Homily: 29th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year B

Readings: Is 53:10-11; Ps 33; Heb 4:14-16; Mk 10:35-45

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One hot summer day in 1941, in the infamous death camp of Auschwitz in southern Poland, the Nazis sentenced 10 prisoners to die by starvation in retaliation for an escape. One of the ten had a wife and children, so a 47-year-old Polish, Franciscan priest offered himself in his place. The man's number was crossed off the list and the priest's inserted: number 16670.

That very day ten men entered the starvation bunker, just an underground pit -- no light, no air, no food, no clothing, nothing…nothing but the love of God radiating from one simple priest. Two weeks later they injected him with a fatal dose of carbolic acid, then incinerated his wasted body on the feast of the Assumption. Forty-two years ago, on October 10, 1982, Pope John Paul II celebrated the canonization of this man, St. Maximilian Kolbe.

Maximilian lived the Gospel to the fullest, conformed his will to God’s, regardless of consequences, and answered God’s call personally, without question. Only a few are called to give witness to God's love as martyrs, although their numbers have increased greatly in recent years. But the word “martyr” simply means witness, and we’re all called to witness, and sometimes to lead radically Christian lives in the circumstances in which God places us.

Sometimes the Gospel message almost knocks us flat with its firm but unmistakably clear demands.

Sometimes it shakes the very foundation of our world, turning our lives upside down.

Just consider the Zebedee boys, James and John, in today’s Gospel passage. Jesus had just told His Apostles, for the third time, about His passion, death, and resurrection. Their response? Silence. This just isn’t something they want to think about. So, instead of focusing on Jesus and what He has just told them, they change the subject, to their favorite subject: themselves. Don’t you just love how the two brothers approach Jesus?

“…we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”

But they don’t really ask, do they? No, then they give Our Lord an order, as if they’re in charge:

"Grant that in your glory we may sit one at your right and the other at your left." 

They simply tell Jesus exactly what they want. Sadly, it reminds me of the way I sometimes pray. Do you ever do that, just give God orders? I not only tell Him what to do, but how to do it.

"Dear Lord, I’ve got this problem, and here’s how I want you to solve it…"

Like many of us, James and John don’t seem to be overflowing with humility, do they? Convinced they had earned it, they demanded prime seats, essentially telling Jesus:  Lord, seat us in glory right beside you. We’re your special ones, Jesus. These other guys…well, they’re okay, but they really don’t measure up, do they?

Like these two brothers, we too are often driven by pride, aren’t we? Even those seeking holiness can fall prey to a kind of spiritual greed. So, Jesus gives them the first of two lessons. Because they don’t know what they are asking, Jesus first tells them what their demand means.

They must first drink from the Lord’s chalice, and undergo His baptism of suffering, something that they had not yet understood or accepted. 

Ironically it was James, the elder son of Zebedee, who was the first of the apostolic martyrs. Perhaps he and his brother would have understood had they actually listened to Jesus and also pondered the words of Isaiah from our first reading. 

Yes, hundreds of years before the Incarnation, God reveals, through His prophet, what the Son of God made man must suffer to redeem the world of its sins. Just a moments ago we heard these prophetic words…

“…through his suffering, my servant shall justify many, and their guilt he shall bear.”

But I suspect Isaiah’s Suffering Servant was far from the minds of James and John. They couldn’t imagine Jesus, in an act of divine humility, emptying Himself, suffering, and dying on a Cross, like a slave, before entering His Kingdom.

The other Apostles were no different. Upset with the brothers, they were really driven by the same motivations: Lord, we’re just as good as those two.

And with that, Jesus teaches calls them all together and teaches His second, more important, and more challenging lesson:

“…whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all.”

Is there a more politically incorrect word today than slave? And yet, here’s Jesus, telling His Apostles, and telling us, to be like slaves. We are slaves, you know. That's why Christ can ransom us through His suffering. Someone truly free doesn’t need to be ransomed, but slaves do.

You see, like James, John, and the others, we too can become self-absorbed, something that will ultimately enslave us, enslave us to sin. Jesus is telling us to turn away from ourselves and turn to others. From a worldly perspective St. Maximilian was enslaved by the Nazis; and yet, in truth, his faith made him free, free to offer himself, Christ-like, and give his life to ransom the life of another.

