Homily: Mass and Healing Service - Tuesday 32nd Week in Ordinary Time

Good evening, everyone…and praise God – praise Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

It’s wonderful to see so many here tonight; all open to God’s healing presence. Praise God too for this. We’re gathered here in Jesus’ name, so we know He’s with us. And where Jesus is, so too is the Father, for they are One, One with the Holy Spirit.

When we turn to Scripture, we find the Holy Spirit inspiring, revealing, anointing, and counseling. He does it all. He’s the “Lord and giver of life,” the fount of Truth and Wisdom, the sanctifier, the source of sacramental grace, the manifestation of God’s power in the world. When Jesus rejoiced, He rejoiced in the Spirit. When He prayed, He prayed filled with the Spirit. And when he healed, the Spirit acted through Him.

And so, tonight, confident that the Holy Spirit is here among us, present in His power and glory, we turn to Him, the Divine Healer, for healing is among the Spirit’s greatest works. God knows how much we all need healing – healing of body, mind, and spirit; so He sends His Spirit into the world to heal all who come to Him.

The Gospels and Acts are filled with healings, but those healings all so very different. All kinds of people come to Jesus – men and women; young and old; Jews and Gentiles – all seeking His healing touch. Some come on their own, some are brought to Him by others, by family or friends, and some are healed at a distance.

But for all of them it was through the power of the Holy Spirit that Jesus healed. St. Peter confirmed this when preaching to the centurion Cornelius and his household, he said:

“God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power. He went about doing good and healing all…” (Acts 10:38)

Where Jesus is, so too is the Holy Spirit. And together they heal us all.

This came to mind when reading Paul’s Letter to Titus. Titus, a Gentile Christian who had journeyed with Paul, had been placed in charge of building the Christian community on the island of Crete. It’s a brief letter, but it’s packed with advice and suggestions designed to help Titus as he struggles to instill Christian virtue in a people who’d long been ensnared by the “godless ways” and “lawlessness” of a pagan society.

Paul begins by stating that their faith must be grounded in sound doctrine. In other words, they must listen to the apostolic Church and accept its teaching authority. Then Paul looks at the community in Crete, dividing it into age-related groups: older men, older women, younger women, and younger men. In effect Paul tells Titus, the Christian community must be self-supporting, with each person using inherent gifts and strengths to support the others.

Older men, a group I’m all too familiar with, must exercise temperance and self-control, so their love for God, family, spouse, are a living product of their faith. Yes, faith and love are inseparable.

Paul tells younger men to emulate the control and integrity of the older men they admire. Elsewhere, to the Ephesians, Paul instructs all husbands, old and young:

“...love your wives, even as Christ loved the church and handed himself over for her…” (Eph 5:25)

Did you hear that, husbands? Your love must be sacrificial. Just think about that...

For Paul, older women are called to be reverent teachers, models of goodness – no slander, ladies, and as for drink, easy on the pinot grigio. Their behavior should be an example to others, especially younger women, who look to them for guidance.

As for the younger women, they should love their husbands and children, for they are called to be chaste, self-controlled, and good homemakers. We don’t realize how different it was for a woman at that time. She was her children’s teacher, preparing them in every way for adult life, teaching them the faith. She tended her gardens, and much of what she needed and used in the home, she made herself. Being a homemaker with no electricity, no plumbing, no grocery store, was more than a full-time job.

Then Paul writes the phrase that bothers so many: “to be…under the control of their husbands.” Yes, for us today, when equality reigns, and many women work outside the home in every profession, it seems more than a little dated.

But we should understand exactly what Paul was really telling the people of his time, and our time. In a good Christian marriage husband and wife must be of one mind on all the important things that affect the life of their family. How they raise their children, the family’s spiritual life, their shared sense of morality, how they interact with others, both within and outside the Christian community. If a husband and wife disagree on these, the marriage and the family’s faith will suffer.

Paul’s really telling Titus that, regardless of age, our love for God and each other is manifested by our willingness to serve each other and all those He places in our lives.

Now, you might be asking yourself, “How does all this relate to healing? After all, I’m here tonight because I need God’s healing grace.” Well, let’s turn to our Gospel passage from Luke. How did Jesus put it?

“We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty” (Lk 17:10).

And that highlights the problem, for the servant is focused not on himself, but on another.

Sisters and brothers, when we’re hurting, when we’re in desperate need of healing, we tend to turn inward. It doesn’t matter if we’re suffering from physical illness and pain, or emotional and mental stress. Or perhaps we find ourselves wandering aimlessly in a spiritual desert, that our soul, darkened by sin, needs the merciful touch of God’s forgiveness. In the grip of suffering, and in our humanity, we turn inward, toward our suffering, hoping, somehow, for healing and relief.

But Jesus, in that paradoxical, counter-intuitive way of His calls us to do otherwise. He calls us to turn outward, to turn to Him in faith and to others in love.

We often receive healing when

we pray for the healing of others

God knows exactly what we need, but do we know? What kind of healing do you need? What do I need? We’re so sure we know, aren’t we? Often enough, especially in this community, it’s our bodies. They just don’t hold up do they? Illness, injury, and age all take their toll. We turn to God in our suffering and our fears, in our aches and pains, our illnesses, in the trials of our children, in the sometimes-shattered lives of those we love…and we pray for healing.

We don’t understand the why of this suffering, or why God doesn’t just take it away. And so we pray, but not very well. As St. Paul reminded us:

“We do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings” (Rom 8:26).

Now that’s amazing, isn’t it? Because we don’t know how to pray, the Holy Spirit prays for us, intercedes for us, within the Trinity itself. Can there be anything greater?

The son of some close friends was a young man named John. He died at 41 after a lifetime of suffering from a genetic disease. Believe me when I say that John, the father of four, is a saint, because it’s true. He was one of the saintliest people I’ve ever known.

