Agonize to enter the narrow gate

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

          For those of you paying attention, in the world of Indiana professional sports, a bombshell was dropped last night as Andrew Luck, the franchise quarterback of the Indianapolis Colts, announced his immediate retirement from playing football.  For those of you who follow football, even casually, you’ll know what a shocking announcement this is.  For those of you who don’t, however, I’ll try to summarize what happened and why this is such a big deal.

          Andrew Luck is only 29 years old and has been in the NFL for only a handful of years.  He was and continued to be one of the more talented quarterbacks in the NFL.  In spite of injuries that have sidelined him over the past couple of years, Mr. Luck was still considered to be at the top of the list of quarterbacks who could lead his team to a championship.  His announcement, however sudden, was not random.  This year, it is reported, he was facing more injuries that would keep him sidelined which caused him to worry both about whether he’d ever be able to return to top form and what all of this would mean for his quality of life after football.  Thus, he made what he described to be an intensely difficult decision: one that has shocked the sports world.

          What Mr. Luck’s announcement reveals to us is this: that to remain at the top level of any sport, one must have a desire to fight through every obstacle and the discipline to endure the day to day hard work that overcoming those obstacles requires.  Mr. Luck describes having lost that desire (he called it losing the “joy” of playing football), which meant that he no longer had the will to maintain the discipline.

          The word “discipline”, for most of us, probably connotes something negative: that is, being punished for something that you did wrong.  Discipline, therefore, is a corrective: suffering imposed on someone in order to correct an improper behavior.  For example, you discipline a child for coloring on the living room walls.  In other words, you make them feel bad in order to teach them that it is bad to color on the walls.

          Now, I’ve just touched on something that, I hope, will help us see that “discipline” is something more than just punishment.  You see, “discipline” shares the same root word as the word “disciple”; and what is a “disciple” but someone who learns from a master and tries to follow the master’s ways.  In other words, a “disciple” is one who learns and then applies that learning to his or her life.  “Discipline”, therefore, looked at in this way, is more than “punishment”; rather it is “teaching”.  And so “discipline” for professional athletes is not just a punishment that must be endured, but a way of teaching themselves how to achieve the level of skill that they will need, and to overcome obstacles that inevitably appear, in order to compete at the highest echelon of their sport.  Thus, almost every one of them will say that “you need a lot of discipline to compete at this level”; and we all hear that and say, “You’re right” (which is probably followed by a thought “and I don’t have it!”).

          In the Gospel reading today, Jesus is passing through towns and villages on his way to Jerusalem and somewhere along the way a man approaches him and asks this very sincere question: “Lord, will only a few people be saved?”  Jesus, being who he is, is able to hear the “question behind the question” that the man is asking and his response reveals what that question might have been: “Lord, is it possible that I can be saved?”  And how does Jesus answer this question?  He says, “Strive to enter through the narrow gate.”  Now we don’t need to know what “narrow gate” Jesus is talking about: rather, it is enough to imagine a narrow gate that is difficult to get through and, thus, what it would take to squeeze through it.

          The word “strive”, itself, is heavy with meaning, because the Greek word that Luke, the Gospel writer, used is the same word from which we get the verb “to agonize”.  So, in a sense, Jesus is telling this man “to agonize to enter through the narrow gate”.  “Agony” is another word that has negative connotations.  “To agonize over” something is to suffer something unpleasant: for example, indecision at not knowing the correct choice to make in order to achieve something important.  Nevertheless, that “agonizing” often leads to a decision; and thus the suffering produced by the agony turns into a “discipline” that helps one achieve his or her goal.  Thus, to strive—to agonize—to enter through the narrow gate is also to discipline yourself to enter through the narrow gate.  Thus, we see that Jesus was not talking only about exerting raw energy in your effort, but that he was also talking about disciplining yourself—allowing yourself to be taught how to enter the gate—so that you can enter through it: “for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter,” Jesus said, “but will not be strong enough.” /// “Lord, will only a few be saved?” the man asks…  “That depends,” Jesus seems to say, “on how many people truly strive for it.”

