Homily: Monday 8th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Sir 17:20-29 • Psalm 32 • Mk 10:17-27
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Two more days...That's right, just tomorrow and then it's Ash Wednesday. I suppose the big question is: Are we ready?

I always think I'm ready. Look at me now. I spent the weekend on a deacons' retreat -- lots of prayer and contemplation, trying to step away from the confusions and busyness of my daily life and redirect my spiritual life. I came away all charged up for Lent, ready to follow through on all those promises, that repenting, that re-thinking, that conversion the Spirit asked of me.

But then I encounter the Gospel, a message I've encountered many time before, and yet it almost knocks me flat with its firm but unmistakably clear demands. 

Sometimes the Gospel shakes the very foundation of our world, turning everything we believe in upside down.

Sometimes it forces us to question the honesty and depth of our response to God's personal call, placing our lives in stark contrast to the lives we're called to lead. I know you heard it.

"It is easier for a camel to pass through a needle's eye than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God" [Mk 10-:25].

OK, maybe a little Jewish hyperbole, but like so many of Jesus' words, it's often misunderstood, misinterpreted and misapplied.

Some, trying to soften the metaphor and open Heaven's door a bit wider, claim the Needle's Eye was the name of a small gate in Jerusalem's walls. Maybe...but to focus on that misses the entire point of what Jesus tells us.

At the opposite extreme others assume wealth is the great disqualifier, that only the poor can enter the Kingdom of God. This, too, misses the point, and ignores Jesus' relationships with many who were far from poor.

Remember Zacchaeus, the tree-climbing tax collector in Jericho? "Lord, I give the poor half of my goods." Not all...but half. And still Jesus told him, "Today salvation has come to this house" [Lk 19:8-9].

And did Jesus tell His friends, Lazarus, Mary and Martha to dispossess themselves? Did He tell Nicodemus or Joseph of Arimathea that they were excluded from the kingdom because of their wealth?

Even John the Baptist, dressed in animal skins and eating only honey and locusts, told the crowd, "If you have two coats, give away...one" [Lk 3:11].

So is Jesus trying to confuse us? Or do His words betray a deeper meaning, something not so obvious when taken out of the context of His teaching?

What did his words mean to these 1st-century Jews? What exactly did He have in mind? And what does it all mean to us today?

It's little wonder the disciples were shocked by what they'd heard, for Jesus had just contradicted a powerful and long-standing Jewish tradition, in which wealth was seen as a sign of God's favor.

Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, were all wealthy men, blessed by God who enriched those He loved. 

\And hadn't Moses promised the Chosen People that if they obeyed God they'd prosper in a promised land where they'd lack nothing?

It's a common Old Testament tradition: if you feared God, if you loved Him, you'd be blessed with the good things of the earth.

Yes, you and I are astonished because we assume Jesus meant that entering God's Kingdom is hard, especially for the rich. 

But the disciples understood it as hard even for the rich, whom God has blessed. If even the rich, those whom God has blessed, cannot enter, then who indeed can be saved?

So when the rich young man approached and knelt before Jesus, the disciples were impressed. Wealthy, respectable, intelligent, self-assured -- a young man who'd been blameless keeping the Law.

Jesus, too, treated him affectionately. When asked, "Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life," Jesus didn't say, "Get rid of your wealth." No, instead he said, "Keep the commandments."

It is only when the man persists, saying in effect, "I've done that, but I want to do more," that Jesus looked on him with love. With love, just as he looks on you and me with love, even as He demands more of us.

Yes, Jesus loved him and in that love issued His unexpected and radical challenge:

"...one more thing you must do. Go and sell what you have and give to the poor; you will then have treasure in heaven. After that, come and follow me" [Mk 10:21].

The effect? 

"At these words, the man's face fell. He went away sad, for he had many possessions" [Mk 10:22].

He was so sure of himself, wasn't he? Brimming with confidence, pleased with his irreproachable life. He'd followed the rules, and done nothing wrong. Aware of his innocence before the Law, but unaware of his weakness before God. 

This day, for the first time, a great sacrifice was asked of him. But he lacked the heart for it. The peace that he sought was beyond his reach because he couldn't let go of his possessions. He saw the way, but feared the renunciation. And this fear, this failure to follow God's personal call, always produces sadness.

Jesus, of course, saw the weakness; as the Letter to the Hebrews put it: 

"Nothing is concealed from Him; all lies bare and exposed to the eyes of Him to whom we must render an account" [Heb 4:13].

