Homily: 3rd Sunday of Advent - Year C

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, indeed, “What are we to do?”

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

“What are we to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Homily: 4th Sunday of Easter - Year B

Readings: Acts 4:8-12; Ps 118; 1 Jn 3:1-2; Jn 10:11-18

I’m going to tell you a story; and it’s a true story.

Back when I was flying off aircraft carriers, we pilots tended to hang out with each other when off duty. We’d talk about aviation, working on improving our skills -- you know, stayin’ alive. But we’d also talk about other stuff, especially over meals. We'd always been told that officers shouldn’t talk religion or politics in the wardroom. In truth, though, we often talked about these things; but we knew each other well and forgave our differences.

One of our squadron pilots, a friend named Bill, talked a lot about religion. I thought that was strange since at best he was agnostic. Anyway, it really bothered him that so many of us were believers, especially Christians. One evening, before one of those tiring night missions, several of us were probably on our fifth cup of coffee, when Bill started on his favorite rant.

“Just look at the universe,” he said. “It’s just too big to imagine with its billions of galaxies. Then we have earth, this tiny planet of ours, so infinitesimally insignificant, stuck in some little cosmic corner.

“Is there a God who made all this? Maybe so. I don't know. 

“But you Christians believe that this God who created everything, and maintains it all, that He decided to come down here to our nothing little planet, become one of us, tell us how to live, and then let us kill Him by nailing Him to a Cross.”

Then he said, “I’m sorry, but this is just beyond…as you would say, beyond belief.” Yes, indeed, Bill thought Christians were idiots. 

Now, I was just another pilot, but felt I had to say something in defense of our faith, so I just said, “Bill, do you love your wife?”

Well, that surprised him. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Do you love Marie?”

“Of course I do.”

“Yes, I’ve seen you together. I can tell you love her.  And you’d do anything for her, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I would.”

“Would you give your life for her?”

“Of course I would. Heck, I’d even give my life for you guys, though you don’t deserve it.”

“Yeah, we know that. You see, Bill, the God who created that great universe you described, also created you and me, and created us in His image and likeness. 

“He created us out of love and created us to love. And because of His love, you can love Marie.”

All Bill said was, “Well…maybe.” I guess I wasn't very convincing.

A few years later I received word that Bill had taken his own life. When we first heard the news one of my more fundamentalist friends said, “How sad that he’s now in hell.”

Well, that made me angry, and for a moment, I just stared at him in disbelief. Finally, I said, “You really think you’re God, don’t you? That you can decide who's saved or who or isn’t. But salvation is God’s business, not ours. All we can do is what Paul told the Philippians:

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

"Only God knows what Bill struggled with, what fears claimed him. Only God knows what was in his heart. All I know is God will look on Bill with love and mercy, for 'His mercy endures forever.'  Because that’s who our God is. And I know nothing else, nothing else for certain.”

I just walked away angry, which was stupid. I’d like to think I’d handle both situations differently today. 

Sisters and brothers, today on Good Shepherd Sunday, we celebrate God’s great love for us, and we do it despite the skepticism and disbelief of so many in the world, people like my friend Bill.

In John’s Gospel we hear Jesus clearly revealing who He is and how important we are to him.

“I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.”

Jesus doesn’t abandon us in the face of danger; no, He sacrifices Himself.

Just consider what it means for God to sacrifice His life for us. This divine sacrificial act has led some to ask: Is God of the Christians insane? Is He crazy? I suppose Bill thought that too.

But our Gid isn't crazy; no, our God is Love. His is a love, not simply beyond our capability, but it’s beyond our understanding. In St. Paul’s words, “He emptied himself” and became one of us to offer His life to save ours. And He did this solely out of love. Do you see the kind of God we have, this Good Shepherd who cares so much for us?

Then, to ensure we get the point, Jesus turns to us and tells us to love others as he has loved us, to be willing to give our lives for them, even for those the world says just aren’t worth it. Our love for God, Jesus tells us, must be mirrored in our love for others.