          Thus, we can see that making it to the heights of professional sports and making it to heaven are not dissimilar things: both require discipline and effort.  There is one extremely important difference, however—a difference that makes the one nearly impossible for any of us to achieve and the other very possible for all of us to achieve—and that is this: in professional sports you’re judged by your performance, whereas in salvation, you’re judged by your effort.  None of us would question that each athlete in professional sports is putting forth his or her maximum effort towards “entering the narrow gate” and winning a championship.  Yet, only one athlete or team wins a championship: and this because the individual/team performance was better than all of the others.  Salvation, however, does not depend on the perfection of our performance; rather, it depends on whether or not we’ve given our maximum effort.

          Thus, Jesus says “strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough.”  “Strive”—discipline yourself—make yourself strong so that you can give the maximum effort, because that is what it will take to enter through the narrow gate.  This, my brothers and sisters, is what we do when we pray daily, when we study the Scriptures and the teachings of the Church (and strive to be obedient to those teachings!), when we live the sacramental life (meaning primarily: regular confession and weekly participation in the Eucharist), and when we serve others through the works of mercy.  These disciplines are what prepare us to enter through the narrow gate.

          Those who are not strong enough are those who give up on one or more of these disciplines, believing that because they “know Jesus” that they will still be saved.  Jesus, however, disagrees.  Those who have given up on these disciplines, even though they know Jesus, will be like those locked out of the master’s house after he has locked the door and who cry out to the master who then replies “I do not know where you are from”.  We must know the master, yes, but we must also strive to enter; because once the door is locked it won’t be reopened.

          My brothers and sisters, it is a beautiful mercy of God that he does not expect perfection of us so that we can be saved.  Although his justice requires perfection, his mercy takes into account the effort that we put forth towards achieving it and, thus, he welcomes us, in spite of our flawed performances.  Therefore, taking the achievements of professional athletes as our inspiration, let us rededicate ourselves to those disciplines of prayer, study, obedience to Church teaching, celebrating the sacraments, and doing the works of mercy so that the glory we achieve will be the kind that never fades, the glory of entering through the narrow gate to be seated at our master’s eternal wedding feast: the foretaste of which we enjoy even now, here in this Eucharist.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – August 25^th, 2019

The effects and consequences of being God's prophet

Homily: 20^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          Friends, this week our scriptures give us a glimpse of both the effects and the consequences of being God’s prophet.  In the first reading from the book of the prophet Jeremiah, we enter the scene after Jeremiah has been making his prophecy.  The Babylonians had laid siege to Jerusalem (meaning, they had surrounded the city and had cut off all supplies from outside, like food, from coming in).  Jeremiah had been called by God to proclaim that the Babylonians had been sent by God as a punishment against them for having grossly sinned against his commandments.  This message had demoralized the soldiers and so none of them wanted to go and fight the Babylonians.  Then, to top it off, God prompted Jeremiah to declare to the king that it was his will that they surrender to the Babylonians without a fight: saying that, while the city would be lost, the people would be mostly saved.

          Well, neither of these things sat well with the king and his closest advisors.  The Babylonians were absolutely despised by everyone and so the thought of surrendering to them was unconscionable.  Further, they were convinced that God was still with them and so could defeat the Babylonians if they engaged them in battle.  They knew that Jeremiah was a true prophet of God.  Thus, his prophecies unnerved them, leading them to seek to silence his voice.  And so, we see that the effects of his prophecy were to disturb his hearers, creating division among them, and the consequences were that he suffered severe punishment at their hands (being thrown in a cistern and left for dead).

          In the gospel reading, we hear Jesus declare both the effects and the consequences that his own prophecies will have.  He declares that his teaching will both disturb and cause division, and that this division will not be into broad, loosely connected groups, but rather that it will cut to the very core of every family (a father against his son and a son against his father...).  And the consequences of his teaching will be that he will be baptized in a “baptism with which he must be baptized”, which we know to be an allusion to the Crucifixion.  As we know well, his teaching did disturb and cause division, leading the prominent persons of the day to seek to silence his voice.  Thus, the consequence of his teaching was the severe punishment of the cross.

