A pure wonder

Homily: 21^st Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          Perhaps we all remember that famous passage in the Gospel when Jesus says, "Unless you turn and become like little children, you shall not enter the Kingdom of God".  What Jesus means by this seems obvious, right?: that salvation involves a return to a state of moral innocence, like children.

          But I think this begs the question a little.  I mean, are children really as innocent as their reputation makes them?  Let’s think about this for a moment.  Infants are some of the most selfish and self-centered people I know!  They will cry and fuss until they get what they want, completely without regard to how their attitude affects others.  And what about toddlers?  Don't toddlers give their parents constant headaches as they stubbornly assert themselves against their parents’ wills (I mean, we don’t call it the “terrible twos” for nothing, right)?  Then, as they get to kindergarten and beyond, they augment their stubborn defiance and begin lying to their parents, don’t they?; and add to it an unrelenting torment of their siblings!  No, I’m not convinced that children are really as innocent as the “media” makes them out to be.

          Perhaps, however, Jesus was referring to a different kind of innocence when he made that statement: not a moral innocence, but an innocence marked by a purity of wonder.  You know, for healthy children, the world is a wonder-filled place.  Sea shells and starlight are both magically mysterious to them; and grasshoppers and green mountains equally inspire fascination and excitement.  And isn't that way it should be?  I mean, isn't that the way that Adam and Eve would have seen the world before original sin: as an inspiring collection of magnificent treasures given to them by their Creator?  I think so, because that's what creation is: a fabulous gift from an all-powerful God who is a wise and loving Father and who wants his children to share in his delight in his creation.

          An attitude of wonder and awe towards God’s gift of life and the created universe is something that has been shared by all the saints.  And it applies not only to natural gifts, but even more to the supernatural gifts of salvation and redemption.  This is why Saint Paul, after spending three chapters of his Letter to the Romans analyzing and explaining the complex twists and turns of salvation history, breaks out into a hymn of wonder and awe: "Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!"  My friends, this is the cry of a childlike, grace-filled heart.  In other words, it is the cry of one who carries a healthy Christian heart.

          In his spontaneous hymn of praise, Saint Paul tells us that God's judgments are "inscrutable" and his ways are "unsearchable."  Now, he doesn’t mean this in a negative sense, but rather in a “wonder-filled” sense as he acknowledges how God was using a creative, unexpected way to bring about the salvation of the Israelite people.  As it turns out, God is always using creative ways to bring about his magnificent plan of salvation.  One of those particularly creative ways is the papacy.

          In today's Gospel passage, Jesus explains that the papacy is the indestructible foundation of his Church.  To emphasize the point, he gives his disciple Simon a new name that symbolizes his ministry as the first pope: "Peter," which is derived from the Greek word petrus, meaning "rock".  As interesting as that is, the setting in which this is taking place only amplifies the situation.  You see, this conversation took place just outside the city of Caesarea Philippi, which was a glorious city that was constructed on the top of a huge hill, one side of which was a towering, bare rock cliff.  This gave the city an appearance both of invincibility and magnificence.  Precisely there, standing near that imposing cliff, Jesus explains that his Church will also be invincible, because it too will be founded on rock: the rock of Peter, the first Pope.  Jesus promised that his Church will be indestructible; and that the "gates of the netherworld" will not prevail against it.  And we see that his promise has come true.

          For the last 20 centuries, we see that the papacy has continued intact.  Even secular encyclopedias (who look at facts, not religious tradition) can trace an unbroken line of succession from Saint Peter, the first pope, up to Francis, our current pope.  At times, we must admit, there have been corrupt, greedy, and weak men occupying the “chair of Peter”, and many emperors, kings, and generals have tried to disrupt the papacy by having popes kidnapped, murdered, and exiled on numerous occasions.  Nonetheless, no pope in history has spoiled the purity of the Gospel or interrupted the flow of God's grace through the sacraments.  Thus we see, that the rock that Jesus established has stood the test of time; and not because of the popes' human qualities, but rather because of the "riches and wisdom and knowledge" of God's divine and truly wonder-filled providential care.  It was an odd plan, to be sure; but our hearts should be filled with wonder for God’s wisdom, because it has worked and will continue to work until the end of time.

