Homily: Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

I've embedded a video of my homily for the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ. This homily was preached on the Saturday vigil of the Solemnity, 22 June 2019. The posted text of the homily follows the video.

Readings: Gn 14:18-20; Ps 110; 1 Cor 11:23-26; Lk 9:11-17
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Today we celebrate the beautiful Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ. We used to call it Corpus Christi -- the Body of Christ -- and many of us will probably continue to call it that, if only out of habit. But the Church, in her wisdom, changed its name to reflect more accurately the reality of what happened at Calvary and the Last Supper, and what will soon happen here on this altar. Though the Blood of Christ was always implied in was never particularly affirmed in this particular feast. Now it is, and this is good. Yes, it's good to celebrate this feast, but really at every Mass we celebrate the Body and Blood of Christ.

Some years ago in my previous parish on Cape Cod, I was enjoying the coffee hour after the 9 o'clock Mass. As I admired a new mural of the Last Supper in the parish hall, a parishioner standing beside me said, "Wouldn't it have been wonderful to have been there?"

Of course I agreed with her. Who wouldn't? But in truth we don't have to imagine. Because every time you and I participate at Mass, we are, in essence, truly present with Jesus, and with Peter, John, James, Matthew, with all the Apostles in that upper room in Jerusalem. But that's not all. We're also truly present at the foot of the cross.

Now how can this be? How can we be in the upper room and on Calvary when we're obviously gathered together here in this little corner of Florida 2,000 years after the events we commemorate? Quite simply, because Jesus promised us that this is true. And then He sealed that promise -- God's New Covenant - with His own Body and Blood and confirmed it with His Resurrection.

As St. Paul reminded us in the second reading, he "received from the Lord what He handed on to" us, and "Every time...you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until He comes" [1 Cor 11:23,26].

For it was on the Cross that Jesus gave all of humanity its greatest gift. Through His death, and the shedding of that precious Blood, he redeemed us from our sins and opened the gates of eternal life. Now that's quite a gift!

And at the Last Supper, that very first Mass described by Paul and in each of the synoptic gospels, Jesus anticipated His sacrificial death on the cross the following day. And by doing so, He gave us another gift, the Eucharist.

Do you recall the words? They're the same words that Father Cromwell will utter a few moments from now.

"This is my Body which will be given up for you."

"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." [Lk 22:19-20].

Notice that Jesus didn't say, "This is bread and wine, symbols of my body and blood." 

No, He was quite explicit. "This is my body...This is the chalice of my blood." And with these words, Jesus fulfills the promise He made to the disciples almost a year before when He told them:

"Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food and my blood true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him" [Jn 6:54-56].

Many of the disciples left Him and that point. Weak in faith, they were unable to accept such a teaching. Only the Apostles and a few faithful ones remained. Why? Peter answered this when he said:

"Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life." [Jn 6:68].

And yet the Apostles really didn't understand these words until much later, until after the events in the upper room and on Calvary and at the tomb. Only then did His promise, and His command "Do this in remembrance of me" [Lk 22:19] reveal His intention, His gift of the Eucharist, the sacrifice of the Mass.

The Mass is not simply a memorial, like a tombstone. Neither is it merely a repetition of the sacrifice on the Cross. As St. Paul told us, Jesus died "once for all" [Rom 6:10]. His sacrifice on the cross is sufficient for our salvation. 

The Mass is a unique kind of memorial in which Jesus is again present just as He was on the Cross - just as present as you and I are here today. It's the sacrifice of Christ offered on the Cross and remaining ever present.

Indeed, the sacrifice of Christ and the sacrifice of the Mass are a single sacrifice. The work of our salvation is still being carried out through each Mass, through the power of Christ's death, through the power of the Resurrection.

As the Second Vatican Council instructs us: the Eucharist is a cornerstone of our faith, "the source and summit of Christian life." But how many Catholics today truly believe this? 

Before we moved to The Villages 15 years ago, my wife, Diane, taught fourth grade at our local parish school in Massachusetts. One day, during a lesson on the New Testament, she asked her class to name some of Jesus' miracles. Lots of hands immediately shot up. One by one the children spoke of Jesus curing lepers, the blind, the lame. One mentioned the multiplication of the loaves and fishes; another the miracle of the water and wine at Cana. And one child brought up the miracle of the Resurrection.

