El Señor resucitado viene a nosotros

Homilía: Domingo de la Pascua – Ciclo A

          "Se han llevado del sepulcro al Señor y no sabemos dónde lo habrán puesto". Estas palabras de María de Magdala quizás resuenan en nuestros oídos y nuestros corazones hoy cuando entramos en esta solemnidad de Pascua. Resuenan en nuestros corazones porque, tal vez, podamos simpatizar con sus sentimientos en esa primera mañana de Pascua, a pesar de que nuestra situación es diferente. En lugar de venir a el sepulcro de nuestro Señor y encontrarla vacía (malentendido, como ella, que el cuerpo del Señor había sido llevado, en lugar de resucitado de entre los muertos), anhelamos venir a nuestras iglesias para encontrar a nuestro Señor, pero no podemos. Por lo tanto, en cierto sentido, nosotros también podemos decir "Se han llevado al Señor ... y no sabemos dónde lo habrán puesto".

          Por lo tanto, en cierto sentido, tenemos una gran solidaridad con los primeros cristianos que, absolutamente desconcertados por los acontecimientos del Viernes Santo, ahora, en su dolor, y tratando de llegar a un acuerdo con la pérdida de su Señor y Maestro, están desconcertados una vez más por esta noticia del sepulcro vacío. Pedro, a quien Jesús reconoció como el líder de sus discípulos, después de recibir esta noticia, corre a la tumba y encuentra todo como María lo había descrito. El escritor del Evangelio no nos da su reacción, pero podemos inferir que se quedó desconcertado al verlo. Tal vez nosotros también estemos desconcertados por esta situación en la que no podemos entrar a nuestras iglesias hoy para proclamar con una sola voz las buenas noticias de la resurrección de Jesús: mostrando que no hemos tardado en comprender el significado de estos eventos, sino que hemos entendido y creyó. Esto, para decirlo suavemente, es un gran sufrimiento para nosotros.

          Sin embargo, hoy estamos llamados a alegrarnos de que Cristo haya resucitado de la muerte. Y creo que el sufrimiento que estamos experimentando este año resalta para nosotros una gran verdad que se encuentra debajo de la superficie de esta celebración, una verdad, espero, que traerá consuelo y una alegría profunda a nuestra conmemoración hoy, y esa verdad es esto: que el camino a la resurrección es a través del sufrimiento.

          Muchos de nosotros, tal vez, vivimos vidas relativamente cómodas. Tenemos lugares para vivir, ropa para vestir, comida para comer, un trabajo que nos proporciona (o nos ha proporcionado, si estamos jubilados, o padres u otras personas que tienen trabajos que nos proporcionan). Tenemos familiares y amigos que nos apoyan y agregan alegría a nuestras vidas. Sin embargo, si hemos vivido lo suficiente, nos damos cuenta de que incluso esas comodidades que disfrutamos no han dejado de sufrir por completo de nuestras vidas. Más bien, todos hemos experimentado sufrimiento de alguna manera. Hemos perdido seres queridos por la muerte y hemos visto sufrir a seres queridos; hemos sido lastimados por aquellos más cercanos a nosotros: nuestros cónyuges, nuestros familiares (quizás incluso nuestros propios hijos) y nuestros amigos; hemos perdido trabajos (o, tal vez, no hemos podido encontrar el trabajo que nos ayudaría a realizar nuestros sueños). De estas y muchas otras maneras, el sufrimiento ha tocado cada una de nuestras vidas. Y, ahora, debido a la pandemia, el sufrimiento está tocando cada una de nuestras vidas de una manera única.

          El sufrimiento, para muchas personas, es una cosa de desesperación; y si lo pensamos aunque sea un poco, podemos ver por qué. Instintivamente sabemos que nuestras vidas son limitadas; y entonces, si el sufrimiento se vuelve una parte demasiado grande de ella, comenzamos a desesperarnos de que haya alguna esperanza de disfrutar esta vida que nos ha sido dada. Para aquellos para quienes el sufrimiento diario es intenso, esta falta de esperanza puede ser sofocante: llevarlos a aislarse del mundo y, en algunos casos, a contemplar terminar de sus propias vidas (porque, según creen, terminar con sus vidas finalmente les traería fin de su sufrimiento).