          So, why is it important for us to hear these readings and, thus, to understand the effects and consequences of being a prophet?  Well, simply stated, it’s because the world is in desperate need of prophets: that is, men and women who will listen to the word of God, observe the world around them, and then be bold enough to speak God’s truth into the world, calling out those who are living contrary to God’s commandments, announcing to them the consequences if they continue, and then calling them to repentance, that is, to turn back to God so that the announced consequences might not be realized.  They are desperately needed because so many people today are turning away from God because they think that the pursuit of him will lead to a dreary and sullen life and so turn to a life of pursuing personal satisfaction, often to destructive ends.  In hearing this message today, each of us is being reminded of our call to be prophets to those around us.

          This “glimpse” of the effects and consequences of being a prophet can be used as an examination of conscience of sorts as to how well we are fulfilling our role of being prophets in the world.  Believe it or not, the first question of this examination has nothing to do with whether I’ve disturbed and caused division, but rather with whether I’ve spent time listening to the word of God.  Are we spending time praying with and studying the scriptures and the teachings of the Church (which are derived from the scriptures and the Tradition of the Apostles), or are we spending more time watching Fox News or CNN (or, worse yet, endless mindless shows on television or Netflix)?  If we are not spending time every day listening to God’s word in this way, then how can we know the message that God is calling us to announce to others?  The answer, of course, is that we can’t; and so, when we (inevitably) observe the world around us (because we’re watching too much Fox News or CNN, remember?), although we may recognize that things are off-kilter, we do not know how to respond.  At first, we may feel frustrated since we sense that we should do something.  After some time, however, that sense of frustration without action hardens our hearts until we no longer feel even the frustration.  Friends, let me tell you: This is a bad place to be.

          The hearts of those to whom God is calling us to share his prophetic message have hardened themselves against him (like King Zedekiah and his advisors and the Pharisees in Jesus’ day).  When we fail to listen to the word of God in our daily lives, we, too, allow our hearts to harden against him, thus rendering us useless as prophets of God and, quite frankly, putting us in danger of losing heaven for having failed to love him.  Letting your heart become hard is the easier way to go, however, since we all know (at least instinctually) that the effects of being a prophet are to disturb and cause division (which nobody likes) and that the consequences of being a prophet are to suffer severe punishment.  Having a hardened heart may lead to a more dispassionate and unfulfilling life, but at least it’s a quieter one.

          Friends, I’ve struggled a lot with heart hardness over these last few years.  I’ve allowed the busyness of the world to over-occupy my mind and my heart and I’ve allowed my fear of the effects and consequences of being a prophet to lead me, at times, to stop listening to God’s word.  Thus, I realize that, if I’ve been a lousy prophet for God, it’s because I’ve stopped loving him; because if I really loved him, nothing would ever stop me from speaking his truth into the world.  The prophet Jeremiah never stopped listening to God’s word and so never stopped loving him, in spite of all that he suffered because of it.  Thus, in a lament after much suffering, he could write: “I say to myself, ‘I will not mention him, I will speak in his name no more.’ But then it becomes like fire burning in my heart, imprisoned in my bones; I grow weary holding it in, I cannot endure it” (Jer. 20:9).  One who has a hard heart, who has stopped loving God, does not have this experience.

          Brothers and sisters, the question that faces us today is this: am I willing to open myself to being God’s prophet in this world that so desperately needs it?  Am I willing to open myself to speaking God’s truth to the people closest to me, knowing that it will disrupt them and cause division as well as cause great suffering for me (itself the purifying fire that Jesus came to set ablaze!)?  If your answer is not “yes”, then it’s time to check your heart; perhaps you’ve allowed it to become hardened and, thus, your love for God to grow cold.  If so, don’t worry.  God’s love for you is still a burning fire and the evidence of this is soon to be made present to us on this altar: the Body and Blood of Jesus, his Son, whom he sacrificed for us.  As you approach this altar, ask him to take from you your hardened heart and to give you a heart of flesh that will burn with love for him again: the love that has the power to overcome every trial and suffering on earth and so prepare us for the eternal life of peace which Christ, himself, has won for us.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – August 18^th, 2019

Mary's Assumption and the dignity of our bodies

Homily: Solemnity of the Assumption (Day) – Cycle C

          Recently, I read an article by Dr. John Grondelski in which he speaks about how the reality of Mary’s Assumption, body and soul, into heaven has much to teach us today, particularly when it comes to the attitude with which we treat our bodies.  I thought that he was spot on and so I want to try to summarize this here for you today as we celebrate this great mystery of our faith.

