Sunday, August 24, 2014

La llave que abre la felicidad

          Ciertamente, en este domingo, podemos quedar atrapados en la noción de autoridad y al que se le ha dado. Esto es importante, así que tiene sentido. Pero para cada uno de nosotros, tal vez hay una mayor tema aquí. La confesión de fe de Pedro es una llave que abre para él más de lo que había imaginado; pero no vino por casualidad. Se desarrolló a partir de una relación con Jesús - la "amo dominante", si se quiere - y nosotros estamos llamados a entrar en esa relación, también. Podemos encontrar la clave de la felicidad en nuestra relación con Jesús: la fe que abre para nosotros el plan de Dios para nuestra felicidad y la ulterior construcción de su reino.

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Homilia: 24ª Domingo del Tiempo Ordinario – Ciclo A
          La mayoría de nosotros probablemente no se dan cuenta de esto, pero cada día que llevan un pequeño bulto de poder en nuestros bolsillos, monederos, etc. No, a pesar de lo que todos los anunciantes están tratando de convencerte, no es el más reciente teléfono inteligente con los ochenta mil millones de aps. Es, de hecho, nuestras llaves. De hecho, las llaves son poderosas. Claro que, en la práctica no parecen hacer mucho: que cerrar y abrir las puertas y empezar a correr nuestros carros, pero cuando se mira un poco más amplio, que ven que, de hecho, tienen una gran cantidad de poder sobre cómo vivir nuestras vidas. Basta con pensar en la última vez que perdió las llaves. Cómo impotente que se sentía? Especialmente aquí en los Estados Unidos, sin nuestras llaves estamos inmovilizados. No podemos ir a ninguna parte porque no podemos abrir, y mucho menos iniciar a correr nuestro coche, y no queremos que salir de todos modos, porque no seríamos capaces de cerrar la casa o, si pudiéramos, no lo haríamos ser capaz de volver a entrar. Así que, sí, las llaves, al parecer, son bastante poderosas.
          Bueno, quizás no exactamente. No son las mismas llaves que tienen el poder, sino que es a aquellos que poseen las llaves que la tienen. Los padres, por supuesto, lo saben. ¿Con qué frecuencia tiene usted, en contra de su mejor juicio, entregó las llaves del carro a su hijo adolescente con la advertencia ominosa, "espero que traerlo de vuelta en una sola pieza, lo entiende?” Se dan cuenta de que poner las llaves en sus manos está de entregar el poder a ellos y por lo que siente que es su deber (y con razón) para recordarles la responsabilidad que viene con él. Esto, creo, puede ayudarnos a entender nuestras lecturas de hoy, porque en ambos vemos que el poder está siendo entregado a otro por el otorgamiento de llaves.
          En la primera lectura, vemos que es Dios mismo que tiene este poder, y que lo ejerce a través del profeta Isaías. En la lectura vemos que Dios está ejerciendo su poder sobre las llaves del reino de Judá, sacándolos de uno y dándoles a otro. Sebná se le dio poder sobre el reino; sin embargo, él no era buen mayordomo de la autoridad que le dio. Así que el Señor le quitó las llaves y se las dio a Eleacín, a quien el profeta identifica como siervo del Señor y que, presumiblemente, sería un mejor mayordomo del reino. Adolescentes, ¿podría imaginar perder las llaves del carro a su hermano o hermana menor? Multiplique esta desgracia en aproximadamente cien mil y que es lo que está pasando aquí. Dios estaba buscando un buen mayordomo de su reino, alguien que sirva bien a las necesidades de su pueblo elegido. Sebná, al parecer, no lo consiguió, por lo que las llaves, y, por lo tanto, el poder, se les dieron a Eleacín.
          En el Evangelio de hoy, vemos una escena similar, aunque en este caso es más como una prueba. Como grupo, los discípulos son capaces de reportar todos los hechos acerca de lo que otros han estado diciendo acerca de Jesús. Sin embargo, cuando Jesús se enfrenta a ellos y les pide que abrir paso a través de todo eso y decirle que ellos dicen que él es, sólo Simón Pedro es recordado por haber una respuesta. Como resultado, Jesús revela a Simón su plan para él en su Reino. Dos cosas, en mi opinión, son importantes a destacar aquí. En primer lugar, Jesús lleva la autoridad para conferir las llaves del Reino de Dios. Ahora, no judío en su sano juicio se atrevería a hacer esto, porque todos sabían que sólo Dios tenía la autoridad para hacerlo. Por lo tanto, Jesús es ya sea fuera de su sano juicio o que realmente él es Dios. (para tu información, como cristianos, creemos que el último. <guiño>) En segundo lugar, Pedro, en confesar que Jesús es el Hijo de Dios, demuestra que reconoce la autoridad de Jesús y que él está dispuesto a ser un mayordomo del Reino de Dios. Por lo tanto, es sólo después de que Pedro hace esta confesión de que Jesús le revela su verdadera vocación, representada por confiriéndole un nuevo nombre y la promesa que le diera las llaves del Reino. Así vemos que la fe de Pedro, es decir, su capacidad para responder a la gracia de Dios y confesar lo que era imposible de conocer a sus sentidos humanos solos, es decir, que Jesús es Dios, es en sí mismo una llave para abrir el plan amoroso de Dios para su vida. Por lo tanto, mis hermanos y hermanas, vemos que la fe es una llave poderosa.
