Do less and accomplish more

Homily: The Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God – Cycle C

          Well, here we are!  It’s a new year and once again everything seems possible.  Now I suppose that perhaps more than a few of us have spent the last few weeks lamenting all that wasn’t accomplished in the past year: those resolutions we so fervently resolved which, for a multitude of legitimate reasons, perhaps never quite materialized as we had imagined they would.  Nevertheless, today everything is new and full of possibilities.  And it’s likely that many of us have made new resolutions, which, I suppose, means that we are confident that this year we will actually keep them.

          You know, I like that about us.  I like the fact that even when we don’t always accomplish what we’ve set out to do, that we don’t let that keep us from starting again.  In other words, we don’t despair that there is something more to accomplish, in spite of the fact that we’ve fallen short.  I think this is a very Catholic attitude, by the way.  As Catholics, we routinely acknowledge when we’ve failed to live up to our expectations—in other words, when we’ve “missed the mark”—and, once we do, we decide to start anew, with a clean slate, and strive once again to achieve those good goals we set for ourselves.  Sounds a little bit like the Sacrament of Reconciliation, doesn’t it?  Putting all of that aside, however, and turning back to our resolutions for this new year, I’d like to consider for a moment what it is that Mary has to teach us about making resolutions.

          Throughout these last eight days, the Gospel readings have often reminded us of how, in various situations, Mary encountered things that were distressing, confusing, and astounding; and that, after each of them, how she “held those things in her heart, reflecting on them.”  First was the message from the shepherds of what they had seen and heard from the angels.  Then was the words of Simeon in the Temple, in which he prophesied that a “sword would pierce her heart.”  Finally, there was the losing and finding of the child Jesus in the Temple, in which Jesus’ words confounded her.  After each of these situations, we are told that Mary “held these things in her heart and reflected on them.”  In other words, that she practiced silence.

          I would venture to guess that most all of our resolutions involve something active, that is, something we’d like to accomplish: I’m going to exercise more, take that trip I’ve always wanted to take, learn how to golf, or play an instrument, or how to cook.  And these are all good things, of course.  However, they are all things bound to create “mental noise”: a nagging voice in the back of our minds constantly reminding us that we have yet to accomplish the goal that we set out for ourselves.  But what if one of our resolutions this year was to reflect on more things in our hearts?  In other words, what if we resolved to “practice silence” this year?

          In his final homily of 2012, Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI offered advice for how we can overcome the inevitable disappointments—both with ourselves and with the world—that we encounter in our daily lives.  He said, “we must be able to remain in silence, in meditation, in calm and prolonged reflection; we must know how to stop and think.  In this way, our mind can find healing from the inevitable wounds of daily life, can go deeper into the events that occur in our lives and in the world, and come to the knowledge that allows us to evaluate things with new eyes.”  In other words, our retired Holy Father was encouraging us to ponder more deeply the events of our lives and thus to come to see more clearly how our faith shapes our response to them and our own ability to grow within them.  (Pope Benedict, himself, would, just a couple of months after speaking these words, resign from the papacy: giving evidence that he was practicing what he preached.)

          Thus, it seems that our Blessed Mother does have something to teach us about making resolutions.  In all of these events of her life, she did not turn to media outlets to hear what everybody else was saying about what had happened in order to try and make sense of it for herself.  Rather, she turned to silence.  In other words, Mary learned to pray with these events so as to see more clearly how her faith would shape her response to them and her ability to grow within them.

          Just this past Sunday, we heard in the Gospel that after the incident in the Temple, “[Jesus] went down with [Mary and Joseph] and came to Nazareth and was obedient to them” and that he “advanced in wisdom and age and favor before God and man.”  I suspect that one of the things that he learned from his Mother—whom we venerate today precisely because she is his mother—was how to reflect on things in his heart: a skill that I suspect he perfected in the remaining “hidden years” in Nazareth before he began his public ministry.

          My brothers and sisters, Mary is our mother, too.  Perhaps this year she could teach us how to ponder deeply in our hearts: that is, how to practice silence.  In doing so, perhaps we’ll find that, in doing less, we’ve actually accomplished a whole lot more.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – January 1, 2019

Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God

The Risen Christ removes blindness

Homily: 3^rd Sunday of Easter – Cycle B

          One of the common threads that seems to run through our readings today is the idea that Christ’s Resurrection is the light that takes away blindness.  In the first reading, Peter is speaking to the crowd who had gathered around him and the Apostle John after they had healed the crippled man near Solomon’s Portico just outside the temple.  We hear Peter accuse the crowd of having “denied the Holy and Righteous One” and having put to death the “author of life”.  Then, in a turn of mercy, he acknowledges that they “acted out of ignorance” and assures them that, if they repent, their sins will be wiped away by the very same “Holy and Righteous One” whom they denied.  In other words, when they denied him, they were blinded by their ignorance, but now see the fullness of Christ, risen from the dead, and his saving power.  Thus, they can turn to him and receive forgiveness.