Despite a lifetime of pain and suffering he refused to let his illness define him. Once, asked if he were angry with God because of his illness, John replied, "Of course not. Why would I be angry at God for the greatest gift He's ever given me?" Unlike most of us, John realized early in life that everything is a gift, especially life itself.

Almost 50 years ago, I flew home to Cape Cod from the Philippines because my mom was dying. As I entered her hospital room, she looked up and said, “Now I can die.” We talked for a while, and she told me, “Son, everything is a gift, even this horrible disease, because it’s taught me so much.” She died that night.

My mom and young John personified those famous words of St. Paul:

"We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose (Rom 8:28).

Both spent their lives fulfilling that purpose by serving and praying for others, suffering for others. And here I am, 80 years old, still praying that someday I may have such faith. As my wife, Diane, will be happy to tell you, I’m not a very good sufferer.

So, look to those seated around you, and realize you’re not alone. For they, too, are suffering. How can you serve each other? Will you pray for them, demonstrate your love for them?

There will be healings here today. Some of you have come for physical and emotional healing. And there will be some of those. But every one of us here today needs spiritual healing, healing of the soul, the healing that comes from total surrender to God. With that surrender, that abandonment, "God will fully supply whatever you need…”

Are you willing to make an act of surrender, an act of abandonment, and take all that you have, all that you are, and lay it at Jesus’ feet? He wants it all, you know, out of a love so great it’s beyond our understanding. He wants us to mirror His redemptive act of love by sharing in the crosses that we each must bear.

Do we recognize the power of the collective faith and prayers of our community? Do we trust that God can do the same for us as faithful, prayerful people who lift others up in their need?

After Mass we’ll have a laying on of hands. Come forward. Turn your heart and mind to Jesus Christ. Give Him permission to come into your life, to work His will within you.

“Heal me, Lord, and heal these others who come to you.” 

Let that be your prayer. 

“Heal us all, Lord, of all that’s keeping us from being one with you.”

Trust God, brothers and sisters, for He knows your heart.

Praised be Jesus Christ…now and forever.

Homily: 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year A

Readings: Prv 31:10-13, 19-20, 30-31; Ps 128; 1 Thes 5:1-6; Mt 25:14-30

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When I was a boy, my dad would "recruit" me (that was the word the Colonel used) to spend Saturday mornings with him as he made things in his home workshop. Carpentry was his hobby, and he was good at it. I ended up doing little more than handing him tools or holding boards while he cut them -- useful but not very fulfilling work, at least not for me. I’d rather been out with my friends.

But his real reason for having me join him was to talk with me about life, and to listen to what I thought about the important things. Now the average 10-year-old boy – and that was me – didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about life’s great mysteries, and so I did much more listening than talking.

I recall one morning; he was making a wooden support, kind of a large plaque, on which to hang a ship’s bell someone had given him. The bell was very old and pretty cool. He wanted to hang it by the front door. While we were making it, he said, “You know, son, this bell, like every bell, can sound only a single note. No matter how loud or soft, when it rings, it rings the same note.”

Then he added, “A lot of people are like that. They play just one note, because they’re so focused on just one thing: themselves. And they miss all the wonders, and all the others, God has placed around and in their lives.” 

That thought has never really left me, and it popped into my aging brain the other day as I thought today’s readings.

We first heard, from the Book of Proverbs, a beautiful description of the worthy wife and all that she does. Indeed, like a carillon, she can ring a lot of different bells, all to bring about good and not evil.

And we celebrate her not simply for what she does, but for who she is. Her actions are driven by the love that resides within her. It is through that love, the reality of Her interior being, that we see its manifestation in her actions, in her love toward others. Her life, then, becomes an extension of herself as she reaches out to others, to her family, to the poor, all done for God’s glory. Yes, indeed, “the woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.”

Just as the faithful woman is praised, we encounter much the same in our Responsorial Psalm, this time aimed at the faithful man. Like the woman, the man of faith rings a lot of different bells, but they blend together into a beautiful hymn of praise. His wife, a fruitful vine; his children, olive plants around his table. As our family sat down to dinner, I sometimes called our children, “my little olive plants.” For some reason they took offense to that. I guess they hadn’t yet learned about metaphors.

But anyway, as the faithful man walks in God’s ways, he is blessed because he, too, fears the Lord. This Biblical fear of the Lord is really nothing more than an acceptance of reality, of God’s greatness. It’s the overwhelming sense of awe, of reverence, the awareness that everything comes from God, and demands our thanksgiving.

Then, in our second reading, we again encounter fear; although here it’s unstated, it’s still very present. St. Paul encourages the good Christians of Thessalonica to “stay alert and sober” because the “day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.” Yes, God’s judgment can engender fear in some hearts, specifically those unprepared to face Him.

As St. Paul prophetically reminds us, the worldly ones, the politicians and others, try to sooth us with their bell and its single note of “peace and security” – while we, the uninformed, uninitiated one, look out into the world and see something very different. But even then, we should never allow that other kind of fear, a fear of the world, to enter our hearts and rule us. For it, too, is like that solitary bell, that sounds just one note.

We lived in Germany for a while when I was about seven or eight. One day as Mom and I walked to the local delicatessen, we heard the deep sonorous tone of a bell ringing from a local Lutheran church.

You know, “BONG!” And every ten seconds or so, it would ring again, another “BONG!”

Eventually, I asked, “What’s that sound, Mom? It’s kinda scary.” Her response, “Son, it’s a bell, for a funeral. It’s the sound of death.” Well, that certainly didn’t cheer me up.

But I think, in many hearts, it’s really the sound of fear. Perhaps, as they approach their own individual “day of the Lord” they fear that, in St. Paul’s words, “they will not escape.” How sad for them. And we see that sadness, that fear, in Jesus’ parable of the talents.

The talent Jesus speaks of is really a large sum of money – someone with five or more talents of gold would be today’s millionaire; so, in the most literal sense, the master is a very wealthy man.