Remember that wonderful scene described in John’s Gospel when, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, the risen Jesus asks Peter three times:

“Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

…and each time Peter responds,

“Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

To the first yes, Jesus said “Feed my lambs”; to the second, “Tend my sheep”; and to the third, “Feed my sheep.” Your love for me, Jesus is telling Peter, will be evidenced by how well you tend my sheep, my people, those for whom I sacrificed my life to save.

But Jesus didn’t stop with Peter. He turns to all of us, all of us in the Body of Christ. He doesn’t say, “love me as I have loved you.” No, instead He commands, "love one another as I have loved you." 

In our first reading, we learned that our love for others must manifest God’s love, and the good that we do must be done in Jesus’ name. As Peter proclaimed:

“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."

It’s all Jesus Christ, in Jesus Christ, through Jesus Christ, and only Jesus Christ.

John presents this a bit differently in our 2^nd reading:

“See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are.”

Children of God… you and me… all of us:

• the poor in need of a meal or a place to sleep...they're God's children
• the Alzheimer’s patient in memory care...is a child of God
• the lonely, the depressed, whom nobody visits...a child of God
• the neighbor undergoing radiation and chemo-therapy...she's a child of God
• the prisoner locked away in his cell...yes, he too is a child of God
• the single mother struggling to make ends meet...a child of God

And, yes, many of us may be suffering as well, but that doesn’t mean we stop loving. 

For all of us, children of God, are brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ. We’re not strangers; for children of the same loving Father can’t be strangers. Brothers and sisters of our Lord, Jesus Christ, can’t be strangers.

Jesus calls us not simply to love others, but to see and hear Him in them, to realize that what we do for and to each other, we do to Him.

“I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’

I suppose at judgment we will judge ourselves by our response to this calling as children of God.

Years ago, Diane and I attended a papal audience in Rome, and heard Pope Benedict say:

“As a community, the Church must practice love…The Church cannot neglect the service of love any more than she can neglect the Sacraments and the Word.”

At every level, then — the universal Church, the diocese, the parish, the home – we must love. This is how the Church shows who she really is.

Outside a Catholic church in Syracuse, NY there’s a statue of a man seated on the sidewalk. I think there's a similar statue at Ave Maria University here in Florida. It’s a statue, a sculpture, of a beggar, wearing a hood, his face covered. His hand is stretched out toward those who walk by, much like the hand of the beggar reaching out to Peter in our reading from Acts. 

But if you look closely, you’ll notice a nail hole in that hand. Yes, it’s Our Lord, the risen Jesus bearing the wounds of His love; it’s the Jesus who humbled Himself to became like a slave, a beggar.

For those who pass by it’s a constant reminder to look beyond appearances and see Jesus in all who reach out to them.

And for you and me it’s a reminder that Christ has His hand stretched out to us right now.

God love you.

And please…pray for my friend, Bill, and for all those veterans who found their lives to hard to live.

Grief and Thanksgiving

Note: To respect the privacy of those involved, I have not used any names in this post.  

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On occasion we all get a bit down, thanks to little irritants that loom up and take on an importance far exceeding their reality. This is no virtue because, in truth, it’s more than a little selfish. Were Diane not so kind, she could tell you of my susceptibility to these episodes of self-centered grumpiness. But in my defense, I can honestly say they never last long and are soon overwhelmed by the joy of living each day God has given me. I suppose we’re all rather selfish critters until we step away from ourselves and focus on others and on the Other. The catalyst for this change, at least in extreme cases, often involves coming face to face with tragedy. When tragedy strikes close to us, the minor irritants of our lives become almost meaningless in light of another’s deep suffering.

This past Friday, I got a call from a local funeral director asking if I would conduct a brief service at the funeral home for a young man of 33 who had died just days before. The deceased’s wife would fly in that evening from the northeast with two of her husband’s friends. The funeral director hoped I could conduct the service early Saturday afternoon. My schedule was clear, so I agreed. When I asked for more information about the man, I was told he was involved in telecommunications, and that he and his wife had been married only six months. The couple were both immigrants from Belarus, as were the friends accompanying her. The funeral director then informed me the young man had committed suicide. He had hanged himself. Death at a young age is always tragic and death by suicide doubly so. 

