Thursday, May 7, 2015

Homily for 8 May 2015

8 May 2015

Sometimes the message of the Lord is very clear.  And today is one of those times.  Jesus has been saying the same thing to his disciples since day one: “This is my commandment: love one another as I love you.”

And being made in the image of God as we are—God who is love itself, Jesus commands us in a sense to become who we’re made to be.  We’re made to love.  We’re not made to hate one another; we’re not made to be jealous or self-pitying or anything like that.  We’re made to love.  And so Jesus commands us to be fully human, fully alive. 

The Incarnate Word is trying to “speak” us into being, just like God commanded that there be light, and there was light.  Jesus is trying to recreate us and reshape us, if only we wouldn’t listen.  And, for the most part, we do.  And what we hear the Lord say is: “Here, do it this way.  Love one another as I love you.  Just follow my lead.”  He not only commands us to become the creatures of God we’re made to be; he also gives us a Flesh-and-Blood example of how to love.

Of course, following his lead—or anybody’s lead—takes trust.  Jesus calls us “friends” not because we comply with his demands, but because we trust him.  We trust him enough to follow his example.  We trust that what he says is true and good.  It is good for us to love one another as Christ loves us.  And it is true that self-giving love is what and who we are created to be.


The message of the Lord is very clear today because we know in our hearts that it is entirely good and true.  The next best thing to knowing this is to live it.  And so, Jesus issues a command in the hopes that we will trust him and follow him: “This is my commandment: love one another as I love you.”

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Homily for 7 May 2015

7 May 2015

The word “if” is such a little word.  And yet, it’s so important.  “If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love,” Jesus says.  If we keep his commandments; that is, the choice is up to us. 

We already know what the Lord’s choice is with regard to his love and commitment to us.  He said, “I have told you this so that your joy might be complete.”  He’s already chosen to do what’s best for us.  And he’s already shown how much he loves us.  We need only hear the words of Scripture and taste the Eucharist to remember the extent of God’s fidelity and love for us. 

God’s choice was definitive, made once and for all.  There’s no debate in the mind of God whether or not he’s going to love us and everybody else who desires to love him.  There is no question, there is no “if” in God’s heart about that.  But, of course, there is in the heart of humanity.

Even for us who have chosen to do the best we can at keeping God’s commandments and remaining true to God, we can always be better at it.  Every morning we’re faced with the question: “Am I going to love God today?  Am I going to try to see and hear and think and live as God lives today?” 


And we remember the Lord asking Peter three times: “Do you love me?”  He asks us the same thing again and again.  “Do you love me?  Do you love me enough to keep my commandments?  Will you let me be your joy?”  

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Homily for 6 May 2015

6 May 2015

The Church is no stranger to disputes and debates.  But even from the beginning, we’ve known where to turn for answers: we turn to God.  Or we go where God is—we look to the New Jerusalem, the heavenly kingdom that’s saturated with the life of God.  And from the beginning, the Church has been part of that kingdom.  It’s a “place” where heaven and earth meet, where God and humanity share life together. 

When we have a question about our life as Christians, we turn to God, and we turn to that place where God dwells: the Church, the community of faith.  Maybe that’s why Psalm 122 is so joyful: “Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord,” to “Jerusalem, built as a city with compact unity.”  We should be able to turn others, especially those who are wiser than we are, to figure out the problems and questions we have as a Church, as a parish, as families, and as individuals.

But that only works if we’re each in union with Christ.  As we heard this past Sunday, Jesus is the Vine and each of us is a branch on that Vine.  And our functioning and health as a Church depends on each of us being attached that vine.  But we can’t be attached to that Vine if we’re too busy trying to outsmart the next person; if we’re too busy doing the Lord’s work to spend any time with the Lord in humble, quiet prayer each day.

We can’t be attached to Christ our Vine if we’re too convinced of our rightness to listen to others who are, perhaps, wiser than we are.  All those sins of pride, envy, anger, and sloth (among others) just stop the flow of Blood between the Vine and the branch.  When the Church gets infected with those sins, she can’t function properly; and it’s harder to turn to the Church—to our fellow Christians—to figure out the problems we face in this present age.