But in the parable, the talents become interior, soul-bound treasures. And the master? He is God. We encounter God investing in each human person with specific and very personal gifts. He sees and knows each of us so very differently. These talents, each gift, is meant to be accepted as precious, not to be compared with what others have received. You see, brothers and sisters, God knows and loves each of us as if no one else existed.

The master, then, with complete trust, turned over all his property to his servants. One received five, one two, and the third, one. The master invested in each of them, that they increase those gifts with interest. Two didn’t hesitate. They went out, engaged the world, and traded well, fulfilling the master’s wishes.

The third, the fearful one, knowing he’d been given less, unwilling to confront reality, unwilling to grow, just buries his personhood in a hole in the ground. Consumed by his fears, striving only to ensure his own survival, instead he literally digs his own grave. As I think of him, I recall that bell in Heidelberg, sounding its single note of fear.

Jesus understood the disabling power of fear, for how often does He tell us: “Be not afraid.” Jesus is a true rejector of the status quo. He wants us to grow, and not allow worldly fears to hold us back.

The tragedy of the third servant is that, out of fear, he hid what had been entrusted to him, even though he had the ability to use it well. Because he did nothing, he never changed, never grew. We learn far more by doing, even if we encounter failure along the way. God has graced each of us in some way, to serve both Him and others. If we hide what has been given us, others are deprived.

Gerard Manley Hopkins, the English Jesuit poet, wrote a beautiful poem, "As Kingfishers Catch Fire," and in it there’s this amazing line:

“…the just man justices;

Keeps grace: that keeps all their goings graces.”

Yes, we keep and nurture God’s grace which keeps all our goings graces. What an ordaining thought: all our goings, all our doings, are graces, because of the graces within.

The parable has that one strong message. Jesus hopes to move us, to form us interiorly as the woman of Proverbs was formed interiorly. She lives, as she knows and receives herself to be, and we are called to the same interior change – not just to do things differently, but to be something completely different, to undergo conversion.

Hopkins ends his poem, showing how we are called to act in God’s eye, what in God’s eye we are.

“…for Christ plays in ten thousand places,

Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his

To the Father through the features of men’s faces.”

We don’t put on Jesus as we’d put on an item of clothing. No, He invests Himself in us and we repay Him through what we have become in our hearts. Jesus Christ has buried Himself in us that we might continually give Him flesh. God is ever in-fleshing with divine love, as an eternal dressing of humanity, always striving to present Himself to the world through us.

Sisters and brothers, we are called to be Jesus Christ to all whom we encounter, fearlessly ringing a thousand different, joyful bells. Then, at the time of judgment, won’t it be wonderful to hear those words: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Homily: Tuesday, 31st Week in Ordinary Time - Year A

Readings: Rom 12:5-16; Ps 131; Lk 14:15-24

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Back in 1951, I was seven years old. My dad was an Army officer stationed in Germany and that Christmas we were vacationing in Bavaria. We spent a few days in Munich, and one morning while my mom and brother were back in the hotel restaurant having breakfast, my dad and I went for a walk headed for a nearby newsstand where he knew he could buy an English language newspaper.

And as we walked, for the first time in my brief life, I saw a man on the sidewalk begging. He had no legs and sat on a makeshift wooden pallet with roller skate wheels. He propelled himself with two pieces of wood, one in each hand, that he pulled along the ground. The war had ended only a few years before, and he had a couple of military medals pinned to his old coat. In his lap was a tin can with a few small coins in it.

I remember all this because I had stopped to look at him. Children aren’t easily embarrassed, and neither was he. He smiled at me, so I decided to try out my German and said very formally, “Guten Morgen, mein Herr” – Good morning, sir. With that, his smile grew and he replied, “Guten Morgen, Junge” – Good morning, boy.

At that point Dad spoke to him and they exchanged a few words in German, which I didn’t understand. They both laughed, and then Dad put four five-mark coins in the tin can. 20 marks was quite a lot back then. The man then called me closer, reached out and with his fingertips, made the sign of the cross on my forehead. As we walked on to the newsstand, Dad simply said, “Two things, son. First, Jesus is always present in others, and second, that could be you.” 72 years ago, but I’ve not forgotten that encounter with a war-torn beggar on a Munich street.

Of course, back then I hadn’t read Paul’s letter to the Romans; but my Dad had. Much of the letter contains great theological insights about God and our relationship to him in Jesus Christ. But then, here in chapter 12, as his letter draws to a close, Paul offers us some very practical advice on actually living the Christian life. He begins with:

“We, though many, are one Body in Christ and individually parts of one another.” [Rom 12:5]

Because Christ is present in each of us, we’re united, bound to each other, “parts of one another.” Have you ever thought about that? In other words, that legless beggar, my father, and I are together in one Christian family. To ignore that man on the street would be like ignoring my brother. And because we’re essentially fused together in the Body of Christ, we can serve Jesus Christ only when we love and serve each other.

That’s the wonderful thing about Christianity: we’re not isolated individuals. We’re a community, each of us offering his particular gifts to help the others. And because evangelization is the Body of Christ’s primary responsibility, we must reach out into the world, and bring others into communion with us.

I’ve always thought Paul’s awareness of this communion in the Body of Christ, originated when he heard those words of Jesus on the road to Damascus:

“Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” [Acts 9:4]

Hearing those swords, pondering them, Paul came to understand that by persecuting Jesus’ disciples, he had been persecuting Jesus himself, because they are one. And I really believe that question of Jesus was the catalyst for Paul’s teaching on the Body of Christ.

Paul then lists many of the gifts, the charisms that let Christians build up the Body of Christ. Among them is almsgiving. In Paul’s time, many Christians were poor, unable to give alms. Every community had its sick, poor, elderly, orphans, and widows. But some Christians had a surplus to share, and Paul told them to give generously.

The same is true today, brothers and sisters. But living here in The Villages, in our rather antiseptic enclosed community, we don’t see it, despite the reality that surrounds us. Diane and I served at the Wildwood Soup Kitchen for many years.; and when I was on the board, I’d often go out with one of our drivers, delivering meals to shut-ins. We’d drive down streets where the poverty was so palpable it simply enveloped you; and then enter dwellings where no human being should live.