I realized I had to speak with the young widow as soon as possible and was given her cell phone number. I managed to catch her on her way to the airport. She spoke excellent English which is good because my Belarusian is non-existent. We talked for only about 10 minutes because I could tell she was devastated and probably needed time with her friends. But she had told me enough about her husband so I could at least prepare the service and my homily. He was Catholic and she is Orthodox. “A kind and generous man,” she said, but a man also afflicted with addictions that plagued and depressed him. “But he truly loved God,” she added, “and I think he just wanted to escape his problems and be with Him.” 

When I arrived at the funeral home, his body was in an open casket in the chapel. His widow, a lovely young woman, was standing over him, stroking his head and sobbing almost uncontrollably. I approached her and quietly introduced myself. She simply thanked me for agreeing to be there, then hugged me long and hard. It reminded me of the hugs I used to receive from Diane when I returned from a long Navy cruise to the Western Pacific. I think she saw in me, this grandfather-like figure with a deacon’s cross around his neck, a faint connection to God, someone who could make some sense of everything. I could see her husband had been a strapping and handsome young man, and like his two friends, who spoke little English, was no stranger to hard work. As you might imagine, the scene was one of almost inescapable sorrow and I realized I had to inject it with a real sense of hope.

Too many Christians believe suicide is somehow irredeemable, always an insurmountable obstacle to salvation. I have never accepted this, and often argued with those who expressed such a merciless belief. I call it merciless, because it denies both the mercy and justice of our loving God. You and I can never know what lies deep within the heart of another, and to believe otherwise is to assume we possess divine knowledge. Suicide is not a normal response to life’s challenges, and too often is driven by any number of mental instabilities, including addictions. Full consent may not be present when one makes such an agonizing decision, especially when it is made precipitously. Is it sinful? Yes, of course. But so too are many other things you and I do on a daily basis. Divine Mercy cannot be limited by you and me. By trying to do so we turn ourselves into little false gods who actually believe we can know the mind and heart of our one, true God, and then demand He follow our lead when it comes to salvation. I’ve always taken hope knowing that God wills all to be saved. How did St. Paul put it?

“First of all, then, I ask that supplications, prayers, petitions, and thanksgivings be offered for everyone, for kings and all in authority, that we may lead a quiet and tranquil life in all devotion and dignity. This is good and pleasing to God our savior, who wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth. For there is one God. There is also one mediator between God and the human race, Christ Jesus, himself human, who gave himself as ransom for all” [1 Tim 2:1-6].

We don't make salvation decisions about others; we let God do that. Far better if you and I simply trust and pray for the souls of those who have gone before us.

Another serious side-effect of suicide is the presence of guilt that can overwhelm the survivors, especially spouses, parents, and even children. As I told this young man’s widow, if you are tempted to dwell on all you could have said or done differently, thinking that you might have prevented this tragedy, don’t go there; it’s not a good place. Such thoughts are never beneficial and only drive you to despair. I really believe Satan is the one who plants these thoughts in grieving hearts. I also told her, "If you should find yourself there, leave." As St. Paul instructed us, offer supplications, prayers, petitions, and thanksgivings. "Pray for the soul of your husband; thank God for the time you had with each other; and pray too for his parents and family in Belarus who are surely grieving with you." We will not know the answers to all of our questions until we are with God in heaven. It is so much better to spend our time here thanking Him. 

I really believe the best antidote for grief, and pain, and hardship is thanksgiving. I know I’ve posted this poem by Joyce Kilmer before, but I think it deserves another reading, especially today. Kilmer wrote it while in the trenches during World War One, not long before he was killed by a German sniper. He was 31 years old.

                Thanksgiving

The roar of the world is in my ears.
Thank God for the roar of the world!
Thank God for the mighty tide of fears
Against me always hurled!

Thank God for the bitter and ceaseless strife,
And the sting of His chastening rod!
Thank God for the stress and the pain of life,
And Oh, thank God for God!