And our problems are big.  There’s a scandalous lack of belief, even in the most central mystery of our faith: the Eucharist.  The Church is becoming more secularized, and the world less influenced by Christianity.  So many of our youth are lost in a storm of competing values, or in a desert of no values.  We keep turning to the latest trends, the latest books, the latest programs to revitalize the Church instead of turning to God and the Gospel.  Our problems are many and large.


But, just as in the early Church, we know in our hearts where to turn for answers and guidance.  We know that God alone is the One.  All we need to do is turn to him.  Not once in a while; not when we have time; but all the time.  With humility, quietness of mind, and real faith . . . that God will show us the Way. 

Monday, May 4, 2015

Homily for 5 May 2015

5 May 2015

It must have been quite a shock for St. Paul.  I mean, almost getting stoned to death is one thing.  But the ones who did it had been his friends not too long before.  They were fellow Jews, fellow believers in the One God.  But between them and God, St. Paul chose God.  It was a tough choice, perhaps.  But it was also an overwhelmingly positive and even joyful choice, for sure. 

Jesus describes his own going back to the Father as a happy occasion.  He’s choosing the Father over his disciples, his friends.  But it’s a happy thing to put God first.  And so, it’s also a joyful thing for St. Paul to choose newness of life in God over his former ways of error.  Even at the expense of his friendships with other Jews, he relishes in his choice.

As we know: “Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness.”  Happy are those—happy are we—who choose to follow God, even—and especially—when it’s hard.  We will experience pain in our souls when others think we’re nuts because we follow Jesus Christ.  We will experience the weight of insults piled on top of us if we try to stand up for our Catholic values. 

But the pain of being a Christian, the pain of choosing God over friends, is outweighed by the joy of being a Christian, the joy of choosing God, who is our Friend of friends.  And, of course, choosing God doesn’t necessarily mean leaving friends behind. 


On the contrary, bring ‘em along, if you can!  It’s a happy thing to unite ourselves more closely to the Lord.  Why not invite others to share your joy?  Of course, if they decline, if they think you’re nuts for asking, well . . . pray for them in all charity.  And then keep on choosing God; every day, choosing the ways of peace and unity; every day, choosing the path of joy.

Sunday, May 3, 2015

Homily for 3 May 2015

3 May 2015
5th Sunday of Easter, Year B

It’s a difficult thing to judge how “successful” we are as a Church.  You know, we might go to business models and start to compare numbers.  Things like: how many baptisms and weddings there were in the parish the past year; or how many contributing units there are in the parish.  But the numbers are only a part of the picture of how we’re doing as a Church.

Scripture today gives us another perspective, though.  St. Luke writes (in the Acts of the Apostles): “The church throughout all Judea, Galilee, and Samaria was at peace.  It was being built up and walked in the fear of the Lord, and with the consolation of the Holy Spirit it grew in numbers.”

He reports that the church was “at peace.”  Every person in this wide-spread community was working together; it was running like a well-oiled machine.  That doesn’t necessarily mean there weren’t issues now and again.  But it means that those issues were taken up and resolved by the ethos—the spirit—of the community.  Just like a healthy human body which is able to overcome sickness, so the church “at peace” is able to overcome the occasional “illnesses” in its life.

St. Luke also reports that the church was “being built up” and “grew in numbers.”  So, there is something to the idea of looking at our success as a Church in terms of numbers.  The Church that’s alive and doing well is one that’s growing—both spiritually and in numbers.  But this being “at peace” and growth in numbers is first and foremost because of the Holy Spirit and what St. Luke calls “fear of the Lord.”

This phrase, “fear of the Lord,” doesn’t mean that people were “afraid of” Jesus.  It just means that they paid attention to him.  They paid attention to the example he gave them, to the teachings he spoke through the Apostles, and to the promises and the hope he gave them.  In other words, a healthy Church is one that’s rooted in relationship with God.  The Church has the Holy Spirit of Jesus flowing through its veins, giving it life.

And so, St. Luke gives us a pretty succinct image of what “success” as a Church looks like: “The church throughout all Judea, Galilee, and Samaria was at peace.  It was being built up and walked in the fear of the Lord, and with the consolation of the Holy Spirit it grew in numbers.”  And Jesus adds to this picture of a healthy Church when he says, “I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit.” 