What of this weakness? Was it the love of money and material possessions? Or a love of things over the love for others? Or something deeper?

Was it really that disordered, deep-seated self-love, a confused love that refuses to place God first, that will inevitably turn its back on Jesus. 

You see, Jesus doesn't fault the rich solely because of their wealth. No, His concern is for those of us who place anything ahead of God. Material things, in themselves, are good. The sin lies in excessive attachment, in trusting in them, in failing to realize that everything is a gift from God which must be shared for the good of others.

And that sin of attachment will cause you and me, like the young man in the Gospel, to turn our backs on God.

"I am the way, the truth, and the life" [Jn 14:6], Jesus tells us, and therefore nothing, absolutely nothing, should take precedence over Christ in my life, over His right to rule over my heart.Christ

What takes precedence in your life, in my life? Is it God's Will or like the young man, are we consumed by possessions or our financial worth?

Perhaps our lives center on a desire to be liked. But even human friendships, or a love for another, can manipulate us, strangle us, lead us away from God.

That which we place first in our lives - when it is not God - becomes a prison. Only when we place God first do we experience true freedom.

With that our material wealth or poverty matter little, for we are doing God's will, allowing Him to act in our lives. And with Him in charge, well...

"For men it is impossible, but not for God. All things are possible for God" [Mk 17:27].

God is calling each of us, brothers and sisters, and He never stops calling. Just as I am sure he never stopped calling the rich, young man. What did we read in Sirach earlier?

"How great the mercy of the Lord, his forgiveness of those who return to him!" [Sir 17:29]

Yes, indeed, in return for our response, for our submission to His Will, He promises a different kind of wealth, a treasure far greater than we can imagine.

But only arms that are empty of self can stretch out to receive that gift...just as Jesus did when He emptied Himself giving everything on the Cross.

Infanticide

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you..." [Jer 1:5]

My, oh my...I think the Senate Democrats have, with their latest vote, finally crossed a bridge that will collapse behind them. Truly a "bridge too far" from which there's no real return. They have fully embraced the culture of death in what has to be the most vile vote in the history of the United State Senate.

Three courageous Democrats, but only three  — Senators Robert Casey (PA), Joe Manchin (WV) and Doug Jones (AL) — joined all Republicans present in supporting a bill authored by Senator Ben Sasse (R-NB). The bill would have protected the lives of babies born alive after a botched abortion. Unbelievably, those 44 Democrats decided that these babies should be murdered by the abortionist if they happen to survive the procedure. (The bill needed 60 votes to pass.)

Of course these murderous 44 Senators have only echoed their fellow Democrats in New York, Virginia, Vermont, and other states. The Democrat Party, with just a very few exceptions, has now climbed aboard the infanticide bandwagon that will continue to crush the lives of our most innocent citizens under its wheels. 

Between now and the 2020 elections, this vote must be shouted from the rooftops. No one who voted against this bill should remain in the United States Senate. 

Pray for them, but vote against them.

Video: Homily 7th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

The wonderful Audio-Video folks of our parish recorded a video of the homily I preached this past Sunday. I have embedded the video below for those who would rather listen than read. The text is available here. 

Homily: 7th Sunday in Ordinary Time - Year C

Readings: 1 Sam 26:2,7-9,12-13,22-23; Ps 19; 1Cor 15:47-49; Lk 6:27-38
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Here we are, just 10 days before Lent and through today's readings the Church offers us a beautiful pre-Lenten message. So maybe that's what we should focus on today: preparing our minds and hearts for Lent.

Most of us think of Lent as a time of sacrifice and self-denial - nothing drastic mind you, just small personal sacrifices... things like giving up dessert or putting a little extra in the collection basket, or maybe praying the Stations of the Cross on the occasional Friday.

Now don't get me wrong. Prayer, fasting, and sacrifice are good things, and given the growth of our parish, I know Fr. Peter will appreciate a few extra dollars. As the Church has always taught, Lent is a time for prayer, fasting, and alms giving. But these are not ends in themselves; rather, they are the means by which we draw closer to God and carry out His will in our lives. I think we sometimes get so caught up in the "things" of Lent, we forget why we are called to do them. 

Lent is really about conversion, about change. It's about interior change, change in here, in the heart, the same kind of change we hear from Jesus in today's Gospel.

How did Jesus begin?

"...love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you" [Lk 6:27-28].

Pretty hard stuff, isn't it?

"Love your enemies..."

