Being who we are before God and others

Homily: 24th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle C

While I was in the seminary, I was blessed to take a couple of courses on pastoral counseling and, in those courses, we covered a few topics on basic human behavioral psychology.  It was very high-level stuff that gave us some basics about how we’re “wired” psychologically and how we can “re-wire” our brains when our behaviors are affecting us negatively.  One of the concepts that I encountered in these classes really stuck with me because it seemed to me to be one of the fundamental issues with which people are dealing, but one with which they don’t know that they’re dealing.  This concept is called “differentiation”.

Differentiation, as many scholars define it, is one’s ability to be his or her self in relation to others.  In other words, it is knowing who I am as a distinct person in relation to another person.  I like this notion because it touches on something very human: that is, that we come to know ourselves more fully—that is, in a sense, we become more human—when we recognize our distinctiveness in relation to another person.

A struggle with differentiation, then, is when our sense of self becomes dependent on others.  In other words, when we find that we need others to act in a certain way in order to feel good about ourselves and to function within a group of others, then we are probably struggling to be (or, rather, to know) who we are in relation to others. Perhaps an example will help illustrate this.

Most of you know that I’m not originally from Indiana, but what I quickly found out after moving here is that in Indiana you are either for Purdue University and against Indiana University or vice versa (unless of course you’ve reached summit of spiritual enlightenment and thus root for Our Lady’s school, Notre Dame).  Putting that aside, imagine what it would be like if on any given day a small group of people (let’s say ten or so) decided to walk through Purdue’s campus completely decked out in crimson and cream IU paraphernalia.  For Purdue students, this demonstration would be tantamount to a hostile invasion.  Perhaps, then, you could imagine the tension that would build as this group walked through campus.  My guess is that it wouldn’t be but a few minutes before this group began to receive hostile and threatening comments from Purdue students passing them by.  In their anxiety at this apparent threat to their identity as Boilermakers, these students would react by attempting to shame the members of this group for their non-conformity.

Right at the beginning of this long passage from the Gospel that we heard today, we see an example of this kind of struggle with differentiation.  Almost lost among the images of the parables is the reason why Jesus was telling them in the first place.  It says “Tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to listen to Jesus, but the Pharisees and scribes began to complain, saying, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’”  The Pharisees and the scribes were the recognized authorities of the law and the law dictated that one must keep clear of contact with sinners for fear of defiling one’s self and thus making one’s offering to God impure.  “We are good Jews,” they seem to be saying, “and to be a good Jew one must conform strictly to the Law.”  Jesus’ seeming non-conformity to the Law caused them anxiety and they reacted by complaining and criticizing, hoping to shame him into conformity: thus, revealing their own struggle with differentiation.

Jesus, for his part, offers them a well-differentiated response.  Instead of reacting to their criticisms, he gives them parables that help illustrate the reason that he “welcomes sinners and eats with them.”  The parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin serve to show that God will go to absurd lengths to ensure that not one of his chosen ones is lost or left behind.  And in the parable of the Prodigal Son, Jesus gives the Pharisees and the scribes an even more complete image of the Father as one who is “prodigal” with his forgiveness.  Notice that the father in this parable does not stand defiantly to say, “I have to punish you because you made me look bad as a father” (which would thus reveal a struggle with differentiation).  Rather, he takes no offense at his son’s dissolute past and instead embraces him for having returned and celebrates that “what was lost, has now been found.”  With these parables, Jesus shows his critics that he, indeed, (as Saint Paul wrote to Timothy in today’s second reading) “came into the world to save sinners.”

Jesus then contrasts this image of the father in the parable by portraying the poorly-differentiated older son.  In doing so, he gives the Pharisees and scribes a mirror in which to look at themselves.  This older son takes offense that the father has received his younger brother back so generously and he struggles to accept this, because his self-image of being a “good son” is tied to his father’s acceptance of his behavior and rejection of behavior like his younger brother’s.  And so, instead of rejoicing that his brother has returned safe and sound, he complains: feeling unrecognized and rejected by his father’s actions.