          Esta es la razón por la cual la celebración de hoy, la resurrección de Jesucristo de los muertos, es una buena noticia: porque no solo Jesús nos redimió del castigo debido al pecado, sino que nos abrió una vida más allá del sufrimiento: una en la que entramos precisamente a través del sufrimiento. Sí, la resurrección de Jesús es una maravilla y asombro; pero sería muy diferente si hubiera vivido una vida cómoda y plena y muriera a una edad avanzada por causas naturales, ¿verdad? Sin duda estaríamos encantados de verlo en su resurrección, pero ¿sería realmente la victoria que esperábamos? No, la resurrección de Jesús tiene un gran poder porque se produce precisamente después de que sufrió terriblemente: que él, el único hombre verdaderamente inocente que haya vivido, sufrió la peor parte del mal que el mundo pudo producir y lo derrotó al resucitar de entre los muertos. Al hacerlo, nos demuestra que el sufrimiento en este mundo no es sin sentido; sino más bien que, cuando es aceptado y soportado en inocencia de corazón, por el amor de Dios y nuestro prójimo, nos acelerará en el camino que nos conduce a la vida más allá del sufrimiento que Jesús hizo posible para nosotros.

          Esto es tan importante que decir hoy: ¿y por qué? Bueno, porque no fue suficiente para Jesús ser una "buena persona" durante toda su vida, una persona que trata de no lastimar a los demás y de lo contrario no crea problemas, y luego morir de causas naturales solo para ser resucitado. Más bien, tuvo que luchar con este mundo, y el sufrimiento infligido por el mal dentro de él, para abrirnos el camino a una vida más allá del sufrimiento. Tenga en cuenta que esta lucha no era para empujar el sufrimiento hacia abajo y superarlo por su astucia o su poder; más bien, su lucha era mantenerse puro dentro del sufrimiento, para mostrar que incluso el peor sufrimiento que el mal en este mundo puede infligir no es rival para el poder de Dios.

          Hermanos y Hermanas, no proclamamos una salvación fácil. Más bien, proclamamos una salvación ganada para nosotros a través del sufrimiento: una salvación en la que participamos a través del sufrimiento. Y esta, como he dicho, es la gran verdad oculta bajo la superficie de la celebración de hoy: que, si aceptamos los sufrimientos que nos llegan en esta vida, los sufrimientos que estamos experimentando ahora, así como todos los sufrimientos diarios que experimentamos debido a nuestros pecados y simplemente porque este mundo está roto, y especialmente los sufrimientos que nos llegan precisamente porque somos discípulos de Jesús ... Si aceptamos estos sufrimientos, entonces nos estamos uniendo más perfectamente a Cristo en su sufrimiento. Y cuando estamos unidos a Cristo en su sufrimiento, entonces también nos uniremos a él en los frutos de su sufrimiento: la nueva vida más allá del sufrimiento que él ha hecho posible para nosotros.

          Hermanos y hermanas, este sufrimiento involuntario que nos vemos obligados a soportar, aparentemente separados de nuestro Señor en este día cuando más deseamos acercarnos a él, no es infructuoso. Más bien, para aquellos que los abrazan por amor a Dios y, especialmente, por amor a nuestro prójimo a quien estamos protegiendo mediante nuestro distanciamiento social, este sufrimiento nos une más perfectamente a Cristo y, por lo tanto, nos prepara para experimentar la resurrección con él. Esta verdad de que, a través del sufrimiento, estamos trayendo una nueva vida no podría ser más evidente para nosotros que aquí en esta Misa: en la que ofrecemos a Dios el sacrificio perfecto de su Hijo en acción de gracias por la salvación que su sufrimiento ha ganado por nosotros.

          Una de las cosas que me llamó la atención esta mañana cuando reflexioné, fue que María y los discípulos salieron en busca del cuerpo de Jesús, pero no estaba allí. En otras palabras, salieron a buscarlo, pero no lo encontraron. Sin embargo, si leemos más en el Evangelio, vemos que no fueron ellos quienes lo encontraron, sino más bien él quien vino a ellos. Quizás hoy, en esta situación desconcertante en la que se nos impide buscarlo, podamos, como el discípulo amado después de entrar en el sepulcro vacío, creer de todos modos; y, por lo tanto, nos abrimos a las formas en que él vendrá a nosotros y nos hará conocer su presencia resucitada.

          Mis hermanos y hermanas, desde dondequiera que estemos hoy, en cualquier sufrimiento que podamos estar experimentando, abramos nuestros corazones al encuentro que Cristo quiere para nosotros hoy, poniendo todo nuestro corazón en esta ofrenda: porque Cristo ha resucitado y tenemos la vida en él.

Dado en la iglesia del Sagrado Sacramento: West Lafayette, IN – 12 de abril, 2020

Our Risen Lord comes to us

Homily: Easter Sunday – Cycle A

“They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we don’t know where they put him.”  These words of Mary of Magdala perhaps ring in our ears and our hearts today as we enter this Easter solemnity.  They resonate in our hearts because we, perhaps, can sympathize with her feelings on that first Easter morning, even though our situation is quite different.  Instead of coming to the tomb of our Lord and finding it empty (misunderstanding, as she did, that the Lord’s body had been taken, instead of raised from the dead), we long to come to our churches to find our Lord, yet we cannot.  Thus, in a sense, we, too can say “They have taken the Lord … and we do not know where they put him.”

