Once again Elijah teaches us. His call, his mission, that which gives him power in the sight of men, strips him of that same power in the sight of God. And so, from Elijah we learn that to serve God is to obey, to abandon ourselves completely to His love, to develop an attitude of perfect submission.

Brothers and sisters, to better understand the Beatitudes, just look to Elijah. He shows us what it means to be poor in spirit – to look only to God for salvation and to trust in His mercy. Like Elijah, we become mere children in the presence of God. Like children, we own nothing, for everything comes from and belongs to God.

This is the spiritual poverty that Jesus asks of us.

Homily: 5th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year A

I've embedded a video of this homily here. The complete text follows the video.

Readings: Is 58:7-10; Ps 128:1-5; 1 Cor 2:1-5; Mt 5:13-16

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I remember, as a child, hearing my father once describe a friend of our family as "the salt of the earth." At the time I had no idea what my father meant. But I knew, by the way he said it, that it was a compliment. Years later, when our friend died quite suddenly, I recalled my father's words; and thinking about this man's life, I came to understand how fitting a description it was.

He had his own successful accounting business, and although he was both intelligent and capable, he seemed to have few worldly ambitions. He rejected any suggestion of expanding his business, for that would keep him from doing more important things. He was certainly not poor, but he lived simply. 

He and his wife raised their three children to love God and neighbor, and to reject the rampant materialism that has consumed so many in our society. They spent most of their free time, and much of their money, helping others, few of whom shared their faith. A neighbor would lose his job, and the next morning would find a plain envelope containing $200 in his mailbox. That was a lot of money back in the 50s and would often see a family through a month or more of hard times.

When you were with him, no matter your age, he gave you his complete attention, and you knew that he truly cared about you and what you were saying. That was a unique experience for most children. 

And his calmness. I can never recall his getting angry, or even raising his voice. People would say amazingly stupid things in his presence, and he would just smile. Oh, he would stand up for his beliefs and never backed away from the give and take of a good argument. But he always argued lovingly and with a sense of humor. An argument with him never turned into a quarrel. I came to realize that he simply loved people, for to him, every person was a beautiful creation of God; and so, every person was to be honored and loved.

"The salt of the earth…" [Mt 5:13] He took the gift of life that God had given him and seasoned that life and the lives of others with another gift, the gift of faith. His was an active faith, for He spent his life putting into practice the Word of God in today's first reading from Isaiah:

"If you remove from your midst oppression, false accusation and malicious speech, if you bestow your bread on the hungry and satisfy the afflicted; then light shall rise for you in the darkness, and the gloom shall become for you like midday" [Is 58:9-10].

You see, our friend was a Jew who took the Word of God very seriously. "I'm just one of God's workers," he used to say. Even though he wasn't a Christian, as a believing Jew, he knew that God's workers must do God's work. But what is God's work?

Well, Jesus answered that question when He told us:

"This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He has sent" [Jn 6:29]

I suppose, then, the question for us Catholics today is, how do we put this faith of ours into practice? How do we respond to the gifts we have received, the gifts of life and faith, both given freely by God. Life doesn’t belong to us, because it doesn't come from us. It comes from God, Who gives life out of love. And so, it carries with it certain obligations: to love the Giver and to respect the lives of others.

In the Creed, which we will pray together just moments from now, we give the Holy Spirit a title: “the Lord and Giver of Life.” Yes, indeed, God is the giver, the only giver of life, His gift of love. This is core reason why abortion, infanticide, and euthanasia are all inherently evil. By rejecting the gift of life, such acts reject the very love of God. And so, they reject God Himself, the Lord and Giver of life.

In the same way, we mustn’t assume that the gift of faith is in any way our doing. As St. Paul tells us in the 2nd reading, our faith doesn't "rest on human wisdom but on the power of God" [1 Cor 2:5]. 

Jesus calls us, as receivers of that gift, to be the "salt of the earth" and the "light of the world."

In today's Gospel passage from Matthew, Jesus spoke, not just to the apostles, for this was the Sermon on the Mount. No, He spoke to the entire crowd that had assembled. Jesus spoke to all of us; and He tells us that...

"your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father" [Mt 5:16].

In other words, simply being a believer isn't enough. We must put our faith into action. Or, as St. James reminds us, "faith of itself, if it does not have works, is dead [Jas 2:17]. And when the light of our faith doesn't shine forth, when we hide it -- as Jesus put it -- "under a bushel basket" [Mt 5:15], then our faith is dead.

As you listen to these words, you might be thinking, Hey, I'm no missionary, and I'm certainly no evangelist. I'm just an average person, who probably does as many bad things as good. And I'm definitely not the salt of the earth or the light of the world.

Well, listen again to what St. Paul tells the Corinthians in today's 2nd reading.

"I came to you in weakness and fear and much trembling, and my message and my proclamation were not with persuasive words of wisdom…" [1 Cor 2:3-4]

You see, Paul was both ill and depressed. He knew he wasn't very impressive to look at, and he knew he didn't preach particularly well. He had arrived in Corinth after a not very successful visit to Athens, and no doubt felt both weak and incompetent. And yet, through this very realization of his weakness, Paul saw the truth: that the Holy Spirit's presence shines forth with blinding brightness within the humiliating context of our weakness. In other words, the power of God is magnified by our weakness.

Paul had once thought much more off himself. Earlier in his life, as Saul, the Pharisee and the persecutor of Christians, he had been so strong, so sure of himself, and so completely wrong. Now, as Paul, the apostle of Jesus Christ, he possesses the truth, but at the same time he sees himself for what he truly is, a weak man with open hands and a vulnerable heart. You see, Paul, through his conversion, had learned humility; he had come to the realization of who he really was with respect to and in the presence of our God.

But it’s always through our weakness that God manifests His power. Just as Mary, a teenaged Jewish girl from a poor family in the forgettable village of Nazareth, could say, “My soul magnifies the Lord…” [Lk 1:46] Yes indeed, just like Mary, through our weakness God’s greatness will shine forth for all the world to see.

You see, brothers and sisters, Jesus has placed His gospel in our weak hands and its proclamation depends on us. This message, the Good News of Jesus Christ, can be seen and heard only when we put it into practice in our lives, in our relationships with others…when we share God’s Presence. It’s a Presence that begins right here with the Eucharist and continues as we leave this church today filled with the Real Presence of Jesus Christ, Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity.

And remember, God's presence in you and me shines forth in the most ordinary things: 

In the selfless love one finds in a truly Christian home.

In the patience and kindness displayed by those who care for the elderly, the sick, the dying, the imprisoned.

In hundreds of simple acts of service to others, acts that enable Christ to be known, so that His light, His glory, will shine through you for all to see…always for His glory, not ours.

God used St. Paul, in his weakness, to begin the conversion of a godless empire. In the same way, God will use you and me, in our weakness, to convert a troubled and sinful world…if only we will let him.