On Thanksgiving, our secular feast, will we just thank God for all He’s done for us, for all those gifts? Or will we also thank Him for leading us through our own highways and hedgerows, to seek out those with whom we can share those gifts he has let us use?

After all, we’ve come together this morning to receive the Body of Christ, so let’s leave here in Communion as the Body of Christ – to love and serve the Lord by loving and serving one another.

Intellect and Will: Rarely Do the Twain Meet

Confronted by all the hatred and stupidity evident in both our world and our country, I try to view it all from an eternal or more comprehensive perspective. It’s remarkable and disturbing that so many human beings seem to have lost or, at best, misplaced their humanity. We — at least some of us — believe that God, by creating us in His image and likeness, imbued us with both intellect and will, gifts that define our humanity and separate us from other earthly creatures. Sadly, far too many of us do not apply either of these gifts very well, or focus only on one and ignore the other. 

Leadership, of course, demands the effective, coordinated application of both intellect and will. A leader with a keen intellect, who strives to understand the situation facing him, but lacks the courage to make a meaningful decision and apply his will correctly is essentially powerless. Fundamentally he knows what he should do but fears doing it. As you might expect, the results are usually catastrophic. I fear that our president and those who surround him have succumbed to this failing whenever the real interests of our nation are at stake. Instead they focus the administration’s will on a collection of “woke” sideshows that seem only to undermine our culture and its moral and spiritual roots. I trust they will soon come to recognize the nature of the challenges facing them and develop the will to act courageously and decisively in the defense of our civilization. I won’t hold my breath, though. Ideologues rarely change their core beliefs unless they undergo a radical conversion. St. Paul is among the most obvious examples. Actively involved in the murder and imprisonment of first-generation Christians, he didn’t change; God changed him. As Christians we must pray for a global metanoia, a Pauline-like conversion through which God will change the hearts and minds of those striving to destroy His Church and suppress His holy Word.

But the willful leader who lacks understanding can be equally, perhaps more, dangerous. By failing to use his intellect and grasp the reality of the situation, including its moral aspects, he is motivated only by ignorance and emotion. This most often leads to very destructive results. For example, the terrorist, blinded and consumed by the ideology that motivates him, applies his will amorally and, focused solely on the attainment of the ideological goal, leaves his intellect far behind. This is why negotiation with committed and thoroughly indoctrinated terrorists is inevitably fruitless. Driven by their ideology, they are unmoved by arguments based on truth and morality. The only truth is their truth; all else are signs of weakness. They will take advantage of the weaknesses of others and use them to achieve their ideological ends. At one point in our diplomatic history, we refused to negotiate with terrorists because it was immoral and inevitably led to a degradation of the current situation. Now we not only negotiate with the demonic, but also allow it to dictate the terms. As I have said elsewhere, the willful, especially those captivated by evil, respect only power and the willingness to apply it.

Do I side with the Israelis in the current conflict? Yes, indeed — not because they are perfect, because they’re not. Like every nation, including our own, they have done some very stupid and immoral things. But they at least struggle to do what is right. All those Americans protesting in our streets and on our campuses in support of Hamas are too ignorant or too filled with hate to understand the idiotic slogans they chant. What to do with them? Because as a nation we respect free speech, about all we can do is shame them, make them understand that actions and words have consequences that might affect their current or future lives, and inundate them with the truth. And if Israel destroys Hamas, support for this specific terrorist group will likely fade away quickly. And most importantly pray for our ally Israel.

“Gird Your Loins!”

Back when I was just a kid, our family Bible was a Douay-Rheims translation filled with prints of those wonderful biblical engravings by Gustave Doré. (You can view them all here.) As a young child I would sit on the living room couch turning the pages of that Bible and examining Doré‘s remarkably detailed scenes. My approach to Bible Study at that age was rather random, a hit-or-miss approach in which I would look at one of the pictures, then read the opening passages of the book I thought was associated with the picture. Often enough I didn’t understand much of what I’d read and found myself wondering just what those words were telling me. Many of the words were not yet part of my vocabulary, so I’d occasionally ask my mom what they meant. Once, while reading the opening verses of Jeremiah, I came across the following in which God commanded the young prophet:

“Thou therefore gird up thy loins, and arise, and speak to them all that I command thee…” [Jer 1:17]

So I asked Mom, “What does gird up thy loins mean?” As I recall, she didn’t provide a full explanation, but simply replied, “It means to prepare for battle.” At the time that was enough for the nine-year-old me. I’m guessing it was a few more years before I even knew what loins were. Truthfully, I’m still a bit foggy about it today since loins rarely, if ever, find their way into everyday conversation. 

Anyway, the phrase was not restricted to the Old Testament. St. Paul, for example, used it when writing to the Ephesians:

“Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil…Stand therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the equipment of the gospel of peace; above all taking the shield of faith, with which you can quench all the flaming darts of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” [Eph 6:11,’14-17].

Here the Apostle, using a variety of military images, instructed those early Christians to prepare themselves for spiritual battle, armed defensively with truth, righteousness, the gospel of peace, and faith. St. Peter, addressing new Christians who were undergoing persecution and hardship, used similar language to encourage them in their faith:

“Therefore gird up your minds, be sober, set your hope upon the grace that is coming to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, be holy yourselves in all your conduct; since it is written, ‘You shall be holy, for I am holy’” [1 Pet 1:13-16].

Peter used only part of the “girding” metaphor, telling these Christians, “gird up your minds” and calling them to the holiness God wills for them. 

Until the other day, the last time I heard anyone use the phrase publicly was on April 17, 1970, when the Commanding Officer of our Navy helicopter squadron rose up from his ready room chair and gave some final instructions to the crews who would recover the Apollo 13 astronauts. Chuck Smiley looked out at us all and with a smile on his face said, “You’re all professionals, so I know you’ll do an outstanding job today, so let’s just gird our loins and do what the nation expects of us.” And we did. 