But then one boy said, "Every day, all over the world, Jesus performs a miracle when acting through his priests he changes bread and wine into his Body and Blood." How did Jesus put it? 

"Father, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike" [Mt 11:25].

We can, in fact, be more certain of the real presence of the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist than we can of anything in our lives. Not because of the faith of the Church, or the faith of the priest, or even our own faith; but because of our Lord's promise made 2,000 years ago. As man he promised, and from heaven as the Son of God he keeps his promise. The Eucharist is and remains his gift.

How sad for those who deny the Eucharist, and reject his gift, his promise, his love. For out of His love He provides for His continuing presence among us, letting us share in its fruits. 

The Eucharist turns us from sin and intensifies our attachment to the things of God, and God Himself.

It plunges us into the life of Christ, deepening our commitment to his Church and its work.

Through this communion we are one with all who are in Christ, especially the suffering and the poor, who become the object of our special love. 

So, even as we celebrate the bread and wine transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ, we celebrate its transforming power in our lives. We celebrate the desire to serve that was born in our hearts: a desire that has brought us to the present moment, a desire to be a true Christian, another Christ in the world.

"Do this in memory of me" [Lk 22:19].

As Jesus gave up his life for us, so too must we, his disciples, give up our lives in service to him and to our brothers and sisters.

St. Ignatius of Loyola called the Holy Eucharist the greatest proof of God's Love. Remembering that love, we might well ask ourselves:

What should I do for Christ, who gave everything for me?

Homily: Solemnity of the Holy Trinity (Year C)

I have added a video of this homily below. The text follows.

Readings: Prv 8:22-31; Ps 8; Rom 5:1-5; Jn 16:12-15 
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22 years ago I was ordained a deacon on the Saturday before Trinity Sunday, and that happens to be today. 

During our little celebration following the ordination, my pastor said, "You know, deacon, since you and I minister at Holy Trinity Parish, I think you should preach at the 9 o'clock Mass tomorrow. After all it's Trinity Sunday."

I was actually hoping for maybe a few days to prepare my first homily, but no, it would be the very next morning. Actually, I think it was a pretty good homily, and I wish I'd saved a copy so I could use it again today. But it's gone and I can't recall a word of it. Sadly, I suspect this homily won't be nearly as good.

Yes, indeed, today is Trinity Sunday, or as it's officially called, "The Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity." It's the day we celebrate what must be considered the key tenet of our faith as Christians: the Trinity

Interestingly, though, the word, Trinity, cannot be found anywhere in Sacred Scripture. But the Bible, both the Old and New Testaments, points to the Trinity on many different occasions.

The Trinity is perhaps most evident in the very last words of Matthew's Gospel when the risen Jesus gives His great commission to the disciples:

"Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you" [Mt 28:19-20].

We encounter the Trinity, too, in those opening verses of Genesis:

"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth...and the Spirit of God was moving..." [Gn 1:1-2].

...and the opening words of John's Gospel:

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God" [Jn 1:1].

Yes, Father, Son, and Spirit present from eternity.

The Trinity at Creation

We encounter another example in today's Gospel passage from John [Jn 16:12-13], where Jesus speaks of Himself, the Holy Spirit, and the Father as three distinct Persons. And so It's here and elsewhere that we find the Trinity embedded in Scripture: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit - Creator, Savior, and Sanctifier.

You and I call on the Trinity whenever we make the Sign of the Cross and lift up our prayer in the name of this Blessed Trinity. And yet how many of us really understand this divine relationship, this dogma that in one God there are three divine persons? 

St. Augustine

Over 1,500 years ago St. Augustine answered this question with one of his own: 

"Who can understand the Trinity? ...Who, when they speak of it, also know of what they speak?"

The answer, of course, is: nobody. For the Trinity is perhaps the mystery of mysteries. And yet, we strive to understand at least something of this divine relationship as it's been revealed to us. But we have to be careful. Our theology can sometimes blind us to the simpler truths that God reveals. Let me give you an example.

I'm sure you all remember the scene in which Jesus asks the disciples [Mt 16:13-16]:

"Who do people say that the Son of Man is?"

They replied, "Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets."

He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?"