Thus, in a sense, we have great solidarity with those first Christians who, absolutely bewildered by the events of Good Friday, now, in their grief, and trying to come to terms with the loss of their Lord and Teacher, are bewildered once again by this news of the empty tomb.  Peter, whom Jesus acknowledged as the head of his disciples, after receiving this news, runs to the tomb himself and finds everything as Mary had described.  The Gospel writer does not give us his reaction, but we are left to infer that he remained bewildered at the sight.  Perhaps we, too, remain bewildered by this situation in which we cannot enter our churches today to proclaim with one voice the good news of Jesus’ resurrection: showing that we have not been slow to understand the meaning of these events, but rather have understood and believed.  This, to state it mildly, is a great suffering for us.

Yet today we are called to rejoice that Christ is risen from the dead.  And I believe that the suffering that we are experiencing this year highlights for us a great truth that lies underneath the surface of this celebration—a truth, I hope, that will bring consolation and a depth of joy to our commemoration today—and that truth is this: that the way to resurrection is through suffering.

Most of us, perhaps, live relatively comfortable lives.  We have places to live, clothes to wear, food to eat, a job that provides for us (or has provided for us, if we are retired, or parents or others who have jobs that provide for us).  We have family and friends that support us and add joy to our lives. Nevertheless, if we’ve lived long enough, we realize that even those comforts that we enjoy haven’t kept suffering completely out of our lives.  Rather, we have all experienced suffering in some way.  We’ve lost loved ones through death and we’ve watched loved ones suffer; we’ve been hurt by those closest to us: our spouses, our family members (perhaps even our own children), and our friends; we’ve lost jobs (or, perhaps, failed to get the job that would help us fulfill our dreams).  In these and countless other ways, suffering has touched each of our lives.  And, now, because of the pandemic, suffering is touching each of our lives in a unique way.

Suffering, for many people, is a thing of despair; and if we think about it even for a little bit, we can see why.  We instinctively know that our life spans are limited; and so, if suffering becomes too great a part of it, we begin to despair that there is any hope of enjoying this life that we have been given.  For those for whom daily suffering is intense, this lack of hope can be stifling: leading them to isolate themselves from the world and, in some cases, to contemplate ending their own lives (for, they believe, to end their lives would finally bring an end to their suffering).

This is why today’s celebration—the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead—is such good news: because not only has Jesus redeemed us from the punishment due to sin, but he has opened for us a life beyond suffering: one into which we enter precisely through suffering.  Yes, Jesus’ resurrection is a thing of wonder and awe; but it would be much different if he had lived a comfortable and full life and died at a ripe-old age of natural causes, wouldn’t it?  We’d certainly be overjoyed to see him at his resurrection, but would it truly be the victory we had hoped for?  No, Jesus’ resurrection holds such great power because it comes precisely after he suffered horrendously: that he, the only truly innocent man ever to live, suffered the full brunt of evil that the world could produce and defeated it by rising from the dead.  In doing so, he demonstrates for us that suffering in this world is not meaningless; but rather that, when it is accepted and endured in innocence of heart, for the love of God and our neighbor, it will speed us along the path that leads to the life beyond suffering that Jesus has made possible for us.

This is so important to say today: and why?  Well, because it wasn’t enough for Jesus to be a “good person” throughout his life—one who tries not to hurt others and otherwise doesn’t create problems—and then to die of natural causes only to be raised again.  Rather, he had to contend with this world—and the evil-inflicted suffering within it—in order to open for us the way to a life beyond suffering.  Notice, that this contention wasn’t to push suffering down and overcome it by his cunning or his power; rather, his contention was to stay pure within the suffering, so as to show that even the worst suffering that the evil in this world can inflict is no match for the power of God.

My friends, we do not proclaim an easy salvation.  Rather, we proclaim a salvation won for us through suffering: a salvation in which we participate through suffering.  And this, as I’ve said, is the great truth hidden beneath the surface of today’s celebration: that if we embrace the sufferings that come to us in this life—the sufferings that we are experiencing now, as well as all of the daily sufferings that we experience because of our sins and simply because this world is broken, and most especially the sufferings that come to us precisely because we are disciples of Jesus...  If we embrace these sufferings, then we are uniting ourselves more perfectly to Christ in his suffering.  And when we are united to Christ in his suffering, then we will also be united to him in the fruits of his suffering: the new life beyond suffering that he has made possible for us.