Why my current interest in all this loin-girding?  Because of something I read a few days ago in a news article. As you might have heard, the Los Angeles Dodgers invited a radical anti-Catholic hate group to the team’s June 16 Pride Night game. During the game the group will receive the team’s “Community Heroes” award. The group, calling themselves “The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence,” openly mocks the Catholic faith. The Dodgers invited this extremist trans group, but responding to strong criticism and complaints from Christian groups, the team dis-invited them. But then the leftist hate attacks began so the team re-invited them. 

Drag Trans "Sister of Perpetual Indulgence"

While the Archdiocese of Los Angeles issued a statement condemning this hateful decision by the Dodgers, perhaps the best response came from one of the more courageous of American bishops, Salvatore Cordileone, Archbishop of San Francisco. Archbishop Cordileone accused the Dodgers organization of worshiping “alternative gods” and then added:

“Our Catholic sisters devote themselves to serving others selflessly. Decent people would not mock and blaspheme them. So we now know what gods the Dodger admin worships. Open desecration and anti-Catholicism is not disqualifying. Disappointing, but not surprising. Gird your loins.”

Archbishop Cordileone

Don’t you just love it? “Gird your loins,” the archbishop tells his flock. Like St. Paul and St. Peter, he calls us to prepare for spiritual warfare; indeed, we are already in the midst of the war’s ongoing battles. Satan is pulling out all the stops in what will ultimately be his failing effort to destroy God’s Church. I expect this warfare to go on for quite some time, so it would be best to equip ourselves with that same defensive armor recommended by St. Paul: truth, righteousness, the gospel of peace, and faith. And to these let’s add our most effective offensive weapon: prayer.

Oh, and for all you Dodger's fans out there, I'd suggest switching allegiance to another team or just doing what I decided to do and just avoid Major League Baseball altogether. Or as we New Yorkers say: "Fugeddaboutit!"

Homily: Saturday, 6th Week of Easter

Readings: Acts 18:23-28; Ps 47; John 16:23b-28

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Back in my other life, in my consulting days, I was often asked to talk to industrial salespeople and sales managers. One thing I tried to instill in them was the need to focus on both the roadwork and the homework. On homework, I meant becoming true experts on their products and services, and equally important, learning everything they can about their customers. Only then will their roadwork bring dividends.

We see a little of that in our reading from Acts. Apollos, an evangelist from Alexandria, was an eloquent preacher but he was lacking in knowledge of the Christian faith. So, the married team of Priscilla and Aquila took him aside and spent some time teaching Him so he could proclaim the truth of the Gospel confidently. It’s a beautiful example of believers helping, supporting, and encouraging each other in the faith, helping one another to grow in the Lord.

As I thought about today's readings, I recalled a few of my own experiences teaching others, both successful and not so successful. 

About 20 years ago, shortly before we moved to Florida, I was asked to give a brief reflection to an ecumenical group in our Cape Cod town. It was during the Lenten season and the pastors of all the Christian churches thought it would be good to have a series of prayer meetings, open to anyone who cared to attend.

Anyway, my pastor volunteered me to represent our parish, and the Congregational minister who had organized everything, asked me to preach at the first of these weekly meetings. The topic he gave me was prayer...so, there I was preaching to a couple of hundred folks, mostly Protestants, from a half-dozen denominations.

At one point early in my talk, I asked the participants, “To whom do you pray?” Almost unanimously, they answered, “Jesus!” I had expected this, and I told them that praying to Our Lord Jesus Christ was certainly a good thing.

But then I went to the Gospel, and read a number of different passages where Jesus instructs His disciples on prayer. Of course, the most famous is the Lords’ Prayer, or as we Catholics often call it, The Our Father, echoing its first words:

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name…” [Mt 6:9]

I then turned to John’s Gospel and read the Word from today’s passage:

“Amen, amen, I say to you, whatever you ask the Father in my name he will give you” [Jn 16:23].

I followed this with another half-dozen passages from the Gospels and St. Paul’s letters, teaching us to pray to the Father, always in Jesus’ Name, and guided by the Holy Spirit.

All too often, though, we think we know what’s best for us, and so that’s what we pray for, as if we need to instruct God on what’s best for us. As St. Paul wrote, encouraging the Christians of Rome:

“…the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” [Rom 8:26].

I’ve always loved that explanation of Paul's. In effect the Holy Spirit is telling us, "You try, but you really don’t know what to pray for, or how to pray, so I’ll just handle it all for you, interceding for you with the Farther…but you must try. Go ahead and pray, perhaps repeating those words of Jesus, 'Thy will be done,' and I’ll fill in the blanks with my inexpressible groanings." Or as St. Paul said to the Ephesians, more succinctly, just “pray at all times in the Spirit” [Eph 6:18].

So, what does today’s Gospel passage, and the New Testament in general, teach us about prayer? Well, among other things, we learn that prayer should be Trinitarian: to the Father, in the Son’s Name, and through the workings of the Holy Spirit. We need only listen to the Eucharistic prayer at every Mass, a prayer addressed to the Father, through the Son – yes, “through Him, with Him, and in Him – and in the unity of the Holy Spirit.” Our prayer, then, has the pattern of the Trinity stamped on it.

As I said to that mixed congregation on Cape Cod, “Pray to Jesus if you like, but remember that any prayer to Jesus will always unite us with the Father through the love and power of the Holy Spirit.” Paul, once again, put it so much better:

“…you received a spirit of adoption, through which we cry, “Abba, Father!” The Spirit itself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God…” [Rom 8:15-16]

Yes, indeed, we are children of the Father…and how good is that!

 

Homily: Thursday, 21st Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 1 Cor 1:1-9 • Ps 145 • Mt 24:42-51

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Today we celebrate the memorials of two saints. The first is St. Louis -- or Louis IX, King of France -- one of the many great saints of the 13th century. He was also one of the few truly saintly kings, a man who cared much for his people's material and spiritual welfare. He also took an active part in the Crusades to reclaim Jerusalem and Our Lord's Tomb, a crusade that took his life.