          As with the Ascension of our Lord, in his glorified human body, into heaven, the Assumption of Mary presents us with a bit of a faith dilemma: How can our human bodies, which are profoundly affected by time and finitude, exist in eternity? and what does it mean that, ultimately, we will exist bodily (not just spiritually) in eternity?  This is not an easy question to answer in our modern culture, as we seem to be in a period where, in regards to the body, les extremes se touchent (“the extremes meet”).

          On the one hand, we have a culture that seems to idolize the body and physical appearances.  Instagram alone has both caused a need for and given rise to a “positive body image” movement: the result of a culture that makes physical appearance and bodily satisfaction of paramount value.

          At the same time, our culture promotes the idolization of the “I”, and that the “I”, that is the wholeness of the person, is reduced to consciousness and thought.  In this extreme, a person’s body is nothing but a tool that he/she uses to interact with the world, but which has no direct impact on who he/she is as a person.  Biological sex is meaningless.  How one identifies in one’s consciousness is paramount.  The body, therefore, is useful, at best, and expendable, at worst.

          So the body is everything and the body is nothing, says a profoundly conflicted modern culture.  How blessed are we, then, to have a faith that can help resolve this conflict by stepping back from the extremes to show us the true value of the human body.  Most recently, it was Pope Saint John Paul II who strove to show the genuine value of the human body as related to the person in his catechesis, the Theology of the Body.

          As did many theologians before him, he recognized that, in becoming incarnate, God invincibly assured us that the bodies he created for us are good and essential to who we are as persons.  In taking that human body, in glorified form, into heaven in his Ascension, he further demonstrated the value of the body as the means through which we will enter into communion with him.  In Mary’s Assumption, body and soul, into heaven, Saint John Paul II saw the fulfillment of God’s promise to return and to bring his holy ones home to himself.  Thus, he could teach that the body—in the form that it is given to us, male and female—is both good and essential to who we are as creatures, created in the imago Dei, the image of God.

          Today, as we honor Mary as the first of Christ’s disciples to experience the full restoration promised to us when our first parents were expelled from Eden, let us not hesitate to speak of the dignity of the human body as the means by which we will experience communion with God in eternity.  And let us give thanks, here in this Eucharist, that we can experience that communion even now: offered to us through Christ’s Body and Blood that is made present to us—really and truly present—here on this altar.

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

Trusting that God fulfills his promises

Homily: 19^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

Friends, a dominant theme in today’s readings is that God fulfills his promises and that those who, therefore, place their trust in God are greatly rewarded.  In the first reading from the book of Wisdom, we are reminded that God promised the Israelites that he would lead them out of slavery in Egypt into a land that would be their own, where they would enjoy freedom and prosperity.  The sign would be the Passover, when God would send his destroying angels to eliminate the first-born throughout the land of Egypt but would spare the Israelites if their homes were marked with the blood of the sacrifice.  This command was not without risk.  The Israelites were not allowed to offer sacrifice to God in Egypt and so, if God did not fulfill his promise, the morning after the proposed “Passover” the Egyptians would see that they did, indeed, sacrifice to their God and so would punish them severely for it.  The Israelites, having seen the other signs that God had performed (the other 9 “plagues”), trusted that God would fulfill his promise and so made the sacrifice.  They were rewarded with their liberty.

In the second reading we go back further in salvation history to Abraham and recall that he, too, trusted that God fulfills his promises and so was rewarded.  Abraham was one of a certain people who lived in the land of Ur of the Chaldeans (modern-day Iraq).  God called him out of that land, however, so as to make of him the first of a new people, set apart for God alone.  Abraham set out, already advanced in years, yet without any children, trusting that God would fulfill his promises if he remained faithful.  Even after his wife Sarah conceived and bore him a son (through which this promise of “descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky” might be fulfilled), Abraham trusted when God asked that he offer his son as a sacrifice.  The author of the Letter to the Hebrews says that Abraham “received Isaac back as a symbol”: a symbol that God, indeed, fulfills his promises.