Reflection: Exposition and Adoration (3/22/2023)

Readings for Today's Mass: Is 49:8-15; Jn 5:17-30

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I like to listen to radio preachers. Many are quite good, and I learn a lot from them. But some...well, they're burdened by different theologies. I suppose I learn a lot from them too.

The other day, driving to the National Cemetery in Bushnell, I happened to hear a radio preacher telling his listeners their sins would lead inevitably to God’s punishment. “Your sins will open wide the gates of hell,” he told us. Then he added, “and there’s not much you can do about it.”

My first reaction was, “Well if we can’t do anything about it, why are you even telling us?”

He later softened his message a bit and mentioned the need for repentance. But even then he didn’t sound very hopeful. By the time I arrived at the cemetery, I realized I’d been listening to him for close to 15 minutes and not once did he mention the Good News of Jesus Christ.

I wonder how many Christians think of God only in terms of judgment and punishment. I was surprised this preacher never mentioned the gift of God's grace. Maybe that came later, after I'd turned off the radio.

Anyway, he was right about judgment. Indeed, in today’s Gospel passage Jesus explicitly tells us the Father gave Him the power to exercise judgment. Yes, we will all be judged. But we’ll be judged by a God of mercy, a God of forgiveness, a God who gave His life for us, a God who gives us a lifetime in which to return to Him in repentance. What could be better than that? Do you see how good the Good News is?

This Good News, this Gospel, isn’t new to the New Testament, because it’s proclaimed throughout the Old Testament as well. The prophets, after all, were in the business of pointing exclusively to the Good News. Perhaps more accurately, often enough without knowing it, thanks to the Holy Spirit they pointed to one person: to Jesus Christ.

In today’s reading from Isaiah, can’t you hear the prophet preaching the Good News of Jesus Christ?

…as he tells the prisoners to “Come out!”

…and pleads with those in darkness to “Show yourselves!”

No longer shall you hunger and thirst, “For the LORD comforts his people and shows mercy to his afflicted.”

And our passage ends with some of the most comforting words in all of Scripture:

“Can a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you.”

Prophetic, consoling words…and so fitting today when so many are without tenderness for infants in the womb.

Yes, Isaiah preached the Good News 700 years before the Incarnation, and gave the world a taste of God’s love, of God’s forgiveness. Like John the Baptist, whom he foretold, Isaiah also walked in the wilderness to “prepare the way of the LORD!” – to prepare the way for Jesus Christ.

For it is Jesus, Who forgives the sins of the repentant.

Jesus, Who heals bodies and minds and souls.

Jesus, Who offers eternal life to those who believe.

Jesus, Who preaches this Good News to all.

Jesus, Who gives us His Church, the sacramental font of God’s grace.

Jesus, Who sends us the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, to guide us and teach us.

And He does it all out of love for the Father, and love for us.

Do we really hear and accept the Good News Jesus offers us? Or do we only pretend to hear, remaining closed to the Word of God because sharing it demands a changed heart? Maybe you and I, every day, need to ask Jesus to touch our hearts so we’ll be open to His Word.

And never doubt God’s love, but recall those words from Isaiah: "I will never forget you." – words intended to strike the heart, words we all long to hear from those who love us.

Today, as we move into these final days of Lent, let’s just keep this simple truth in mind: God will never forget me.

Carrying all the sorrows, worries, and fears that plague me, I will go to Calvary, realizing Jesus wants to share those burdens with me, and I will pray: "God will never forget me."

Knowing that my own death awaits, I will go to the Empty Tomb, and I will pray:  "God will never forget me."

I will take all my brokenness, my sinfulness, and yes, my hopes and joys, to God and pray "God will never forget me."

Then, filled with God’s love, maybe I can ask myself:

“Who is God asking me to ‘never forget?’"

 

Homily: 21st Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings: Is 66:18-21; Ps 117; Heb 12:5-7,11-13; Lk 13:22-30

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When Isaiah proclaimed the remarkable prophecy we heard in our first reading, the Jews of his time must have been shocked. From the time of Abraham, they’d seen themselves as God’s Chosen People; and indeed they were. But for what purpose were they chosen? They saw salvation as something only a few would experience, namely them. God’s heavenly banquet would be for a select few.