          Por supuesto, como nos encontramos con esta lectura de hoy, nosotros también enfrentamos a las mismas preguntas. "¿A quién dicen que soy yo?" Y para nosotros eso es una pregunta relativamente fácil de contestar. Tenemos casi dos mil años de historia y estudio detrás de nosotros para ayudarnos. De hecho, hay una ciencia teológica, llamada cristología, que se dedica a responder sólo a esa pregunta. El reto viene, como lo hizo con los discípulos que estaban con Jesús ese día, cuando Jesús pide esa segunda pregunta, "¿Quién dicen que soy yo?" No importa cuán hábilmente sintetizamos dos mil años de la cristología a hacer que suene como la nuestra, si respondemos utilizando sólo el conocimiento que hemos adquirido a través del estudio de lo que otros han dicho, nuestra respuesta nunca será más que eso, lo que otros han dicho sobre Jesús. Esta pregunta no puede ser respondida por el estudio solo. Más bien, se requiere también una relación.
          Piensa en ello. Si un amigo íntimo se acercó a ti y dijo, "¿Qué dicen otras personas acerca de mí?" ¿Cómo respondería? Mi conjetura es que sería cosas como, "Oh, ellos dicen" él es un buen tipo", o "un buen trabajador", o "un gran jugador de fútbol." O tal vez, "ella es una buena madre”, “una excelente profesora," o "una buena jefe", etc., etc. ¿Y si tu amigo se volvió hacia ti y dijo:" Bueno, ¿quién decís que soy yo?" Si usted no tiene una buena relación con esa persona, ¿qué más se puede decir, excepto lo que todo el mundo ha dicho? Sin embargo, si usted tiene una relación con esa persona, usted puede mirar él o ella y decir: "Tú eres Gregorio, o María, o Juana. Eres Jorge, o Pascual o Margarita... y tú eres mi amigo." ¿Vean la diferencia que hay? Sin una relación no somos capaces de ver a esa persona para que él o ella es. Mis amigos, lo mismo se aplica para nuestra capacidad de responder a estas preguntas de Jesús hoy. No podemos limitarnos a escuchar lo que otras personas han dicho sobre él. Más bien, tenemos que pasar tiempo con él y conocerlo. Entonces seremos capaces de responder: "Tú eres Jesús, mi amigo. Y debido a esto yo creo que usted es quien dice ser: el Cristo, el Hijo de Dios." Mis amigos esta es una poderosa confesión. Es poderosa porque nos abre a la relación en la que Dios puede revelar su plan para nosotros, es decir, su plan para nuestra felicidad, y así nos confían la responsabilidad de ayudar a llevar a cabo su reino aquí en la tierra.
          Independientemente de si usted está listo para hacer esta confesión hoy, lo importante a recordar es que siempre hay espacio para cada uno de nosotros para profundizar nuestra relación con Dios. Cada vez que nos encontramos con él, tanto en la Palabra y el Santísimo Sacramento, ya sea aquí en la liturgia o en la oración privada, debemos pedirle que revelarse a nosotros más y más. Independiente de la manera que ustedes deciden hacer eso, si es a través de los estudios bíblicos, tiempo en oración ante el Santísimo Sacramento, que participan en un cursillo o en el grupo de oración, o en cualquier otra de las formas que tenemos a nuestra disposición aquí en esta parroquia, deja que Dios abrir la fe en usted que será su llave para abrir la vida que él ha planeado para usted, una vida que conduzca a su alegría eterna en el cielo.
          Mis hermanos y hermanas, podemos empezar aquí mismo. Como nos acercamos para recibir a Jesús en este banquete eucarístico, imaginemos que Jesús nos pide esa pregunta: "¿Quién dicen ustedes que soy yo?" Entonces, permitamos que nuestros "Amén" eco las palabras de Pedro y así abrir para nosotros la alegría de el Reino de Dios.
Dado en la parroquia de Todos los Santos: Logansport, IN

24ª de augusto, 2014

The key that unlocks happiness

          Certainly on this Sunday, we can get stuck on the notion of authority and who it has been given to.  This is important, so it makes sense.  But for each of us, individually, perhaps there is an even greater theme here.  Peter's confession of faith is a key that unlocks for him more than he had imagined; but it didn't come by chance.  It grew out of a relationship with Jesus - the "keymaster", if you will - and we are called to enter into that relationship, too.  May we find the key to happiness in our relationship with Jesus: the faith that unlocks for us God's plan for our happiness and the further building of his kingdom.