It’s no stretch to see that this kind of reactive, undifferentiated response is a significant source of conflict in our own lives today.  Our culture is given over to polarizations and, thus, in many ways, even our church communities are divided.  How often do we find ourselves launching into criticisms about what others in the church are saying or doing?  Immediately our defenses shoot up whenever we see someone who purports to be a “good Catholic”, but then acts poorly or contradicts Church teachings outside of church.   Our responses then move towards an attempt to force them to change and to conform to our image of what a “good Catholic” should act like.  My brothers and sisters, no matter what the situation is, when our anxiety levels start to rise and we begin to become reactive, it’s a sign that we are struggling with differentiation: that is, we are struggling to be who we are in relation to others.

Just like Jesus could give a well-differentiated response to the Pharisees and the Scribes and thus lead them towards a deeper understanding of who God is and who they were in relation to him, so he can do the same for us.  When we approach God out of our anxiety—whether it be anger, frustration, fear, or doubt—he is always able to receive us and to respond to us in a way that is in no way reactive to how we approached him.  Always capable of being who he is in relation to us, God stands always ready to respond to us in love: a response which then becomes for us like a mirror, showing us who we really are in relation to him—his beloved sons and daughters—and thus enabling us to be who we are in relation to others: which frees us to love them in spite of how their actions might reflect on us.

My brothers and sisters, Jesus’ ultimate act of differentiation is what we see on the cross and in what we will eat from this altar.  In submitting to indescribable torture and death on the cross, and to being made present body, blood, soul and divinity in the form of bread and wine, Jesus acknowledges who he is in relation both to God and to us: the Son of God and the Son of man, the King of All Ages and the child of a peasant girl, the Beloved of the Father and the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world…  Therefore, my brothers and sisters, let us remember today who we are—sons and daughters who have received God’s mercy and brothers and sisters who are called to share God’s mercy with each other—and let us not forget God’s infinite love for us: a love that we experience most perfectly when we approach this altar in unity and peace.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – September 15th, 2019

The conditions for prayer

Homily: 17th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          When I was still a student studying for my engineering degree, I worked at a small manufacturing plant that makes bumpers for semi-trucks.  Whenever I needed to get some maintenance work done, I had to submit a “work order” that described what needed to be done and when it needed to be done by.  What I quickly found out, however, was that the maintenance crew was overloaded and that my work orders often sat on a pile of other work orders that weren’t getting completed and that the crew worked on whatever the shop-floor supervisor told them was most important for the day.  Frustrated by this, I would often forego the whole process completely.  If I could just do it myself, I would.  If I couldn’t then I would document it and move on to the next thing.

          I think, sometimes, we can see prayer kind of like a “maintenance work order” system.  We fill out our form and submit it to God and he is supposed to put his crew to work to take care of it for us.  When it works, we feel satisfied.  God is there for us and we can rely on him.  When it doesn’t seem to work, we feel frustrated.  God is unreliable and so if we want this to be taken care of we either need to do it ourselves or just accept that we’ve been dealt a bad hand and that there’s nothing we can do about it.  Of course there’s more to prayer than just making requests of God, but I think you’d be surprised to find out how many people turn away from God on account of feeling like God had let them down when they felt like they most needed him to respond.  In today’s readings, we are given a model of this type prayer that can help us understand it more deeply, which is good; because when we understand it more deeply, we are less likely to become frustrated by its results.

          In our Gospel reading, Jesus’ disciples observe him in prayer and, probably quite innocently, ask him, their teacher, to teach them how to pray.  As Jesus often does, however, when he’s given an inch, he takes a mile and he not only teaches them how to pray (i.e. the correct words and manner in which to pray), but he teaches them the pre-conditions for prayer as well.

          As presented to us today, prayer in which we ask something from God has three basic characteristics: 1) be humble; 2) ask for a just thing; and 3) be persistent.  First: be humble.  As Jesus taught his disciples and as Abraham shows us today, our first task is always to recognize who it is we are addressing and what our relationship to him is.  Abraham was bold, but before he pushed God on the issue he first acknowledged that God knew better than he and so would submit to his judgments.  When we pray as Jesus taught us and say “Father…” we too acknowledge our relationship to God: that is, that he has wisdom and authority that is far greater than ours and so deserves our deference to his judgments.

          Second: ask for a just thing.  Abraham was a righteous man and so he could see the inherent conflict in the notion that God—who purports to be the just judge—would destroy innocent people for the sake of punishing those who are guilty and so he pleads, in a sense, for the lives of the innocent who live there by testing the limits of God’s justice.  In the example that Jesus gives, the man, though he comes at midnight, asks for a just thing: some bread to feed his friend that had just arrived from a journey, which, on account of the customs surrounding hospitality in the ancient Jewish culture, was something that he was expected to provide and so was a just think to request.