I don't know about you, but for me these commands of Jesus are among the most difficult to follow. They just seem so counterintuitive, don't they? So un-human, which of course they are...because they are divine.

Some years ago, I caught a news story about a woman who was to be executed for her role in a brutal murder. She'd been on death row for years and during that time had experienced a deep conversion to Christianity.

During an interview, a daughter of the victim hoped to witness the execution.

"I want to watch her die," she said, "just as she watched my father die. I'm a Christian but some things just can't be forgiven. I hope she rots in hell."

Wow! I can understand her anger, but found myself praying more for her than for the murderer - a murderer who went to her death repentant, at peace, asking only for God's mercy and the forgiveness of those who suffered because of her sins.

"I want to watch her die..."

How did Jesus put it? 

"Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful" [Lk 6:36].

So often we think we can defeat the world's evils on our own, but of course we can't.

Certainly not through politics. Politics, the art of the compromise, must, therefore, always be imperfect.

Certainly not through man's justice, since we so often mistake revenge for justice.

And despite the courage of those who defend us, the application of power never seems to change things.

We live in a world in which the Prince of Lies employs his agents to kill babies, shatter families, corrupt priests (and deacons), and mock the Church.

Only one thing can overcome the evil of the world...only mercy.

As Jesus reminds us, mercy and forgiveness are divine; unattainable without God's help. And yet He commands that we imitate the perfection of Father: to be as merciful, forgiving, and loving as the Father.

How can we do this? We can't. For we can't save ourselves. We must turn to God in total humility. 

We are called to serve each other; but to serve another, to love another as God loves demands humility. I must lower myself and place the other higher. Only then can I see the other as he or she truly is: as a child of God who was loved into existence. 

As St. Peter instructed his fellow Christians: "...clothe yourselves with humility" [1 Pt 5:5].

For most of us, this calls for some pretty drastic change.

And that's what Lent's all about. You see, Lent really is about giving up something. It's about giving up yesterday, all of our yesterdays, the yesterdays of selfishness, sin, and death for the today of life. 

To change is to repent. But repentance means so much more than simply being sorry for our sins. Repentance is to turn around, to change direction, to re-think our lives. And in repentance I must turn more and more completely to a living Christ.

As St. Paul reminded us in our second reading, "we must bear the likeness of the heavenly one" [1 Cor 15:49], the new Adam, Jesus Christ who gave up the glory of His yesterday and in an act of divine humility chose the Cross.

He did that for you and He did that for me. That's right...He chose that Cross for you. That's how much He loves you. And if you were the only person in the world, He would have done the same thing.

That's how much He loves you.

We can easily give up a percentage or two of body fat, or an evening at our favorite restaurant, or, perish the thought, even a round of golf, but can you and I give up our yesterdays?

Can we refuse to be imprisoned by our pasts? And, believe me, the habits and sins of the past are all the more deadly because they are so damned comfortable...and, yes, I say that because they can be damning.

Can I give up that consuming concentration on the self where my days and nights revolve around me, around my delights, my worries, my frustrations, my fears, my needs, my wants?

If yesterday is sin, than today must be love. For love alone is the solution to sin.

If yesterday is the prison of sin, today is the freedom of the risen Christ. If you want to repent, then taste the freedom of God's love.

Open yourself to God in free obedience, open yourself to others in uncompelled love. This is no soap-opera love, not something out of a country-western song, but a love that keeps all God's commandments.

It's a love not crushed by the crosses we sometimes must bear.

It's a love that dies for another, a love stronger than death.

Such is the love of Jesus, the sacrificial Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.

Lent, you see, looks forward to the Easter miracle, prepares us for the Risen Christ, the living Christ who remains among us.

Do you believe that?

Do you believe that Christ is alive, more gloriously alive today than when he walked the rugged roads of Galilee and Judea and Samaria?

Do you believe that with the risen Christ death no longer has power over you, that when it comes it will hold you for only the briefest moment?

Do you believe that through Jesus Christ you will cast off death and rise to an eternal life beyond your wildest dreams?

Do you believe that as a baptized Christian you are already risen with Christ, because His life courses through you like another bloodstream?

Do you believe you don't have to go searching for God, because His Holy Spirit is already right here within you? He came to you first in Baptism and comes to you again and again through the sacraments.

If you believe all this, then Lent will indeed be life for you.

If you believe all this, when you are sent into the world at the end of today's Mass, when you hear those words, "Go in peace, and glorify the Lord by your life," you'll know exactly what to do.