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Homily: 21st Sunday, Ordinary Time – Cycle A
          Most of us probably don’t realize this, but every day we carry around a little bundle of power in our pockets, purses, etc.  No, in spite of what all of the advertisers are trying to convince you of, it isn’t that latest Smartphone with the 80 billion aps on it.  It is, in fact, our keys.  You see, keys are powerful.  Sure, practically speaking they don’t seem to do much: they lock and unlock our doors and start our cars, but when you look at it a little more broadly, you see that they do in fact have a lot of power over how we live our lives.  Just think about the last time you lost your keys.  How powerless did you feel?  Particularly here in the United States, without our keys we are immobilized.  We can’t go anywhere because we can’t unlock, let alone start our car, and we wouldn’t want to leave anyway, because we either wouldn’t be able to lock the house or, if we could, we wouldn’t be able to get back in.  So, yes, keys are apparently pretty powerful.
          Well, maybe not exactly.  It’s not the keys themselves that have the power, but rather it is those who possess the keys who have it.  Parents, of course, know this.  How often have you—against your better judgment—handed over your car keys to your teenager with the ominous warning, “I expect you to bring it back in one piece, got it?”  You realize that putting keys in their hands is handing power over to them and so you feel it is your duty (and rightfully so) to remind them of the responsibility that comes with it.  This, I think, can help us understand our readings today, because in both we see that power is being handed over to another by the conferring of keys.
          In the first reading, we see that it is God himself who has this power, which he is exercising through the prophet Isaiah.  In the reading we see that God is exercising his power over the keys of the kingdom of Judah, taking them from one and giving them to another.  Shebna was given power over the kingdom, yet he was not a good steward of the authority given to him.  So the Lord stripped him of the keys and gave them to Eliakim, whom the prophet identifies as the Lord’s servant and who, presumably, would be a better steward of the kingdom.  Teens, could you imagine losing the keys to the car to your younger brother or sister?  Multiply that disgrace by about hundred thousand and that’s what you have going on here.  You see, God was looking for a good steward for his kingdom, someone who would serve the needs of his chosen people well.  Shebna, apparently, didn’t cut it, so the keys—and, thus, the power—were given to Eliakim.
          In the Gospel today, we see a similar scene, though in this instance it is more like a test.  As a group, the disciples are able to report all of the facts about what others have been saying about Jesus.  Yet when Jesus confronts them and asks them to weed through all of that and tell him who they say that he is, only Simon Peter is recorded as having a response.  As a result, Jesus reveals to Simon his plan for him in his Kingdom.  Two things, I think, are important to note here.  First, Jesus carries the authority to confer the keys of the Kingdom of God.  Now, no Jew in their right mind would ever presume to do this, because they all knew that God alone had the authority to do so.  Thus, Jesus is either outside of his right mind or he really is God.  (fyi, as Christians, we believe the latter. <wink>)  Second, Peter, in confessing that Jesus is the Son of God, proves that he acknowledges Jesus’ authority and that he is ready to be a steward of God’s Kingdom.  Thus, it is only after Peter makes this confession that Jesus reveals to him his true calling, represented by conferring on him a new name and by promising to give him the keys to the Kingdom.  Now there’s so much richness to this story, but, unfortunately, we don’t have time to unpack it all.  But what’s important for us to see today is that Peter’s faith—that is, his ability to respond to God’s grace and confess what was unknowable to his human senses alone, that is, that Jesus is God—is itself a key to unlocking God’s loving plan for his life.  And so we see, my brothers and sisters, that faith is a powerful key.
          Of course, as we encounter this reading today, we, too, are confronted with the same questions.  “Who do they say that I am?”  And for us that’s a relatively easy question to answer.  We have nearly 2000 years of history and study behind us to help us.  In fact, there’s a whole theological science—called Christology—that is dedicated to answering just that question.  The challenge comes, as it did for the disciples who were with Jesus that day, when Jesus asks that second question, “Who do you say that I am?”  No matter how deftly we synthesize 2000 years of Christology to make it sound like our own, if we answer using only the knowledge we’ve gained through study of what others have said, our answer will never be more than just that, what others have said about Jesus.  This question cannot be answered by study alone.  Rather, it also requires a relationship.
          Think about it.  If a close friend came up to you and said, “What are other people saying about me?” how would you respond?  My guess is that it would be things like, “Oh, they say ‘he’s a nice guy,’ or ‘a good worker,’ or ‘a great soccer player.’”  Or perhaps, “‘she’s a good mother,’ ‘an excellent teacher,’ or ‘a nice boss,’” etc. etc.  And what if your friend then turned to you and said, “Well, who do you say that I am?”  If you don’t have a good relationship with that person, what more can you say except what everyone else has already said?  Yet, if you have a relationship with that person, you can look at him or her and say, “You’re Greg, or Susan, or Cindy.  You’re Larry, or Samir or Elaina… and you’re my friend.”  Do you see the difference there?  Without a relationship we are unable to see that person for who he or she is.  My friends, the same applies for our ability to answer these questions from Jesus today.  We can’t just listen to what other people have said about him.  Rather, we have to spend time with him and get to know him.  Then we will be able to respond, “You are Jesus, my friend.  And because of this I believe that you are who you say you are: the Christ, the Son of God.”  My friends this is a powerful confession.  It is powerful because it unlocks for us the relationship in which God can reveal his plan for us—that is, his plan for our happiness—and so entrust us with the responsibility to help bring about his kingdom here on earth.
          Whether or not you are ready to make this confession today, the important thing to remember is that there is always room for each of us to deepen our relationship with God.  Each time that we encounter him in both the Word and the Blessed Sacrament—whether here in the liturgy or in private prayer—we should ask him to reveal himself to us more and more.  However it is that you decide to do that—whether it is through Bible Studies, time in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament, participating in a Cursillo weekend or any other of the ways we have available to us here in this parish—let God unlock the faith in you that will be your key to unlocking the life that he has planned for you, a life that will lead to your eternal joy in heaven.
          Believe it or not, my brothers and sisters, we can even begin right here.  As we each approach to receive Jesus in this Eucharistic meal, let us imagine Jesus asking us that question, “Who do you say that I am?”  Then, let’s let our “Amen” echo Peter’s words and thus unlock for us the joys of God’s Kingdom.
Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – August 24th, 2014