          Third: be persistent.  Abraham rightly saw that if God would withhold his wrath for the lives of fifty innocent men that justice would demand that he do the same if the number were as low as ten; and so he asked again and again, not presuming he knew better than God, but so as to see if God’s idea of justice lined up with his.  His persistence produced a commitment from God to spare the city (of, presumably, thousands of people) if even ten innocent persons were found there.  In Jesus’ example, the man, because he asks for a just thing, and because his friend is, also (presumably) a righteous person, receives what he asks for even in spite of the inconvenience he has caused his friend.  Notice that there was no conflict with what was asked for; because what was asked for was a just thing.  Part of being humble, however, means acknowledging that what we are asking for may not necessarily be the just thing.  Therefore, we must always be open to being shown that what we’ve asked for is not what is truly needed and so be open to receiving a different response in its place.

          Be humble, ask for a just thing, and be persistent.  These are the three characteristics of prayers of petition.  What is not often acknowledged in this lesson on prayer, however, is the necessary pre-condition for making this type of prayer.  Simply stated, this type of prayer requires a pre-existing relationship.

           I have a very good friend, named Joe, who I used to work with when I worked as an engineer.  We used to car-pool to work together and through that and our work our relationship grew.  To this day I am very close with his family and am godfather to his oldest son.  Over my years in the seminary and now as a priest, I have called on him multiple times, usually when he was not expecting it, to ask for some sort of help.  I never had any fear calling on him because I knew that whatever it was that I needed from him was a good thing and that, because of our friendship, he’d be very willing to offer his help.  Even if he was resistant, at first, I knew that I could push on him for it because he could be relied upon to respond if he was able; even if it would be inconvenient for him or his family.  I could only do that, however, because I had built a relationship with him first.

          The same applies to our prayers of petition.  When we’ve spent time with God, building our relationship with him, we become much more apt to turn to him with our needs and also to trust that, even if his response seems to be long-delayed, he will respond and give us what it is that we need (even if it isn’t exactly what we asked for).
There’s a saying that states that God responds to prayers of petition in one of three ways: “Ok”, “Ok, but not now”, and “Ok, but I have a better idea”.  When we build a relationship with God through spending time with him in the sacraments, in private prayer, and in reading the Bible, we become both bold in bringing to God all of our needs and also open to hearing which of these three responses he offers to us when we turn to him.

          My brothers and sisters, our Good God wants us to turn to him with all of our needs, big and small, because he truly is our Father who loves us dearly.  Like any good father, however, he wants even more to be in a close, intimate relationship with us, so that we may learn to trust that, even if he does not appear to respond immediately or in the way we desire, he will nonetheless respond: in the way and at the time that we truly need it.  Let us, then, renew our commitment to draw close to him today and to turn to him for all of our needs; for his promise to remain near to us—the sacrifice of his Son—is already here at hand.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – July 28th, 2019

Pagans, Saints, and the Cross of Christ

Homily: 22^nd Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          As we know, Saint Paul lived in the first century AD, when the dominant religions were all pagan.  Pagan religions were based on a belief that gods were fickle beings who, while wielding great power, could, nonetheless, be swayed to use that power for a person’s benefit if they made a pleasing offering to them.  Thus, these pagan religions emphasized and relied on the power of external rituals.  These rituals sometimes consisted of sacrifices in which animals were slaughtered, grain was burned, or wine was poured out.  They also sometimes consisted of ritual dances, prayers, songs, or similar actions.  In every case, however, the power of the worship, and its (supposed) ability to convince the false god to send blessings on the worshipper, depended on the exact performance of the ritual.  It was kind of like a gymnastics routine in the Olympics: if the ritual wasn't performed with perfect precision, the worshipper would get a bad score, and the gods would either ignore the prayer or, worse, get angry.

          This pagan focus on external rituals had also seeped into Jewish practices at the time.  Throughout his writings, therefore, Saint Paul is constantly warning the early Christians against falling into an excessive focus on the externals, or, what we might call, ritualism.  Paul sought to train the early Church to have a close personal relationship with God: not a cold, distant one, made up entirely with empty formalities.  This is why he writes to the Romans, as we just heard, "offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship."  In other words, he was teaching them that the Christian's relationship with God isn't reducible to a few rituals and prayers; rather, everything he/she does is meant to be worship.  One’s actions, words, and decisions—the way one lives his/her daily life—all these things are ways for one to show that he/she loves Christ and wants to follow him.  This was a radical new concept of religion—a religion built on a personal friendship with the one true God who became man in Jesus Christ—and it required, as Saint Paul wrote, that Christians "be transformed by the renewal of their mind."