The other saint we remember today is St. Joseph Calasanz, a saint of the 16th and 17th century who devoted his life to the education of the poor. 

We are truly blessed to to celebrate these saints today...now my homily.

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“Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ” [1 Cor 1:3].

Don’t you just love that greeting? Right there in the beginning of our reading from St. Paul. He extended it to the community of Christians, gathered together in that southern Greek city of Corinth. And what a wonderful greeting it was…really a blessing. Until now, I’ve never extended that greeting to anyone, but I think I might start using it, especially with those in spiritual need, which I guess includes all of us.

Yes…grace and peace, living signs of God’s love for us – that God wants to touch us with His grace so we can experience His peace. It’s really the only antidote, the only cure, to the anxieties and fears that plague us in this life.

How often are we truly at peace? We probably spend too much of our time regretting the things of the past or worrying about the unknowns of the future. Paul, like Jesus, is trying to get us to look at and act in the present.

“Stay awake!” Jesus commands us…certainly not yesterday, and not even tomorrow, but now! He always seems to draw our attention to the present. The past? It’s gone. We can’t change it. Oh, we can try to rewrite it, but that doesn’t change the reality. God is the only perfect historian, the only one who really knows all that has happened and why.

When Jesus addressed the past, it was usually in the sense of fulfillment, of something that had to happen to bring forth the present. As He read from the prophet Isaiah, what did He tell the people in the synagogue at Nazareth?

“Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing” [Lk 4:21].

Yes, it is the present, the fulfillment of the past, to which Jesus turns our attention.

He also warned us about our obsession with the future; for the future, too, is out of our hands. God is not only the perfect historian, but He’s also the only true futurist. We Christians often forget this. Like the disciples Jesus addressed, we make lots of plans, thinking we know what’s going to happen. How did Our Lord put it?

“You do not know on which day your Lord will come” [Mt 24:42].

He then tells them to “be prepared.” If you think about it, being prepared means doing what is necessary in the present. Being prepared isn’t planning; it’s doing.

Back in my consulting days, I often had to remind company executives that developing plans was certainly a necessary aspect of their work. But to bear fruit, their plans for the future must be translated into work carried out in an ongoing, continuous present. And it was work carried out not by them, but by their employees. If they ignore their employees, or belittle their work, they might as well ignore their customers too. The quality of the work accomplished in the present always determines the level of future success.

But as we prepare, Jesus tells us how to view the short-term future:

“Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself” [Mt 6:34].

Yes, it’s the present, the next step we take, that’s important. As hope-filled Christians, then, we must think of the present as a kind of emergency. In an emergency we don’t ponder the past or think about the future; we act!

But our Christian faith isn’t a business. We don’t need a business plan to achieve salvation. Salvation’s a gift. All we need is faith lived well, and the Presence of God in the Church and its sacramental life. We don’t need a marketing plan to evangelize. We need only trust in the Holy Spirit Who, as Our Lord promised, “will teach you at that moment what you should say” [Lk 12:12]. We need not advertise. We need only bear witness and manifest the fruit of God’s unconditional love as He moves in our lives, changing us, forming us, making us His own.

“Stay awake!” Jesus commands us.

But when you go to sleep, as you must, thank God for the present, the present of the next day that will greet you when you awaken.

God Turns All to Good

45 years ago, I was a Naval officer aboard a ship in the Philippines when I got the word that my mom was near death. The cancer she had battled for so long would finally take her. My commanding officer granted me emergency leave and I somehow managed to make it back to the states in near record time. The trip from halfway around the world involved a series of flights aboard several military and civilian aircraft. Arriving at Boston's Logan Airport, I was met by my dad and brother who drove me straight to the hospital in Hyannis on Cape Cod. 

My first look at Mom as I entered her room told me she wouldn't be with us much longer. Her words merely confirmed this. She looked up at me and said, "Okay, Lord, now I can die."

We spent some time together in prayer but at one point she said, "Dana, I've learned that everything is a gift. Even this horrid disease is a gift because it has taught me so much." 

Of course, as a 30-something Navy pilot, I didn't have a clue. How could she say that? A gift? No, this was a tragedy! Still in her sixties, she had suffered too much for far too long. I simply didn't understand what she meant and didn't try to grasp her meaning.

It took some time, actually a couple of decades, for her words to make sense to me. Sometimes that's how God works in our lives. He waits until we are properly disposed to understand His Word and then He reveals it to us in ways we can accept. In my case it came thanks to many others who, like Mom, were seriously ill and facing death. Their attitudes and words mirrored Mom's, forcing me to seek understanding. 

And then, one day, I read a letter by one of my favorite writers, Flannery O'Connor. Throughout her adult life, O'Connor had suffered from Lupis, a disease that would ultimately take her at the age of 39. Referring to her illness, O'Connor wrote these words to a friend:

"I have never been anywhere but sick. In a sense sickness is a place, a very instructive place, and it's always a place where there's no company, where nobody can follow. Sickness before death is a very appropriate thing and I think those who don't have it miss one of God's mercies." [The Habit of Being, p. 163]

"...one of God's mercies." One senses that O'Connor, too, realized all is a gift for those who strive to accept God's will for them. 

This morning I was reminded of this again. Listening to the news, we were told that Rush Limbaugh died a year ago today. As the news show briefly covered this anniversary of his death, they showed a video of Limbaugh, apparently just days before he died. Speaking to his nationwide audience, it seemed as if he were consoling them as he said:

"There's good in everything that happens, if you look for it."

Yes, indeed, we encounter many examples of people who came to realize and accept the goodness in so much the world considers bad. Of course, St. Paul said it best, didn't he?

"We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to His purpose" [Romans 8:28].

God's peace...