Then they hear Isaiah, a prophet, speaking in God’s name and telling them something very different. Isaiah describes a holy gathering where people of every nation of the world enter God’s house. God invites all; all are brought into His presence; all worship the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; and to all of them He reveals His glory.

But there’s more. God tells Isaiah: “Some of these I will take as priests and Levites.” And so, here in the depths of this Old Testament prophecy, we find Jesus Christ present; for it is Jesus who will institute a new priesthood, derived not from genealogy or inheritance, but from faith. It will be a priesthood that ministers to both Jew and Gentile, that takes the Word of God to the world, a priesthood founded by Christ Himself and made present through the apostles.

Isaiah is preparing God’s people to accept the truth that God desires salvation for all – a desire later fulfilled by Jesus when He instructs the apostles to announce the Good News:

“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…” [Mt 28:19-20]

Yes, this is the new heaven and new earth that Isaiah speaks of later in this same prophecy. And how it must have shaken those who heard it, who no doubt asked, if only to themselves, “Is salvation really for all these people?” Hundreds of years later, this same question is posed to Jesus in today’s Gospel passage: “Lord, will only a few people be saved?”

Why did this unnamed person ask it? Is he simply asking, “Hey, Jesus, what are the odds I’ll win the salvation lottery?” Or maybe, as a Jew he thought he had an inside track on salvation: he knew the Law, obeyed the rules, did all he was supposed to do as a sign of his justification.

When you think of it this way, you can almost hear the complacency in the question, can’t you? Or maybe he was complacent because he knew Jesus…that as a disciple he thought he had it made...had walked by Jesus’ side as He taught in the streets...had shared meals with Him. Wouldn’t this be enough? Whatever his reasons, I’m sure he was surprised when he didn’t get a simple Yes or No answer.

But it was really the wrong question. How many will be saved isn’t the important thing. The important question, the one you and I should really be concerned about is: “How can we be saved?” And this is the question Jesus answers.

You see, brothers and sisters, salvation is a gift. It’s nothing you or I can earn; rather it’s the result of Christ’s saving sacrifice on the Cross. Although everyone is invited to share in God’s Kingdom, accepting that invitation means obeying His call to repentance and struggling to do His Will. Thankfully, God’s ways are so very different from ours. His judgment and His mercy are perfect, but they are so different that we always question.

Some years ago, at a vigil service for a parishioner who had just died, his wife spoke to me about him. “He rarely went to Mass,” she said. “He fought in two wars, and encountered unspeakable things. He saw a lot of death, some of it he caused himself. I think he spent a lifetime trying unsuccessfully to come to grips with it all. I know he hadn’t gone to confession in years.” And then she asked me, “How will God judge him?”

It’s really the same question, isn’t it: “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” It seems to be a question we never cease asking.

About twenty years ago, I worked for a high-tech firm in New England. One morning a co-worker, one of our young salespeople, knowing I was deacon, asked if we could speak privately. She began to talk about her older brother. He was her hero, a bright, talented, seemingly happy young man who could do no wrong in her eyes. He had a good job with a major public relations firm, and even talked about starting his own business one day soon. He seemed to be doing so well. And then for reasons she could not understand he turned to hard drugs. He became addicted. Within months he’d lost his job and had even been arrested in some drug buying sting operation. Then tragically, the week before, he died of an overdose, which they suspect was intentional. “He was always so good, so kind, so helpful to everyone,” she said. And then she asked, “Will Mark spend eternity in hell?”

Once again, we hear it: “Lord, will only a few people be saved?”

How I answered isn’t important. How Jesus answered is. Jesus took this simple question and used it to teach us about salvation. Yes, the door is narrow and we can’t pin our hopes on being paid-up church-going people. And those words “depart from me” are a stark and chilling reminder that the stakes are high.