          This “new-at-the-time” concept of religion helps us to understand so much of our religious tradition.  In particular, it helps explain one of our Catholic traditions that a lot of non-Catholic Christians have trouble understanding: namely, our devotion to the saints.  You see, some non-Catholics think that the statues of saints in our churches are there because we worship them, as pagans used to do, who would worship a sacred statue (like that of an animal) or an image of an ancestor as if they (the animal or the ancestor) were divine.  Devotion to the saints, however, is different.  We use images of saints for the same reason that we use family photographs: to remind us of some of the great members of our Christian family who have gone before us.  The example of their faith, courage, and holiness, of which the image reminds us, is meant to inspire us to strive for holiness, too.  So, no, we don't worship statues; and, no, we don't worship the saints either.

          We know the saints; and we know that they were normal, everyday people just like us, and that they aren’t gods.  They had personality flaws, family problems, and plenty of headaches, but they allowed God's grace to touch those things, and to sanctify them.  They recognized that God's offer of friendship in Christ was able to make them not only better church-goers and pray-ers, but also better husbands and wives, generals and lawyers, carpenters and nurses, scholars and artists.  These men and women followed Saint Paul's advice, trying to make every activity of their day—whether folding laundry or writing theological treatises—into a "living sacrifice" of "spiritual worship."  That's why we have named patron saints for almost everything and everyone, like Saint Barbara, the patron saint of mathematicians, and Saint Brigid, the patron saint of midwives, and Saint Wolfgang, the patron saint of those suffering from paralysis, and Saint Martin de Porres, the patron saint of public schools.  For those connected to any one of those situations, these saints provide an example of how to make their lives into a “living sacrifice” of “spiritual worship”.

          Friends, we aren't superstitious, nor do we believe in good luck charms, but we do recognize that, when God comes into a life, he has the power to fill every little nook and cranny of it with everlasting meaning, if we let him; and our devotion to the saints helps to remind us of this by reminding us of how he has already done this in the lives of countless men and women before us.

          No, my brothers and sisters, we do not worship our ancestors or pray to multiple gods for multiple many things—and our relationship with the one God who we worship is not based on external rituals alone—rather, it's based on an internal identity, often expressed externally.  I believe that this truth can help us to understand one of life's great mysteries: that is, the mystery of suffering and the cross.

          In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus said to his disciples (and, so, he says to us): "Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me."  Jesus doesn’t promise that following him will lead to a problem-free life, even though that's what all the pagan religions claimed to offer.  We know that such a promise is empty, because we know that, in this fallen world, no one can avoid suffering and loss.  What Jesus does promise is that, at the end of history, he will "wipe away every tear" and put an end to evil, suffering, and death for those who have endured such things patiently on account of him.  He demands this of his disciples not because he is some fickle god, looking for external proofs of their commitment to him, but rather because he knows of suffering’s redemptive power: power that he activated when he, himself, took up the cross.

          Just before telling his apostles “whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me”, we hear that Jesus showed his disciples that “he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly … and be killed and on the third day be raised”.  Jesus did not make himself immune to what his disciples would suffer; but rather embraced it, in obedience to the Father’s will, as the means of salvation for humanity.  And so, when we unite our inevitable sufferings to his through faith and prayer, we tap into this means of salvation.  This gives our crosses internal meaning, even though externally they remain painful.  Our crosses then become part of the "living sacrifice" and "spiritual worship" that please God, reverse sin, and spread God's grace.

          My brothers and sisters, Jesus has redeemed the world and has turned our sorrows into paths of salvation, just as in a few minutes he will turn our offerings of bread and wine into his own grace-filled body and blood.  If we are at all feeling down and defeated because of the crosses that being a Christian demands that we bear, let’s look to our friends, the saints, for inspiration to persevere in carrying them, and to this Eucharist—which re-presents to us the saving sacrifice of Jesus on the cross—to find the strength we need to bear their weight until our Lord returns in glory.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – September 2^nd & 3^rd, 2017

Asking for the right thing

Homily: 17^th Sunday, Ordinary Time: Cycle A

          I grew up with an older brother and sandwiched between two sisters.  My brother was the oldest and so I wasn’t all that close to him.  I ended up being closer to my older sister and, being somewhat of a mama’s boy, I often found myself watching things like beauty pageants on TV, because that’s what my mom and my sister wanted to watch.