          My brothers and sisters, when was the last time that we found ourselves echoing Saint Paul's hymn in our own hearts, being filled with wonder and awe at the thought of God's goodness, wisdom and power?  If it was recently, then that's a good sign.  Evidence of wonder and awe in our hearts is a key vital sign for the healthy Christian soul.

          If your soul is a bit short on wonder and awe, however, it may be a warning sign.  Of course, some people tend to be a bit pessimistic by temperament: it's part of their personality and so external signs of wonder and awe are just “not their thing”.  That's different, however, than the kind of worldly (and sometimes diabolically encouraged) cynicism and skepticism that actually extinguishes the Christian fire in our hearts.  You see, the cynic only laughs at irony and sarcasm and the skeptic only smiles at the failings of his neighbor; but for the healthy Christian, life itself is a source of joy and satisfaction.  In other words, even with all its suffering, life, for the healthy Christian, is a wonder-filled, awe-inspiring thing, because it shows forth the unfathomable "riches and wisdom and knowledge of God" and it reminds us that "from him and through him and for him are all things".  And so, if you don’t have this, perhaps it’s an indicator that you need to return to the basics of the Christian spiritual life: prayer and the sacraments, most especially the sacrament of reconciliation.

          Nevertheless, my brothers and sisters, today, whether our sense of wonder is rickety or robust, let's stir it up during the miracle of this Mass, so as to give God pleasure by enjoying his gifts and to make our Christian hearts healthy so that we might carry this joy into the world around us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – August 27^th, 2017

An invitation to the feast

          This week the priests of the Diocese of Lafayette will be on convocation in Brown County.  I'm greatly looking forward to it as there are still many priests from this diocese that I do not know.  This will be my first opportunity to spend some time with them.  Then we return to celebrate the ordination of three more men to the priesthood for our diocese next Saturday.  Finally, on Sunday I celebrate my first anniversary of ordination to the priesthood.  It ought to be a pretty "vocation affirming" week!

          Below is my homily for the Feast of Corpus Christi.  Enjoy!

------------------------------------------------

Homily: Corpus Christi – Cycle C

          Last Sunday, the Church gave us the Solemnity of the Holy Trinity, where we were invited to consider the mystery of who God is in himself.  Many of you are probably still digesting my homily from last week (and, perhaps, you still have some in-digestion along with it).  This Sunday, however, the Church offers us the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ: something, I would say, that is a little more… please pardon the pun… digestible.

          In this feast—also known as Corpus Christi—the Church invites us to consider the mystery of who God is for us.  In this feast, we celebrate that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, left for us a memorial of his Sacrifice on the Cross: a memorial that allows us to participate in that same sacrifice—and the salvation that it won for us—by re-presenting it to the Father in the form of the bread and wine, offered from our hands and then transformed by the words of the priest into the Body and Blood of Christ, and then by partaking in those gifts when we receive from the altar what God has blessed and made abundant for us.

          We also celebrate, of course, that the Body and Blood of Christ represents for us the enduring, physical presence of Jesus among us: that in churches and chapels around the world men and women can come and be in the physical presence of God, to commune with him in silent adoration and to be strengthened in faith.  This is a rich mystery for us to consider; one we should contemplate regularly.  For our purposes here today, however, I’d like to offer three things that this feast should inspire in us in our daily lives.

          First, this feast should inspire in us awe and wonder.  The disciples in the Gospel today were amazed that the five loaves and two fish that Jesus blessed were miraculously multiplied and that they not only satisfied the five thousand men (not to mention any women and children who were there) but that there was left over enough to fill twelve wicker baskets.  Jesus performs another miraculous transformation for us when, through the hands and words of the priest who stands in his place, and through the power of the Holy Spirit, the meager gifts of bread and wine have their very substance changed and become Jesus’ Body and Blood, his real presence, right before our eyes.  That this presence endures—and that we can not only receive him into our bodies, but also remain in his presence long after the Mass has ended—is something that should amaze us as well.  For this is only possible by God’s grace and through his great love and care for us.  That God would consider us, his creatures, so… loveable that he would deign to share this with us is truly an awesome mystery.