You will love your enemies.

You will do good to those who hate you.

You will bless those who curse you.

You will pray for those who mistreat you.

You will feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger and visit and comfort the sick.

You'll do all those things, because that's what Jesus wants you to do...and He wants you to do them today, and tomorrow, and every day.

Quite simply He wants you to love God and love one another.

He calls you to "be merciful just as your Father is merciful."

Try that for Lent.

Morning Thought

I'm an early riser. I enjoy the pre-dawn stillness here in our Florida retirement community. For me, noise has become a mind-numbing distraction and my aging brain seems to function best in the silence of these early hours. I need the quiet to think and to pray. There is, however, one exception. For some unknown reason, classical music, specifically the baroque, soothes my mind and animates my thoughts. Many of my best ideas germinate during a Bach fugue and mature thanks to a Vivaldi violin concerto. Of course, these days, unless I write them down, most of these great thoughts disappear within minutes. Too often I am left only with the not-so-great.

This morning, for example, I read about a professor, enjoying his tenure at some prestigious university, who attributed all the world's ills to a group he labeled, dead white males. Now, as a future representative of this subset of humanity, I took this attack personally. I see no need to present a counter argument since one can easily refute the professor's attack by a quick scan of the history and culture of Western civilization. But then I realized this academic was interested in neither history nor culture. No, indeed, he was trying to make me, along with all other white males, both dead and alive, regret our very identity. He wanted me to apologize, not for what I have said or done, but for who I am. And this I will not do.

Now don't get me wrong. I am not proud of my white maleness. How can I take pride in that over which I have no control? Anyway, pride is highly overrated and if you don't believe me, just read chapter three of the Book of Genesis. No, I consider my race and my sex to be gifts from God. And because they are gifts, I thank God for them. Every human being should do the same. If you are a black female or an Asian male, just thank God every day for these wonderful gifts that form a part, but only a part, of your uniqueness. 

Bigotry in the form of racism and sexism exist when God  is forgotten. When we attack others because of their God-given identity, we also attack God who created each one of us in His image and likeness. 

This is also why so-called transsexuality is morally wrong. To try to change one's sex is to reject one of God's most precious gifts. It becomes just another vain attempt to "be like God" [Gen 3:5] and we all know what happened the first time a man and a woman tried to do that. Also, our very DNA prohibits any real change in sex. People might call themselves whatever they want, but their sex remains locked in their DNA. It remains God's gift, even if we try to reject it.

God commands you and me to love Him with all our being and to love each other as we love ourselves. Do you love yourself as God made you? You should, because it is a beautiful gift, the gift of life itself. And if you don't, you will not only despise yourself, but also others. So many today do not love themselves. Because they reject the gift of their own being, they have no problem rejecting the gifts that mark the identity of others. 

Pray for all those torn by inner confusion, for those unaware of the wonder of God's gifts. Yes, indeed, "Being is good."

And now I think it's time for a Handel concerto grosso.

Homily: Wednesday 6th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Gn 8:6-13, 20-22• Psalm 116 • Mk 8:22-26
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I can't speak for anyone else, but my conversion has been a long, often painful process, one that's still ongoing. It certainly wasn't instantaneous. I didn't have a Road to Damascus experience like St. Paul. 

But God does appear to me. He appears to me again and again. He does so through the others He sends into my life. Some are called and tell me so. Not long ago one person said to me, "I was praying and God told me to come to you about this." And it's usually something about which I haven't a clue. How do I deal with that? I don't. I just turn it over to God and ask Him what to do.

But most of those He sends me are just there. They appear in my life and they have a need. I'd like to say that I'm always ready to do what I can to help, but that would be a lie. Sometimes I turn away. Sometimes I make excuses. Sometimes I give a half-hearted response or send them to someone else. And, yes, sometimes I actually turn to God and ask for His help.

Faith for me has been a journey, a process, a long process, probably much longer than the Lord would like. And I suspect that's true for most people.

This is one reason why the saints sometimes discourage me more than they encourage me. Their holiness just seems impossible to imitate. Examining their lives we see what we are called to become, but we don't really see how to get there. That's why I like it when I come across one of those slightly more scruffy saints. You know what I mean, a saint with a past, one who led a sinful life before responding to God's grace.

St. Augustine is the first to come to mind. For a good part of his life he was far from saintly, but he went on to become one of the greatest saints in the early Church. Saints like Augustine give us hope and a glimpse of the mercy of God. They show us a loving God working patiently on intractable material. They show us the path, not just the destination.