But God in His mercy calls us…again, and again, and again. Only He knows what’s in the human heart. Or as we heard in today’s 2nd reading from Hebrews: 

“…do not disdain the discipline of the Lord…for whom He disciplines, He loves” [Heb 12:5-6]

It’s no coincidence that the words discipline and disciple have the same Latin root: discere, to learn.

And so, when we ask that question – “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” – are we willing to accept His answer? We don’t fully understand this mystery of salvation, a salvation not limited by law, ritual, or our own expectations of who will or won’t be saved. There is no formula for salvation. Salvation is a gift from a God whose love is so expansive it includes the entire human family.

Our God respects our freedom, takes our decisions seriously, and accepts the consequences of our decisions, even when we choose to reject Him. But this same loving God has a heart overflowing with mercy and forgiveness, always offering us His healing grace.  Yes, we should do our part, but we shouldn't be too quick to condemn ourselves, and we certainly shouldn’t condemn others.

Maybe when we’re upset about the things we’re getting wrong, we can count ourselves among the 'last' of Luke's Gospel and I suppose that’s good. Maybe then we’re more likely to accept help, help from others, and God’s help and forgiveness.

You and I are far from perfect but when the time comes, I hope we’ll be pleasantly surprised to find ourselves in God’s presence…and perhaps also surprised by the others we’ll meet there, just as they’ll be surprised to see us.

We might well encounter that parishioner, plagued by his memories of those battlefields, who spent a life wrestling with his conscience and with God. Or the young man who in his last moments turned to His Savior in repentance and thankfulness for the offer of salvation.

Yes, brothers and sisters, the stakes are high, and I know the last thing I want to hear from God is, “Depart from me.” How much better to hear Him say, “'Well done, my good and faithful servant…Come, share your master’s joy.”

So, instead of judging others, those who seem so lost, whose lives are filled with pain, instead of judging them, let’s do as Jesus commanded and simply love them to salvation. And offer prayers for those who have gone before us, prayers that depart our time-plagued world and enter God’s eternity where their effects are beyond our imagining.

COVID-19 Bible Study Reflection #15: A Relationship of Love

In today’s reflection I hope to focus on several different but interrelated aspects of our relationship with God:

·  God’s limitless love for us, best expressed by the Incarnation

·  Our love for God, expressed by our obedience to His commandments

·  The manifestation of this loving relationship in how we love each other

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And so, let’s look first at God’s love for you, His love for me…

“…everyone who acknowledges me before others the Son of Man will acknowledge before the angels of God” [Lk 12:8].

Are you moved and filled with hope when you hear these wonderful words of Jesus? Could we hope for much more than to be acknowledged before the angels? What Good News this is – God’s promise of salvation and His call to evangelization.

And yet, sadly, I encounter so many people who, because of their sins, almost despair of achieving salvation. Among their mistakes, of course, is the idea that they, or indeed anyone, can achieve salvation. We can’t…not on our own. Salvation, like every other good thing, is a gift from God.

A few years ago, in his homily during Mass at St. Martha’s House, the Vatican guesthouse where he lives, Pope Francis said:

“One of the hardest things for all of us Christians to understand, is the gratuity of Jesus Christ’s salvation.”

In other words, because God’s love is so far beyond any human love we could ever experience, we find it hard to understand it, much less accept it. How can God love me in my sinfulness? I always seem to be falling instead of rising, always disappointing myself, always disappointing God.

Yes, we are called to obedience, to do as God has commanded us as a response to His gratuitous love. And yet because we are sinful, imperfect creatures, we often fail to live out our faith. We find ourselves, then, in the midst of a battle, but an internal, self-made, and unproductive battle.

The pope continued by suggesting how much better it would be if we would only focus on God’s great commandment:

“You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself” [Lk 10:27].

This is the commandment that saves. This is the love that truly reflects God’s gratuitous love for us. How did St. Peter put it?

“Above all, let your love for one another be intense, because love covers a multitude of sins” [1 Pt 4:8].

Do you and I believe the Lord saves us freely, that we have done nothing to merit salvation? I hope so, because it’s the truth, the Good News we’re called to take to others. This is the remarkable love, God’s love, we’re called to share with the world. And it’s through this sharing of God’s love that we can acknowledge Jesus Christ before others. Never forget what St. Paul wrote to Timothy:

“God our savior… wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth” [1 Tim 2:3-4].