          I don’t hear much about them anymore, but back in the ‘80s the Miss America, Miss USA, and Miss Universe contests all had that allure of pageantry and glamour that made it all seem fascinating to me.  For me the highlights were the talent portion, where these women would display their incredible abilities to play instruments, to sing, or to dance, and also the evening gown competition, as each tried to outdo the other in having the most luxurious dress.  Then, there was the interview portion, where these women had to respond to questions with extremely complicated answers with poise and alacrity to prove that they could represent the best of our nation (or the world, for that matter) on a world stage.  Inevitably, the “one wish” question would come up.  “If you could have one wish for anything in the world, what would it be?”  After watching a few of these you quickly learned that if a contestant even hinted at wishing for something for themselves, that their chance at winning the crown was gone.  And, as years went on, the answers to these became somewhat rote and always altruistic.  “I would wish that there would be world peace.”  “I would wish for an end to world hunger.”  “I would wish for a cure for cancer.”  While these are all wonderful things to wish for, the fact that they became the “pat” answer to this question made these young women seem to me to be rather fake and inauthentic.

          In today’s first reading, we see God putting King Solomon through a similar “interview” as he is taking over the reins of the kingdom from his father David.  As we hear the dialogue between God and Solomon, we can almost feel the tension building as Solomon discerns what it is that he should ask from God.  Waiting with abated breath we hear his answer: “I wish for ‘an understanding heart to judge your people and to distinguish right from wrong.’”  “Wait, ‘an understanding heart’?  He asked for wisdom?  Something for himself?  NO!  He is supposed to ask for world peace or an end to hunger or that everyone in the world would be as rich as he is!  What was he thinking!?!?”  Yet, what do we hear as God’s response?  We hear that God was pleased with his answer… Why?

          Well, first Solomon acknowledged his relationship with God.  He acknowledged that the kingdom that he has been given is really God’s kingdom and that the people he is ruling are really God’s people and that, in actuality, it was God who had made him ruler over his people.  Because he had a relationship with God, Solomon knew that God wasn’t just some divine magician who could be called upon to magically make everything wrong in the world right.  Instead, he knew that God had called him to rule over his people and that God had given him the great responsibility to care for and to provide for his people.  With such a great task—and the shadow of his father, king David, looming over him—Solomon humbly acknowledged that he couldn’t handle this task alone and that he needed God’s help to fulfill the work to which he was calling him.  Thus, he didn’t ask that there would be no problems, but rather that he would have the understanding—the wisdom—to lead his people well in both good times and in bad.  And God was pleased with his answer.

          I think that many days we find ourselves in a similar situation to Solomon yet we hardly recognize it.  Daily we are surrounded by the needs of God’s people and yet (if we manage, first of all, not to ignore them) all we can think to do is to pray that God will wave his hand over the earth and make it all go away.  We fail to recognize that the task of caring for God’s people here on earth has been given to us.  Certainly, God doesn’t need us to care for his people—he is all-powerful and can handle it himself; but in his desire for a relationship with us, he invites us to participate in the work of caring for his people here on earth.  With this in mind, perhaps we can look to the example of Solomon to see how we ought to pray and thus know for what we ought to ask when we come before God with our needs.

          When we come before God we must first acknowledge our relationship with him.  Solomon acknowledged before God that he was God’s servant, called to care for and to rule over God’s people.  And so, we too must acknowledge that God has called each of us to be his servant and has given each of us a particular task in the care of his people.

          Next, our task is to ask God for the understanding to know how he has called us to participate in alleviating the problem or issue that we are bringing before him.  Solomon, recognizing the great responsibility that God had given him, asked for understanding to be able to judge God’s people well and to distinguish right from wrong.  First time parents, I suspect, are quite familiar with this prayer.  Faced with the responsibility of caring for and raising a child, new parents ought to find frequent recourse to pray for the understanding they need to raise their children.