Now just image Simon Peter, speaking as a modern theologian and responding like this:

"You are the Logos, one of three co-eternal, consubstantial divine persons, the hypostases of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Although the three are distinct, you are one substance, essence, and nature, always distinct and yet working inseparably, and interpenetrating each other and causing no division."

And hearing that, Jesus might well have said, "What?"

Jesus and Peter at Caesarea Philippi

You see, sometimes our theology can get in the way of our faith. In truth Simon Peter replied with these glorious words:

"Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God."

And like Peter, you and I hear those words, and in faith, we understand. Like Peter we know that Jesus is a distinct person and we believe, too, what Jesus reveals about His relationship with Father and the Holy Spirit. It's a relationship in which neither Father, nor Son, nor Holy Spirit exists in separation or acts in isolation. The Three are always as One.

This, brothers and sisters, is enough for me.

You see, if we really want to define the Trinity, we can define it with one four-letter word. The Trinity is Love. In the Trinity we see the same kind of love that God demands of us; for we are called to love God and love each other.

Our personal experiences of love, the deep love between husband and wife, the love of strong, long-held friendships, the sacrificial love of a mother for her child - all of these give us a glimpse, if only a glimpse, into the love that is the Trinity.

That's right, echoing St. John we proclaim that "God is Love" [1 Jn 4:8], the Trinity is Love. In loving one another we can experience the delight and beauty of close human relationships, of being there for each other. This is something enriching and satisfying - indeed, mutually life-giving!

If the very essence of the Trinity is constant, enduring love, then the mother of a newborn infant must grasp something of the doctrine of the Trinity as she lies awake in a darkened room and listens to the sound of her baby's breathing. Yes, the love of the Trinity is a vigilant love.

If the essence of the Trinity is ever-giving love, then the care-giving spouse of an Alzheimer's patient or the parent of a special needs child experiences the fury with which God protects, nurtures, and holds the most vulnerable close to His heart.  

Yes, our intellectual, theological descriptions of the Holy Trinity so often fail to convey the true nature of the love that flows from the very inner life of God.

About 25 or 30 years ago I was waiting to board a plane at Dulles International Airport outside Washington. This was back in the day when family and friends could actually meet you at the gate. Remember those days?

Anyway, as I waited, an El Al flight from Tel Aviv landed and the passengers began to file into the terminal. One young man, in his thirties and wearing a yarmulke, stepped from the jet-way and looked anxiously around the waiting room.

Just then a small boy broke away from his mother, ran to the man and jumped into his arms, all the while shouting, "Abba! Abba!" The love on the man's face was something very special indeed.

If our souls call out to the Father, "Abba! Abba!" --"Daddy! Daddy!" -- can you imagine the look of delight on the face of God? Would that we could see it! But this demonstration of love and all other expressions of human love are mere shadows of God's enduring love. 

Yes, the Trinity exists in a communion of love. And as the Trinity reaches outside itself into our world, a world that it created and sustains, there's a divine collaboration among the Three.

The Father loved us so much as to give us his Only Begotten Son. Through this love, the Son gave up his life for our sake. And through the Holy Spirit we can accept within us and extend to others the same love with which God loves us.  It's through the Spirit that we are enabled to mirror God's love on earth, to love each other as we are loved.

And so we pray in the liturgy to our Heavenly Father, "through our Lord Jesus Christ, Your Son, who lives and reigns with You in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever."

Homily: Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ

Readings: Dt 8:2-3,14-16; Ps 147; 1 Cor 10:16-17; Jn 6:51-58

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First of all...Happy Father's Day to all the fathers here today. I know, being a good father is a tough job, but somebody has to do it. And don't sneak out early or you'll miss the special blessing for fathers at the end of Mass.

Speaking of fathers and sons, some years ago, my elder son, who's into genealogy, asked me to look through my boxes of family documents for anything of interest. One of the first things I came across was the 65-year-old certificate from my First Holy Communion. Talk about a forgotten relic!

It provides only basic information: name, date, the parish, the pastor, all handwritten. Most of the certificate is a picture of a young boy and girl, dressed in their First Communion finery, kneeling at the altar rail. Remember altar rails? Standing behind the rail in the sanctuary, holding a host in one hand and a chalice in the other is Jesus, with two angels posed prayerfully behind Him.