Don’t place limits on God’s limitless love, but put aside your judgment of others, and instead do God’s work in the world by helping others “come to knowledge of the truth” which is Jesus Christ...

For He, and only He, is “the Way and the Truth and the Life” [Jn 14:6].

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Okay, we know that God loves us. But what does He expect of us?

Let’s turn first to the Letter to the Romans, the longest of St. Paul’s letters. In many respects it’s also the most important of his letters in that it touches on all the major themes of the Gospel. It’s really a treatise on the Good News of Jesus Christ.

"Paul, a slave of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel of God...to all the beloved of God in Rome...called to belong to Jesus Christ...called to be holy [Rom 1:1,6,7].

Romans begins with Paul describing himself as “a slave of Christ Jesus” [Rom 1:1]. Some folks find this a bit odd. After all, as baptized Christians, are we not adopted children of the Father? Doesn’t the Church teach that we’re sisters and brothers of Christ? And doesn’t Jesus call His disciples His friends?

Which, then, are we? Brother, sister, friend, or slave? Well, the only correct answer is “all of the above.”

Here is another wonderful paradox of our Christian faith. Yes, Paul is right: in a sense, we are slaves – servants called to do the will of God. But because we are also God’s children, and because Jesus calls us to be His friends, God doesn’t demand slavish obedience, an obedience of submission. He instead allows us to choose. We obey our God out of freedom, a freedom arising from our close relationship with Jesus. In a sense we are slaves living in freedom. I told you it was a paradox.

As Jesus’ friends, as His brothers and sisters, we want to do as He asks. We respond obediently just as a slave would, but we do so because we recognize God’s great love for us. In faith we know we are loved by the Father who brought us into being. We are loved by the Son who gave His life for our redemption. We are loved by the Spirit who guides us, inspires us, and leads us on our journey of faith. And in faith we return that love by trusting that God will call us to do only that which is good. In faith we accept that God knows best what’s good for us.

When I was a little guy, my parents bought me my first bicycle as a birthday gift. I could hardly wait to ride it, and so I got up early that next morning, climbed on that little bike and tried to ride it. A valiant attempt, but I immediately fell over onto the driveway and skinned a knee and elbow. I was horrified and embarrassed. I had failed to ride this wonderful thing for which I had waited so long.

My dad, who had witnessed this from the kitchen window, came outside and said: “Look, if you want to learn to ride your new bike, you’ll have to let me teach you. Will you do that?”

I had to think about it. I hated to admit I couldn’t do it on my own, but I really wanted to ride that bike. I wanted the freedom it offered, the ability to go wherever I wanted in our little town. And so, I buried my pride and turned myself over to my dad’s instruction.

An hour later I was pedaling up and down our street, about as happy as a six-year-old could possibly be. My father, too, was smiling, happy I had placed my trust in him and learned an important lesson.

That day I learned I couldn’t do everything myself, that first I had to learn and grow, to accept help. Paul teaches the Romans much the same thing by focusing on God’s call to each of us. 

In Paul’s words, he was “called to be an Apostle” [Rom 1:1] and was writing to those “called to belong to Jesus Christ” [Rom 1:6], to those “called to be holy” [Rom 1:7].

That’s our calling: “to belong to Jesus Christ” and “to be holy.” And Paul’s Letter to the Romans goes on to explain this call.

Jesus, then, calls us to follow Him, to deny ourselves, to take up our own cross, for only by doing so can we be His disciples. But that’s just the beginning, for we’re also called to “make disciples of all nations” [Mt 28:19].

Sounds like a tall order, doesn’t it? And so, how do we do it? 

Not by relying on our human strengths, not by thinking we can do it all ourselves, not by trying to fix things, or solve problems, or convince others to be just like you or just like me. Too often we try to force others, to argue them into discipleship. Believe me, it doesn’t work. I know because I’ve tried.