Homily: Conversion of St. Paul

Readings: Acts 22:3-16; Ps 117; Mk 16:15-18                          

The call to conversion by Jesus can come at the most inopportune times. Recall how Peter and Andrew, James and John were working hard at their profession as fishermen when Jesus showed up and called them away.

“Follow me and I’ll make you fishers of men” [Mk 1:17].

They probably didn’t have a clue about what this would mean for them, but they followed, nonetheless.

Then there was Matthew, the tax-collector. He had a sweet deal going, collecting taxes for the Romans, and pocketing plenty of cash for himself. But Jesus comes along and simply says, “Follow me!”, and Matthew drops everything [Mk 2:14].

Imagine what their friends and relatives thought. You’re doing what? With whom? And you’re leaving everything behind…your business, your family, everything?

Called by Jesus these practical, down-to-earth men willingly gave up everything for something they did not yet understand. Yes, Jesus wasn’t just some itinerant preacher. Obviously, there was something very different about Him, something beyond normal human experience.

Imagine, too, what the future apostles thought when John the Baptist pointed out Jesus to them: "Behold! The Lamb of God!" [Jn 1:29] Behold the sacrificial lamb, the one who will give His life for the world. Jesus was something more than special. He was, as Peter would later profess, “The Christ, the Son of the Living God!” [Mt 16:16]

But not everyone agreed. One was a young Jew named Saul. He was a Pharisee, a Jew of the tribe of Benjamin, a native of the cosmopolitan city of Tarsus in the region of Celicia in Asia Minor. As Paul later described it, Tarsus was “no mean city” [Acts 21:39].

Yes, indeed, Saul was no peasant. Paul’s family was apparently distinguished enough that the emperor had made them Roman citizens, a rare honor. And for his fellow Jews, he had the prestige of being schooled by the famous and learned Gamaliel.

As a Pharisee, now in Jerusalem, Saul had no patience for the new and dangerous sect that worshiped this Jesus of Nazareth as Messiah and Son of God. What a blasphemy! This Jesus could be only a false Messiah, for He had been crucified as a criminal, and had preached such foolishness as the brotherhood of Jew and Gentile.

Certain of himself and his mission, arrest warrants in hand, Saul was on his way to Damascus, 135 miles distant, to root out the followers of this Jesus and bring them back in chains for prosecution. But it is here, along this road to Damascus, that Jesus calls him. 

Knocked to the ground, blinded, overwhelmed by the voice of God, Saul is accused of persecuting Jesus Himself. But Jesus has plans for Saul. Renamed Paul, he is in God’s own words, “His chosen instrument.” This zealous Jew will now carry Jesus, the living and incarnate Word of God, to the world, to both Jew and Gentile.

Paul’s calling might have been exceptional in manner, but it was really no different from the calling of every Christian. For, just like Paul, we are all called to follow Jesus in holiness, to enter into an ongoing conversion; and like Paul it is our response that makes the difference. We are all called to the apostolate, to be apostles of Jesus Christ, to be the ones who are sent.

God’s voice comes to us all, that inner voice that brings both a calm acceptance and a restlessness to obey. It speaks to us in the words of the prophet, revealing all that God wants of us, dispelling uncertainty and fear, calling us to respond with our entire being.

Can we abandon ourselves, our autonomy? Can we accept that we too are called, we too are chosen to do, to give, to speak, to pass on to others all that He has given us, done for us? Can we make this our prayer? “What would you have me do, Lord? Tell me and I will do it.”

As Pope Paul VI preached: “…it becomes a need to hasten, to work, to do everything one can to spread the Kingdom of God, to save other souls, to save all souls."

Of course, God gives us a choice. But how did St. Paul put it?

“Christ Jesus has made me his own” [Phil 3:12].

That’s right, like Paul we belong to Jesus Christ now. To turn away from that would be foolishness indeed.

Homily: Saturday, 23rd Week in Ordinary Time (20th Anniversary of 9/11)

A few years ago, on one of my days as on-call hospital chaplain, I visited a patient who began the conversation by saying he belonged to no church, that he believed in God, but was pretty sure God didn’t care much about him.

That’s not the sort of thing you usually hear when visiting patients, so I asked him why he thought that. His answer was just as surprising…

“I’m 83 years old and I’ve done just about every bad thing you can imagine. And now they tell me I’m dying. I don’t know if there’s a heaven or a hell, but I’m pretty sure I’m not going to heaven.”

I smiled at him and asked, “Oh, so you’re a sinner?”

His response? “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Well, welcome to the club,” I told him. “a very exclusive club, one that includes us all.”

It was then I thought of what St. Paul wrote to Timothy, words from today's first reading:

“Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. Of these, I am the foremost” [1 Tim 1:15].

Sharing this with him, I told him he reminded me of St. Paul, a man who realized his sinfulness, but then came to understand that Jesus Christ entered the world, that He suffered and died to save him and every other sinner.

The two of us shared a lot that morning, including the fact that we each had a friend who died on 9/11.

Yes, we shared a lot, about sin, and repentance, and forgiveness, and redemption. And I think it changed us both. As we heard in our psalm:

“He raises up the lowly from the dust…” [Ps 113:7]

That’s how we all feel sometimes, isn't it? As if we’re enveloped in a cloud of dust, struggling to break through, hoping to see the light and find the truth.

But we can’t do it on our own. Only God can raise us up, out of the world’s dust. Like my hospital patient, sometimes it can take a lifetime to understand and accept that.

As I hope he discovered, it’s never too late to rebuild our house on the solid foundation of God’s mercy, God's love, and God's Word.

I thought of him, too, today as we call to mind tragic events of 20 years ago. And there’s so much to remember, isn’t there?

We pray for those who lost their lives, and for those they left behind.

We also pray for and thank those who gave their lives, who didn’t hesitate to enter selflessly into that cauldron, those scenes of destruction, to help -- those first responders who gave everything, and the 40 men and women on flight 93 who sacrificed their lives to save others.