Friends, this involuntary suffering that we are being forced to endure—seemingly being separated from our Lord on this day when we most desire to draw close to him—is not fruitless.  Rather, for those who embrace it for love of God and, especially, for love of our neighbor whom we are protecting by our social distancing, this suffering is uniting us more perfectly to Christ and, thus, preparing us to experience the resurrection with him.  This truth that, through suffering, we are bringing forth new life could not be more evident to us than here in this Mass: in which we offer back to God the perfect sacrifice of his Son in thanksgiving for the salvation that his suffering has won for us.

You know, one of the things that struck me this morning as I reflected, was that Mary and the disciples went out, seeking to find Jesus’ body, but it was not there.  In other words, they went out looking for him, yet did not find him.  If we read further in Gospel, however, we see that it was not they who found him, but rather he who came to them.  Perhaps today, in this bewildering situation in which we are prevented from seeking him, we can, like the beloved disciple after stepping into the empty tomb, nonetheless believe; and, thus, make ourselves open to the ways in which he will come to us and make his risen presence known to us.

My brothers and sisters, from wherever we may be today, in whatever sufferings we may be experiencing, let us open our hearts to the encounter that Christ wants for us today by putting our whole hearts into this offering: for Christ is risen and we have life in him.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – April 12^th, 2020

Through the cross, "it is finished".

Homily: Commemoration of our Lord’s Passion

Although it may seem obvious to many of you, I don’t think that it is a bad idea to take a step back today and to ask ourselves, “Why do we celebrate the Passion of our Lord?”  There is, of course, the obvious reason: that, as believers, we have an obligation to commemorate this event through which we have all been redeemed—that is, the event through which our sins find the possibility of forgiveness.  An obligation so that we “never forget” that it is in and through Jesus Christ and his self-sacrifice that the possibility of a life beyond the suffering of this world is made possible for us.  Just as, for us citizens of the United States, we can “never forget” the events of 9/11, or Pearl Harbor, or the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and thus we must commemorate them, Christians can “never forget” the events of Good Friday through our yearly commemoration.

Perhaps a less-obvious reason, but one particularly poignant this year, is that we often need a reminder that suffering, embraced and endured for a good end, is never meaningless.  This year, through no fault of our own, we have been ordered to make sacrifices and, thus, to suffer, for the good of others (and, ultimately, ourselves).  This should give us a sense of solidarity with Christ who, Isaiah prophesied, would be one who had done no wrong but who nonetheless suffered as if he was a great sinner.  This same one who, the author of the Letter to the Hebrews testified, learned obedience from what he suffered and was made perfect, so as to become the source of eternal salvation.  On the surface, Christ’s suffering appeared meaningless: a cruel abuse perpetuated by authorities who wrongly convicted him.  Christ knew the good end for which he was suffering, however, and so he could persevere and even find strength to endure it to the end.  Although it may seem that we are suffering unjustly these days, I pray that we can see the good end for which we are suffering—saving lives—and thus find strength in knowing that our suffering has value so as to persevere in it until the threat of this pandemic ends.

After these two more practical reasons, there is still another reason why we celebrate the Passion of our Lord.  This is to remind ourselves of the truth that Jesus proclaimed from the cross: “It is finished.”  Here’s what I mean: There is so much anxiety among the faithful—all of you and myself included—for being separated from the sacraments.  I’m grateful for this anxiety as it shows a great longing in you to be free of this world and so untied to God.  There’s an anxiety, in particular, to be able to confess our sins and receive absolution (and, again, I feel that anxiety with you!).  Because of this, we perhaps feel a particular anxiety and a desire to weep in sorrow for our sins before the cross: the instrument of torture on which our Savior suffered precisely because of our sins.  While such a desire is completely appropriate to this day, I don’t think that this weeping is what we are called to do today (at least, not exclusively).  Rather, I think that we are called to acknowledge and to celebrate that “It is finished” and, thus, to make deep acts of faith in the truth that we proclaim during the Stations of the Cross: that is, that “by his holy cross, he has redeemed the world”.  These acts should give us consolation that, while God has given us the sacraments as our surety of his grace, he, nonetheless, is not bound by them.  Rather, he is "bound" by the perfect obedience of his Son, which won redemption for all who, in turn, obey him.

Friends, the Passion of our Lord is presented to us in narrative form so as to remind us that God worked out our salvation in the thick of our human messiness, so as to remind us that it is not by making our lives some idyllic perfection of piety and devotion that we come to salvation (as good as that would be), but rather that it is by embracing the cross—that is, taking up our daily sacrifices in the midst of our daily messes for the good of those around us—that salvation comes to us.  Today, in a special way, we unite the "mess" of this pandemic—and all of the sufferings that have come with it—to the cross of Christ: asking for its swift end, of course, but also that the redemption he won for us might be found and accepted in the midst of it.