The call Jesus extended to the Apostles, and its example manifested by St. Maximilian while surrounded by the evil of Auschwitz, is a call to love, a call of loving humility. It’s a message that the Apostles ultimately learned and lived, and one that we must learn as well.

My dad once told me, humility is the foundational virtue that supports all other virtues. Lacking humility, the value of any virtue is lessened. If, for example, a wealthy person gives generously to charity or the Church but is motivated solely by the public recognition he receives, the poor may certainly reap some benefit. But what about the giver's soul? 

And then Dad followed this thought with another: “Humility’s a very strange commodity, because once you know you have it, you just lost it.”

Yes, it's funny, but he was right. You don’t hear saints talking about their humility, because they know that true humility merely reflects reality, divine reality. God created each of us in a divine act of love; but created each no better than the other. Yes, we are all so very valuable, everyone from conception until natural death must be loved and protected. To grasp this perhaps every morning we should all read the final verses of chapter 25 of Matthew’s Gospel, the only place in Scripture where the last judgment is described in any detail.

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.”

Jesus is telling us how valuable we all are, that He became one of us, took on our human nature, so we should see Him, the divine, creative and incarnate Word of God, in everyone we encounter. God calls us to love Him and each other, and in return for our response, for our submission to His Will, He promises a treasure far greater than you and I can ever imagine.

Here I am, after 80 years of a life with very little suffering, it’s easy to consider opting for a finishing leisure and just sit back and enjoy the rest of my days. But then the Spirit calls to mind St. Maximilian, the Apostles, so many others, and especially the world-redeeming suffering of our Lord, Jesus Christ. And so we ask: What does God have in store for each of us? As He revealed in our reading from Hebrews, we can only…

“…confidently approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and to find grace for timely help.”

Yes, we all plead for God’s timely help during these times of our lives, as we struggle to be seen worthy of the gift. 

But only arms that are empty of self can stretch out to receive that gift…just as St. Maximilian did when he held out his arm for that fatal injection. And just as Jesus did when He emptied Himself giving everything on the Cross.

"I am the way, the truth, and the life," Jesus tells us; therefore, nothing should take precedence over Christ in our lives, over His right to rule over our hearts. For that which we place first in our lives – when it is not God – becomes a prison. And that's the paradox: only as servants, as servants of God and each other, can we experience true freedom.

Homily: Solemnity of All Saints

Readings: Rv 7:2-4, 9-1; Ps 24; 1 Jn 3:1-3; Mt 5:1-12

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Good evening, all you saints in training!

"Who are these wearing white robes, and where did they come from?" [Rv 7:13]

I’ve always loved this verse from the Book of Revelation. This might sound odd, but whenever I read it, I can’t help but think of a line from the movie, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”, when Cassidy, the outlaw, speaking of the posse tracking them so successfully, asks, “Who are those guys?” It’s really what was asked of John when he encountered that crowd in his heavenly vision: Who are these people?

Who are these saints? Where did they come from? How did they manage to live in this weird world of ours and yet live such holy lives? Yes, it’s these people and their lives of heroic virtue, these saints, that we celebrate at this vigil Mass of the Solemnity of All Saints.

Some years ago, during the canonization ceremony of Popes John XXIII and John Paul II, I heard a news anchor say, “Today the Catholic Church made two saints and let them enter heaven.” What an odd thing to say. Of course, he was wrong, terribly wrong, and provided another good reason to ignore what the secular media say about the Church. In truth, the Church doesn’t make saints. God makes them. All the Church does is recognize a few of the saints God has made.

Perhaps more importantly, the canonization of a saint doesn’t get them through heaven’s gates. Indeed, canonization does absolutely nothing for the saint, who is already with God. No, the Church canonizes saints for us, for by doing so she hopes to inspire you and me to strive for the holiness that is our true destiny. This is why the Church chants the Litany of the Saints at its most solemn liturgical celebrations. That Litany is the roster of the Church’s Hall of Fame, its family album, the names of those who form that “great cloud of witnesses” so eloquently described in the Letter to the Hebrews [Heb 12:1].

