Homily for 19 May 2015

19 May 2015

St. Paul did his part.  He preached the word Christ gave him to preach, and he followed the Spirit with faith and courage, no matter the trouble that lay in store for him.  He loved those he met along the way.  And he encouraged and empowered them to do the same. But when it came down to it, St. Paul could really only save one person: himself.

He says to those who hear his preaching: “I am not responsible for the blood of any of you, for I did not shrink from proclaiming to you the entire plan of God.”  In other words, he did his part in the Kingdom of God; but what we do with what he gave us is up to us.  As much as we are a church, a community of faith, the response we make to Christ’s invitation is up to each one of us.

Each of us is responsible for opening ourselves to Christ present: in Scripture, in our Catholic Tradition, in the vocational calling we have from our Creator.  No one can say “yes” to God for us but us.  No one can say to God, “Here I am,” except the individual “I,” the individual person.

When St. Paul preaches to us, it’s up to each person to hear and respond.  When Jesus says, “Come, follow me,” it’s up to each person to hear and respond.  When we ourselves try to preach the Good News of God’s mercy through loving and guiding others, it’s up to them how they will respond.  As much as we want our children, our neighbors and friends to know the Christian joy we feel in our hearts, their response to our evangelization is their response.  It’s up to them.

Just like St. Paul, all we can do is do our part in the Kingdom.  We extend the invitation to follow Christ—and that’s all.  When others don’t take us up on the offer, or if they need more time to hear the Lord’s calling in their own hearts, we pray for them.  In the meantime, we pray.  Just like Jesus who ascends to the Father, but keeps on praying for the good of all.

All we can do in the Kingdom is to do our part; to love God and our neighbor, and to invite others into a life of faith, hope, and charity.  How others respond to us—and the Lord—is up to them.  

Homily for 17 May 2015

17 May 2015

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord

The obituary in the newspaper read something like this:  “He was born into a humble family and lived a simple life.  He was spoken of highly by those who knew him, and his lifestyle attracted many friends as well as enemies in the community.  He enjoyed spending time with his family, and he was a model of hospitality; welcoming anyone and everyone who wanted to stop and stay with him.  He was convicted in his values, and placed a high priority on prayer. 

“Even at the young age of 33, he did more in his life on earth than anyone else.  But above all, he loved God his Father, and longed to be with him.  And so, his passing into the cloud of the mysterious life of God is a cause of joy for those who know and love him.  He finished the race, he kept the faith, he fulfilled his purpose—he has returned to the Father.

“A Mass in remembrance of this man, this Son of God, will be celebrated always and everywhere by his faithful people until he comes again.”

Imagine reading that obituary in the newspaper!  And yet, of course, it’s not imaginary; it’s true.  Every Sunday we stand up and profess that: “He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father.  He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.”  The Ascension of the Lord is very real—even if we have to use our imagination to picture what we’re talking about.

But we don’t usually associate joyfulness with an obituary.  We don’t always see someone’s passing from this world to the life of heaven as a reason to celebrate.  After all, being separated from others is usually bittersweet or sad.  But in the case of the Ascension of the Lord, it really is a reason for us to celebrate.  Jesus’ life, death, and Resurrection are incomplete without the Ascension.  Jesus didn’t come here simply to overcome death and rise from the dead—not that that was “simple.”  Jesus came among us to return to the Father.    

For that matter, neither are we here on earth simply to live and die.  We’re here so that we, too, can return to the Father.  We each come from God, and we’re made to go back to God.  In a way, each of us is meant to enter into that same mysterious cloud we hear of in the Acts of the Apostles (and throughout Scripture).  We’re not here to spend our lives frantically looking for things that satisfy us.  We’re here to live and love; we’re here to grow and mature—always with an eye to where we’re going . . . not to the grave, but beyond that and into the heart of God himself.

That’s why the Ascension is such a day to celebrate.  We celebrate what’s happened to Jesus.  We celebrate the fact that his life was finally and definitively completed.  And he reached completion at the very place he started his journey—in the bosom of God the Father.  And it all seems so simple, so clear, and beautiful.  And it is beautiful and clear; this ascension and reunion with the Father.  But the effect of the Ascension is not so simple. 

