Systems and spiritual ruts

Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          As many of you know, I used to be an engineer before studying to become a priest.  (No, I wasn’t one of those cool engineers who drives trains, but rather was one who designs and builds things.)  Because of this, I know that engineers can be very good at many things.  I also know, however, that having an “engineering mind” comes with limitations.  One of the things that engineering minds do is that they see things in systems.  In other words, they see a problem that needs to be overcome (or, perhaps, just a way to make things more convenient) and they immediately start to see the system that could be put in place to overcome it (or make it more convenient).  Think of those automatic one-cup coffee makers, like a Keureg.  Pop in a pod, push a button and voila, the system takes care of the rest.  This is how my brain works and so I like systems.

          This has presented me a challenge, however, in my spiritual life.  You see, I expect that, by systematizing my spiritual life, I’ll make it better and easier to manage.  I create a schedule and gather the necessary tools (bible, spiritual reading, rosary, etc.) so that when I sit down to do it, it’ll just work.  This, at least, is what my mind expects.  The problem with this, however, is that our spiritual lives don’t quite work that way.  While it is possible to make our spiritual lives system-like, they can never be totally systematic; if by that we mean mechanized and impersonal (that is, not if we expect to achieve any sort of satisfaction with it).  In other words, if the engagement that we give to our lives as disciples is nothing more than we give when we push the button on the coffee machine, then we don’t have much of a spiritual life at all.

          This is why I dislike Ordinary Time.  In Ordinary Time we focus on our discipleship, on our spiritual lives, and (if we’re paying attention) we’re constantly being challenged to examine how we are doing (that is, to examine our systems) so as to change and improve and grow.  A system that is living in this way is much more difficult to cultivate and maintain than one in which we just push a button or punch a clock and forget about it.  Thus, you can see why I dislike it; because it says that “my system is never good enough, that it still needs tweaking, that this project is still ongoing.”

          When I’m really honest with myself, however, I realize that all my “systems” end up leaving me in a rut.  I find that if all that I’m doing each year is pulling out the same practices, reading the same spiritual books, or praying the same rote prayers, that my spiritual life begins to feel lethargic.  Now, there’s nothing wrong with repeating things that have worked for you in the past, but the challenge is to engage these things anew each time.  And so, if I’ve made a personal commitment to pray a rosary every day, then I have to search for something new in it every day.  After years of praying it, that’s not going to be easy.  But if it is truly a prayer—that is, truly an opportunity to engage my relationship with God—then there will always be a chance that I will find something new (if I’m looking for it).  This is hard work: the kind of hard work that Ordinary Time challenges us to do, which is why it is not my favorite time of the year.

          A few years ago, I decided to try something new.  I decided to change my attitude about Ordinary Time so as to engage it more intentionally.  I decided to take a deep look at these familiar readings that we hear each week in the context of this familiar liturgy that we celebrate in order to find how they challenge me to grow, both as a person and as a disciple of Jesus Christ.  I decided to be content with the fact that my “spiritual life” project isn’t finished (and probably never will be), but that I can’t leave the project undone, either, and so I put myself to work at it.  This year I intend to do the same and I hope that you all will come with me.

          In these weeks of Ordinary Time leading up to Lent and Easter, I’m going to look for some particular thing that will challenge me to go deeper in my spiritual life so as to make it stronger and more fruitful; and I hope to share that with all of you.  Perhaps these will help you to go deeper, too.  So, where do we begin?

          This week, I think that we begin with John the Baptist’s prophetic proclamation: “Behold…”  I think that if we are going to go deeper in our spiritual lives that we must begin by beholding who it is that we are following.  Of course, we have the opportunity to do this here in the Eucharist.  Right before Communion, I will raise the Blessed Sacrament and say to you “Behold the Lamb of God…”  This kind of beholding we also do in Eucharistic Adoration, which we have every Wednesday night and Friday afternoon.  Perhaps in these next weeks, each of us can make it a point to try and spend some time beholding Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament during adoration.