It's a pious scene, a sweet scene, the sort of scene that today might bring about a few condescending smiles, even some cynicism. Yes, such naiveté is fine for children, but we adults...well, ours is a more sophisticated faith.

But as I continued to gaze at that picture I found myself transported from our adult world of pragmatism to a very different world...to a world where miracles abound and God's hand touches all of creation...to a world of real faith in which the truth of a theological mystery like the Eucharist is readily accepted. I knew then that a world in which a child can be filled with wonder over God's presence in the Eucharist - that this is the real world. I also realized how misleading, how utterly false our grown-up world can be.

Instead of marveling at God's wondrous gifts, we spend our lives worrying about and fretting over every conceivable worldly thing. We worry about money and jobs and retirement and health. We worry about our children and our grandchildren, about their education, their jobs, and their worldly success. We worry about impressing others, about our friendships, about the clothes we wear, the house we live in, the vacations we take.

Yes, our place in this world so monopolizes our lives, we even define ourselves by how we earn a living. When someone asks "What do you do?" - or for most of us, "What did you do?" - we provide the standard answers: an attorney...a mechanic...an engineer...a sales rep...a teacher...a beautician...a mechanic...a policeman.

How many of us have ever answered, "I'm a Christian, a child of God seeking salvation"?

And why not? After all, that's your true vocation; that's why God created you in the first place. He didn't create you for a job that pays the bills, or promises a nice pension in retirement.

Yes, we live lives littered with all these important and urgent things, concerns so crucial that when placed alongside salvation they become...well, absolutely trivial. 

We ignore the mystery of God's creation and come to believe we can control our little piece of the world...until we're confronted with the stark reality of an illness, or an accident, or the death of one we love.

In our growing-up we've lost that childlike sense of wonder, the capacity to see and marvel at the mystery that fills our world. Lacking this we fail to recognize the face of God even when He's standing right before us.

This is why Jesus instructs us to be like the child, to be childlike, not childish. He wants us to reclaim that wonderful gift of faith He bestowed on us when we were children. How did Jesus put it?

"Father, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike" [Mt 11:25].

He wants us to believe as we once did, and to love as we once did. Brothers and sisters, God created us to love Him, and to serve Him by loving and serving others, and to spend our lives doing just that.

This is how we live our faith, the same faith I saw in the eyes of the children in that picture. Kneeling to receive Jesus in the Eucharist - Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity - they don't see a mere piece of bread. No, they see Jesus Christ standing before them, loving them, offering them the greatest gift he can offer: Himself.

Contrast them with those in today's Gospel passage, people who had lost their sense of childlike wonder and, when confronted with Jesus' words about the Eucharist, denied the mystery of God's power. Quarrelling among themselves, they ask, "How can this man give us his flesh to eat?" [Jn 6:52]

"This man..." They had witnessed miracle after miracle, acts only God could perform, but Jesus was still simply, "this man."

But Jesus won't let them take refuge in their cynical, adult ways. He forces the issue, repeating and expanding His claims.

"...unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him" [Jn 6:53-56].

These were hard words for that incredulous crowd, just as they are for so many today. On that day in Galilee, John tells us, after hearing these words, "many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him" [Jn 6:66]. Just as many leave the Church today and the very Bread of Life because they cannot accept Jesus' Real Presence in the Eucharist. If they accepted it, they would never leave.

It's just a symbol, they say. Well, if it's just a symbol it's meaningless. Read the words of John's Gospel [Jn 6] once again...

No symbol can fill you with divine life.

No symbol can give you eternal life.

No symbol can raise you on the last day.

No symbol can bring you into communion with Jesus where He is in you and you in Him.

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

"The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?" [1 Cor 10:16]

And later in that same First Letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul warns not to receive Jesus in the Eucharist unworthily: 

"Therefore whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will have to answer for the body and blood of the Lord"  [1 Cor 11:27].

We don't have to answer to God for a mere symbol. We must answer for the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ.

This is what we celebrate today, Jesus' redemptive sacrifice, the beautiful Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ. We used to call it simply Corpus Christi - the Body of Christ - and many of us will probably continue to call it that, if only out of habit.

But in her wisdom the Church changed its name to reflect more accurately the reality of what happened at Calvary and at the Last Supper, and what will soon happen on this altar at St. Vincent de Paul Church. For it is the Blood of the New and Eternal Covenant that was shed from the Body of Christ on the Cross.