          In the Gospel reading, we hear how Peter and the Apostles were the first (or maybe second) to be enlightened by the risen Christ.  There the disciples from Emmaus to whom the Risen Christ appeared and was made known in the breaking of bread, have returned to Jerusalem and are recounting their encounter with the Risen Christ.  “While they were still speaking about this,” the Gospel records for us, Jesus appeared in their midst, rebukes them for their unbelief in the resurrection, and then “[opens] their minds to understand the Scriptures” about how the Christ had to suffer and die and then rise to fulfill what was written.  In spite of what Jesus told his disciples before his Passion, Death, and Resurrection, it took his risen presence to take away their blindness so that they might see the full truth of his teaching.

          In the second reading, the words of the Apostle John also aim at opening the eyes of its readers.  Our reading begins with John saying “I am writing this to you so that you may not commit sin.”  In other words, “so that you may recognize sin and, thus, avoid it.”  Then, like with Peter in the first reading, we hear him announce God’s mercy: saying, in effect, “If, in your ignorance, you have sinned, don’t despair; because Jesus is our Advocate before the Father and he has expiated our sins.”  In other words, “If you have sinned because of blindness, be blind no longer and turn to Christ who will advocate on your behalf before the Father.”  For John, it is Christ, risen from the dead, that gives light and hope to those who had been blind in their sin, just as it was for the crowd that listened to Peter that afternoon in Jerusalem, and just as it was for the disciples gathered in the Upper Room on that first Easter.

          And so, why is this important to note today?  Because it will be important to remember in the coming years as it will become necessary to propose once again these great truths to a generation who has largely turned away from it.

          Newspaper columnist Terry Mattingly recently reflected on Europe’s woes regarding young adults and religion.  He specifically quotes Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI who, while still Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, noted that the trend in Europe meant that the Church would be “reduced in its dimensions” making it “necessary to start again.”  Here, nearly 20 years later, we see this playing out in Europe.  A recent study showed that, in 12 of 22 European nations polled, over half of 16-29 year olds claim no religious affiliation whatsoever.  In 18 of these 22 nations less than 10 percent of young adults admit to attending religious services on a weekly basis (this includes all religions, not just Catholicism).

          According to the report’s author, a key to understanding this shift is to acknowledge that “nominal” or “cultural” faith doesn’t transfer from one generation to the next.  Which means that, if this generation’s parents are Christians “in name” only—perhaps believing in a "vaguely benevolent 'Something' out there"—then their children’s generation is likely to cut ties with religion, rather than continue the charade.  Again, this seems to be playing out: in an extremely pronounced way in Europe, but also here in the United States.  If this trend continues, Mattingly notes, “the future that Pope Benedict predicted, that a smaller church would have to return to basics”, will become a reality.  In this reality, according to the retired Pope, believers will once again have to be missionaries and to “propose again … the questions on God, salvation, hope, life, especially what has a basic ethical value."

          This is where these lessons from today’s Scriptures come in.  Many of these young people—and, of course, many of the adults—who have strayed from the faith will, at some point, “hit a wall”, so to speak.  Having lived a life of what Benedict XVI has called “practical atheism”—in which God is not explicitly denied, but one’s life reflects no consideration of God—many will find it empty and will begin searching for answers.  Our job will be to be there and to propose again the hard, yet merciful truth that Jesus proposed to his disciples when he said: “How could you doubt?  Look at how this fulfilled everything that the Scriptures proposed”; and that Peter proposed to the crowd when he said: “You killed the author of life!  But if you repent you will find forgiveness”; and that John proposed to the early Church when he said: “Those who say ‘I know him’, but don’t follow his commandments are liars!  But those who sin have an Advocate in Jesus”.  If we have been faithful witnesses—not just in word, but in action—then these persons, their blindness lifted, will turn back to the Lord and the Church will begin to grow again.

          This is why today I want to encourage you to study closely the Acts of the Apostles during this Easter season.  Just as Lent was our time of preparation to celebrate the Resurrection, so should Easter be our time of preparation to re-propose the Gospel to a generation that is abandoning it; and studying how the early Church proposed the Gospel the first time will be a great way to prepare.

          Friends, the joy of the resurrection and the promise that Jesus is our advocate—two things which are renewed each time we celebrate this Eucharist—will be our strength to fulfill this good work.  So let us take it up, trusting that Christ, whose light broke through the darkness of death, can break through the blindness of those around us and bring them to new life.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 15^th, 2018

A true gift: the gift of Christ

Homily/Homilía: Holy Thursday/El Jueves Santo

          A gift, by its nature, has two defining characteristics: 1) it is something that has been freely given and 2) it is undeserved by the one who receives it.  Just think about a birthday gift for a moment.  One who gives a gift for a birthday always does so freely, motivated by love for the person whose birthday is being celebrated.  In other words, no one is ever coerced into giving a birthday gift, because if they are then it really isn’t a gift.  And the person receiving the gift did nothing to earn this gift, right?  I mean, they didn’t choose to be born on whatever particular day it happens to be; and, besides, there is nothing particularly deserving of gifts for being born on any given day.  Thus, a present given to celebrate someone’s birthday is truly a gift, because it is both freely given and “unearned” by the one who receives it.