If the Holy Spirit is the lifeblood of a healthy church, then Jesus is the veins and the arteries which carry that Spirit, that lifeblood, to each member of the church, the Body.  If you ever look at a grapevine, you’ll see the vine and the branches.  It’s not like a tree, where there’s a trunk, and then big branches, and branches off of those branches, and yet more branches off of those.  The grapevine isn’t like that.  There’s the vine and the branch, with nothing in between.  And each one of us is a branch on the vine. 

In other words, Jesus is saying that a healthy church is one where each branch, each person, is personally connected to him, to the Vine.  There’s no substitute for that individual life of faith, prayer and good works.  Not even our involvement in Church is a substitute.  In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus says, “Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name? Did we not drive out demons in your name? Did we not do mighty deeds in your name?’  Then I will declare to them solemnly, ‘I never knew you’” [7:22-23]. 

The Church and its ministries may be the presence of Christ in the world, but the Church is not Christ himself.  And so, it’s not enough to say, “I go to Church.  I go to Mass on the weekend.  I do things in the community.”  The Church is not the Vine.  The Church is a cluster of branches on the Vine; a cluster of people who are each connected to Christ. 

Jesus is saying that a healthy Church is one where each branch, every man, woman, and child, is connected to him personally.  That being said, however, in a healthy church there is also a pervading sense of community. 

In spite of differences, each person who’s united with Christ is also united to their brothers and sisters—in spite of differences.  You know, it’s so easy to categorize people as belonging to this camp or that camp: this priest is liberal, this priest is conservative; young people have no sense of reverence, old people are out-of-touch.  It may be true, and it may not be true.  But a healthy church isn’t torn apart by all that.  A healthy church remains a unity, in spite of differences, in spite of the “illnesses” which afflict the Body of Christ.

Very early in the Church’s history, Peter and Paul were at odds with one another.  Two towering figures at the birth of the Church, and they’re fighting.  But that was okay.  It was okay because they saw each other as fellow branches on the One Vine.  Together, in spite of differences, they were part of the catholic—that is, the universal—Church.  Every now and again Peter and Paul had their disagreements.  But they got through them.  And that ability to resolve problems by the grace of the Holy Spirit of love and trust was a sign of a healthy Church.  And, of course, where that spirit of true community is, there is bound to be growth.

A healthy, “successful” Church is one “at peace” within itself, where each person is in a personal relationship with Christ, and the community as a whole pays attention to Christ and grows in numbers by the sheer working of the Holy Spirit.  That’s the image Scripture gives us today of a “healthy” Church.  Now, as we look at the Church today, as we look at our parish, our families, and each of us as individual branches on the vine, we see, of course, both health and sickness. 

Every time somebody comes to the Sacrament of Reconciliation as says, “I want to be reconnected to Christ,” there is a sign of health.  Every time there is true and selfless love between a husband and wife, between friends and neighbors, there are signs of a healthy Church.  Every time we offend a brother or sister, but we make amends, there’s a sign of a healthy Church.  There are lots of signs of health in the Church, in the parish, in the family and within each of us.  There are also signs of sickness, of course.

The generational gap is hard to overlook.  Comparing and contrasting the faith life of youth and the faith life of elders is almost like looking at two different value systems.  There’s a pretty big disconnect there.  It’s a belly-ache in the Church which should tell us something is wrong.  And what about unhealed, festering wounds—not wounds themselves, but unhealed and festering wounds between this person and that person, between this group and that group.  The presence of unresolved tensions is another sign that the Church isn’t as healthy as it could be.  And so, the Church is both healthy and not.

She has her aches and pains.  And those aches and pains are signs that the Church isn’t entirely “at peace” within itself.  And the remedy isn’t necessarily more programs or more activities.  The remedy, the medicine, is Christ himself, the Divine Physician.  As Jesus says: “Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me.” 

That’s where the renewal and healing of the Church begins—our individual relationships with Christ.  When we see ourselves as branches—as brothers and sisters—of Christ, then we can see others around us as fellow branches on the One Vine.  Then we can see ourselves, and live day-to-day, as a community of faith “at peace” with itself.  But it all begins with that individual relationship between the Vine and the branch, between Christ and each one of us.


There, hanging out together as clusters of branches on the One Vine, we can live and work together in peace and harmony.  In fact, that’s our prayer at every Mass.  That our Lord grant us “peace and unity.”  That the Lord make us a healthy, growing Church.