          We also behold Jesus whenever we read and meditate on the Scriptures.  A seminary professor used to tell us that “Every encounter with the Scriptures is an encounter with Christ.”  Therefore, we can behold him in the Scriptures.  Finally, we can behold him when we acknowledge Jesus in our brothers and sisters in need.  Saint Teresa of Calcutta used to say that she saw the face of Jesus (in other words, she beheld him) in the men and women she served.  And so, we too can behold the face of Jesus when we love those in need around us.

          “Is that it, Father?  This sounds like it’s going to be a slow process.”  Yes, it is; and this will be enough for this week.  Have you ever been sick and had to stay home from work or school for one, two, or more days?  Didn’t those weeks seem to be longer than the rest?  They weren’t, but they felt longer because we were forced slowed down.  If we want to go deeper in our spiritual lives, then we must learn to go slow and let the process work on us.  If in this week we can learn to break out of our systems (and the spiritual ruts they can lead us into) and to behold Jesus in our daily lives, starting right here in the Eucharist, then we will be ready for what comes next.  Come, then, and let us behold him.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – January 19^th, 2020

Communion with Christ through the Mass

          This weekend our Deacons preached all of the regular Masses and I was left to preach the Mass of First Holy Communion.  This is my homily for that Mass.

Homily: 3^rd Sunday of Easter – Cycle C

Mass of First Holy Communion

Today, as we celebrate this Mass of First Holy Communion, we have an opportunity to take a unique perspective on our readings for the Easter Season.  As it is the third Sunday of Easter, we heard the readings for the Mass of this day.  These Easter readings—not specifically intended to be used for a Mass of First Holy Communion—give us a chance to think about Holy Communion in light of the Mass, in which it is received, as well as in the life of the evangelizing Christian community, in which its fruit is brought forth.  So, let’s take a closer look at these readings.

Let’s start with the second reading from the Book of Revelation.  Here John is given a vision of the great throne of God in Heaven and of how all of the creatures of heaven and earth turn to bow down in praise and worship of the one who sits on the throne.  The one whom they worship is called “the Lamb”.  Who is the Lamb?  It’s Jesus, of course.  And who is sitting on the throne?  It’s God, the Father, of course.  Thus, what we’re seeing is a vision of heaven, in which all of the creatures of heaven and all the creatures of earth are able to see God face to face (like I am looking at all of you).  And what do they do when they are given this vision?  Yes, they worship!  Now, let me ask this question: When we come to Mass, who is present here waiting for us?  It’s Jesus, right?  And so, what is it that we are doing when we celebrate Mass here, in the presence of Jesus?  Yes, we worship!  What we are offering to God in the Mass is our worship of him in thanksgiving for every good thing that we enjoy in our lives.  And so, what we hear about from the Book of Revelation today is truly a vision of what happens during the Mass: during this Mass and during every Mass celebrated everywhere, every day, throughout the world.  We would do well to remember that next time we’re having trouble paying attention: that is, to think about the angels and saints standing with us, shouting with full voice, “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, riches, and strength, honor, and glory, and blessing!”  That would certainly make Mass a little more exciting, wouldn’t it?