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Becoming small so as to be heard

          How often do we pray and feel like we do not hear a response?  The woman in today's Gospel knows this feeling, but she did not let it discourage her.  Desperate for her daughter, she acknowledges her own lowliness before Jesus - becoming small - and so is heard and receives the answer to her prayers.  We, too, must acknowledge our lowliness before Jesus, because it is the lowly that he is most attentive to.

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Homily: 20th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle A
          Cancer has to be one of the more sinister illnesses known to man.  This is because cancer often grows and spreads within a person’s body—overtaking otherwise healthy organs—without manifesting itself in any discernible symptoms.  When symptoms do begin to show—for example, a persistent pain or discomfort or a sign of an abnormal growth—the cancer’s progression is often so far advanced that there is little that doctors can do to stop it. Once a person discovers the affliction, however, and acknowledges just how sick he or she is, he or she often wastes no time seeking out the most highly-reputed physician around, hoping to find a cure.
          This was my own experience with cancer.  Five years ago, I noticed an abnormal growth in the lymph nodes in my left armpit.  Having no other symptoms indicating that I was sick, I largely ignored it.  I thought “if it truly was cancer, I’d already feel sick; but I feel fine, so it is probably something else.”  When I finally did have it biopsied, however, I was told that it was cancer.  And after a full body scan, I was told that the cancer had spread to other areas of my body: that I was, in fact, “stage 4”.  This, I could not ignore.  I had to acknowledge that I was sick and, thus, my immediate need to seek out the best doctor I could find in the hope of getting treatment that would lead to a cure.
          Throughout the Gospels, we see both sides of this story being played out in relation to Jesus, the divine physician.  In many stories recounted by the Gospels we see how the sick begged to be carried out to Jesus just so that they might have a chance see him and to beg for his help, or even just to touch the tassel of his cloak, in the hopes of being healed.  These, of course, were those who sicknesses had manifested themselves outwardly, thus driving these men and women to recognize their need for Christ and his healing.  On the other hand, we also see how the religious elite—the Scribes and the Pharisees—failed to recognize any need for Christ and his healing; relying instead on blind adherence to the letter of the Law even though a spiritual cancer was silently destroying them on the inside.
          In our Gospel today, we hear how a Canaanite woman approached Jesus to plead for the healing of her daughter, who had been afflicted by an evil spirit; and we see many extraordinary things in this encounter.  First, Jesus has crossed the border into the region of Tyre and Sidon—into the land of the Gentiles: that is, those who were not Jewish—and he is then approached by a woman—a Canaanite, whom the Jews despised—who begged him for help.  These details are extraordinary because Jews, generally, had no reason to go outside of their land and they had even less reason to interact with the people of these other lands; for they were pagan and thus ritually impure.  And so, contact with them would have made the Jew ritually impure as well.  Add to it that public interactions between men and women were culturally taboo and you can see that this public encounter between Jesus and this Canaanite woman in her own land was rather extraordinary.
          Now, there has been much ink spilled trying to understand Jesus’ response to this woman.  But if we take it somewhat as it is, I think that we can find some spiritual insight for ourselves.  Jesus, for all he did and taught, was a faithful Jew and when appropriate he followed Jewish customs.  Thus, when this pagan woman approached him, he at first ignored her.  When she persisted, he declared the truth: that he had come for “the lost sheep of the house of Israel” and so continued to ignore her.  When she persisted even further, he explained yet again that it was not right to give to her—who was not of the “house of Israel”—that which was destined for those who were of the house of Israel.  Jesus, we see, was fulfilling the role of what most thought the Messiah would be: a faithful Jew of the house of David who had come to restore the kingdom for the sons of Israel.
          The woman’s response, however, moves Jesus to more.  The woman acknowledged her own spiritual depravity: “Yes, Lord, I acknowledge that I do not deserve your mercy; for I do not belong to the house of Israel.  But don’t also the dogs eat from that which falls from their masters’ tables?”  In other words, she acknowledged her own exclusion from the chosen people and, thus, her lack of any claim to Jesus’ help, but also that Jesus’ mercy was big enough to spill over even to one who did not deserve it; and it seems like it is this that causes Jesus to respond.  It’s as if her humility was so unexpected that it moved Jesus to pity and made him bend to her request.
          Saint Terese of Lisieux has said that if it seems as if God is ignoring us it’s not because we’re too small for him to take notice, but rather that we haven’t become small enough to move him to respond.  So often we come before Him seeking help for others who seemingly are more afflicted than we are.  Yet, we fail to acknowledge our own depravity—that is, our own need for Christ’s healing and our unworthiness to receive it—when we approach him.  We need only to approach him from a place of truth, however, a place in which we acknowledge our brokenness and constant need for his mercy, in order to find him “defeated” also by our humility and thus moved to act on our behalf.
          When I was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, I had to submit myself fully to the doctor and to whatever course of treatment he would recommend for me.  I had to acknowledge completely how sick I was and how powerless I was to do anything about it.  I did and, thanks be to God and to the grace of modern medicine, I can stand before you today more than four years in remission.  All of us, however, have great needs in our lives, both physical and spiritual: either for ourselves or, very often, for those who are dear to us.  Collectively, we also carry the burdens of those who suffer greatly, but who are far removed from us: like our brothers and sisters in Iraq who are suffering a severe persecution at this time.  Therefore, as we approach this altar of grace today, may the acknowledgement of our “smallness” before God lead us to find his healing mercy, both in our lives and in the lives of all those for whom we pray.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – August 16th & 17th, 2014