Then, in the Gospel reading, we hear Jesus give stern warnings to his disciples.  “Be vigilant!  As my disciples, don’t waste time with worldly pursuits, but always be about the work that I am giving you!  You will not know when I return; and if I return and find you lounging around (or worse!) you will be severely punished.  But if you are found to be about the work that I have given you, you will receive a blessed reward.”  It’s the kind of warning that can make you sleep with one eye open, right?  It’s the kind of warning that gives rise to bumper-stickers that say, “Jesus is coming, look busy!”  The warning is not so much a threat, however, but a promise: for at the beginning of the reading, Jesus says, “Do not be afraid any longer, little flock, (how tender!) for the Father is pleased to give you the kingdom.”  In other words, you don’t have to prove yourselves in worldly pursuits and conquests—the source of much fear and anxiety for us—but be about the work I am giving you, for the Father is ready to give you far more than the world can ever give: the fullness of the kingdom.  If I come and find you doing this work, great will be your reward!  The rest of the New Testament (Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles) demonstrate to us that Jesus’ disciples did exactly that: trusted that God fulfills his promises and so did as they were called to do.  Each that did has now found his/her reward in heaven.

Bishop Doherty’s pastoral plan for the diocese, Uniting In Heart 2030, is a challenge to each of us to exercise this kind of trust.  Paying attention to the reality that is before us, Bishop Doherty is courageously putting forth a plan that will take us out of our comfort zones, yet which contains a promise for future strength and prosperity for the Catholic Church in North-Central Indiana.  The question for us is whether we will trust in the Holy Spirit, who has inspired this plan—that he will fulfill his promises—and so set out on this journey of transformation.  Hopefully, we will see this challenge in the light of Jesus’ warnings: that this is part of the work that he has given to us and so should be found busy about it when he comes and so set ourselves to the work.  I am committing myself to it, including the personal work of transformation that it will require of me: trusting not only that our diocese and parishes will be stronger, but that I, too, will be stronger—that is, holier... more ready for the kingdom—when this work of transformation is finished.  I hope that each of you will join me in this work.

Saint Jeanne Jugan, the foundress of the Little Sisters of the Poor, from whom we will hear at the end of Mass today, also trusted that God fulfills his promises and so set out to serve the elderly poor, in spite of all of the obstacles that she would encounter.  This order stands as a testament to the blessings that come from placing our trust in God and the power that our witness of trust has to move other hearts to do the same.  May the faithfulness of God, who never ceases to hand over his Son, Jesus, to us here in this Eucharist, inspire in us greater trust, so that we, too, may step out into the unknown: where the reward of God’s kingdom—the kingdom of reconciliation... harmony... PEACE among all people—will be found.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – August 10^th & 11^th, 2019

Experiences over things? All things are vanity!

Homily: 18^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

“I prefer experiences over things.”  If you’re of the millennial generation, you’ve probably said this phrase before.  If you are of an older generation, you might be looking with a bit of puzzlement trying to understand what I just said.  “Experiences over things” is a trend among the younger generation in which individuals focus less on acquiring things than on acquiring experiences.  In more practical terms, this means that folks of the younger generation are more likely to save up to purchase an “igloo building experience in northern Alaska” than to put a down payment on a bungalow in the suburbs.

For those of older generations, this trend flies in the face of what they grew to know and value.  For them, life following two World Wars and the Great Depression was a life of seeking normalcy and stability; and nothing says “normalcy and stability” than a 9-5 job, a decent house on a plot of land, 2.35 kids, and a dog.  For them, “experiences” involved going to the lake house to break out of the “normalcy” a bit: exchanging one set of things for another set of things... except that this set of things had a lake next to it in which you could enjoy some recreation.