Let’s move on to the Gospel reading, however.  Here we see a different perspective on what the Mass is.  Here we see Jesus appearing to some of his disciples at the Sea of Tiberias.  As he makes himself known and as his disciples come to recognize him, Jesus calls them to gather around him in order to share with them a meal that he has prepared for them.  In this sharing of a meal with Jesus, the disciples—all of whom abandoned him when he was arrested and put to death—are now reunited with him.  This is also the Mass.  When we gather for the Mass, we gather to worship him, yes—like the image of the eternal worship of Jesus given in the Book of Revelation—but we also gather around a table—this altar—from which Jesus feeds us with a meal that he himself has prepared for us.  This sharing of a meal with Jesus unites and constantly reunites us to him.  Literally, in fact, it makes us one with him: as his Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity, enters our bodies and unites his with ours.  This act of communion (that is, of uniting with him) is the greatest privilege that anyone can receive; and it demands a true understanding of what it is and, thus, a true profession of faith in it.  Saint Justin Martyr, a second century Christian, wrote about this, saying: “No one may share the eucharist with us unless he/she believes that what we teach is true, unless he/she is washed in the regenerating waters of baptism for the remission of his/her sins, and unless he/she lives in accordance with the principles given us by Christ.”  Our young people have prepared themselves in this way and, thus, have now been invited to gather around this table of Christ’s Body so as to share in this union with him, just as the disciples gathered with Jesus to share a meal that he prepared for them on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, nearly 2000 years ago.

Finally, in our first reading, from the Acts of the Apostles, we are given a glimpse of what participating in the Mass and receiving Holy Communion demands of us.  The Apostles were brought forth to the courtroom of the religious leaders and questioned about teaching about Jesus.  These leaders didn’t understand who Jesus was and demanded that the Apostles stop teaching about him.  Peter, speaking on behalf of all of them, speaks up and says clearly: “We know who this Jesus is—that he is the Messiah, the Son of God—and, therefore, we cannot stop teaching about him: for to do so would be to deny this truth that we have come to know.”  Since we, too, profess that Jesus is the Messiah—and since we have worshiped him and have shared in this sacred meal of his Body and Blood—we, too, must teach others about him: both in the words that we speak and in the way that we live our lives.  To fail to do so would be to deny this truth that we have come to know: like Peter denying Jesus three times after he had been arrested.  When we receive Holy Communion—when we say “Amen” as the minister presents the Body and Blood of Jesus to us—we are promising God that we will teach others about him and the truths that he has revealed: even if that means being oppressed by worldly authorities who are hostile to this good news.  Our young people today are agreeing to take up this good work.  They need the rest of us to show them how to do it by being living witnesses of it in our own lives.

Today, however, we celebrate!  We celebrate because these young people will experience for the first time the fullness of Communion with Jesus as they receive his Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity into their bodies; and we celebrate that, in doing so, they come more fully into communion with all of us who share in this same sacred meal.  Tomorrow, and every day after, they will go forth with us to teach about Jesus: both by the way that they live their lives more like Jesus’ and by the way that they share with others what they have come to know: that to know, love, and serve God in this world is the path to the eternal happiness for which we all long: that is, to stand in the presence of God, face to face.  May Mary, the Mother of God and the Mother of the Eucharist, lead us—and especially these young people—by her motherly care into this fullness of God’s peace.  Amen.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – May 5^th, 2019

Re-centering on the Essential

Homily: 2^nd Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          This week the Church transitioned back into Ordinary Time.  Perhaps for most of you the switch was rather unremarkable.  Generally these transitions are pretty smooth for me, too, but because of my vocation, I can never just “roll through” them with little notice.  In the breviary, which is the book of prayers from which all priests must pray every day, there’s always a little note at the end of a season.  For example, this past Monday was the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, which officially ended the Christmas season in the Church.  At the end of Evening Prayer there’s a simple note that says: “After the feast of the Baptism of the Lord, Ordinary Time begins.”  Even though I know that this is coming, I almost always pause when I read that and think to myself: “[sigh] Suddenly, everything just feels so… ordinary.”

          This can be how we feel, right?  How many of you were lamenting to put away Christmas and get back to the “rest of your life?  We know that we can’t live our lives in constant celebration, and that we have to get back to work and school, and so we go back to “ordinary” things and we leave Christmas, and all the excitement of celebrating Christ’s birth, packed away in boxes until next year.  Can you see that there’s a problem with this, especially when we apply it to our lives of faith?