Our readings give us a glimpse of the same thing. Several of the early Church fathers describe the passage in today's first reading as a process of worldwide purification or conversion. Noah and his family were brought to a safe haven because they obeyed God's will; they found salvation through a process that took both time, effort, and total trust.

Now this becomes even more apparent in the Gospel passage we just heard. Mark tells only two stories of Jesus restoring the sight of blind men. The first is the blind man in today's reading; the other is Bartimaeus [See Mk 10:46-52].

I've always thought that Mark wants us to see these two blind men as metaphors for the Christian community.  The man from Bethsaida in today's reading stands for the condition of most Christians, while Bartimaeus stands for where Mark would like us to be.

He Laid His Hands on Him

The man from Bethsaida comes across as hard to convert. At first he's only half-healed by Jesus. Compare him to Bartimaeus, who jumps up, runs to Jesus when called, and is healed instantly.

And yet, I find myself more sympathetic to the slow healer, the reluctant blind man who regains his sight slowly over time. Notice what Jesus does with him. First He pulls him away from the others, the skeptics, the curious, from those who might hinder his journey to faith. He needs to be alone with Jesus, up-close-and-personal with God.

Jesus leads him outside the village, for in the village - the place he came from - there is blindness, spiritual blindness. Jesus then begins the cure using what is almost a sacramental rite. He puts spittle on the man's eyes and lays his hands on him. And just as sacramental grace acts in our hearts and souls, the man's sight is then restored in stages as he responds to Jesus' healing touch. Jesus lays hands on the man twice with Mark recording this remarkable miracle in three short phrases: He looked intently and was restored, and saw everything clearly.

Jesus Alone with the Blind Man

Yes, brothers and sisters, that's what true conversion does: it lets us see everything clearly. And because conversion never ceases, Jesus sent him home with a warning to avoid the village, the place of spiritual blindness, the home of those who thrive only in darkness.

St. Jerome in the Desert (Da Vinci)

St. Jerome, the great Scriptural scholar and Father of the Early Church, explains the spiritual significance of this healing for us:  

"Christ laid his hands upon his eyes that he might see all things clearly, so through visible things he might understand things invisible, which the eye has not seen, that after the film of sin is removed, he might clearly behold the state of his soul with the eye of a clean heart."

We are, then, left to consider the spiritual blindness in our own lives, the blindness that obstructs our vision preventing us from following Jesus. What's keeping you and me from being the true disciple Jesus seeks?

Allow the Lord to lay hands on you, to touch you with his grace and power that you may walk in the light of his redeeming truth and love. 

Homily: Monday, 6th Week in Ordianry Time

Readings: Gn 4:1-15, 25 • Ps 50 • Mk 8:11-13
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Some years ago, in another parish, I was teaching a course on Church History when a man began to attack the Church for its teaching on the Eucharist. It seems he left the Church years before and became affiliated with a fundamentalist sect that considered the Eucharist a form of idol worship.

I took a deep breath, said a silent prayer, and surprisingly, I actually kept my cool. I then turned to Sacred Scripture and read what it revealed about the Eucharist. But this simply infuriated him. He didn't even try to counter my Scriptural arguments, but instead began to attack me personally.

Finally, I suggested that since we were in total disagreement, it might be best if we moved on. But his attacks continued, so I just told the class to take a break. When we reconvened he was gone. Reading today's Gospel passage from Mark, I found myself recalling that encounter from almost 30 years ago.

I often call Mark the Sergeant Joe Friday of the Gospels: "Just the facts, Ma'am." (You must be over 60 to recognize that allusion.) Yes, Mark lays it out there in simple, straightforward language, just as he does here: 

"The Pharisees came, and began to argue with Him..." [Mk 8:11]

You see, the Pharisees can't stand the fact that Jesus attracts so many - actually that the people follow Jesus and not them. They are so obsessed with Jesus, that they can't help themselves. They argue with Him, attack Him, and even try to test Him.

They ask Him for a sign from heaven, but of course, that's the last thing they either want or expect. If they actually thought He might be the Messiah, or even a prophet, they'd never dare to test Him, for to do so would be to test God Himself. In truth, the greatest sign from heaven is standing right before them, but they are too blind, too proud, to recognize it.