Monday, August 11, 2014

Mantener la calma y escuche el murmullo de una brisa suave

          Como el mal continúa por asalto el mundo - sobre todo en el Oriente Medio, y en particular en Irak, en las últimas semanas - que puede ser fácil de ser superado por la ansiedad y el miedo. Pero Jesús viene a nosotros en medio de la tormenta y nos llama a él. Tal vez ahora, más que nunca, necesitamos que se nos recuerde a "mantener la calma".


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Homilía: 19ª Domingo del Tiempo Ordinario – Ciclo A
          Mantener la calma y seguir adelante es una frase que he visto publicado en camisetas, tazas de café, y las imágenes de perfil de Facebook con tanta frecuencia en los últimos meses que me inspiré para preguntar acerca de su origen. Lo que encontré fue que esta frase (y su presentación gráfica en particular) se utilizó en un cartel de motivación que el gobierno británico produjo en 1939 momentos antes del principio de la Segunda Guerra Mundial. Fue pensado para aumentar la moral del público británico en las consecuencias de lo que ampliamente predijeron sería ataques aéreos masivos en las principales ciudades después de que estallara la guerra. El cartel, sin embargo, en realidad nunca recibió la exhibición pública y la mayoría de los carteles originales desapareció.
          En el año 2000, un alijo de estos originales fue descubierto y uno de ellos se mostraba. Rápidamente captó la atención de la gente y empresas (con la misma rapidez) comenzó la producción de copias en masa. Un sub-cultura ha crecido a su alrededor y la modificación de su cláusula segunda de acuerdo al interés de un grupo en particular ha vuelto muy popular (por ejemplo, los católicos podrían modificar con decir "Mantener la calma y ir a misa" o "Mantener la calma y ruegue El Rosario "). Menciono esto porque creo que hay un mensaje de "Mantener la calma" en nuestras lecturas bíblicas de hoy.
          En la primera lectura de hoy, oímos hablar de un encuentro entre el profeta Elías y Dios. Durante cuarenta días Elías viajó por el desierto hasta el monte Horeb, donde luego se refugió en una cueva. Tal vez para nosotros, estos hechos parecen simplemente ser antecedentes de la historia del encuentro de Dios con Elías. Sin embargo, para el pueblo hebreo, cada uno de estos detalles habría tenido un fuerte impacto en su interpretación de la historia.
          El viaje de cuarenta días en el desierto les habría recordado el viaje de cuarenta años de los israelitas por el desierto hacia la Tierra Prometida. Y, mientras que la mayoría de nosotros no podría hacer la conexión, los antiguos israelitas supieran que el Monte Horeb, donde Elías terminó su viaje, también se conoce como el Monte Sinaí, donde Moisés recibió los Diez Mandamientos y en el que Dios formó su alianza con el pueblo de Israel.
          Allí, Dios llamó a Moisés hasta él en el monte y le habló. Cuando lo hizo, la gente oyó el retumbar de potentes truenos y la tierra tembló bajo sus pies. Por lo tanto, se pueden imaginar que era absolutamente un choque a los israelitas cuando se enteraron de que, cuando Dios llamó a Elías a salir a su encuentro, Dios no se encuentra en el fuerte viento, el terremoto o el fuego. Elías, a pesar de que era íntimamente consciente de la manera en que Dios había hablado a su pueblo en esa misma montaña, no presumo que Dios le iba a hablar de la misma manera. Más bien, él mantuvo la calma y escuchó con un corazón entendido para escuchar la forma particular que Dios le iba a hablar y en su lugar encontró al Señor en el murmullo de una brisa suave.