Yes, indeed, although so many died in those clouds of dust in Manhattan, the Pentagon, and in a field in rural Pennsylvania, we believe they were raised up by the Lord.

In the first of His brief parables in today’s Gospel passage from Luke, Jesus tells the disciples:

“Every tree is known by its fruit…” [Lk 6:44]

There was certainly enough “rotten fruit” on that September 11, acts carried out by those whose hearts were filled with hatred.

But there was so much more “good fruit,” thanks to the goodness the world witnessed that day. How did Jesus put it?

“A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good…” [Lk 6:45]

There were so many hearts filled with goodness that day, so many who have given their lives in our defense since then, and so many today as well.

The other day, in an interview, a woman who lost her husband on 9/11 said, “And I pray, too, for the terrorists, because only God can change their hearts. We certainly haven't been able to do it with politics, diplomacy, or military might.”

Today, she, and I, and all of us look at our world and wonder if much has really changed in 20 years. Perhaps the answer lies in our hearts.

Do we honestly think we can bring about goodness in the world without God’s help?

No, only God can raise us up out of the dust. We can’t do it on our own.

Perhaps 3,000 years ago, the Psalmist said it well:

"Do not put your trust in princes, in mortals in whom there is no help. When their breath departs, they return to the earth, so that very day their plans perish. Happy are those whose help is in the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord their God [Ps 146:3-5].

Do we place our hope in the Lord, our God? Are we like those whom the Lord praised?

"I will show you what someone is like who comes to me, listens to my words, and acts on them” [Lk 6:47].

 God love you and God bless our nation.

Signs of the Times

Watching or reading the news these days can certainly be disheartening, but if we ignore what’s happening in our world we run the risk of allowing evil to overwhelm the good, at least temporarily. And, believe me, there is much evil in this world. Let me share a few — ten to be exact — reports I’ve stumbled across recently. In most instances the headlines say enough, but I’ll add a link to each so you can read the entire story should you want to dig more deeply into one or more of these reports.

Some of these articles report on palpable demonstrations of real evil, while others depict the weakness of those afraid to counter its more subtle manifestations. In all of them, however, we encounter a betrayal of Judeo-Christian values and a rejection of the Gospel. Behind many of these stories is a hatred of the Church, which Marxists have always believed to be its most “dangerous” enemy.

European Union Parliament Declares Abortion a Human Right

Nellis Air Force Base Hosts First-Ever Drag Queen Show: “Essential to the Morale, Readiness”

Religion Professors Argue Evangelical Christians Are White Racists Who “may end up killing us all”

Paris Archbishop Laments Attacks on Catholics Honoring City’s Martyrs

In the Safe Spaces on the Berkeley Campus, No Jews Allowed

Catholic Senator Tim Kaine Compares Catholic Teaching on Abortion to “Sharia Law”

Catholics in the Big-Tech Crosshairs: De Facto Online Censorship Raises Concerns

Satanists Buy Billboard Promoting Abortion as Religious Ritual, Citing “Abortions Save Lives”

In an Affront to its Namesake, the Tolkien Society Goes “Woke”

Congressman Ted Lieu Promotes Abortion, Tells Bishops “I dare you to deny me Communion”

…that’s it for now, but enough to show how evil has infiltrated so much of our society, indeed, our entire world. 

Because I’m a deacon some people seem to think I have all the answers, or at least some of them. Of course, I don’t, and like the rest of the faithful struggle to find my way to salvation. As St. Paul instructed the Philippians, “work out your salvation with fear and trembling” [Phil 2:12]. And that’s exactly where I am — just a servant overcome with awe, with fear of the Lord, and trembling over my own sinfulness. But still, I’m asked questions: 

As a Christian, how should I respond to the growing evil and hatred I see around me? 

Should I be politically active? 

What does God want us to do? 

What does He want me to do?

These, and similar questions, are asked by faithful Christians who want only to do what is right but are troubled by the conflicting words they hear and the signs they see emanating from politicians, clergy, academics, media people, and others, all competing for their attention, their allegiance…or their vote. My response? Turn to the Word of God and listen to what St. Paul told the Ephesians while he was imprisoned, “an ambassador in chains.”

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore take the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done it all, to stand. Stand therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the equipment of the gospel of peace; above all taking the shield of faith, with which you can quench all the flaming darts of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. Pray at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, and also for me, that utterance may be given me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains; that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak [Eph 6:10-20].

Did you happen to notice the warfare and military metaphors St. Paul used? They’re hard to miss. He knew the Church will always be engaged in battle against the powers of darkness, not a physical battle, at least not often, but a spiritual battle. 

In the beginning, though, the Risen Jesus didn’t send those first disciples into the fray unprepared: 

“...He enjoined them not to depart from Jerusalem, but to wait for the promise of the Father, which, He said, ‘you heard from me, for John baptized with water, but before many days you shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit’” [Acts 1:4-5]. 

Here Jesus acknowledged that their mission would not be an easy one, that the disciples must be well-armed for the battle, armed with spiritual weapons only the Holy Spirit can provide. Only then can we "stand against the wiles of the devil...and boldly...proclaim the mystery of the gospel." 

We must realize, though, to engage in this battle does not mean responding to hatred with hatred. St. John Paul II certainly recognized this. In his encyclical,  Evangelium vitae (The Gospel of Life), he showed he understood our struggles, reminding us that unlike the “culture of death,” Christianity is a love story. And St. Paul offers us even more specifics on how we should approach the fight:

"Do everything without grumbling or questioning, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine like lights in the world, as you hold on to the word of life, so that my boast for the day of Christ may be that I did not run in vain or labor in vain. But, even if I am poured out as a libation upon the sacrificial service of your faith, I rejoice and share my joy with all of you" [Phil 2:14-17].

Is this easy? Not at all. Do you and I really "shine like lights in the world" or do we sometimes try to hide from the powers of darkness? Just like the Apostles, we can't do it on our own. We, too, need the gifts of the Holy Spirit as we struggle to carry out God's will in our lives.