          “Ordinary Time” never means “just go back to doing what you were doing before”.  Rather, Ordinary Time is the time to take all of the blessings that you received during the celebratory season (like those new things that you received at Christmas) and apply them to your everyday life so as to help renew your everyday life and thus grow as a Christian disciple.  Ordinary Time is the time in which we engage the hard work of growing in holiness.  It is not “throwaway” time in between the great seasons of Advent/Christmas and Lent/Easter, rather it’s valuable time given to us so that we might produce fruit in the world for God’s kingdom.

          And so, let me remind all of you of something: holiness is a great privilege to which we have been called.  This is what Saint Paul says to us in the second reading: that we are “called to be holy”.  He says these words as if it is an exclusive gift that not everyone is chosen to receive.  In reality holiness is unobtainable by ourselves; and so to be chosen to receive it is a great privilege.  Yet, how often do we see it as a burden!  “Well, I guess I ought to be holy today… ugh!”  To be holy is difficult and if we weren’t called to be holy we wouldn’t be able to obtain it ourselves, but we are called and so we can obtain it.  The problem, it seems, is that we’ve lost touch with the understanding of the amazing gift that holiness—that is, Godliness—is; and so we’ve lost the ambition to become holy, even though we’ve been called to it.

          If we have, indeed, lost touch with the understanding of what a gift holiness is, then how do we turn back to see it?  We have to embrace what is essential, once again.  We have to embrace those essential works of the spiritual life: Mass, prayer, confession, mortification, reading, devotion to Mary and the saints, etc.  In order to for this to be fruitful, however, we first need to re-center our hearts and our lives on what is essential: that is, on Christ, himself.  John the Baptist, in today’s Gospel reading has to point out Jesus to his followers—men and women who were flocking to him to receive his baptism of repentance.  They were so caught up in the work of repenting, that they were missing the reason for their repentance—Christ, himself, walking among them.  Today, if I can be so bold, in order to inspire us as we enter into Ordinary Time, I’d like to do the same for all of you.

          Our recently adopted parish purpose statement reads: “The sacred purpose of All Saints Catholic Parish is to be a Christ-centered people whose active faith and love of the Eucharist inspire all in Cass County to be united to Jesus in the Catholic Church.”  We, the people of All Saints Parish, therefore, have as our purpose to be a Christ-centered people.  This purpose is realized when both our faith is active and when our love for Christ in the Eucharist is fervent.  The first priority towards realizing our purpose that we identified is “Integration – Uniting in the Heart of Jesus”.  The Eucharist, of course, in which Jesus is truly present to us, Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity, is where we have the opportunity to unite most perfectly in the Heart of Jesus.  Love of the Eucharist, therefore, is the most perfect way to become and remain a Christ-centered people.

          Now, if we say that our purpose is to be a Christ-centered people, and that Christ is truly present to us, in the fullness of his Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity, in the Eucharist, and in the Blessed Sacrament that we reserve in the tabernacle, then we have to ask ourselves a question: is that demonstrably obvious to anyone who walks into our Church?

          Back in the seminary, I took an independent study on church art and architecture and I read a little book that I found to be very helpful.  It was called “how to read churches” and it was designed to help someone walk into a church and discern what the art and architecture says about what the people who worship there believe.  In other words, it says that the way that our church is designed and arranged sends a clear message about what we believe; and it captures a very Catholic truth about us humans: that what we do physically affects us spiritually.

          And so the question comes back to us: If Jesus is truly the center of lives as Christians, and if we believe that Jesus is truly present to us in an abiding way in the Blessed Sacrament, reserved in the tabernacle, then why is his enduring presence placed off to the side in our place of worship?  It should be obvious to anyone who walks into this church that what happens at the altar is the most important thing for us; and it is.  But what happens at the altar seemingly has been artificially separated from what is reserved in the tabernacle, which has been relegated to the side where “those who give it greater importance” can exercise their devotion, but where it otherwise doesn’t gather much attention.  I’m afraid, my brothers and sisters, that this has had the unintended consequence of hurting our love of the Eucharist instead of helping it, which, I’m sure, was not the intention when it was moved here.