          En nuestra lectura del Evangelio de hoy, escuchamos la continuación de la historia que comenzamos la semana pasada. Después de alimentar a los cinco mil con sólo cinco panes y dos peces, Jesús envía a los discípulos por delante de él, despide a la gente a sus hogares y finalmente consigue el "tiempo a solas" que estaba buscando. Cuando Jesús pasa la noche en oración, Pedro y los discípulos se encuentran luchando contra un mar agitado. Por lo tanto, como Jesús les se acerca, los discípulos, ya estresado, reaccionan como si estuvieran viendo un fantasma. Jesús llama a ellos en lo que debe haber parecido ser un "murmullo de una brisa suave" en medio del estruendo de las olas en las aguas tumultuosas. Aún en medio este caos, sin embargo, Pedro, como Elías, mantuvo la calma y discernió la voz del Señor; y luego pidió que el Señor lo llamara a él. Podía hacer esto porque, en tiempos de calma, él pasó tiempo con Jesús, desarrollando una relación con él y llegando a conocer su voz. Así, en los momentos de angustia, que podía mantener la calma y escuchar la forma particular en que Dios le estaba hablando a él y llamándolo cerca.
          El reto de discernir la voz de Dios en medio de nuestro mundo ruidoso es mayor que nunca. Es por eso que cada vez es más importante desarrollar una relación con Dios en tiempos de calma, por lo que en momentos de tormenta y angustia que podamos mantener la calma y así saber cuál voz escuchar a. Un niño perdido en un centro comercial se hace sorda por su ansiedad hasta que la voz de su madre rompe a través, llamándole a ella. Dios nos llama a este tipo de relación, una relación en la que llegamos a conocer y confiar en su voz, por lo que cuando estamos sacudidos por las olas del mundo, vamos a mantener la calma y oírle llamar a nosotros en el murmullo de una brisa suave.
          Mis hermanos y hermanas, si este encuentro con la Palabra de Dios—la Palabra Viva contenida en estas Escrituras—llama hoy a buscar una relación más profunda con Dios, entonces se ha cumplido la finalidad para la que fue enviado. Si no es así, te invito a mirar de nuevo a esta Palabra y para orar por la sabiduría para entender la forma particular en que Dios te está hablando a través de él. De cualquier manera, debemos reconocer que en esta iglesia, que es nuestro barco en medio del mar agitado del mundo, Jesús viene a nosotros en la forma del sacramento ofrece aquí en este altar y nos llama a él: diciendo, en cierto modo, "Mantener la calma y escuche el murmullo de una brisa suave". Confiando en la fe transmitida a nosotros de los discípulos que estaban con él en el mar esa noche, acerquémonos ahora—sin reservas—para recibirle y darle homenaje.

Dado en la parroquia de Todos los Santos: Logansport, IN – 10ª de augusto, 2014

Keep Calm and Listen to the Tiny Whispering Sound

          As evil continues to storm the world - most especially in the Middle East, and particularly in Iraq, over the past few weeks - it can be easy to be overcome by anxiety and fear.  But Jesus comes to us in the midst of the storm and calls us to him.  Perhaps now, more than ever, we need to be reminded to "keep calm".