May our veneration of the cross today remind us that the work of our redemption truly is finished; and, thus, give us hope to persevere through this trial and every trial still to come.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – April 10^th, 2020

The new "normal" after quarantine

If you're here early, the link for the video of my homily is not yet available. When it becomes available, I'll embed it here.

Homily: 5^th Sunday in Lent – Cycle A

“Now a man was ill, Lazaras from Bethany.”  Perhaps we’ve heard this scripture a number of times before, but I’m guessing that, because of our present circumstances, we might hear these words in a new way today.  In this time of heightened anxiety about the severity of illness that the coronavirus can cause, none of us can sit back and hear the words, “Now a man was ill...” and not think of the countless men and women who have fallen ill over these past months; perhaps even more so given that men and women increasingly close to home are also starting to fall ill.  Any of us who have a human heart beating in our chest have, perhaps, become much more sensitive to news of anyone becoming ill.  Maybe today, therefore, as we hear these words, we are even more anxious to hear what good news the Gospel can speak to us; and so, let us see what our Gospel reading speaks to us today.

Martha, Mary, and Lazarus were close friends of Jesus.  The Gospel tells us that “Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus”.  Because of this close friendship, the three of them had come to acknowledge Jesus as the Messiah and they put their faith in his ability to heal even mortal sicknesses.  And so, when Lazarus fell ill, Martha quickly sent word to Jesus, hoping that he’d come to save her brother from this illness. Jesus didn’t come right away, however, and Lazarus died.  In fact, by the time Jesus had arrived, Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days.

Because of this, Martha and Mary both confront Jesus, saying: “If you had been here, my brother would not have died!”  They are hurt because Jesus did not appear to respond as quickly as they, because of their friendship, expected that he would.  Jesus, in spite of already knowing what he was going to do, nonetheless displays the fullness of his humanity when, confronted by the sorrow being experienced by these sisters whom he dearly loved, he himself weeps.  It’s a touching moment that we would do well to consider any time that we experience a loss in our own lives, but especially now when this experience is so tangibly apparent. But let’s imagine for a moment that the story ended there: Jesus weeping while Lazarus remains dead in the grave.  If that were the case, he’d be a great teacher, prophet, consoler, and even, perhaps, friend, but he wouldn’t be God.

Thus, when we hear Jesus tell Martha plainly, “I am the resurrection and the life”, we hear something different.  With these words, Jesus is telling her that it isn’t just his belief that Lazarus will rise, but rather it is his concrete knowledge of who he is and of what he is capable.  Friendship with God, Martha discovers, is not divine protection from pain, suffering, or even death, but rather a guarantee that, in that pain, suffering, and even death, God will be with us.  When Jesus weeps, we see the most touching, but telling evidence that he, indeed, is with us, in the fullness of our humanity. When he calls Lazarus from the grave, however, we see the still greater evidence that not only is Jesus with us—the great teacher, prophet, consoler, and friend—but that Jesus is, indeed, God: and that, in Jesus, God himself is truly with us.

Thus, in Jesus, the words of the prophet Ezekiel have been fulfilled.  When Jesus called Lazarus from the grave, he brought new light to the rebirth foreshadowed in his promise to bring back his chosen people from exile.  Those people thought themselves dead because they had lost the land from which they took their identity. Thus, when the Lord “brought them back to the land of Israel”, they truly felt reborn.  Little did they know, however, that one day God himself would take on human nature and walk among them and would, literally, open the graves of the dead and have the dead rise from them.

Notice that the ancient Israelites were not prevented from experiencing exile because of their friendship with God.  Rather, it was because of their friendship that they were eventually restored to their land and given “new life”.  Notice also, that Lazarus was not prevented from experiencing illness and death, nor were Martha and Mary prevented from experiencing the loss of their dear brother, because of their friendship with Jesus.  Rather, it was because of their friendship that Lazarus was raised and they were all given “new life”.  So it is now, that our friendship with God will be no guarantee that we will not experience sadness, difficulty, or pain.  Rather, our friendship with God is a promise that God will lift us from that sadness, difficulty, or pain, if we remain faithful to our friendship with him.

Friends, this is the message of Lent: that we are dead because of sin, but through Jesus we are raised to new life.  The threat of physical illness, like that caused by the coronavirus, is serious and has raised in us new levels of compassion for others.  I pray that it is also raising in us a new awareness of our need for a savior.  I pray that this time in which we’ve been forced to isolate has helped us to examine our consciences a little more deeply and to become aware of how deeply rooted our sinful inclinations can be.  I pray that we will use this time—even as it extends into Easter—to turn back to the Lord in love, to grow our friendship with him, so that we might be given a “new life” when our social restrictions are lifted.