In many places when this feast is celebrated, Catholics will process through the streets carrying the gift of the Body and Blood of Christ to a disbelieving world. In the same way, you and I are called to take Him - "the Way, the Truth, and the Life" [Jn 14:6] - to a world searching for meaning and hope, a world begging for God's love and Presence.

We are called to be like joyful children once again, ever amazed at God's gift of life, fully aware that we are "fearfully, wonderfully made" [Ps 139:14], and thankful for the miraculous gift of Christ's Real Presence to nourish our hearts and our spirits.

When we gather for Mass, we become one with Christ, transformed by history's deepest act of love. We become one with Christ in the starving child who aches for a piece of bread, in the victim of violence lying in the emergency room, in the young Marine dying of wounds in Afghanistan, in the African mother whose daughter was kidnapped by terrorists.

Did you know that all this happens here at Mass? We join our souls to Christ and offer our bodies with his on the Cross for the healing of the entire world. We do it for the salvation of the world, for the salvation of souls so that God's "will be done on earth as it is in heaven" [Mt 6:10]

This is what happens at Mass. The sacrifice of Christ - Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity - saves us anew. No words can explain it. But a child can understand it.

Homily: Vigil, Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul

Note: I've already posted a homily for this solemnity (back in June of 2011), and this is pretty much the same homily, with only a few changes to reflect the differences in the readings between the Vigil Mass, at which I preached this past weekend, and the Sunday Mass, at which I preached in 2011. I've included it again because so many people have kindly contacted me about the earlier homily, asking if they could use it. Anyone can use any homily I post, anytime. And I don't care if I get credit. After all, the credit always goes to God, and homilies are supposed to shine the light of truth on the Word of God, not on the preacher. 

Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed nomini tuo ad gloriam. [Ps 115:1]

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Readings: Acts 3:1-10; Ps 19; Gal 1:11-20; Jn 21:15-19

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God calls us all to be saints, and for that very reason saints can really be irritating. After all, how can normal folks like you and I possibly become as holy as a Francis of Assisi or a Mother Teresa? How can we mirror the courage of the martyrs?

The saints set some very high standards, so high as to seem virtually unreachable.  And that can be pretty discouraging as we stumble along on our own journey of faith. Can we ever achieve the saintliness that God wants for each of us?

Quite simply, no. Because no one becomes a saint through his own efforts. It’s God who makes saints.

If you want evidence of this, of God’s saint-making handiwork, look at the two saints we honor today. Today is the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, the greatest of the Apostles, two men chosen by Jesus: one to lead His Church and the other to spread the Faith throughout the world. God could hardly have chosen two more different or unlikely men as these two.

Simon Peter, the callused, sun-burnt fisherman, a man of action, a rough and tumble blue-collar worker of first-century Galilee. A man full of bluster and passion, one who often spoke and acted before thinking. A seemingly simple and straightforward man, but beneath the surface, a complex man full of flaws.

Yes, he responded to Jesus' call, and yet often resisted the message and mission that went with it. He spent three years with Jesus listening to a message he didn't really comprehend. His faith underwent wild swings from deeply fervent to barely lukewarm. He could pledge undying loyalty to Jesus one day, then deny Him the next – a man who failed the test as often as he passed it. And yet Jesus chose this man, Simon Peter, this complex mix of human strength and weakness, to lead His Church.

Recall that day described by Matthew. The disciples, standing with Jesus under the rocky cliffs at Caesarea Philippi, are asked by the Lord: "And you, who do you say that I am?"[Mt 16:15]

Jesus, Peter at Caesarea Philippi

Only Peter dares to respond, openly proclaiming the revelation he’s received from the Father: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God." [Mt 16:16]

It’s to Peter alone that Jesus then turns and declares: "You are 'Rock,' and on this rock I will build my church." [Mt 16:18]

Commissioned by Jesus, he is first among the Apostles, the first Vicar of Christ, the first Pope, the one chosen to represent the entire church: "I will entrust to you the keys of the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you declare bound on earth shall be bound in heaven; whatever you declare loosed on earth shall be loosed in heaven." [Mt 16:19]

And then in today’s passage from John we join Peter and the apostles as they encounter the risen Jesus. And what an encounter it is, a breakfast of loaves and fishes prepared by Jesus Himself. They’re on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus had made a charcoal fire, a fire not unlike that at which Peter had warmed himself in the high priest's courtyard the night Jesus was arrested. Here, by the fire, it’s Peter alone whom Jesus asks to confess his love, not once but three times. [Jn 21:15-19]

Risen Jesus and the Apostles at the Sea of Galilee (Jn 21)

Peter’s threefold response, each a sign of love and faith, brings forgiveness, allowing him to recapture what he lost when, overcome by fear, he turned his back on the Lord, denying Him three times. Peter now knows he is weak, so he puts everything in Christ's hands: "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you."