The effect of the Ascension is unbelievably rich.  It’s like a dessert that’s so sweet you just can’t eat it all in one sitting.  It’s like a good book where every sentence, every phrase is full of meaning and depth, and you just want to sit and enjoy every moment of it.  It’s like a perfectly beautiful day where you want to soak it all in, but you can’t possibly soak it all in.  The effects of the Ascension are many, and they are very rich.

And the first and most obvious effect of the Ascension is that Jesus gains everything.  That’s why we celebrate today.  Jesus is reunited with the Father and the cycle of divine love is complete.  Jesus never lost the Father, of course, but he’s brought into the cloud of God’s love and sits now at the Father’s right hand.  Jesus ascends to the bosom of the Father, and becomes the definitive Lord of all.

Jesus is not only reunited with the Father; he also gains the whole of creation.  Every tree, every insect in the ground, every super nova in the universe, every planet and particle of dust or spirit belongs to him.  What a blessing it is for the entire cosmos to have as its Lord and Ruler, the God of love, the God of life—the Lord Jesus Christ, who cares for it and loves it as a parent for its child, as an older Brother for his younger siblings.

And besides the Father and all of creation, Jesus gains us.  We are his inheritance; we are his prize.  To be honest, if I were Jesus, I’m not sure I’d be happy about getting a box of broken toys as a gift.  But that’s us: broken, sinful, sometimes petty.  Of course, Jesus also sees our goodness; he sees the love we do have for others, the excitement and desire we have for life and happiness.  Yes, we’re broken.  But he loves us just the same.

The most basic effect of the Ascension is that Jesus gains everything, including us.  He won the imperishable prize of everything that’s good in the universe.  He is the Lord, the Lord of love and life, the Lord of heaven and earth.  That’s another basic effect of the Ascension: Jesus stands revealed as the definitive Lord: the Lord of lords, King of kings, Prophet of prophets, and Priest of priests.      

That phrase we hear, that “he is seated at the right hand of the Father,” is not in reference to dimension or space.  It doesn’t mean: “Here is the Father, and here is the Son sitting to his right.”  Instead, it’s an ancient phrase and image which means: “to share in divine authority.”  In his Ascension, Jesus shares in the divine authority of the Father, and is truly and definitively recognized as “the Lord” of all.

But because of that, for some people, the Ascension is a problem.  We don’t have Lords.  We don’t know what to do with them.  And, besides, the word “Lord” brings all these connotations of domination, inequality of power, the idea of rank and hierarchy.  And most of us don’t like to have others over us. 

Sometimes we have bosses at work who “lord it over us.”  In abusive relationships, one person is over another.  Teenagers don’t like to have parents over them, telling them what to do.  Some people don’t like to have the Church over them, trying to tell them how to live their lives.  We don’t like to have people over us, because our experience of it has usually been a negative one.  Instead, we like to be independent and free from all that.

So, maybe it can be a negative thing to see Jesus as “the Lord;” because of all the baggage that comes with the idea of “lordship.”  But he is a Lord like nothing we can imagine—good or bad.

Jesus constantly chose the way of humility, the way of lowliness and simply.  He always warned his disciples not to lord themselves over others.  He wasn’t interested in being over anybody; he was interested in being with others.  The authority of God is nothing other than the perfect love of God; a love that’s pure and completely selfless; a love that’s free and never forced; a love that wonders with curiosity, ‘Who are you?,’ and that says, ‘I give myself to you.’

The authority of God the Father is the authority of unimaginably perfect love.  That’s at the heart of the Lordship of Jesus.  He is Lord (alongside the Father) because he loves perfectly.  He is the Lord, he is the Ruler, he is the standard of love against which we compare ourselves.  You know, like a ruler in your desk drawer that tells you how long an inch is, or a centimeter, or whatever.  The ruler isn’t right or wrong.  The ruler defines what an inch is, what a centimeter is. 

Jesus is Lord and Ruler of all because he defines what real love is.  With his Ascension, he is seated at the right hand of the Father; he shares in the authority of divine and true love.  And let’s face it: people in our lives who radiate real love, who practice what they preach . . . , we give them authority.  We say, “That’s a person I want to be like.”  We don’t give them authority over us (and they wouldn’t take it anyway).  Instead, we give them the authority to be an example for us.  That’s what a mentor is.  That’s what a hero is.  That’s what a real Lord is.