You know, when Lazarus was raised from the dead, he didn’t come back like a zombie.  Rather, he came back as himself.  I guarantee you, however, that his life never went back to the “normal” it was before he died.  I’m sure that he, and his sisters, began anew and created a new “normal”... a better one... one that united them more deeply to each other and to Christ and in which they worked to build the kingdom of God.  Friends, may the externally imposed penances that we are experiencing this Lent lead us to greater conversion, so that the new “normal” that we create after coronavirus restrictions are lifted—anchored, as it surely will be, in the Eucharist—lead us to do as Martha, Mary, and Lazarus did: uniting ourselves more deeply to Christ and to each other and dedicating ourselves to proclaim the Risen Christ and to build his kingdom until he comes again in glory.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – March 29^th, 2020

Don't give up on Lent!

4^th Sunday of Lent – Cycle A

Friends, we all know that Lent is a time of penance and preparation.  Hopefully, we all know that the penance part has a purpose: that is, for preparation.  Preparation to celebrate the great solemnity commemorating the Resurrection of our Lord (otherwise known as Easter) and for us to meet our Lord when he either calls us home to himself or returns to usher in the “end of the ages”.  To that end, one of the things that we do during this time is to take a hard look at our lives to identify in what ways we are still in need of conversion: that is, of turning back to the Lord.  Then, having identified those ways, we set ourselves to that work of conversion.

I think, however, that it is safe to say that there are only a handful of us who are truly heroic in embracing this work: that is, persons who let nothing get in the way of doing this work of conversion.  Most of us are rather weak-willed (“stiff-necked” is how the Bible often describes us) and so it is hard for us to be both self-convicting and energetic in conversion.  We are either very hard on ourselves, but then do very little to produce change, or we are soft on ourselves, but very energetic trying to stamp out a little fault (all the while ignoring some larger, more serious faults).

This year, however, God is challenging us to something more.  The coronavirus pandemic has upended our lives and is forcing us to confront ourselves in ways that, for many of us, may be—to put it lightly—uncomfortable.  Let me say clearly that I don’t believe that God is allowing this pandemic because he wants anyone to be hurt.  But he has allowed it and, if he has allowed it, he must be allowing it so that good could come from it.  I can see two goods right off the bat: a sense of solidarity with those who are suffering and with those who are on the front lines of battling this pandemic and, as I have already mentioned, to provide us with an opportunity to look more sharply at ourselves and to see our ongoing need for conversion, both as individuals and as a society.  Nevertheless, the question still holds, “Why is this happening?”, and our Gospel reading gives us light into the answer.

There, Jesus and his disciples encounter a man who was born blind.  The detail here is important.  The man was born blind: he didn’t become blind at some point, but rather he had always been blind.  Nonetheless, the prevailing thought of the time was that any deformity (like blindness) was a punishment due to sin, either the individual’s sin or the sin of his parents, that was being inflicted on him.  And so, when Jesus and his disciples encounter this “man born blind”, Jesus’ disciples ask him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”  Jesus answers with an enigmatic answer, saying that this isn’t because of sin, but rather so that God’s glory and power can be made manifest.  It’s a reminder that we are not often directly punished for our sins or another’s sins, but rather often suffer because of an indirect effect of sin being in the world.  Even still, Jesus is reminding us, this suffering is intended to be an opportunity to manifest God’s glory and power.

In this case, the man born blind is given sight and, thus, led to recognize Jesus as the Christ.  His blindness from birth humbled him and made it so that he could see the truth in the reality of things.  Thus, when he was cured, he did not look to explain it away, but rather marveled at what had happened and held in great esteem the one through whom it was made possible.  The Pharisees, on the other hand, who had never had a problem with physical sight, were, nonetheless, unable to recognize the truth that was manifest in front of them.  Thus, the man born blind could recognize Jesus as the Christ, while the Pharisees, worried as they were to protect the way they had constructed things, could not recognize Jesus as the Christ and so fought to explain away what he had done.

Friends, as I said at the beginning, this time has been given to us so as to guide us into the light of Christ.  We need to be open to seeing the ways in which we are still in need of conversion: that is, the ways in which we still cling to our own ideas of how things should be.  We need to look at the reality of things and respond to them, like the man born blind did: “If he is a sinner, I don’t know.  One thing I do know is that I was blind and now I see.”  There’s no speculation there.  Just a clear vision of the reality of things that provides him with a way to respond.  We, too, need to allow the reality of things to point us to the one in whom all reality finds its end: Jesus Christ.  And we need to rejoice that, through the grace of baptism, we have been united to him; and, thus, to rejoice that it is possible to find our end in him.