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Homily for 1 May 2015

1 May 2015
[Scripture Readings:  Acts 13:26-33; John 14:1-6]

Jesus just doesn’t fit.  He’s out of place.  The Apostles proclaimed the gospel of Christ in the context of prophecy.  Jesus was the fulfillment of the prophecies that a Messiah would come.  And even Jesus proclaims himself in the context of something; the context of faith.  He says, “You have faith in God; have faith also in me.”  In the contexts of prophecy and faith, Jesus makes sense.  That’s where he fits.  But today . . . Jesus just doesn’t fit.  He’s out of place.

For us who grew up hearing the stories of the Old Testament, Jesus fits.  For us who have a living faith in God, Jesus fits.  He makes sense to us.  Even if we don’t understand and grasp fully what it is he’s trying to teach us, at least he fits into our lives somehow. 

The proclamation of the gospel is an answer.  That’s what Jesus is: he’s an answer.  He’s the definitive answer to the questions of prophecy and faith.  But what about all our neighbors, our friends and family members who’ve fallen away, who really couldn’t care less about the big questions of life: the question of prophecy and where humanity is going, and the question of faith and what’s it all about.  What about them?  Well, Jesus isn’t an answer to anything for them.  He doesn’t fit in their lives. 

And that’s something significant to consider when we try to evangelize others.  If people aren’t asking the big life questions to which Jesus is the answer, Jesus is meaningless to them.  The gospel has no weight, no importance.  He doesn’t fit.  He’s out of place.  The gospel is not a free-floating proposition, like a leaf in the wind just happening to fall where it falls.  No, the gospel makes sense only in the context of those big questions of life: the question of prophecy (that is, the question of what it means to be human) and the question of faith.

And so, before we speak the name of Jesus to others, it’s important to hear what questions in life they are asking.  The proclamation of the gospel begins with listening.  And when we listen to the lives and stories of others, then maybe we can introduce Jesus to them in a way that fits those questions in life they’re asking. 

But, until then—until we know what questions people are asking, Jesus won’t be an answer to anything.  He won’t fit.  He won't mean anything to them.    

Homily for 30 Apr 2015

30 Apr 2015 
[Scripture Readings:  Acts 13:13-25; John 13:16-20]

“Don’t get settled.  And don’t get unsettled, either,” Jesus seems to say.  Don’t get settled.  And don’t get unsettled.  If we get a little too accustomed to one particular way of doing things, we’ll be unsettled by what God is trying to do.  Instead, it seems best to remain fluid in spirit and mind—not like a tumbleweed, but more like a kite: free to move with the wind, and yet grounded by its guide, its shepherd.

When St. Paul spoke in the synagogue and showed how Jesus was the next “step” in salvation history, the fulfillment of the prophecies, he showed that his faith was truly alive.  He was not settled in mind and spirit.  He was passionate about his Jewish faith: its rituals, practices, and beliefs.  He was passionate about it, but he was not a slave to it; although, he had started to get settled. 

When St. Stephen was stoned to death, Paul had been settled in his faith just enough to not recognize Christ as the fulfillment of the prophecies.  But he wasn’t settled so much that God couldn’t work in him and open his eyes.  Paul was reawakened to the living God, and he ended up with a renewed sense of life, purpose, and living faith.  And so, Jesus says, “Don’t get settled, even in the practices of our faith.”

If we get too accustomed to our ways of thinking, to our usual ways of doing things as individuals, as a parish, as a church, how can we expect to be real followers of Jesus, the Way?  The first disciples were, perhaps, too accustomed, too settled in their ways.  Jesus gives them plenty of opportunities to get it in their heads that God is alive and at work . . . and so don’t get unsettled when certain things happen.  In effect, he was saying to them: “Don’t be followers of your own expectations; be followers of me.”

And that sounds good, but it’s a hard thing to do.  We like the parish the way it is.  We like our committees and our discussions about this detail or that detail.  We like our traditions.  We like our devotional practices.  We like to sit in the same spot in the same pew.  And that’s okay.  But Jesus says: “Don’t get settled.”  Don’t get settled to the point of being unable to move when God moves.


Life is always changing.  Our God is a living God.  And our faith is a living faith.