Homily: 5th Sunday of Lent (Year B)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thorns Protect the Rose

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Olive Tree in Gethsemane

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

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

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

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

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

“God made His Son perfect through suffering”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus speaks:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How many?

 

Homily: Tuesday, 11th Week in Ordinary Time

Note: I didn't preach this homily today. Our celebrant decided to preach instead, which is his prerogative. It's no big deal since I always have a homily ready whenever I assist at Mass as the deacon. Sometimes I'm asked to preach, and sometimes I'm not. Anyway, this unpreached homily follows:

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Readings: 2 Cor 8:1-9; Ps 146; Mt 5:43-48

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On Sunday, one of my sons posted a Father’s Day note on Facebook. He began with a bunch of nice words about me, and then he added: “He wasn’t perfect, and he never said he was, unless he was joking.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but it got me thinking of what Jesus told us in today’s Gospel passage from the Sermon on the Mount.

“So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect."

I suspect these words have made a lot of Christians suddenly pay attention and scratch their heads. Did He really mean that? How can we, these obviously imperfect beings, be perfect. Yes, indeed, Jesus sure can make life difficult, can’t He? 

Back when we were young and doing well in the world, a lot of us thought we were…well, if not perfect, at least pretty good. I remember the first time I realized I harbored some major imperfections – things that separated me from what God wanted for me. 

I was a Navy pilot during the war in Vietnam. At the time, I flew search and rescue helicopters. All I wanted to do was pickup American pilots who’d been shot down, and get them to safety. But at the time, the Communists of both North Vietnam and the Viet Cong were doing their very best to kill me. And here’s Jesus telling me to “love your enemies.” Let me tell you, that ain’t so easy when they’re shooting at you. Yes, they were an easy enemy to hate. But hating them troubled me because I knew what Jesus had commanded of us.

And so, one day I paid a visit to the Catholic chaplain and asked how we could reconcile loving our enemies with this conflict in which we were engaged. I’ll always remember that conversation. I won’t go into our rather lengthy discussion on the just war doctrine. That’s a subject for another time. But I will tell you what this young priest had to say about enemies and hatred and love and forgiveness.

He began by saying that if our enemies are those we hate, we have ceased being Christians. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we are to hate no one. But if our enemies are those who hate us, then we will always have enemies. After all, Jesus had many enemies because He did the Father’s will: He spoke the truth and He loved. He loved all, especially those despised by the world, and He spoke the truth even when it upset people.

Our enemies decide how they will treat us. We decide only to love them or hate them. Love and hate, then, are not emotions. They’re decisions. Jesus calls us to love regardless of the evil others do. And He calls to exclude no one from our love.

These are hard words for us, aren’t they? Hard indeed…until we come face to face with the Cross, and we hear His words:

“Father, forgive them, they know not what they do” [Lk 23:34].

There, on the Cross, we encounter Divine Mercy: God’s perfect love, a love that demands forgiveness. Forgiveness is the only thing we can do to those we are called to love. If we refuse to forgive, we refuse to love.

About 30 years ago I saw the movie, “Dead Man Walking” about a convicted killer named Robert Willie who'd been sentenced to death. Well, one person you won’t see in the movie is Debbie Morris, the one victim who miraculously survived her horrific ordeal at the hands of Willie. After Willie’s execution, she said, “Justice didn’t do a thing to heal me. Forgiveness did.”

Yes, it’s easy to hate and scream for justice, for man’s justice, but it never really brings healing, or the so-called "closure" the world promises. Only forgiveness does that. Only forgiveness heals.

Yes, we can defend ourselves from evil, but in defending ourselves we must not produce even greater evils. The world will never run out of objects for our hatred, especially today when enemies abound. How did Paul put it to the Corinthians:

“…test the genuineness of your love by your concern for others” [2 Cor 8:8].

After all, we were created in God’s image and likeness, so He really does call us to perfection, to live up to His expectations for us, to live up to that image and likeness. He calls each of us to view this life as a pilgrimage of love, one in which we seek out others, finding Jesus Christ in each person we meet, and letting them recognize Jesus in us.

Let God be the one who will judge His creations. We need only love and forgive. I’ve long thought this is what Jesus means when He commands us to “be perfect just as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

Homily: Monday, 12th Week in Ordinary Time

If you would like to view a video recording of this morning's Mass, click here: Monday, 12th Week in Ordinary Time.