          When we look at this story that we just recounted from the Gospel of John, we see in Jesus’ action more than just a model of how to treat one another; rather, we see also a gift.  Jesus, the teacher and leader of this band of disciples, does not owe these men anything.  If anything, these men ought to be the one’s washing Jesus’ feet.  Nonetheless, Jesus freely chooses to wash their feet, demonstrating just how devoted he is to them by offering them this undeserved gift of loving service, calling it a “model to follow”.  Peter, perhaps speaking on behalf of the other disciples, fails to understand Jesus’ action as a gift and at first he refuses it, but then asks for more than what was being given.  In other words, it seems as if he only wanted Jesus’ gift if he could have it “his way”.  Only after the events of Good Friday will he come to understand the gift that they had been given.

          Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI has said that “to be a Christian is primarily a gift…”  Beginning tonight, we meditate on the gifts that Jesus has given us: the gift of the Eucharist, the gift of the priesthood, and the gift of this “model to be followed”.  Over these next three days we will meditate deeply on these gifts in light of the gift that unifies them all—a gift freely given and of which we are wholly undeserving—the sacrifice of his life so that we might have eternal life.

          Perhaps tonight we find ourselves like Peter, unwilling to accept Jesus’ gift as it has been given or perhaps even asking for more than was offered (in other words, trying to have it “our way”).  If so, then let us pray—tonight and over these next three days—that we may be like Peter also at Easter Sunday: humbled but joyful before the Risen Christ whose gift—the sacrifice of his Body and Blood, his living Body and Blood—is still being given to us.

          Un regalo, por su naturaleza, tiene dos características definitorias: 1) es algo que ha sido dado libremente y 2) no es merecido por quien lo recibe. Solo piensa por un momento en un regalo de cumpleaños. Quien da un regalo para un cumpleaños siempre lo hace libremente, motivado por el amor hacia la persona cuyo cumpleaños se celebra. En otras palabras, nunca se obliga a nadie a dar un regalo de cumpleaños, porque si lo es, realmente no es un regalo. Y la persona que recibió el regalo no hizo nada para ganarse este regalo, ¿verdad? Quiero decir, no eligió nacer el día que sea; y, además, no hay nada particularmente digno de regalos por haber nacido en un día determinado. Por lo tanto, un regalo dado a celebrar el cumpleaños de alguien es verdaderamente un regalo, ya que es a la vez dado libremente e inmerecido por el que lo recibe.

          Cuando miramos esta historia que acabamos de contar del Evangelio de Juan, vemos en la acción de Jesús más que solo un modelo de cómo tratarnos unos a otros; más bien, vemos un regalo. Jesús, el maestro y líder de esta banda de discípulos, no les debe nada a estos hombres. En todo caso, estos hombres deberían ser los que lavan los pies de Jesús. Sin embargo, Jesús elige libremente lavarse los pies, demostrando cuán devoto está con ellos al ofrecerles este regalo de servicio amoroso inmerecido, llamándolo un "modelo a seguir". Pedro, tal vez hablando en nombre de los otros discípulos, no comprende la acción de Jesús como un regalo y al principio la rechaza, pero luego pide más de lo que se le daba. En otras palabras, parece como si solo quisiera el regalo de Jesús si pudiera tenerlo "a su manera". Solo después de los eventos del Viernes Santo podrá entender el regalo que se les ha dado.

          El Papa emérito Benedicto XVI ha dicho que "ser cristiano es ante todo un don ..." A partir de esta noche, meditamos en los dones que Jesús nos ha dado: el don de la Eucaristía, el don del sacerdocio y el don de este "modelo a seguir". Durante estos próximos tres días meditaremos profundamente sobre estos dones a la luz del don que los unifica a todos—un regalo dado libremente y del cual no merecemos nada—el sacrificio de su vida para que podamos tener la vida eterna.