One of my theology professors at Georgetown, who taught me the New Testament 60 years ago, was a priest who had spent years in a Communist Chinese prison. Once, while speaking of St. Peter, a man filled with doubts and fears and so often lacking in faith, this saintly Jesuit said, “All saints are sinners, but not all sinners are saints.”

The difference, he went on to tell us, is that the saints recognize, understand, and repent of their sinfulness because they accepted God’s grace and recognize the Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ. More than anything else they desire union with Jesus Christ and so they struggle mightily in the lifelong process of conversion that God offers us all. The others, he said, not only don’t recognize the Son, but too often don’t even recognize their sinfulness for what it is. And that, he believed, was an eternal sadness.

Yes, brothers and sisters, we are all called to be saints, to be one with Jesus Christ. Even now, in this life, we’re united with the Communion of Saints, a part of All Saints, Christ’s Mystical Body, the People of God.

By our baptism we were sanctified, made holy, deep down, in grace – no longer banished, disaffected children, outside God’s family. In Baptism we become part of the in-crowd. Even though we’re sinners, as John reminds us, we’re still God’s children, adopted children of the Father. John continued, “What we shall be has not yet been revealed…But we shall be like Him” [1 Jn 3:2].

Yes, there’s so much we don’t know. Our vison is blurred by the mystic’s “cloud of unknowing,” until clarity comes when we rise with Jesus Christ. In the meantime, we move in the world – not just the world of good, of God’s creative act, but the world of a fallen race, the world that won’t recognize us because it won’t recognize Jesus Christ [1 Jn 3:1]. It’s a world that tries to extinguish the light of Christ, to drown out the Gospel with a cacophony of meaningless noise. It’s a world that ignores All Saints Day, preferring instead Halloween, All Hallows Eve, by celebrating the craziness of our world.

But God continues to raise up saints, and He wants each one of us to be among them; so, He gives us a guidebook, a map, to help us find our way to His Way. Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in Matthew’s Gospel distills the essence of His teachings. And it opens with the Beatitudes, the essence of the essence.

When we first hear them, our tendency is to select one or two qualities as applicable to us. “Oh, yeah, that’s me, the merciful peacemaker. I guess that means I’m okay, living the life Jesus wants for me.”

But that’s not what the Beatitudes are. They’re not items in a cafeteria from which we can pick and choose what we like, while ignoring the rest. They’re really a manifesto for the complete, normal Christian life.  Christ opens to us eight avenues through which we will find the fullness of blessing. To be blessed means to find wholeness, joy, well-being – to experience the true peace of Christ. To be fully blessed is to depend solely on God.

With that we come to recognize our own spiritual poverty, the insignificance of all we thought was so important. And when we cry out to God, fearful, hopeful, thankful, He sends His Spirit to show us the way. In sorrow, not only for our own sin but the sins and injustices of the world, we encounter the deep, abiding presence of the Holy Spirit.

Mourning our dead, praying for their salvation, we cast our prayers into eternity knowing that “with God all things are possible.” God blesses us with wisdom and compassion as we carry God’s love to others. 

Called to be meek, not weak, we walk with a humility that recognizes Jesus Christ in everyone we meet, reminding us that we are called to love. We move, not filled with vengeful anger, but as living signs of God’s mercy. 

Through prayer we experience the shock of humility, a rightness in our relationship with God, with each other, and with creation. True humility is merely the acceptance of reality, that we are all completely dependent on God. Humility is to recognize God’s divine life in others, and the need to love God and one’s neighbor as oneself.

I remember a story about a young mother who was trying to help her little boy understand God’s great commandment. “God put us here to help others,” she told him. He thought for a moment and then asked, “What are the others here for?” The little lad would have made a good Pharisee.

Yes, we’re called by Jesus to extend to each other the same mercy we expect from Him. At the soup kitchen we had a saying, “We don’t serve food, we serve Jesus Christ.” But do we open ourselves wide so that all who walk in that door, see Jesus in us?

As we long and work for peace in our lives, our merciful God rests His hand gently upon our heads and speaks to us as His favored children. Having received a sevenfold blessing, seized by the Holy Spirit, taken captive, we allow ourselves to receive an eighth blessing, to be emptied and enter into the perfection of Christ.