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Homily: 19th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle A
          Keep Calm and Carry On is a phrase that I’ve seen posted on t-shirts, coffee mugs, and Facebook profile pictures so often in recent months that I was inspired to inquire as to its origin.  What I found was that this phrase (and its particular graphic presentation) was used on a motivational poster that the British government produced in 1939 just before the beginning of the Second World War.  It was intended to raise the morale of the British public in the aftermath of what they widely predicted would be massive air attacks on major cities after war broke out.  The poster, however, never actually received public display and most of the original posters disappeared.  In the year 2000, a stash of these originals was uncovered and one of them was displayed.  It quickly grabbed attention and companies (just as quickly) began mass-producing copies.  A sub-culture has grown up around it and modifying its second clause according to the interest of a particular group has become quite popular (for example, Catholics might modify it to say “Keep Calm and Go To Mass” or “Keep Calm and Pray The Rosary”).  I mention this because I think that there is a “Keep Calm” message in our Scripture readings today.
          In today’s first reading, we hear of an encounter between the prophet Elijah and God.  For forty days Elijah journeyed through the desert to Mount Horeb, where he then took shelter in a cave.  Perhaps to us, these facts seem simply to be background to the story of God’s encounter with Elijah.  Yet for the Hebrew people, each of these details would have had a powerful impact on their interpretation of the story.
          The forty day journey in the desert would have reminded them of the forty year journey of the Israelites through the desert and into the Promised Land.  And, while most of us might not make the connection, the ancient Israelites would know that Mount Horeb, where Elijah ended his journey, is also known as Mount Sinai, where Moses received the Ten Commandments and where God formed his covenant with the Israelite people.
          There, God called Moses up to him on the mountain and spoke to him.  When he did, the people heard loud peals of thunder and the earth shook beneath them.  Thus, you can imagine that it was quite a shock to the Israelites when they heard that, when God called Elijah to come out to meet him, God was not to be found in the strong wind, the earthquake, or the fire.  Elijah, even though he was intimately aware of the way God had spoken to his people on that very mountain, did not presume that God would speak to him in the same way.  Rather he kept calm and listened with a discerning heart to hear the particular way that God would speak to him and instead found the Lord in a tiny whispering sound.
          In our Gospel reading today, we hear the continuation of the story we began last week.  After feeding the five thousand with just five loaves and two fish, Jesus sends the disciples ahead of him, dismisses the crowd to their homes and finally gets the “alone time” he was looking for.  As Jesus spends the night in prayer, Peter and the disciples find themselves fighting against a rough sea.  Thus, as Jesus approaches them, the disciples, already stressed out, react as if they are seeing a ghost.  Jesus calls out to them in what must have seemed to be a “tiny whispering sound” amidst the crashing of the waves in the tumultuous waters.  Even amidst this chaos, however, Peter, like Elijah, kept calm and discerned the Lord’s voice; and then asked that the Lord would call him to him.  He could do this because, in times of calm, he spent time with Jesus, building a relationship with him and getting to know his voice.  Thus, in times of distress, he could keep calm and hear the particular way in which God was speaking to him and calling him close.
          The challenge of discerning God’s voice in the midst of our noisy world is greater than ever.  That is why it is ever more important to build a relationship with God in times of calm, so that in times of storm and distress we can keep calm and thus know which voice to listen to.  A child lost in a shopping mall is made deaf by his anxiety until the voice of his mother breaks through, calling him to her.  God calls us to this kind of relationship, a relationship in which we come to know and trust his voice, so that when we are tossed about by the waves of the world, we will keep calm and hear him calling to us in the tiny whispering sound.
          My brothers and sisters, if this encounter with the Word of God—the Living Word contained in these Scriptures—calls you today to pursue a deeper relationship with God, then it has fulfilled the purpose for which it was sent.  If it hasn’t, I invite you to look again at this Word and to pray for the wisdom to understand the particular way that God is speaking to you through it.  Either way, let us recognize that in this church, which is our boat amidst the rough, rude sea of the world, Jesus comes to us in the form of the sacrament offered here on this altar and calls us to him: saying, in a way, “Keep Calm and Listen For The Tiny Whispering Sound”.  Trusting in the faith handed down to us from the disciples who were with him on the sea that night, let us come now—unreservedly—to receive him and give him homage.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – August 10th, 2014

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Heeding the Lord and being satisfied

          Well, I made it back from vacation in one piece and I had a great time.  I was off in Oregon and spent a lot of time in the woods (notice, I didn't say wilderness, because these were all pretty well trafficked parks), a great time with my friend Debbie, and I was able to see the ocean (well, a little bit).  Bookend that with visits to my family in Illinois and I have to say that it was a pretty fruitful vacation.  Thanks to Fr. Mike for taking on the extra load at the parish so I could get away.