          Thus, the second thing that this feast should inspire in us is thanksgiving.  Just like in our first reading when the priest Melchizedek made an offering of thanksgiving that God had allowed Abram to conquer all of his enemies, so we, too, come here to offer thanks that God, through the sacrifice of his Son, has conquered our greatest enemy: sin and death.  Yet we go even further and we give him thanks that he has left us the Body and Blood of his Son to be a memorial for us of this great gift of victory; a gift which is ever present and available to us to strengthen us and to inspire our daily lives.  This is a true gift: one that we should be humbled by daily.  And the only appropriate response to this gift is to give thanks, which we do most perfectly when we celebrate the Holy Eucharist.

          True, authentic thanksgiving, however, always leads us to respond in kind, that is, to pay it forward.  Just as Abram responded to the thanksgiving offering of Melchizedek by offering ten percent of everything he had, so we, too, are called to respond by making a generous offering of ourselves, pouring out our lives in service of God, Our Father, who so generously fills us with his gifts.  Yet, how often do we fail, like the disciples did in the Gospel, and convince ourselves that our meager gifts, our talents, aren’t enough to make a difference?  How often do we say, “I’m not really that good at anything” or “I don’t have much to give, so why bother?” when what we should be saying is “Here, Lord, it isn’t much, but it’s what I have.”  We forget, don’t we, to give what little we have to Jesus.  We think that we have to prove something to him and so we assume that our little bit won’t go too far.  But when we give it to Jesus, what happens?  He multiplies it, of course!  So much so that it spills over to become more than is needed.

          My brothers and sisters let us not lament our small gifts, but rather our small faith!  Better yet, let us bring our small faith to Jesus, even if we have doubts, and place it in his hands.  Because when we do so, like he did with the loaves and the fish, he will bless it and multiply it so much that it fills baskets with what is left over: even after countless others have been nourished by it.

          This, my friends, is our invitation today on this feast of Corpus Christi: an invitation to be amazed that the God who created the universe would come to us, his creatures, under the appearance of simple bread and wine—gifts that we can consume; an invitation to give thanks for this awe-inspiring gift; and an invitation to respond, offering our meager gifts to Jesus so that he can multiply them for the good of many.  The Good Lord never ceases to invite us.  Let us, then, respond with the same “yes” as Mary did, a “yes” filled with awe and wonder, so that we, like her, may produce a great harvest through the grace of God working in us—the grace that we receive when we receive the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ from this altar.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – June 1^st & 2^nd, 2013

The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

Are you "tired" of Christmas already?

Hey Folks!  Here's the homily I preached for the second Sunday of Advent at my ministry parishes in Jeffersonville, IN.  I have many, many more things to say about the much maligned season of Advent, but this is all I can bear to write now.  May God bless your Advent season with joy-filled expectation (instead of resentment) of Christmas!
--------------------------------------------------

~ Given at Saint Augustine and Sacred Heart parishes, Jeffersonville, IN – December 3^rd & 4^th, 2011.

          Last Saturday marked the end of the liturgical year.  In the Gospel reading for the Mass of the day on that last day of the Church year, Jesus is quoted as saying, “Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life….” (Luke 21:34) It’s no accident that that particular reading is read on the last day of the Church liturgical year.  After 34 weeks of Ordinary Time—when we focus on growing spiritually and morally in the context of our daily lives—the Church realizes that most of us probably do have hearts that have “become drowsy”—perhaps from drunkenness and carousing, but most likely from the anxieties of daily life.  And so there is a certain genius on the Church’s part to place that reading right on the cusp of the new liturgical year.  It reminds us that perhaps our hearts have become drowsy and then it ushers us right into Advent, a season designed to help “wake us up.”

          Our first reading today from the prophet Isaiah is a beautiful reading—full of awe and wonder.  While the reader did a great job reading it, I think it would require a method actor to really convey the joy-filled expectation that these words express.  Listen to some of these again:

Comfort, give comfort to my people,

 says your God.

 Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her

 that her service is at an end,

her guilt is expiated…

And still further:

…Go up on to a high mountain,

 Zion, herald of glad tidings;

 cry out at the top of your voice,

 Jerusalem, herald of good news!