The Pharisees Argue with Jesus, and Demand a Sign

They consider Jesus a nobody, perhaps a clever nobody, but a nobody nevertheless. What they really want is to make Jesus do their bidding, and so they demand He do what they ask.

How often do we do the same? How often do we try to force our will on the Lord, and by doing so show we grasp nothing of God's will? Yes, indeed, instead of "Thy will be done," our prayer becomes my will be done. Because I'm so self-absorbed, I know only my will, and I know exactly what I want from God.

Ironic, isn't it? In my need, I finally come to the point where I accept my weakness, that I can do nothing. But instead of humbly opening myself to the Lord's will, I test Him, demanding He do what I can't do, and to do it in obedience to my will.

Brothers and sisters, in faith we cannot test the Lord, and certainly not in humility. To test the Lord is to imitate the Pharisees, to raise ourselves above Him. Instead we must be ever willing to receive the Lord's will in our lives, and to receive it gratefully even when it seems so contrary to our own will.

Mark often reveals the most human side of Jesus, and today's passage offers a perfect example.

"He sighed deeply in His Spirit" [Mk 8:12].

...a most human sigh from deep within Jesus. 

How the Pharisees must have tired Him, exasperated Him in their foolish pride, their hypocrisy, their spiritual blindness. Standing in their midst, He must be thinking, "These men are the teachers of Israel? I'm surprised any faith remains in the land."

He knew there would be no conversion that day, no belief, and that argument was futile. As Cardinal Newman once wrote: 

"It is as absurd to argue men, as to torture them, into believing."

And so Jesus refuses the Pharisees' demands:

"...no sign will be given to this generation" [Mk 8:12].

Now, Jesus gave many signs. Indeed, John in his Gospel, describes Jesus' miracles as signs, as works of God that point to even greater revelations. But Jesus' signs are always in response to faith or for a deepening of faith, but never for a purpose that wants to show itself stronger than the Lord's will.

When Jesus expresses and reveals the will of the Father, there is only a Yes or a No. And in this instance the Pharisees are refused.

"And He left them..." [Mk 8:13].

There will be no sign, no miracle. The Pharisees are left to stand alone and silent, unable to refute Jesus, the Word of God, or to disprove the miraculous.

Jesus leaves them not to make Himself seem important as the Pharisees want to be important. 

He left them and Joined the Disciples

No, He just leaves and joins His disciples in the boat. He does this to increase the disciples' faith and to glorify the Father; to teach them that there are things that demand an absolute No. They also learn that sometimes it is best to walk away and let the Spirit do His work. 

Let us remember that as well. Our prayer should never be a test of the Lord. Instead, today let's ask our loving Father to show us His will and keep us always in His love. We need no more.

Humble Service

A few weeks ago a parishioner approached me for help. She is a member of a wonderful apostolate, the Marian Servants of the Word Incarnate. They live by a Rule of Life that includes prayer, holiness, obedience and service. She would be giving a presentation on the topic of humble service and asked me to recommend books, etc.

As it turned out I decided to offer her a few of my own thoughts on the subject and then, perhaps, search my library for any appropriate books. Due to the press of other obligations, I never got around to looking for the books, but I did manage to pass along those thoughts, which I have included below.

I began by apologizing for the random nature of my thoughts and the lack of a logical progression of ideas, as well as any errors and typos...It was all done in a rush. I've made a few minor changes (and corrections) to what I wrote originally, but the substance remains.
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Humility and Service

As a deacon, I'm very much focused on service, or at least I’m supposed to be, since service is at the very core of our calling as deacons. The words "deacon" and "diaconate" both stem from the Greek word for servant: diaconia. And so this is what we deacons are called to be: quite simply, servants. 

It all harkens back to the first seven deacons who were called to serve at table in the early Church (see Acts 6:1-7). Indeed, this is what led me many years ago to begin serving at the soup kitchen. It just seemed like the normal thing for a deacon to do. And, of course, Diane volunteered to be the Thursday cook, so I really had little choice. If you continue reading Acts 6 and the following chapters you’ll notice that St. Stephen and his brother deacons did far more than wait on tables, but it was all done in a spirit of deep humility.

By the way, most of my service as a deacon was initiated by Diane. For example, she also “volunteered” me to join with her as a hospital chaplain team. And it was her interest in the Bible, founded in her Baptist roots, that led me to consider starting our parish’s Bible Study program. Letting God call us through others can also be humbling and a key element of service.