Friends, I’ve said to a few others already, that I can see one of two ends to this crisis: First, that we will one day in the relatively near future return to our churches for Mass and the sacraments; or second, (and I don’t mean this flippantly) that the virus will wipe us all out.  My opinion, looking at the reality of things, is that the latter is not at all likely.  So, let's use this time courageously to seek the reality of things—especially our need for ongoing conversion—and, seeing the Lord with eyes made new, let us worship him and build his kingdom here on earth.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – March 21^st and 22^nd, 2020

Trust in God in times of distress

Homily: 3^rd Sunday in Lent – Cycle A

It’s news to no one here that the “novel coronavirus” has upended our lives and is causing great deals of distress.  Distress about individual health, anxiety about the uncertainty of how this virus will spread and if we’ll be able to contain it.  Distress about how to deal with the “novel” situations of having kids home from school for an extended period of time, of providing care for them, of providing food for them, and of facing any financial insecurity because we either must take time off of work or spend unbudgeted money on caregivers.  Distress, finally, (and possibly especially) about whether or not our healthcare system is equipped to respond to widespread exposure.  The number of you who are NOT here today is a sign that this distress is affecting all of us.

This distress is not unlike the distress that the Israelites were experiencing as they began their journey in the desert after being liberated from Egypt.  After having emerged triumphantly from the Red Sea, they set out towards the land that God had promised to give them (the Promised Land, in which they would live free from slavery).  A couple of days into that journey, however, (led, as they were by the cloud in the day and fire by night), having seen no water and with no signs of any ahead, they all begin to experience distress.  Insecurity always gives birth to anxiety and being without something as necessary as water for more than a day is certain to heighten one’s sense of insecurity.  It’s no surprise, then, that these folks begin to cry out to Moses, God’s point man leading them on this journey.

This journey was not only practical, however, but rather catechetical also.  The practical was to get them out of Egypt and into a land in which they could live as a free society.  In the absence of trains, buses, or planes, a journey on foot was necessary.  The catechetical, however, was to teach them complete reliance on God and his providential care for them.  In other words, the catechetical journey was to increase and solidify their trust in God alone.  Thus, the way that they followed from the Red Sea was a way on which there was no water.  God, through Moses, then provided them water in a miraculous way, just as he had already provided them with food in the form of manna and quail.  Through this, God shows himself worthy of their faith.  They were in distress, the called out to God, and God responded.

The Samaritan woman whom Jesus encounters at the well is also someone who learns to put her faith in God, but in a different manner.  She was not necessarily looking for help, but the details of this story indicate that she was certainly in distress.  She came to the well at midday: the time when, because of the midday heat, no one else went to the well.  In other words, she was avoiding others.  She encounters Jesus there and he reveals his knowledge of her and her life.  She has had five husbands and is living with someone to whom she isn’t married.  Women couldn’t live on their own at that time and if a woman was married and divorced, she couldn’t return to her father’s house and so would either have to marry again or would end up destitute.  We can’t know for sure, but it seems like this woman may have struggled to be in a stable marriage, but continued to seek it out so that she wouldn’t become destitute.  She certainly would have been looked down upon in that society and so she worked to avoid contact with others.

This day, however, she encounters Jesus, who peers into her soul and speaks to her in a way that opens her eyes and lets her see that relief from this distress is possible.  In other words, he helps her to see that there is hope for her on this journey, that the promises of the God of the Israelites could be fulfilled, and that even the Samaritans—even she, herself—could receive their benefits.  Her life was out of order, but her encounter with Jesus gave her supernatural hope that God was leading even her to freedom from this distress.  Her response was to go off and tell of what she learned to all of the people in the village.  Let that sink in for a moment: before her encounter with Jesus, she wanted to avoid all contact with the people of her village.  Now, she goes to them to share what she learned.  This is a person who has found hope and who has placed her trust in God and in his promises.

Our newly Elect, who will now intensely prepare for baptism at the Easter Vigil, are on this same journey.  Over these next three weekends, they will be called to encounter Jesus through what is called the rite of scrutiny, in which they will be challenged to see their lives, disordered as they have been by sin, and encounter the hope that, through Jesus, they can be set free from this disorder and receive all of the blessings that God has promised to those who are united to him.  Having encountered this hope, they will be exhorted to put their faith in God and to follow the path to holiness that has been laid out by Jesus.

This, of course, is not only their Lenten journey, but each of ours as well.  Every year, each of us is challenged to recognize the distress under which the world places us (this year, it is particularly apparent) and to allow ourselves to encounter our Lord, who names our distress and provides an answer to it.  This, for sure, is not always relief.  Rather, it is often a challenge to trust and to order our lives to more closely follow him.  In other words, it is the challenge to respond in faith to the distress of our lives.  One of the ways that we do that is through our intentional engagement of our increased giving program.