 Fear not to cry out

 and say to the cities of Judah:

 Here is your God! 

These are words of great joy and expectation and are simply wonderful to ponder.  Perhaps, however, we are unable to see the joy that these words convey, at least not in our current situation.  Perhaps, even after one week of Advent, our hearts are still drowsy—tired, weary, and numb—from the anxieties of our daily lives.  Of course, one need not look farther than the newspaper to understand why: violence and drug use continue to escalate in our cities and neighborhoods, jobs continue to be scarce and an economic recovery continues to be lethargic, national politics remains, it seems, disconnected from the daily struggles of individuals and families, and there are countless other reasons as well.  And so no, it’s not surprising that our hearts may have become drowsy and we are unable to relate to the awe and wonder expressed in today’s first reading.

          Yet, when we listen to the Gospel reading, we see that the Jews living during Jesus’ time also seemed to be struggling with the same problem.  Now, the Gospel of Mark is notoriously slim on narrative details and so we’ll have to read between the lines a little bit to see that their hearts were also drowsy and in need of awakening.  The Gospel begins by quoting our reading from the prophet Isaiah and then essentially equates it with John’s proclamation in the desert, calling for a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.  The Gospel states that “people of the whole Judean countryside and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem were going out to him.”  In other words, the whole Jewish nation heard of John’s proclamation and began to come to him to be baptized.  Perhaps many of them were reluctant at first, unable to see the “awe” in the awe-filled proclamation that John was making.  Eventually, perhaps, through the witness of seeing others go out to the Jordan River or of speaking with others who returned from there, these reluctant ones could see that their hearts indeed had become drowsy waiting for the coming of God that Isaiah had promised.  With “hearts awake,” however, they could experience the joy-filled expectation that the coming promised by the prophet was now at hand.

          And so we encounter these readings here today in this season of Advent for the same purpose: to call us to recognize the drowsiness of our own hearts so that we too may awaken to the experience of joy-filled expectation for the second-coming of Jesus.  Just like those ancient Jews, it feels like Christ’s promised return is long-delayed, but when we recognize—as Saint Peter reminds us our second reading today—that “with the Lord one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years like one day,” it makes it easier to see that Jesus’ delay is, ultimately, for our benefit.  Christ wishes that all of us should come to repentance, as Saint Peter reminds us, and so every second that he delays—which is as nothing to him—is a gift of opportunity for us to wake up our drowsy hearts, so as to be ready when he comes.

          My sisters and brothers, Jesus did not tell his disciples to “beware that their hearts not become drowsy” because he is an exacting master, demanding strict discipline so as to never sin.  Rather, he was instructing them—and so us through the preservation of his words in the Gospels—to remain vigilant so that they would not be asleep and miss out on the joy of witnessing his return in glory.  My sisters and brothers, this is what the season of Advent is doing for us.  It’s as if the season itself is saying, “Take comfort, for this time of suffering is at an end and the time for Christ’s return is near!”  If it hasn’t done this for you yet, then I encourage you to spend time praying with these readings in this coming week and to ask God to awaken in your heart a joy-filled expectation for his coming.

          And if it has?  Well, I think the Gospel then shows us what to do.  All of the people from the Judean countryside and the city-dwellers of Jerusalem came out to John to receive the baptism of repentance and to acknowledge their sins—to “make straight a path” in their hearts for the coming of the long-awaited Messiah, the one Isaiah promised.  We too, then, are called to repent and acknowledge our sins.  For the fully-initiated, that means the sacrament of reconciliation—confession—and it is why the Church encourages all Catholics to celebrate this sacrament during the season of Advent.  As we hear the readings reminding us of how the ancient Jews prepared the way of the Lord in their hearts at the sound of John’s proclamation, so we too are called to prepare a pathway for Christ to come into our hearts by reconciling with both God and our neighbor through the sacrament of confession.

          Friends, beware that yours hearts do not become drowsy from the oversaturation of “Christmas Spirit” that the world outside of these walls is drowning you in.  Rather, use this time of Advent to prepare well your heart for Christ’s second coming and the best gift you will receive on Christmas day may very well be the joy of the Lord in your heart.