You see, making disciples is God’s work. Let God work through you, especially through your weaknesses. Most often it means simply being there when another is in need. It means seeing Jesus Christ in your spouse, in your children and grandchildren, in everyone you meet…and letting them see Jesus Christ in you.

Jesus calls us to love the unloved, to feed those who hunger and thirst for God’s presence in their lives. And He calls us to be that presence, to be God’s quiet, loving presence.

We are the called, brothers and sisters. This is our identity as Christians. This is the meaning of our lives. Let’s all try to live a life worthy of our calling.

Our loving relationship with God, then, must also extend to others.

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Jesus was always teaching, wasn’t He? And like any good teacher, He was always being questioned.

Even as a youth, as a twelve-year-old in the Temple, Jesus answered the questions of the wise. Luke tells us that “all who heard him were astounded at his understanding and his answers” [Lk 2:47]. Isn’t that remarkable? They, the Temple’s wise ones, were questioning Him!

And the questions continued right up to that final barrage Jesus received from Pilate, as He stood before him facing death. Even Pilate, the Roman Patrician who no doubt considered the Jews little more than rabble – even Pilate sought answers from this Jesus, this teacher whom he would soon judge under man's law. 

“Are you the King of the Jews?” [Jn 18:33]

“Where are you from?” [Jn 19:9]

“Do you not you know that I have…power to crucify you?” [Jn 19:10]

And, of course, that other question, sneered by Pilate, that first-century relativist: 

“What is truth?” [Jn 18:38]

Pilate should have asked, “Who is truth?”, because he was in the presence of “the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”

Almost everyone Jesus met asked Him questions. It’s as if, somehow, they all knew, if only subconsciously, who He really was. Those He encountered seemed to sense He was far more than just a teacher. What did the centurion say as he looked up at the crucified Jesus?

“Truly this was the Son of God” [Mt 27:54].

And then there was the scholar who approached Jesus and asked:

"Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" [Lk 10:25]

The scholar, of course, was testing Jesus. He knew the answer to his question because it was right there in the Word of God. And so, Jesus tests the tester with a question of His own:

“What is written in the Law? [Lk 10:26]

As expected, the scholar went directly to Scripture and provided the correct answer:

“You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself” [Lk 10:27].

But it’s not necessary to be a scholar to know God and what He expects of us. Indeed, just moments before Jesus had prayed to the Father:

“I give you praise, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike.” [Lk 10:21]

But not being very childlike, the scholar, hoping more to justify himself than to learn, asks Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” In His answer Jesus offers us a gift, the Parable of the Good Samaritan, a parable both scholar and childlike can understand: 

“A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho...” [Lk 10:30]

But what exactly did the Samaritan do? After all, he was a Samaritan, despised by the Jews, thought to be outside the Law. And yet, he obeys that Law, doesn’t he? Well, at the very least, he listened to his well-formed conscience and acted righteously. And this set him on the path to eternal life. Remember that original question: 

“Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” [Lk 10:25]

This is what Jesus' answer is all about. Three encountered the wounded man on the road, but only one of the three did anything to help. How did Jesus put it? “Many are called but few are chosen” [Mt 22:14]

And so today, let’s reflect on our own lives. Who are the wounded you and I encounter? The physically wounded? Or mentally wounded? Or spiritually wounded? Do we even recognize them in the busyness of our lives? Or perhaps we see them, but turn away, preferring not to be bothered. Anyway, someone else will take care of them.

Is this how we hope to inherit eternal life? As Christians we should know better. To inherit eternal life, we must come to know God in faith, to know Him as the Way, the Truth, and the Life. 

This knowing of God is really a knowledge of love. As John reminds us: to know the Truth that is God is to know God, who "is Love" [1 Jn. 4:16]. It always comes back to Love, doesn’t it? To love the Lord your God with all your being, and to love your neighbor as yourself.

How did Mother Teresa put it? "If you judge people, you have no time to love them." Yes, indeed, we spend so much time judging others, and so little time loving them.

St. James reminded us all of this when he wrote that "mercy triumphs over judgment" [Jas 2:13].

We should all thank God for that.