The following is the text of my homily.

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Readings: 2 Kings 17:5-8,13-15; Ps 60; Mt 7:1-5 
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Back in high school, so many years ago, our chemistry teacher, Fr. McGowan (or was it Fr. Kane?…Well it was a long time ago) often begin chemistry class with a brief reading from the Sermon on the Mount.

I suppose, at first, we listened a little, but every day we listened a bit more…until finally we realized that Jesus was telling us to do a lot of things the world didn’t especially like. I’m sure it had a lasting effect on some of us, and others? Well, some reacted as many Christians still react to the Sermon on the Mount.

Oh, Jesus didn’t really mean all that…or…He was speaking allegorically…or Jesus was just exaggerating to make a point…and on and on we go…

Yes, we love to change Jesus’ words, to water them down, to qualify them. It makes us feel much better about our unwillingness to listen and obey. Instead of beginning with God’s Word, we begin with our own beliefs, and bend the Gospel to make it fit and support our particular agendas.

Consider today’s passage on judgment – it’s always made me feel more than a little uncomfortable. How often do I judge people? I can’t count the ways…and on such trivial things.

The driver who doesn’t notice the light’s turned green. 

The person in line at the supermarket who can’t seem to find her credit card.

The clerk in the department store who ignores me and continues his conversation with a coworker.

Yes, I judge them all. And who’s at the center of all these judgments? Why me, of course. I'm at the intersection; I'm in the checkout line; I'm waiting to be served. Of course, other judgments are not so trivial… 

The celebrity who flaunts a pornographic lifestyle, influencing millions of young people.

The Catholic politician who consistently and publicly opposes Church teaching.

The child abuser…the drug dealer…the terrorist…

Oh, I judge them all. Convict them. Condemn them. I watch the evening news, I read the newspaper, and I make judgments about others. Here, too, I place myself at the center. I decide if they merit forgiveness. I decide if there’s a reason for them to take up space in the world…in my world. And yet Jesus tells us:

“Stop judging that you may not be judged” [Mt 7:1]

Now, Jesus isn’t saying that if we stop judging others, they’ll stop judging us. Not at all. No, He’s telling us the only judgment that counts is God’s judgment. 

You see, when I judge others, I assume I’m the all-knowing, infallible judge. I try to make myself God. I suppose that’s the biggest beam in my eye.

We cannot define ourselves as judges and at the same time really believe in our deeper identity as sinners needing forgiveness and redemption. We go to confession, and say the right words, but do we believe what we say? Yes, sometimes we seem to be testing God, to see how far His forgiveness extends. 

Jesus had just told his listeners: 

“Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect” [Mt 5:48].

By refusing to judge others we allow God to teach us one of His perfections, that of mercy.

Refusing to judge doesn’t mean I abdicate my responsibility as a Christian. Far from it! Because where our neighbor is involved, we Christians can never be indifferent: We can judge, or we can forgive; we can exclude, or we can love. What other choices are there? 

In our humanity, we might object! 

I just want to do good. I want to help others overcome their faults. I want to heal others, to fix others, to go out into the world and contribute to its welfare.

Once again, the focus is on me, isn’t it? We judge and then we inject ourselves into others’ lives, assuming we possess God-like knowledge:

“Yes, I’m here to help. Let me remove the splinter from your eye, so you’ll be better, like me.”

We not only judge. We move right in don’t we? And we feel so good having helped – as a superior to an inferior, out of a pleasant sense of condescension – all the time forgetting that any real healing, any fixing, is done not by me, but by God. 

So, what’s the cure?

Quite simply, we must learn to serve one another as fellow patients afflicted with the same malady – the wounded helping the wounded.

We must learn to put on the mind of Christ, to see through the eyes of Christ, eyes that radiate love and forgiveness. Indeed, the greatest act of Christian charity is forgiveness.

But if I lead a life of forgiveness, as Christ did and taught, it’s not because of my own goodness; rather it’s because I am conscious of being continually forgiven by God. Instead of judging another, I can give thanks he or she is there to receive from me the pardon I’ve received from God.

The alternative? How did Jesus put it? 

“...the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you” [Mt 7:2].

Measure for measure…

God and Politics

I'm tired. I'm tired of the arguments, tired of defending the truth to people who should know better. Sometimes I just want to crawl into my tent, close the flap, and get away from it all. 