In his Ascension, Jesus gains the Father, he gains all creation—including us, and he stands revealed as the definitive Lord.  And what better to show that he’s the Lord than for him to remain close to us and to share with us all that it is.  As we’ve heard so often in the past few weeks in Scripture, Jesus says: You are my friends, and what I have I share with you. 

And the most precious “thing” he possesses is the Holy Spirit, that perfect love and peace which binds the Father and the Son together.  We hear at every Mass: “Peace I leave you, my peace I give you.”  That’s the Lord of lord, the King of kings speaking to us.  “Everything I have is yours.”  That’s an effect of the Ascension which we’ll spend our whole lives trying to open up and discover.

And by entering into that cloud of the mystery of God’s life ourselves, hopefully we’ll discover at the heart of it, God himself, Love itself.  Every morning our prayer can be something like: “Lord, open my mind, my spirit, and my body to receive everything you wish to give me today.  Lord, be for me today the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”

And then, someday, when we pass from this life to the next, people might say of us: “The life of Christ was in him.  She loved others and walked with others like the Lord does.  He loved his life on earth and thanked God for it.  But, above all, she sought God himself.  Today, he entered into the mysterious cloud of the divine life of God.  And there was God, the Lord himself, who had always been with him.”  And it will be a day of homecoming, a day to give thanks, a day to celebrate.

Homily for 14 May 2015

14 May 2015

Feast of St. Matthias, Apostle

Even before Matthias was chosen, he was chosen.  He'd been a faithful follower of Jesus from the beginning. So, even though it looked like he’d been chosen by the Apostles as a replacement for Judas, really, Matthias had already been chosen and prepared by Christ since his baptism.

And for that matter, the other guy--Joseph Barsabbas--was also chosen.  He wasn't chosen as Judas' replacement; but he was nonetheless a chosen one of Christ.  And so, between Joseph Barsabbas and Matthias, neither of them was a loser or winner when the lots were cast.  Long before that, Jesus had chosen and called each of them to be his companions.  And that's what was important.

As we hear Jesus say, "It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you."  No matter what our lot is in life, no matter what our role and vocation is in the church, no matter what side of the altar we’re on, what's important is that Jesus has personally chosen and called each of us to be his companions on the way.  He has called each of us to come to his altar.

It doesn’t so much matter what others think of us; it matters what God thinks of us.  And in God’s eyes we are worthy to be in presence.  And that's the source of our joy: knowing that we are chosen and loved by the Lord.

Homily for 13 May 2015

13 May 2015

St. Paul was a good choice to be the Apostle to the Gentiles.  He was raised in Tarsus: a crossroads of cultures from Greece, Persia, and the lands of the Jews.  He had a keen eye—once his eyes were opened—to see God at work all over the place.  And so, he could go up to Greece and see the Wisdom of God at work in the Athenians; he could see the desire for God in their construction of the temple dedicated to the “Unnamed God.”

This is even taken by some to think of the ancient Greeks as unknowing followers of God; they were attuned to divine Wisdom, yet the name of God hadn’t been revealed to them the way it had been to the ancient Hebrews.  But that didn’t mean God wasn’t at work in them.  Now, that view might be a stretch, and it might not be.  But St. Paul’s encounter with the Athenians and his praise of their religious sensibilities is enough for us to consider how God might be at work in other cultures, other practices which may not strike us as Catholic, or even Christian.

In the Second Century, a Christian writer, Tertullian, asked the question: “What does Athens have to do with Jerusalem?”  That is, what does the apparently worldly wisdom of the Greeks have to do with the divine Revelation of Christianity?  And we might be tempted to ask something similar, like: “What does secular culture have to do with the Church?”  “What does the internet and social media have to do with Christian values?”

And the answer is actually pretty simple: They’re all places where faith can exist and be encountered.  And that’s because faith—in itself—doesn’t exist except in the mind of God.  Faith only exists in the context of something—some culture, some value system, some set of rituals and practices, and so on.  Faith needs something else to bring it to life.  And that “something else” is what we call “culture.”

Aristotle would understand this illustration: try holding in your hand the color blue.  It can’t be done.  In itself, blue doesn’t exist except in the mind of God.  Instead, things are blue.  Fabric is blue, paint is blue, light waves highlight blueness.  Things are blue.  But blue in itself . . . no, that doesn’t exist.  And that’s like faith.  Faith exists, it only happens in the context of human culture. 