Last weekend, we heard from parishioners who have all had this experience of distress and have responded to it with faith and so have grown in trust of God.  Part of their experience was finding support and resources through the many ministries and programs that we at Saint Mary’s provide: ministries and programs made possible by your generous financial support.  Today, I am asking you to continue to put your faith in the fact that God is responding to the needs and distresses of peoples’ lives through the ministries and programs of Saint Mary’s by continuing and even increasing your financial support for our parish.

You know, all of us are on a journey through the desert and at different times and for different reasons we may each find ourselves in distress.  Your ongoing financial support of the ministries and programs at Saint Mary’s means that we’ll be able to respond and to help assure you in your trust in God who, like he did with Moses for the Israelites, works through us to relieve our distresses.

I hope that you brought your commitment cards with you today.  As I mentioned before Mass began, we WON’T be passing around the collection basket as a precaution against spreading germs.  If you’ve already dropped your commitment card in the box by the entrance, great.  Thank you for doing that.  Please hold in your heart your commitment as your offering to be united to the sacrifice of Jesus here at the altar.  If you still have your commitment card with you, I encourage you to keep it close to you during the Eucharistic Prayer as a reminder to unite your commitment to the sacrifice of Christ on the altar.  You may drop the card in the box near the entrance on your way out today.  If you did not bring your card, but would like to complete one today, please feel free to use one of the blank cards in your pew and do the same.  In other words, however you brought your commitment with you today, please make an intentional effort to unite it to the sacrifice of Christ that we will offer here at the altar.

As I said earlier, this “novel coronavirus” has upended our lives and caused a great deal of distress.  Very quickly, however, I saw signs that God is working among us to relieve it.  On Friday afternoon, I received an e-mail from our “Saint Mary’s Cares” ministry coordinator asking if it was okay for them to contact other parishes to formulate a plan to assist anyone, like our homebound parishioners, get groceries, prepare meals, etc. so that no one feels alone or abandoned during this time.  I’m grateful for their dedication and for the support of all of you that helps make their ministry possible.  Thank you, again, for your courageous commitments.  May they lead us to trust God even more as he leads us to our reward in heaven: the reward foreshadowed by the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – March 14^th & 15^th, 2020

Letter to Parishioners of Saint Mary's Cathedral

Dear Parishioners of Saint Mary’s Cathedral,

The Coronavirus (COVID-19) has generated an unprecedented set of conditions that is having a dramatic impact on our lives. The staff at Saint Mary’s has been regularly evaluating the advice and directives of both public and diocesan officials and, thus, what our response should be. Our main focus has been and will continue to be the health of our parishioners and our students during these challenging times.

As a result of Governor Holcomb’s announcement from March 12 that non-essential gatherings must be limited to no more than 250 people, Bishop Doherty is dispensing from the obligation to attend Sunday Mass for the last three weekends of March (March 15, 22, and 29) for Catholics of the Diocese of Lafayette-in-Indiana. This is not a permanent dispensation.

Given this, we have decided that we will continue to follow our normal daily and weekend Mass and Reconciliation schedules (including Eucharistic Adoration). However, beginning Saturday March 14, in an effort to curb the proliferation of the Coronavirus, we have decided to cancel ALL church activities at Saint Mary’s Cathedral until further notice.

The dilemma of what we know and what we don’t know about the Coronavirus will continue to complicate our decision making. This is a humbling fact: We simply don’t know what the situation will be now or a week from now. We will continue to assess the spread of the virus and will communicate any changes as they occur.

Additional instructions/information:

• If you are sick, have symptoms, or have a compromised immune system, please stay home from Mass.
• Bishop Doherty will be celebrating 8:00 a.m. (Eastern) Mass at Church of the Blessed Sacrament for the next 3 Sundays (March 15, March 22, March 29) which will be livestreamed here: http://churchoftheblessedsacrament.yourstreamlive.com/ and would love the presence of those unable to attend their parish Mass.
• All nursing home and home-bound visits by laity should be canceled.
• Weddings/Funerals/Confirmations will continue as planned unless further recommendations are issued by the local health department. However, we will NOT be hosting funeral dinners during this time.
• Families should also strive to unite as family in charitable acts for those affected by the Coronavirus and other family devotions such as the Rosary, novenas, Lectio Divina and refrain from any unnecessary work.

Again, for the time being, we will follow our normal Mass and Reconciliation schedule (including Eucharistic Adoration). Please pray for all those affected by this pandemic and for our parish.

God bless you and may Mary keep us safe,

Fr. Dominic Petan

Pastor