Jesus’ command, too, is threefold: "Feed my lambs…tend my sheep…feed my sheep." With these words, the earlier promise at Caesarea Philippi is fulfilled. Peter is singled out. He alone is given primacy. He becomes the shepherd of the entire flock, the universal church. And because "the jaws of death shall not prevail against" the church, Peter's authority is passed on to his successors down through history to our present day, even until the end of time.

Only weeks later, on that first Pentecost, we see a new Peter, no longer fearful but bursting with zeal to spread the Gospel and baptize – to teach, to preach, to heal. He is a man transformed by the Holy Spirit. Such is the Spirit’s power, the power of God's grace, that it turns weakness into strength, cowards into martyrs, fishermen into popes. Peter is the Rock, not because of Peter, but because of Jesus.

Peter, the ordinary man who went on to do extraordinary things for God, gives us more than an example to follow. He gives us, the ordinary men and women of today, that which we need more than anything else. He gives us hope. He reminds us of the greatness to which we are all called. But like Peter, we can realize that greatness only if we first humbly acknowledge our own emptiness and weakness before God.

In contrast to Peter, Paul was no ordinary man. He came from Tarsus, a Hellenized cosmopolitan city in Asia Minor, a center of culture, philosophy, and education – “no mean city” Paul called it [Acts 21:39].

An educated Jew and a Roman citizen, Paul was also a Pharisee, one of those legalistic nit-pickers so caught up in the minutia of Mosaic Law that they had lost any understanding of its spirit. "Hypocrites," Jesus called them, "A brood of vipers" [Mt 12:34]. Clearly the Pharisees were not high on His list of role-models.

Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls (Rome)

We first encounter Paul, then named Saul, in the book of Acts. He takes part in the execution of Stephen, the first Christian martyr -- and, I might add, a deacon -- by guarding the cloaks of those who cast the killing stones. A zealous persecutor of the early Christian Church, Paul seems a most unlikely candidate for sainthood. But with God all things are possible.

We all know of Paul's miraculous conversion when Jesus reveals Himself on the road to Damascus. Like Peter, Paul accepts Jesus only because he first recognizes the truth about himself. Indeed, his conversion is symbolized by the scales that cover his eyes and blind him...scales that are removed only when he enters the embrace of the Church.

Paul not only embraces the Church, he goes on to become the great evangelist, the Apostle to the Gentiles, spreading the Gospel throughout the Roman Empire. As the spiritual descendants of those 1st Century Gentiles, we owe Paul a debt of gratitude for our Christian faith.

But Paul knows that the glory for his work goes to God, for it is through God's grace that he was brought to the Truth, and it is God's grace that sustained him in his ministry. Recall today's second reading in which Paul admits:

“But when God, who from my mother’s womb had set me apart and called me through his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son to me, so that I might proclaim him to the Gentiles.” [Gal 1:15-16]

Yes, Jesus called these two men, made them saints, and gave them to the Church: Peter who had been Simon and Paul who had been Saul.

Peter the fisherman, the small-town Galilean Jew. Paul the Pharisee, the scholar of the Law.

Peter always conscious of the Faith's Old Testament roots, and Paul who found in Christ, "all things new" [Rev 21:5].

Peter who had lived and walked with Jesus. Paul who encountered Him outside of time itself on the road to Damascus.

Peter and Paul in Rome. Peter in chains. Paul imprisoned.

Peter crucified on an inverted cross because he felt unworthy to die as His Lord had died. Paul martyred by the sword, as befit a citizen of Rome.

Two very different men, and yet their message and their example of total abandonment to God's Will go out through all the earth.

Then and now.

To Him be glory forever and ever.