And so, wherever there is human culture, there is the possibility of faith at work.  St. Paul knew this.  And so, he could look at the Athenians and see: God is at work here.  But it wasn’t just a private understanding; he told the Greeks about it; he told them how God was working in them and through their Athenian culture.  In this way, Paul was acting like the Holy Spirit, who Jesus describes as simply relaying what he sees and hears.

There is a lot of faith happening out there, even in people we might consider non-Christian or agnostic, or whatever.  Our work is not to judge and condemn others.  Our work is to look for God with open eyes and open minds.  And then to point him out to others when we see it.  St. Paul didn’t tell the Athenians they were going to hell.  He said to them: Hey! God is at work here—and let me show you how he’s working.

Wherever there is human culture, faith is probably present in some form or another.  Let’s look for it with open eyes and open minds, and praise God for what we find.  

Homily for 12 May 2015

12 May 2015 (for the Parish)

Sometimes the Word of God doesn’t bring comfort.  When there’s a death in the family, or something as tragic as the shootings in Menasha last week, about the last people want to hear is: “They’re in a better place.”  Of course, we believe that heaven is certainly a better place.  But sometimes the bigger picture, or the truth of God’s word isn’t helpful.  In fact, it might make the situation worse.

Now, we hear that Jesus was preparing his disciples for his eventual crucifixion and death.  And he had somewhat of a hard time convincing them that it was a good thing.  When he said: “Trust me, it’s better for you that I go,” the disciples were “filled with grief” and near to being heart-broken.  Jesus’ words were meant to comfort them.  But it would take a while for that comfort to come.  In fact, they would have to embrace that grief in order to be comforted.

There’s a reason one of the beatitudes is: “Blessed are they who weep and mourn, for they will be comforted.”  No doubt, Paul and Silas wept as they were beaten and imprisoned for trying to do good.  They shared in the darkness of the Cross.  But they were different.  They were men of deep faith.

For Paul and Silas, the Word of God did bring comfort in the midst of a trying time.  The Word of God wasn’t trite; it didn’t sound impersonal and meaningless to them.  On the contrary, it was the most deeply personal support they needed when they were in prison.  Their faith was their solace; God himself was their light in dark and trying times.  And, for that, they gave thanks.

Sometimes bringing the Word of God into a bad situation only makes the situation worse—for people who lack faith.  But for those who of deep faith, the Word of God is always a reason to be hopeful.  Jesus gives us our reason to hope: he gives himself.  He gives us his Body and Blood as food for the journey through the ups and downs of life.  He gives us his living Word to bring guidance, wisdom, and consolation.  And he gives us the promise of his abiding Spirit. 

With our faith in Christ, we have real reason to hope—no matter what comes our way.   

12 May 2015 (for the Middle School)

Some of the saddest people we’ll ever meet are people who don’t have faith.  It seems like almost anything gets them upset or worried.  Either that, or they’re always trying to be on a spiritual ‘high.’  And that kind of life is just hard, in a lot of ways: you know, emotionally, and socially, and spiritually.  Life is hard when you don’t have real faith in God.

Now, today we hear that Paul and Silas were beaten and thrown in prison because of the good things they were doing.  Just imagine that . . . a bunch of Roman soldiers slamming rods against your head, making your body all bruised and sore; there’s probably blood everywhere.  Maybe their eyes were swollen and their lips were split open.  It wasn’t pretty.

But Paul and Silas were men of great faith.  And so, even they’d been beaten and thrown into a prison—no sunlight, no fresh air—they kept singing how good God is.  They weren’t sad at all!  In fact, they were just as kind and loving as they had been before they were arrested.  Their bad situation in life didn’t make them sour or bitter.  Nope.  They just kept on praising God.  They were men of faith, and nothing could shake that faith.

If you look at a tire on a bike, there’s the hub and then the rim.  And when the tire’s going around, the rim is constantly going up and down, up and down, forward and backward.  But the hub is pretty steady.  And that’s what our faith in Jesus is like—it’s like a hub on a bike tire.  Our faith in Jesus keeps us from being totally devastated when bad things happen, and it keeps us from being completely ecstatic and out of control when good things happen. 