For example, the other day after Mass, a parishioner approached and, I guess, challenged me. I don't know why he came to me, but for some reason I was his target of opportunity.

"Religion and politics don't mix," he told me. "The Church should stay away from politics, and politicians should stay clear of religion." 

He had thrown down the gauntlet and I should have addressed the many errors in his statement, but the thought of another long argument...as I said, I'm tired. My reply? "I'm sure many people agree with you, but I'm not one of them. Maybe we can talk about it later, when I have the time." With that I turned and entered the safety of the sacristy, my tent.

As I removed my vestments I couldn't help but recall the words of St. Paul, who seems to delight in reminding me of my weaknesses:

"Do not grow slack in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, endure in affliction, persevere in prayer" [Rom 12:11-12].

In other words, "Keep going, pal. If you're not tired, you're probably not doing what you're called to do." And so I resolved to talk with that parishioner the next chance I get. 

Politics, of course, is just one of many human activities. It involves the how and why of governance, the practice of directing the affairs of human society, particularly public policy. 

Religion involves man's relationship with God, the Creator of all. And since that relationship must involve every aspect of human life, neither politics nor any other human activity can be divorced from religion. 

Some, of course, will wrongly argue that our Constitution's First Amendment is designed to do just that, to separate religion from politics. But that's not its intent. It merely tells citizens (and politicians) that the state may not favor one religious group over others by establishing a state religion. It also tells the state that it cannot prohibit its citizens from freely exercising their religious beliefs. Those who drafted our Constitution recognized the pervasive and beneficial role religion plays in regulating human activity, and sought to protect religion from those who would place unjust limitations on it.

Anyway, in the strange way my mind works, this got me thinking about World War One, and that brought to mind my Uncle Bill. He was my mother's half-brother -- I guess that makes him my half-uncle -- and was a Navy veteran of World War One. We will "celebrate" the 100th anniversary of that war's conclusion at 11 a.m. on November 11. The irony, of course, is that this "war to end all wars" and its aftermath brought us the even more devastating World War Two and all the other wars that followed. 

[By the way, if you're interested in a fascinating book about the end of World War One and the deadly and pointless fighting that continued right up to the final minute on that first Armistice Day, read Joseph Persico's fascinating book, Eleventh Month, Eleventh Day, Eleventh Hour.]

I was just a teenager when Uncle Bill died, but I remember him talking about WWI and his pride in having served. On one of our visits I recall him saying something to the effect that, "But the politicians sure made a mess of things afterwards. Maybe if they'd been more Christian…" And with those words, Uncle Bill beautifully summed up the mess the politicians made of the 20th century.  

"...if they'd been more Christian…" We suffer today because human powers decided to remove God from the political decisions that formed our modern world. God's Word was ruled out 100 years ago at Versailles. Instead of forgiveness, the ruling word was "revenge." The victors sought retaliation and reparations at any cost, and the world paid a high price indeed. The desperation of the Central Powers also sent Lenin's train to Russia, an act that ultimately cost far more innocent lives than the war itself.

I am not a pacifist. I accept that nations have a right to defend themselves from those who would attack them. I am well aware that sometimes just action can include the waging of war in order to prevent even greater evil. But when men try to repair a broken world by forgetting God and following only man's faulty wisdom, more brokenness inevitably follows.

But how many politicians actually take the Sermon on the Mount seriously? How many of us...?

"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you" [Mt 5:43-44]. 

I know of no nation that has integrated this mandate of Jesus into its foreign policy. Is that what Jesus wants? Can we 
love our enemies and still defend ourselves from them? Yes, I believe so. But loving them still places demands on us, the kind of demands ignored by the victors at Versailles. And note Jesus' other command: "...pray for those who persecute you." In other words, at some point we must bring God into the picture, for that's what prayer is intended to do.

We cannot expel God from politics, war, economics, or any other human activity. He simply won't let us, and will insert Himself as He wills. He is, after all, the Lord of History. But to include Him in all we do as a nation involves far more than an annual prayer breakfast at the Capitol or the occasional speech-ending "God Bless America."  No, it means struggling to be imitators of God, to live up to our creation in His image and likeness, to strive to do what is impossible for man.

"Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect."

Jesus concludes His teaching on loving our enemies with a  command impossible to obey, at least on our own: 

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

To strive for this perfection that God desires of us means we must turn to Him in all things, and that even includes politics. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to vote for a politician who was striving for the perfection of our heavenly Father?