Indeed, true service can be done only in humility, otherwise it simply isn't service. I can be only humble or prideful; there’s really no in-between. If I try to serve another, but do so in pride, I am really only serving myself, building up my "self-image" as today's psychologist might say. 

For example, the Wildwood Soup Kitchen is a true ecumenical ministry, with volunteers from over 30 churches, plus a synagogue, all helping out as we prepare and serve 300 meals every day. On occasion I ask some of these volunteers why they are there. The responses are varied and interesting:

“It makes me feel good.”

“I like helping others.”

“It’s my way of repaying for all I’ve been given.”

…and many more similar answers. There’s nothing “wrong" with these motives, but they aren’t centered on humble service. Sometimes I’m told, "Because Jesus commands it,” and I suppose that's a better reason. 

But to really serve another completely, I must lower myself and place the other higher. Only then can I see the other as he or she truly is, as a child of God who was loved into existence by the creative Word of God. Jesus, of course, gave us the recipe for this when He said:

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me” [Mt 25:35-36].

If we see everyone we serve as our Lord, Jesus Christ, then we can be nothing but humble. And we must believe this in our hearts, accepting that God's love extends to all. Failure to accept this is perhaps the greatest obstacle to carrying out the kind of service demanded by our Lord: 

“…whoever wishes to be great among you will be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all. For the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many” [Mk 10:43-45].

As you can see, we are called not only to see Jesus in others – to recognize the Divine Presence in others -- but also to do so in imitation of Jesus. We are called to serve, not to be served, to be a "slave to all.” And that's impossible...without God's help. It's impossible because it is not human, but divine. It is to love as God loves. It’s not something we can do on our own, and so we must turn to God for His help. We must become needy before God and allow Him to serve us.

And so we encounter another of those wonderful Gospel paradoxes. We have a need to serve and to be served. And these two needs -- to serve and be served -- are gifts from God. To turn down a gift from God is a horrible failing, and so we must accept both.

Too many Christians are great at helping others, but hate being helped by others. They want to carry out the call to serve, but don’t want to let others do the same. Of course, it’s apparent what’s behind this failing – the same thing that’s behind almost all of our failings: pride. The truly humble servant is also willing to be served. St. Peter, who seemed to offer a perfect example of so many human failings, typified this unwillingness to be served when, at the Last Supper, he resisted Jesus’ attempts to wash his feet. Jesus has to threaten disinheritance to get Peter to accept this humble service by his God.

Of course, Jesus’ greatest act of humble service is His Passion and Death. St. Paul, in his beautiful Christological Hymn in the Letter to the Philippians, describes this remarkable act of divine humility and service:

“Have among yourselves the same attitude that is also yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross. Because of this, God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” [Phil 2:5-11].

What more do we need? The Christian, then, following the Great Commandment, serves both God and God’s people, and does so in the humility that only God can give.

True humility, you see, is nothing more than a firm grasp of reality. Once you and I contemplate and come to understand, if only partly, the indescribable greatness of God, at the same time we come to realize how truly insignificant we are. It’s hard then to be anything but humble. But we are lifted up knowing that God Himself, in His greatness, chose to become one of us.

In a great example of understatement Paul says, “…He emptied Himself…He humbled Himself…”, and in a perfect, continuing act of humility, Jesus does so again and again, every day on all the altars of the world. He makes Himself sacrificially Present through the Eucharist and actually allows us to take Him into ourselves. Do we ever consider the humility evident in this divine act of service to all of humanity?

Mary is our other great example of humility in service.

Mary, saved from sin, knew she had received a wondrous gift from God. Her call was to accept the gift of God’s Son in the deepest humility.

I don’t have time to address the fullness of Mary’s humility, but I think it’s telling that her first act after the Annunciation was to make the difficult and long trip from Nazareth to Judea to spend several months with her aging relative, Elizabeth, who was awaiting the birth of John the Baptist. Gabriel had just told Mary that she, “full of grace,” would become the mother of the Son of God. This could easily go to a young girl’s head; after all, she would bring forth the Messiah foretold by all the prophets and hoped for by generations of Jews. But in her humility she thinks not of herself but of her kinswoman and makes this remarkable journey of service to another in need.

My father used to say, "Humility's a very strange commodity, because once you know you have it, you just lost it." The saints, of course, were all humble. How could they be anything else? I doubt they even considered this virtue of theirs to be humility. For them it was simply reality. In a sense, humility is the great foundational virtue, the sine qua non without which no other virtue can develop. Without humility all other virtuous attempts will be overrun by pride and buried in the self.