Some of the saddest people we’ll ever meet are people who don’t have faith.  And that’s because they’re not connected to that central hub of the bike tire—they’re not connected to Jesus.  They let the good and the bad things in life tell them whether or not they should be happy or sad or whatever. 

But some of the most happy and fulfilled people we’ll ever meet are people who have real faith in God.  And that’s because Jesus himself is brighter than the sunniest day, and he’s stronger than anything bad that life can throw at us.  And so, Jesus says to us today: For your own good, for your own happiness, have faith in me.  Have faith in me.

Homily for 11 May 2015

11 May 2015

There’s still some tension left over from Easter morning which needs to be resolved.  Jesus had told Mary Magdalene not to touch him; to let go of the Teacher she’d come to know.  Jesus was beginning to prepare her and all his disciples for something new.  And with our celebration of Pentecost in just thirteen days, we’re approaching the resolution of that Easter tension.

Of course, even before Jesus’ Passion and Death, he was trying to warn his disciples.  He was trying to give them a “heads-up” on what to expect.  He taught them to have an expectant faith.  He taught them to be active, and not merely passive in their relationship with the Father and the Spirit of truth to come.

There are few things worse than an unresolved tension; you know, an argument in the family, or hurtful things said between friends which are never healed.  No doubt, it caused Mary Magdalene some pain to be told by Jesus to keep her distance.  And, no doubt, it caused the Apostles and disciples at least some confusion to hear Jesus talk about the inevitability of his suffering—and their suffering as well.

But with the coming of the Advocate, the Paraclete, the One who is called by Jesus to stay close to his people . . . with the coming of that most Holy Spirit, the tension of Easter time will find its resolution.  All that Jesus said will make sense (or, at least, his words will be clear enough).  And the mission that Peter and Paul, Barnabas and the rest of them go on will make sense . . . after Easter, after the Ascension, and only with the coming of the Holy Spirit.

Even though Jesus says things that challenge and even confuse us, he promises us a resolution.  He promises us peace and victory—with the coming of the Advocate, the Paraclete, the Holy Spirit who empowers and leads us.

It would be a shame, and a great loss, if Pentecost came and went for us like any other Sunday.  And it doesn’t have to.  The Lord’s voice is as clear to us today as it was for those who heard it from his own lips.  All we need do is listen to what he says today: Prepare for the coming of the Spirit. 

Prepare for, and expect, good things when the Spirit comes close to us. 

Homily for 9 May 2015

9 May 2015

Jesus said and taught many things.  But there were a lot of things he didn’t say.  There were a lot of things he didn’t talk about, explicitly.  And yet, it’s not true to say Jesus doesn’t speak to his people anymore.  That would be false.  We believe very firmly that the Lord does continue to speak and teach and guide his people right up to this very day.

He’s been present to his people, the Church, since from before the beginning.  And he’s never left her.  And so, when we hear in the Acts of the Apostles that “they handed on . . . the decisions reached by the Apostles and presbyters,” we hear that Christ is still very much alive.  Those decisions in the early Church weren’t reached outside of the Holy Spirit.  Rather, they were inspired and guided by the Spirit of the risen Jesus.

The Lord has a lot more to say, or more accurately, he has a lot more detail and nuance to show us.  And he does that through the living Tradition of the Church.  Jesus himself makes a distinction in the gospel between “my words” and “your words,” and how the two are practically one and the same. 

It’s the true that the Church makes mistakes.  That’s to be expected.  But a Church that’s lasted 2,000 years and gone through as much war, schism, dissension, and scandal as it has can’t be anything other than the enduring presence of the living Son of God in the world.  Sacred Scripture is the precious Word of God.  And the holy Tradition of the Church is the precious work of God. 

God reveals himself and speaks to his people in both Scripture and Tradition.  And God reveals himself here in the sacred mysteries of the liturgy; the liturgy, which has gone through transformation after transformation over the millennia, and yet, is still the one, unchanging font of God’s grace.  And God reveals his power, intelligence, and breadth in the created order. 

When Jesus spoke to his disciples all those thousands of years ago, it was only the beginning trickles of an eternal river of divine wisdom.  Christ still speaks to his people—in the Church.  And he still speaks to the world—through the Church.  Thanks be to God we can still sit at the feet of the Master.  Even today we can listen with awe and wonder at all he still has to show us.