On the surface, our readings today seem like they favor the younger generation.  The wisdom writer, Qoheleth, decries “All things are vanity!” because all of the things that one can acquire through his/her wisdom and hard work ultimately gets left to someone who did not work for it.  “What’s the point of acquiring all of these things,” Qoheleth seems to say, “if ultimately they will all pass through to someone else’s hands?”  You can almost hear him say, “Why not spend the fruits of your labor on experiences, which you will always keep with you?”  And then Jesus, with his parable recounted for us in our Gospel reading, is even more blunt.  “You fool,” he says of the one who stored up his bountiful harvest for him to enjoy over many years, “You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you; and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?”  Again, you can almost hear him saying, “Why didn’t you spend the fruits of your labor on experiences, which you will always keep with you, instead of on storing up things, which you will lose in the blink of an eye?”  I think, however, that this would be a misreading of these texts.  In fact, I think that these texts have something to say to all of us, in spite of that which we prefer: experiences or things.

If we think just a little more, we can see that even the pursuit of experiences over things is also “vanity”.  These, too, will one day fade into nothing; and the only thing that can be handed onto anyone else are fleeting Instagram photos, providing a filtered documentary of the experience.  No, it seems that, because none of us truly knows when our lives will be “demanded” of us, a life spent solely on seeking to acquire things or experiences “is vanity and a great misfortune”.

Does this mean, however, that we should never seek to acquire things or experiences?  The answer, of course, is “no”.  It, quite obviously, is incredibly difficult to do something like raise a family without a stable roof over your head.  Thus, pursuit of a house that you can call your own is a necessary (if not noble) thing.  Similarly, it is quite difficult to grow as a person if you remain isolated in your own culture and experience.  Thus, seeking experiences of different cultures which can help you to become more “well-rounded” as a person is, too, a necessary (if not noble) thing.  The problem arises, however, when we begin to pursue these as ends in themselves.

Having just begun a family, it is a noble and necessary thing to save up for a down payment on a bungalow in the suburbs.  Having acquired it, however, it becomes vanity then to seek a bigger house than is necessary: solely for the purpose of acquiring it.  Similarly, it is one thing to take a vacation with friends to learn about Eskimo culture—its customs and values—and another thing take a vacation for the sole purpose of building an igloo.  In the former form of both cases, the thing/experiences were a means to an end (providing for one’s family/growing as human beings), while in the latter form of both cases, the things/experience became ends in themselves (the house for the sake of having it and the experience for the sake of experiencing it).

Our Lord’s cautionary tale today is a reminder to us to remain focused on the things for which we will one day have to answer when our lives are demanded of us.  Clearly, we will not be judged more positively for the quantity of things or experiences that we acquired in this world.  Rather, we will be judged for how we used those things/experiences to further the building of God’s kingdom.  Remember that, in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus is recorded as saying, “When you did these things for the least of my brethren, you did it to me.”  And Saint Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians, says “faith, hope, and love remain, these three.”  Therefore, when we live our lives as if only faith, hope, and love remain and so use the things and experiences we acquire to serve the least of these and grow as persons and in communion with God and one another, then our acquisition of things and experiences become means towards the end for which we will answer and, thus, noble and worthy of our pursuit.  If we live otherwise, however, our pursuit of things/experiences risks becoming an end in itself and, thus, “vanity and a great misfortune”.

Our parish’s Haiti ministry is a great example of pursuing things/experiences as means to an end: the end of solidarity with our brothers and sisters who are suffering and efforts to relieve it; as well as experiencing the joy and freedom that their simplicity of life affords us.  In other words, we are not in this so as to take for our own benefit, but rather to give of ourselves and to receive what they offer.  This is NOT vanity, but a noble and worthy endeavor.  How good it is, therefore, that we celebrate this with Fr. Silvio this weekend.

Friends, as we begin to wrap up our summer vacations—themselves often opportunities for acquiring things/experiences as ends in themselves—let us allow these readings to interpret them for us: Were they, in fact, opportunities to grow as persons, to build God’s kingdom, or to enter more deeply into communion with God and with others? Or were they, in fact, vanity: ends that we pursued for their own sakes?  If the former: good!  Give thanks to God for the grace of this growth.  If the latter: well, humbly acknowledge that you missed the mark and seek to turn your pursuit of things/experiences into means towards the ends for which you will one day answer: the building of God’s kingdom of love in truth here on earth.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – August 4^th, 2019