Then, being like Christ, we’re not surprised when called to share in the likeness of his suffering and death. For we, too, will carry our cross knowing always that Jesus walks by our side. Perhaps, then, someone will look at us and ask, “Who are they who seem to love so much?”

And for this, like the Saints we honor today, we will be greatly blessed.

 

Evangelization and Truth

In my last post I suggested that perhaps it's time for our bishops to act and defend the Church's teachings, especially when these teachings are dismissed by nominally Catholic politicians as irrelevant or just plain wrong. I see this as part of the bishops' responsibility for evangelization. In today's post, I hope to extend that seme responsibility to all of the faithful, to you and to me, as we make our journey through the small slice of time and space in which God has placed us. In our parish Bible Study, we're currently studying the opening chapters of the Acts of the Apostles, so I thought the example of St. Peter would provide us with a good starting point.

In chapter four of the Acts of the Apostles, we find a Spirit-filled Peter standing before the local authorities, with the young apostle, John, at his side. The two apostles faced a crowd of local notables: the high priest, Caiaphas; his predecessor and father-in-law, Annas; and a collection of Jerusalem's most distinguished "leaders, elders, and scribes." This was the Sanhedrin, a kind of governing council and supreme court. Largely aristocratic, the Sanhedrin's members included representative of the most influential noble and priestly families. 

Although the Sanhedrin possessed significant power, they remained subservient to the Roman authorities. Most of these men were probably Sadducees, although the Sanhedrin also included Pharisees and others among its members. The Sadducees were responsible for maintaining the Temple and many were counted among the priests who performed the Temple sacrifices. Theologically, though, they differed greatly from most contemporary Jews, especially the Pharisees. Sadducees did not accept the immortality of the soul, rejected the idea of an afterlife and the resurrection of the dead, and did not believe in the existence of angelic or spiritual beings. As you might expect, they tried to make this life as comfortable as possible. They would have agreed with the old Schlitz beer commercials of the 1970s: "You only go around once...grab all the gusto." We can understand, then, why they did not appreciate anyone who threatened to upset the status quo, especially their relationship with the Romans.

Why were Peter and John standing there facing these men? The drama began the previous day when Peter and John passed through the Temple gate and encountered a beggar, a man crippled from birth. Peter said to him:

“I have neither silver nor gold, but what I do have I give you: in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean, rise and walk” [Acts 3:6].

The man was instantly and completely healed. Peter had then gone on to proclaim the truth about Jesus Christ to the Jewish crowds gathered within the Temple precincts at Solomon's Portico. His preaching led to a remarkable result:

"...many of those who heard the word came to believe and the number of men grew to about five thousand" [Acts 4:4].

This, of course, was too much for the Jewish authorities who had the two apostles arrested. After a night in custody, Peter and John were brought before the Sanhedrin for questioning. They were asked a single question:

“By what power or by what name have you done this?” [Acts 4:7]

Inspired by the Spirit, Peter gave the perfect response, a brief but remarkable sermon:

“Leaders of the people and elders: If we are being examined today about a good deed done to a cripple, namely, by what means he was saved, then all of you and all the people of Israel should know that it was in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead; in his name this man stands before you healed.

He [Jesus] is ‘the stone rejected by you, the builders, which has become the cornerstone.’ There is no salvation through anyone else, nor is there any other name under heaven given to the human race by which we are to be saved” [Acts 4:8-12].

Here we have a true homiletic gem. Within it we find a statement that offers us one of Christianity's absolute truths. Reread Peter's last sentence in which he provides the perfect declaration of salvation that comes to the human race only through Jesus Christ.

In Peter's words we encounter the universality of the Christian message, a message we are called to proclaim to every human being. Just consider Jesus' final words to the disciples before His Ascension to the Father:

“All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 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. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age” [Mt 28:18-20].