          Finally, as we begin to take responsibility for the tasks that God has given us, we will find the things for which we truly need God’s intervention—such as a miraculous healing from an addiction for a friend (or even ourselves) or the conversion of a family member long-estranged from the Church.  Then, we can come again before God, bringing these things to him, and trusting that he hears and answers these prayers too.  Friends, when we pray in this way, taking responsibility for the things to which God has called us and asking for God’s wisdom to fulfill them, we not only engage in our relationship with him, but we also make ourselves open to uncovering the hidden treasures that are the kingdom of heaven. 

          My brothers and sisters, the characters in the parables from today’s Gospel reading were “surprised by joy” to find the hidden treasure and the pearl of great value.  When we accept the particular way that God has called us to serve his people here on earth, then we too will be “surprised by joy” when we find the ways in which the kingdom of heaven is being realized in our midst: a family healed after the leaving off of an addiction or the deathbed conversion of that long-estranged family member.  This is the same kingdom that each week we come together to realize and to celebrate when we come here to worship at this altar; and the meal that we share from it is a participation in the eternal banquet of heaven: the banquet of God’s kingdom yet to come.  Let us pray, then, for God’s wisdom to take up the task that he has given us as his servants and thus prepare ourselves to be surprised by joy when his kingdom appears like a great treasure before us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – July 30^th, 2017

It's time to get personal

          What?  You're not excited by the idea that Jesus would return tomorrow?  Perhaps you should examine what kind of relationship you have with him.  Is it like the relationship that you have with your garbage collector, whose absence you hardly notice?  Or is it like the relationship that you have with your best friend or your spouse, who you hate to be away from?  If it's more like the former, then it's time to get personal with Jesus.  Take this time of Advent to get to know him more.

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Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Advent – Cycle B

          On the surface, Alma and Riley seem to be like many other young couples who are preparing to get married.  They happen to be of the high school sweetheart kind.  They met in high school and weren’t really interested in each other at first, but when they got to know each other a little better found that there was a spark between them.  Five years later and that spark has grown into a warm fire of love, so much so that they feel called to go “all in” and make their love permanent in the bond of marriage.

          This is where the “normal” in their relationship ends, though.  After high school, Riley joined the Coast Guard and so, for a little over a year and a half now, Riley and Alma have spent most of their time separated from one another (and we’re not talking just a couple of states here: currently he’s stationed in Alaska).  Thus Alma has spent a lot of time waiting for Riley’s return.  They have a wedding date, though, and they will be married soon; and because of this, Alma has been working hard at making preparations for that day.  She’s focused and this has made her waiting purposeful, even joyful, in spite of the fact that, when Riley returns, her whole world will dramatically change.

          What Alma is experiencing in anticipation of her wedding day is exactly what the Church is inviting us to experience during the season of Advent.  Our Lord Jesus, when he ascended into heaven, promised that he would one day return to bring us to be where he is.  And so, we are now separated from him for a time and must wait for his return.  This waiting is not a “doctor’s office” kind of waiting, however, in which there is nothing to do, but rather it’s a purposeful waiting: a waiting in which we are constantly preparing for his return; a joyful waiting, in spite of the fact that when he returns our whole world will dramatically change.  Advent is the time of year in which we re-focus ourselves on that reality.

          But what kind of preparations should we be making?  Well, like Alma preparing for her wedding day, we need to be about putting everything in order for the day of his return; and John the Baptist shows us where we are to begin: repent, acknowledge your sins, and have your sins forgiven.  Then, as Saint Peter tells us, we must “conduct ourselves in holiness and devotion … awaiting a new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.”  In other words, we must live lives of holiness in which we strive to bring forth justice so as to hasten the coming of the new heavens and the new earth in which righteousness, that is, justice, will dwell.  Yet, we struggle to do this.  Why?  I think that it’s because, for too many of us, we’ve put “the cart before the horse”, so to speak.

          You see, Alma anxiously awaits Riley’s return because she’s deeply in love with him (and he with her).  In other words, they have a deep, personal relationship which thus inspires them to go to great lengths to end any separation between them.  Alma is not making all of these preparations for any personal reward that she expects to gain for herself, save that of being united—permanently united—to this person that she is in love with; and she knows that every hour spent making preparations for their wedding day is an hour closer to that moment when Riley will return—that, in fact, each hour thus hastens his return—and thus they will be separated no longer.