          One of the first goals that we identified under the priority of Integration, therefore, is to realize all-day Eucharistic Adoration, because we believe that having parishioners praying before Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament every day, throughout the day, will be the fuel that motivates and powers everything else that we will do as a parish.  Our goal is to convert the chapel in the parish hall into this place of enduring devotion to our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament.  First, however, I think that we need to make a move to remind ourselves of the central importance of Jesus’ presence among us by moving the tabernacle back to the center of our worship space and to surround it with beauty worthy of one whom we honor as Lord and Savior.  Then, both believer and unbeliever alike would know, without even one word being spoken, that we are a Christ-centered people, whose love of the Eucharist inspires and drives everything that we do.

          My brothers and sisters, Ordinary Time in the Church is never ordinary.  Nevertheless, this year, as we enter into Ordinary Time, our parish has a special opportunity to truly embrace this time for what it is: a time to heed the call to be holy by re-centering ourselves on Christ through our love of the Eucharist.  I pray that the power of Christ that we receive in this Eucharist will inspire you to join us in this bold work of allowing our Lord to renew this parish into a place that proclaims from every side once again the proclamation of John the Baptist: Behold the Lamb of God!—so that we, along with all those around us, might encounter him anew and say once again (or, perhaps, for the first time) those words that bring us salvation: “Now I have seen and testified that He is the Son of God.”

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – January 14^th & 15^th, 2017

Rock concerts and living fully alive

Homily: 3^rd Sunday of Easter – Cycle C

          For many of us, when we were in our most formative years, a certain style of music or perhaps one band in particular, had a profound influence on how we came to understand ourselves, that is, who we are, and how we approach and deal with life.  When I was in high school, the alternative rock band Pearl Jam was that band for me.  In spite of being a fervent follower of the band, and in spite of the fact that I lived near Chicago, which meant that on each of their tours there was a stop close enough for me to have a chance to go to it, I had never been to a Pearl Jam concert.

          A couple of years ago Pearl Jam came to Chicago to play a special concert at Wrigley Field.  A few of my friends from high school, who still lived in the Chicago area, called me and invited me to go.  I had stopped following Pearl Jam some years before, so I didn’t feel like this was something I had to do, but the chance for a “reunion” of sorts with some of my high school friends was enough for me to agree to go.

          Now, I hadn’t been to a rock concert in many years—since before I entered the seminary, really—and so there were a lot of things about this experience that were kind of shocking to me.  The most surprising of them all to me was what I observed after the concert started.  It was nothing that I hadn’t seen before, but in the light of my “conversion” to follow the Lord and my seminary formation, it was very striking to me.

          What struck me was how the people responded when the band came out to play.  There was a lot of applause, of course, which was to be expected, but a great majority of people spontaneously thrust their hands into the air and began to scream at the top of their lungs.  And what struck me at that moment was the thought: “Oh my, these people are worshiping!  They are worshiping these men on stage!”

          If you’ve never thought of it before, perhaps now you will, but this motion (thrusting your hands in the air and crying out in the direction of some object or being) is an act of prayer: either adoration (in which we are trying to “throw” our praise towards the object of our prayer) or petition (in which we are trying to “pull” help and favor from the one to whom we are praying).  Thus, when I saw this at the concert, I was immediately struck that this act of fervent prayer was being directed to these men playing music on a stage.

          Now, my purpose here is not to condemn these people for idol worship (it would be presumptuous of me to accuse them of that); but rather to highlight something about what heaven might be like, in light of our experience of something as inspiring of our passions as a rock concert, and to invite us to imagine how our lives here on earth can draw us into that experience until the day that we experience it fully.