We are, then, challenged to humility and to commit ourselves to a radical and total gift of self to others. Can we imitate the humility of our Lord? Are we committed to seeking ways in which we can serve others, showing them we love and care for them with God’s love? 

Homily: Saturday 5th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: Gn 3:1-24 • Ps 90 • Mk 8:1-10

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After that first sin, that original sin, God asks Adam a question: 

"Adam, where are you?" [Gn 3:9]

At first it seem a strange question, doesn't it? After all, God knows where Adam is physically. But then we realize what God is really asking. He's asking Adam to look within himself and recognize where he is spiritually because of his sin. Yes, indeed...

"Adam, Where are you?"

Don't you see what's happened, Adam? What you and Eve have done to yourselves? 

With that simple question God reminds them that He had given them paradise on earth, everything they needed, but they had tossed it aside. They lost their intended place in God's creation because they desired God's place. 

God had created them in His image, molded them into His likeness, blessed them as no other creatures had been blessed, and yet they listened to Satan and succumbed to the temptation to be like God.

How that question, that Word of God, must have echoed throughout the Garden: 

"Adam, where are you?"

It's the kind of question Jesus would ask, isn't it? Calling the sinner back to awareness of his sinfulness. We hear similar questions in the Gospels, don't we?

"Woman, where are your accusers?" [Jn 8:10]

"Simon, son of John, do you love me?" [Jn 21:15-17]

St. Irenaeus, one of the great Fathers of the early Church, reminds us that it truly is the Eternal Word of God, the Second Person of the Trinity, the Son of the Father, who speaks to Adam in the Garden. Listens to what Irenaeus writes:

"It is the Son who speaks with men... the Word of God who is always with the human race...and who teaches the things of God to men. The Son of God speaks now with Abraham, now with Noah...now He seeks out Adam..."

Yes, indeed, He who will be called the "New Adam," the Word of God, the Son of God, seeks out and calls to Adam: 

"Adam, where are you?"

Adam is shamed. He and the woman are naked. With their sin they have cast themselves out of paradise and into exile. They know they have sinned, just as you and I know when we have sinned. But they refuse to admit it, to repent. Adam blames the woman. The other, the one created to be loved is now to be blamed.

Already the effects of their sin have taken hold. Sin and its effects will multiply and infect every generation that follows, pouring through the ages. We soon encounter it again, when God's Word asks another question:

"Cain, where is your brother?" [Gn 4:9]

Sin multiplies. A brother is envied, despised, and murdered. Today God asks us those same questions.

Where are you? Where is your brother?

Our world, much like our first parents in Eden, has become lost. Rather than recognizing and repenting of our sinfulness, rather than caring for one another, we cast blame, and we destroy.

"Where is your brother?"

It is a question that God, in His love and mercy, asks each of us. 

"Where are you?"

What you have done? What horrors have you brought to my creation? Why do you turn away from me, convinced you are gods? Why do you turn away from me when I call out to you?

Yes, God seeks us out, just as He sought Adam and Eve in the Garden.

God had provided them with food but they ate that which was forbidden them. Out of their rebellion something else is forbidden them: to eat of the tree of life, which would cause them to live forever. Despite their sinfulness, God offers them, and He offers us, a path to return to God from their exile.

As they leave the Garden they encounter God's mercy. And from that encounter comes a promise. It is the promise of God's Son, the gift of Jesus Christ, who will take on Adam's nakedness, our nakedness, who will take on the shame of humanity, the shame of all our sins, and allow Himself to be sacrificed by those He created.

By His wounds we are healed [1 Pt 2:24].

Yes, Jesus is nailed to the tree of life, and leaves us a new food: the Eucharist, His own Body and Blood. Once again we can eat of the food that will give us eternal life. It is through Jesus Himself that we are transformed.

The Mass is a kind of new Eden in which Jesus feeds us with the food that perfectly satisfies. We see a foreshadowing of this in today's Gospel passage from Mark:

"He took the seven loaves, and after giving thanks, He broke them and handed them to His disciples to distribute. And they distributed them among the crowd" [Mk 8:6].

The Eucharist, the Bread of Life, comes from Jesus but is distributed by his disciples. Today we, the disciples, are called to feed the hungry with both the physical and spiritual bread they need.

Lord, teach us to serve you as you deserve; to give and not to count the cost; to fight and not to heed the wounds; to labor and seek no reward save that of knowing that we do your holy will.