          We, however, are apathetic about—perhaps even afraid of—Jesus’ return to us.  And this is precisely because we don’t have a personal relationship with him.  I mean, you don’t get excited to celebrate the coming of your garbage collector every week, do you?  No.  Why?  Well, probably because you don’t even know who he or she is and so you don’t have a personal relationship with him or her.  Thus, your separation throughout the week causes you no great concern and his or her return each week you could equally take or leave.  In fact, the return of your garbage collector each week is only important to you because of what he or she provides to you when he or she comes: the fact that he or she is present there with you once again doesn’t really matter to you at all.  This, I would venture to say, is how we view Jesus: the garbage collector who one day is going to come and clean up our trash, but then leave us to go about our business.

          My brothers and sisters, if our attitude towards Jesus’ second coming is anything like what I’ve just described—or if we just feel a general malaise about his coming—then Advent for us is about waking up to the possibility of entering personally into a relationship with him: because it is only in a personal relationship with him that we will discover a sense of excitement and anticipation for his return.  If we already have it, then we’re inspired, like Alma, to wait expectantly for his return; and we make preparations for it by being cleansed from sin and by enacting works of justice as if we both welcomed his coming and were sure that it was going to happen soon.  If we don’t have that personal relationship, however, then our lives lose focus and, instead of preparing for something, we begin to chase after anything that seems to generate excitement for us.

          If you find yourself in this latter category (and the statistics say that most of us here do), then I want to invite you to ask yourself this question: “Is my life really so good that Jesus can’t offer me anything better?”  My guess is that the answer for all of us is “no”, and that we do wish for more out of life.  If so, then this time of Advent is our time to begin to seek (or to renew) a relationship with Jesus that will give focus and purpose to our waiting for his return.

          My brothers and sisters, in the second letter of Saint Peter we heard good news: that the delay of the Lord’s return is not a delay in the fulfillment of his promises, but rather it is a merciful delay, allowing time for each of us to repent and to prepare for his coming.  But he won’t wait forever!  Therefore, let us turn to Jesus now and seek to know him more deeply and more personally—most especially by carving out time each day to spend with him in quiet reflection on the Scriptures—so that the best present that you receive this Christmas will be the joy of knowing the Lord, deep in your heart.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – December 6^th & 7^th, 2014

Pre-existing conditions...

          Prayer can be both an exhilarating and a frustrating experience.  Exhilarating when it seems like our hearts and our minds are so completely in-tune with God’s that he seems to respond almost directly to whatever it is we ask for: whether that be for help on a test, for wisdom to handle a difficult situation at work (or, perhaps, for that difficult situation to disappear), or for the healing and recovery of a loved one from an illness or an injury.  It can be frustrating when the opposite is true.  Sometimes, no matter how long and hard we pray it seems as if we’re speaking to a brick wall because the only response that we receive is the echo of our own voice.  This can be especially so when we are lost and looking for direction in our lives or when pleading desperately for the healing of a loved one and God doesn’t seem to respond.  For many, the experience of frustration leaves a lasting wound that unfortunately causes them to give up on the effort completely.

I took up this theme for my homily this week.  Prayer is not a task, it is a relationship!

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Homily: 17^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          When I was still a student studying for my engineering degree, I worked at a small manufacturing plant that makes bumpers for semi-trucks.  Whenever I needed to get some maintenance work done I had to submit a “work order” that described what needed to be done and when it needed to be done by.  What I quickly found out, however, was that the maintenance crew was overloaded and that my work orders often sat on a pile of other work orders that weren’t getting completed and that the crew worked on whatever the shop-floor supervisor told them was most important for the day.  Frustrated by this, I would often forego the whole process completely.  If I could just do it myself, I would.  If I couldn’t then I would document it and move on to the next thing.

          I think, sometimes, we can see prayer kind of like a “maintenance work order” system.  We fill out our form and submit it to God and he is supposed to put his crew to work to take care of it for us.  When it works, we feel satisfied.  God is there for us and we can rely on him.  When it doesn’t seem to work, we feel frustrated.  God is unreliable and so if we want this to be taken care of we either need to do it ourselves or just accept that we’ve been dealt a bad hand and that there’s nothing we can do about it.  Of course there’s more to prayer than just making requests of God, but I think you’d be surprised to find out how many people turn away from God on account of feeling like God had let them down when they felt like they most needed him to respond.  In today’s readings, we are given a model of this type prayer that can help us understand it more deeply, which is good; because when we understand it more deeply, we are less likely to become frustrated by its results.