          Tal vez esta noche nos encontramos como Pedro, indispuestos a aceptar el regalo de Jesús, ya que se ha dado o tal vez incluso pidiendo más de lo ofrecido (en otras palabras, tratando de tenerlo a nuestra manera). Si es así, recemos hoy y por estos tres días para que también podamos ser como Pedro en el Domingo de Pascua: humilde pero alegre ante el Cristo resucitado, cuyo don, el sacrificio de su Cuerpo y Sangre—su Cuerpo y Sangre viviente—aún se nos está dando.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – March 29^th, 2018

Dado en la parroquia Todos los Santos: Logansport, IN – 1º de abril, 2018

Turning over the tables of the familiar

Homily: 3^rd Sunday of Lent – Cycle B

          Familiarity breeds contempt… at least that’s what the modern proverb says.  What this saying is, well, saying is that, as we come to know someone more deeply, we realize just how much we actually don’t like that person; that is, that with familiarity comes knowledge not just of the person’s attractive traits, but also of their uglier ones (and we all have them, don’t we?).  I think, in a certain sense, we can all see some truth in this saying.  But there’s another aspect of this saying that also carries some truth: that is, that familiarity also breeds complacency.

          We can see this in our daily routines.  Most of you have lived in Logansport or the surrounding area for some time; and the landmarks that you used to notice as you went about your daily tasks—such as taking the kids to school, or making a run to the grocery store, or even just driving to work—after a while just kind of fade into the landscape, don’t they?  After years of living in this one place, you often find that the features of your neighborhood no longer seem to register in your consciousness.

          This can happen with people, too.  Our co-workers, classmates, close friends, brothers and sisters, and even our spouses become so familiar to us and part of our daily routine, that the appreciation of how special they are to our lives is not something that enters our daily consciousness.  And so, while this familiarity doesn’t necessarily breed contempt, it does often breed complacency.

          In the first reading today, we heard the recounting of the Ten Commandments.  For many of us, I suspect that listening to these being read is kind of like making our daily drive to work or school: we were conscious that we began the trip, but when we got to our destination we weren’t quite sure how we got there.  In other words, the Ten Commandments are perhaps so familiar to us that they’ve become “part of the landscape” and no longer impact our daily consciousness.

          And this is nothing new.  The ancient Jews also fell into this trap.  They had the Law for many years and most people were very familiar with it and its demands.  Thus, following the precepts of the Law had become for them like our daily routine: nothing more than part of the daily landscape through which they had to navigate.  And this to the extent that they turned what is called the “Temple Cult”—that is, the sacrifices offered in the Temple both in homage of God and as an atonement for sins—into a business for profit.

          That’s when Jesus breaks into the scene and disrupts the familiar.  He saw the way that Satan had distorted the truth that the Law represented—that is, that it was a way for God’s chosen people to remain in “right relationship” with Him—and turned it into a Law of cold demands and business transactions.  Jesus saw that this had become so familiar to the people that they simply accepted it as the conditions for living as the People of God. By turning over the tables of the familiar, Jesus was hoping to reawaken in them an awareness of the true relationship to which God had called them.

          The zeal with which Jesus desired that the Temple—his Father’s house—be free from defilement is the same zeal that he has for our hearts.  He wants to turn over the tables of the familiar in our hearts and drive out any distorted images of self, of others, of God, and of what God asks of us so that we can once again see the beauty of the relationship to which he has called us: both collectively as the People of God and individually as adopted sons and daughters. ///

          Yet, unlike the Temple, Christ cannot just burst into our hearts and start turning things over.  God created us for freedom and for him to do so would violate that dignity.  And so this Lent—as he does throughout the year, but particularly in this holy season—Jesus calls us once again to open our hearts to him and to give him permission to shed light on anything in them that is unholy, that is untrue, and thus to drive them out, so as to purify his “temples of the Holy Spirit.”

          My brothers and sisters, if all we have done this Lent is take up our old familiar practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, then we have little more to hope for when we arrive at Easter Sunday than a feeling of relief for not having to maintain these disciplines any longer.  The challenge we have before us today is to make this Lent different by “opening wide the doors to Christ,” which was the clarion call of Saint Pope John Paul II.  We do this by turning our gaze away from ourselves and towards others.

          In prayer, we ask God to show us ways that we can overcome our sinful habits by turning towards our neighbor and offering a word of encouragement, a gentle correction when they need it, a helping hand in their difficulties, and a humble acknowledgement of how we’ve hurt them in the past that is accompanied by a sincere desire for forgiveness.  Then we return to God, offering him our successes and our failures and asking again for the grace to recognize our weaknesses and to trust in his help to overcome them.

          This work, of course, is uncomfortable.  It is uncomfortable because we have to give up our control to Christ and make ourselves vulnerable to him and to others.  But that’s ok, because, as our retired Holy Father, Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI says, “the world offers you comfort, but you were not made for comfort; rather you were made for greatness.”

          My brothers and sisters, this Lent cannot be just about “sticking it out” to the end, but rather it must be about achieving the greatness for which we were made.  And so, let Christ—the Christ we encounter here in the sacrifice we offer and in the meal we share—turn over the familiar in your hearts.  If you do so, then you will be truly ready to encounter anew the joy of Easter.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – March 4^th, 2018