This is a command by Jesus, a three-fold command: (1) make disciples of all nations; (2) baptize them; and (3) teach them. And it's followed by a promise: "I am with you always." If we are called to "make disciples of all nations," Christianity, then, is truly catholic. With these words, we realize God desires all to be saved through Jesus Christ [Acts 2:21; 1 Tim 2:3-4; 2 Pt 3:9] Although "for God all things are possible" [Mt 19:26], He instructs us to help bring this about through sacramental Baptism, supported by the continued presence of Christ's Holy Spirit in the teaching authority -- the Magisterium -- of the Church.

We are called to follow Peter's example and always proclaim the truth to those who do not believe. The problem, however, is that so many Christians, including many Catholics, seem either to reject this command of Jesus or simply fear to express the truth. Too many of us have grown a bit wobbly when it comes to evangelizing in truth. We either water down the Church's teaching or fall prey to a kind of syncretism in which all religions are considered okay. Once, while teaching a course on World Religions to a class of Catholic catechists and teachers, I was surprised when many thought there was no need to evangelize Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, or others who reject our Christian faith. As one high school teacher said, "As long as they follow their religion's teachings, I'm sure they'll be okay with God." Well, that may be true, but that's God's call, not ours. We're called to obey Him, to evangelize, to follow the example of the apostles. We must always remember: you and I cannot convert anyone; we simply plant seeds, or water and fertilize the seeds others have planted. God, and only God, brings all to fruition.

Like the apostles, we Christians have been commissioned to proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ to the world, the entire world. This doesn't mean we do it arrogantly or haughtily. Not at all. We are commanded to do all this with love, but to love without forsaking the truth. As Peter told the beggar: "...what I do have I give you." We must do the same, give whatever we have, however the Spirit inspires and equips us. We must also live the truth of Jesus Christ so others will recognize Jesus Christ in us, just as we see Jesus Christ in them. And in doing so, we must also be ready to stand for the truth even at the cost of our lives, these days an increasingly likely possibility.

St. Irenaeus, Bishop and Martyr

Today we celebrate the memorial of St. Irenaeus, bishop and martyr. Irenaeus was a remarkable saint, born c. 130, who died a martyr about the year 200 or shortly afterwards. Born in Asia Minor, he was a disciple of St. Polycarp, who happened to be a disciple of St. John, Apostle and Evangelist. Irenaeus, then, was only two generations away from those who knew and walked with Our Lord. 

As an early missionary, Irenaeus eventually made his way to Gaul, to the Roman city of Lugdunum, now known as Lyon. This was during the time of great persecution and in 177, when the Bishop of Lyon, Pothinus, was martyred, along with dozens of other Christians, Irenaeus was chosen as his successor. It was a position he would hold until his own martyrdom almost 25 years later.

Unfortunately, only a few of the saint's writings have survived, but those that we have are enough to show us the brilliance and the sanctity of this Early Church Father. From these writings we realize that the Church had already developed a fully Catholic theology very early. Much of Irenaeus' writings were directed against the Gnostic heresy which had already infected parts of the Church. Gnosticism was a rather diverse heresy, but one version claimed that the real truths of Christianity were secret knowledge accessible only by a select few. Countering this, Irenaeus wrote his primary work, Against Heresies. It’s a wonderful work and should be more widely read today since echoes of ancient Gnosticism can still be heard from too many politicians, and even from some Christians. 

I don’t intend here to offer a review of St. Irenaeus’ works but would like to share just one brief passage in which this early bishop and theologian describes the presence of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, in the Old Testament. Too many Christians seem to think the Son, the Second Person of the Trinity, was somehow hidden away in some heavenly cell before the Incarnation. St. John, of course, tells us otherwise with the very first words of his Gospel:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God; all things were made through Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made” [Jn 1:1-3].

As John reveals, the Son, the Creative Word of God, was present from the beginning. Now read what St. Irenaeus had to say about that presence:

“The Son of God has been sown everywhere throughout the Scripture [of Moses]. Sometimes He speaks with Abraham, sometimes with Noah, giving him the measurements of the ark. He looks for Adam, brings judgment on the Sodomites. There are times when He is actually seen, guiding Jacob on his way, speaking with Moses from the bush.”

We must never forget that Jesus, the Word of God Incarnate, is also the Word of God Revealed. Read Irenaeus. The above link connects to an excellent translation of his major work, with a beautiful introduction by the great twentieth-century theologian, Hans Urs von Balthasar.