          In our second reading today, we read from the revelations given to the apostle John while he was exiled on the Greek island of Patmos.  His exile came during a time when the early Church was experiencing increasing persecution from the Roman authorities.  These visions were given to John as a way to bolster the faith of Christians in the face of these persecutions.  The vision comes in fantastical imagery, which included symbols that Christians would understand, but that their persecutors wouldn’t necessarily understand.  The vision we read from today is a vision of the ultimate victory of the Lamb (that is, the Lamb of God, who is Jesus), seated on the throne of heaven (that is, the highest throne of the universe), and who is worshiped by all the beings in heaven and all of the creatures of the universe (that is, everything that exists).

          This is a very powerful image!  In a time when the active worship of God was part and parcel of people’s daily lives—and when kings and rulers often claimed that their people should worship them (as Caesar did)—an image of the one that you acknowledged as king and God being worshiped by every creature of the universe would be powerful and inspiring.

          Unfortunately, however, we seem to have accepted an image of heaven as a place where we lounge around on clouds, listening to gentle music from harps, and where everything is colored in light pastels: in other words, we’ve accepted an image in which heaven is a place in which none of our passions are excited, but rather where everything is artificially sweet and calm.  The image presented to us in this reading, however, seems to indicate that heaven is much more like a rock concert than a serenity garden.

          And so, what should we take from that?  That heaven will be like a rock concert and, if we don’t like rock concerts, then too bad?  No, of course not.  I think what we can take from this image of heaven, however, is that heaven will be a place in which we are fully alive, passions and all; and that this experience of the fullness of life will be very dynamic, joy-filled, and never-ending.  When people leave a concert, they are often full of energy: still screaming, laughing, and often immediately reliving the best moments from it.  In other words, it is an experience that stays with them and gives them a fuller sense of living as they return to their daily lives.  Imagine that kind of experience never ending and you’ll begin to have an idea of what it means to be in heaven, before the throne of the Lamb, worshiping him for all eternity.  It’s like a never-ending Pearl Jam concert. (I just ruined it for most of you, didn’t I?)

          Why is this important for us to realize?  Well, for starters, perhaps it can give us an awareness of where we have been worshiping false idols in our lives, right?  I mean, if we find ourselves responding to things that aren’t God with gestures and acclamations of adoration and praise, then perhaps we need to review where those things are on our list of “most-important things” in our lives.  More than that, however, when we realize that heaven won’t be a place in which, it seems, we will be barely alive, but rather a place in which we will be fully alive, we can choose to begin to approach that experience by striving to live as fully-alive as we can in this life, giving God adoration and praise by being the fullest and most alive versions of ourselves, using all of our gifts and talents for our good and the good of everyone around us.

          Saint Irenaeus of Lyons wrote in one of his defenses of the Christian faith that “The glory of God is a living man; and the life of man consists in beholding God.”  Thus, to give God glory in this life we must be fully alive, or living, so as to move us towards that for which we are alive: to behold God, the Lamb of God on the throne of heaven.

          This, my brothers and sisters, is what the Easter season calls us to do: to live fully alive in this world in anticipation of the true fullness of life we will experience in the next: the fullness of life made possible for us by the death and resurrection of Jesus our Lord.  The temptation is to think that the Lord has abandoned us, having gone back to heaven; and to respond, like the apostles did, going back out into the boat without Jesus, just trying to make something of our lives.  The joy of Easter reminds us that it is for God that we live and so our lives must always move in response to God; and when they do, like when Jesus intervened for the apostles, they will be abundantly fruitful.

          Let us, then, my brothers and sisters, commit ourselves to the proper worship of God: the full living of our lives for him in this world in anticipation of the fullness of life that we hope to enjoy in his presence in heaven; a glimpse of which we receive when we re-present to him this perfect sacrifice of thanksgiving: the Lamb of God who has taken away our sins and who now sits on the throne in heaven to rule for all eternity.  Come, now, let us adore him.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 9^th & 10^th, 2016