I know.  Total postcard, right?  Snapped this with my phone.
So, there's the pacific ocean, covered, as it mostly was, by fog.
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Homily: 18th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle A
          I recently returned from a trip to Oregon where I was visiting a friend and taking some time to rest and to enjoy a part of our country that I haven’t had the opportunity to visit before: the Pacific Northwest.  While I was there I visited Crater Lake.  Crater Lake is a geological anomaly, as it was formed by the collapse of Mount Mazama: a volcanic mountain over 400,000 years old.  About 7,700 years ago a huge eruption from the upper part of the mountain followed by a “ring” eruption around the center of the mountain caused it to collapse in on itself, forming the “crater” (or caldera, as geologists know it) that now holds the water known as “Crater Lake”.  At its deepest point it is 1,949 feet deep, making it the deepest lake in North America.  Its fresh water is deep blue in color, which provides a striking contrast to the steep, pumice rock slopes that surround it on all sides.  It is truly an incredible thing of nature to see.
          The land that surrounds it is relatively untouched.  This is in part because of protection by the National Parks Service, but it is also because it appears to be a pretty harsh land.  Driving up to the lake (whose outer ring sits about 6,900 feet above sea level), I was struck by how arid the land around the lake seemed to be.  Vegetation was scarce and the trees that were green and appeared to be growing were interspersed with trees that haven’t survived the extremely harsh winters that this area experiences (the lake averages over 530 inches of snow each year and there was still some patches of snow on the ground when I was there).  These trees that hadn’t survived were a mangled mess; their trunks twisted and bent around in ways that give evidence to how they had been subject, year after year, to the crushing weight of 40 plus feet of snowfall and the harsh winds that constantly beat the sides of the mountain.  These trees, it seems, just ran out of the life force necessary to overcome these harsh conditions.
          I think that our lives can sometimes feel like life on the side of that mountain.  Perhaps we’ve had it hard from the start.  Maybe our seed fell in pretty rocky ground and so we didn’t have much chance to set down a good root.  Maybe our parents or grandparents struggled after the Depression and our family never recovered to enjoy a level of economic security that could provide good opportunities for us, such as a college education or vocational training.  Perhaps we’ve had to struggle to provide for our own families: always on the edge—and sometimes over the edge—of failing to make ends meet.  Year after year, season after season, the weight of the world lays heavy on our shoulders.  After many years, we begin to look like those trees that hadn’t survived: twisted and bent in unnatural ways that give evidence to the harsh environment that we grew up in.
          Even if we did fall into more favorable soil and were able to put down a good root, the harshness of the world is still something to contend with.  Perhaps a sudden severe illness or an accident snatched away the life of a close family member or friend.  Maybe a sudden job loss causes a life-long dream to crumble.  Or maybe we’ve experienced an irreconcilable betrayal by one we’ve committed our lives to.  Whatever it is, this world, it seems, has a way of placing a crushing weight on our shoulders and of beating us relentlessly with a cold, dry wind; so much so that we often feel like we have nothing left to give: as if all of life force within us has been spent.
          For folks who have experienced the harshness of the world, the demands of the Christian life can seem to be too much to handle.  “Turn the other cheek… Go two miles with the one who forces you into service for one… Give also your tunic to one who demands your cloak…  These and many other demands that Jesus makes of his followers throughout the Gospels can be very challenging and, for those of us weighed down by the harshness of the world, they can seem to ask for much more than we have to give.  If so, then the Scriptures that we’ve heard today have Good News for us.
          In the reading from the prophet Isaiah, we heard the Lord declare to the Israelites, who had been oppressed by the harshness of exile, “All you who thirst, come to the water! You who have no money, come, receive grain and eat; come without paying and without cost, drink wine and milk!”  For a people oppressed by the harshness of exile, this was welcome news; and for us, who still find ourselves oppressed by the world’s harshness, this word comes to us as a message of hope.  Because if we feel like we have nothing left to give, it’s OK.  The Lord asks nothing of us but that we heed him—that is, that we place ourselves under his care so that he may provide for us.  This is a promise that only God can make, for only he can promise relief without cost.  For the ancient Israelites, this promise found fulfillment when they returned to their homeland from exile.  Yet, this, too, was just a foreshadowing of the ultimate fulfillment that God would complete when he sent his Son, Jesus, to save humanity from its exile from heaven.
          In the Gospel reading today, we find that Jesus truly is the ultimate fulfillment of this prophecy.  Jesus, weary and saddened by the news of the death of his cousin John the Baptist, seeks out a deserted place to mourn this loss.  Yet when he arrives he finds that the crowds who had been following him were waiting for him there.  “His heart,” already heavy with the news of the death of his cousin John, was nonetheless “moved with pity for them.”  He saw that they were a people weighed down by the harshness of this world and so, in spite of his own sorrow, he ministered to them, curing their sick and teaching them.  And when evening came, instead of sending them away to find their own food, he miraculously provided food enough to fill all who were present.  The crowd had come heedfully to Jesus and, without paying and without cost, they ate their fill.
          My brothers and sisters, this is the same banquet that God is calling us to today.  We who have been beaten down by the harshness of the world and who feel like we have nothing left to give to him come here today and are offered, not an abundance of physical food, but a banquet of spiritual nourishment; enough to satisfy our hungry hearts and to strengthen our spirits to persevere through the harshness of the world.  If we come heedfully—that is, placing ourselves completely under God’s providential care—we too will find that Jesus, although burdened with the weight of the world, nonetheless still cares for us and does not leave us to go away hungry seeking to satisfy our weary hearts.  Thus we gather today to give thanks.  Just as life still finds a way to persevere in spite of the harsh conditions that surround Crater Lake, so too the life force within us—strengthened by this word and by this sacrament—will always find a way to persevere.  And so, my brothers and sisters, come—without paying and without cost—to this banquet prepared for us by our Lord.
Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – August 2nd & 3rd, 2014