          In our Gospel reading, Jesus’ disciples observe him in prayer and, probably quite innocently, ask him, their teacher, to teach them how to pray.  As Jesus often does, however, when he’s given an inch, he takes a mile and he not only teaches them how to pray (i.e. the correct words and manner in which to pray), but he teaches them the pre-conditions for prayer as well.

          As presented to us today, prayer in which we ask something from God has three basic characteristics: 1) be humble; 2) ask for a just thing; and 3) be persistent.  First: be humble.  As Jesus taught his disciples and as Abraham shows us today, our first task is always to recognize who it is we are addressing and what our relationship to him is.  Abraham was bold, but before he pushed God on the issue he first acknowledged that God knew better than he and so would submit to his judgments.  When we pray as Jesus taught us and say “Our Father…” we too acknowledge our relationship to God: that is, that he has wisdom and authority that is far greater than ours and so deserves our deference to his judgments.

          Second: ask for a just thing.  Abraham was a righteous man and so he could see the inherent conflict in the notion that God—who purports to be the just judge—would destroy innocent people for the sake of punishing those who are guilty and so he pleads, in a sense, for the lives of the innocent who live there by testing the limits of God’s justice.  In the example that Jesus gives, the man, though he comes at midnight, asks for a just thing: some bread to feed his friend that had just arrived from a journey, which, on account of the customs surrounding hospitality in the ancient Jewish culture, was something that he was expected to provide.

          Third: be persistent.  Abraham rightly saw that if God would withhold his wrath for the lives of fifty innocent men that justice would demand that he do the same if the number were as low as ten; and so he asked again and again, not presuming he knew better than God, but so as to see if God’s idea of justice lined up with his.  His persistence produced a commitment from God to spare the city (of, presumably, thousands of people) if even ten innocent persons were found there.  In Jesus’ example, the man, because he asks for a just thing, and because his friend is, also (presumably) a righteous person, receives what he asks for even in spite of the inconvenience he has caused his friend.  Notice that there was no conflict with what was asked for; because what was asked for was a just thing.  Part of being humble, however, means acknowledging that what we are asking for may not necessarily be the just thing.  Therefore, we must always be open to being shown that what we’ve asked for is not what is truly needed and so be open to receiving a different response in its place.

          Be humble, ask for a just thing, and be persistent.  These are the three characteristics of prayers of petition.  What is not often acknowledged in this lesson on prayer, however, is the necessary pre-condition for making this type of prayer.  Simply stated, this type of prayer requires a pre-existing relationship.

          I have a very good friend, named Joe, who I used to work with when I worked as an engineer.  We used to car-pool to work together and through that and our work our relationship grew.  To this day I am very close with his family and am godfather to his oldest son.  Over my years in the seminary, I called on him multiple times, usually when he was not expecting it, to ask for some sort of help.  I never had any fear calling on him because I knew that what I was asking for was a good thing and that, because of our friendship, he’d be very willing to offer his help.  Even if he was resistant, at first, I knew that I could push on him for it because he could be relied upon to respond if he was able; even if it would be inconvenient for him or his family.  I could only do that, however, because I had built a relationship with him first.

          The same applies to our prayers of petition.  When we’ve spent time with God, building our relationship with him, we become much more apt to turn to him with our needs and also to trust that, even if his response seems to be long-delayed, that he will respond and give us what it is that we need (even if that isn’t exactly what we asked for).

          There’s a saying that states that God responds to prayers of petition in one of three ways: “Ok”, “Ok, but not now”, and “Ok, but I have a better idea”.  When we build a relationship with God through spending time with him in the sacraments, in private prayer, and in reading the Bible, we become both bold in bringing to God all of our needs and also open to hearing which of these three responses he offers us when we turn to him.

          My brothers and sisters, our Good God wants us to turn to him with all of our needs, big and small, because he truly is our Father who loves us dearly.  Like any good father, however, he wants even more to be in a close, intimate relationship with us, so that we may learn to trust that, even if he does not appear to respond immediately or in the way we desire, he will nonetheless respond: in the way and at the time that we truly need it.  Let us, then, renew our commitment to draw close to him today and to turn to him for all of our needs; for his promise to remain near to us—the sacrifice of his Son—is already here at hand.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – July 28^th, 2013