The terror of the cross

Homily: Friday of the Passion of the Lord

Homilía: Viernes de la Pasión del Señor

          Terrorism is something with which, sadly, we are all familiar and terrorists are those who seek to intimidate people into conformance with their group’s ideology.  For example, the playground bully uses taunts and physical violence to force the other kids to recognize him as “king of the playground”.  The other kids don’t like him, but they are so afraid of him that they conform so as to avoid his verbal and physical assaults.  On a larger scale, the videos published by ISIS are true “acts of terror” meant to instill fear into the hearts of whomever views or even hears about them so that no one will resist them for fear of suffering the same fate.

          In the ancient Roman Empire, the cross was meant to terrify people.  As a form of execution, it wasn’t meant solely to punish the criminal.  Rather, it was also a public display of cruelty meant to instill fear into the heart of every other person: a form of intimidation meant to eliminate any resistance to the Roman authorities.  Thus, the charge against the crucified person was posted above their head as a way of saying “Don’t even think about doing this, because this is how you’ll end up.”  So effective was this method of intimidation that people of that time wouldn’t speak about the cross in polite conversation: it was disturbing even to think about it because, for them, the cross was equated with a horrific death: a death that was humiliating, agonizingly painful, and, ultimately, dehumanizing.

          Today, however, it seems like we have sanitized the cross.  We have made it nothing more than an expression of our personal style or a pious thing about which to talk.  In other words, we’ve lost the “fear factor” that originally came with it.  As part of the Easter Triduum, Good Friday invites us once again to recognize that truly it is a fearful thing to hold up the cross as the symbol of our victory; because in doing so we proclaim not only that we are a follower of Jesus, but that we, too, would be gladly crucified with him and for him, because of our faith that one day he will raise us up again.

          My brothers and sisters, events happening around the world, and even those happening here in the United States, demonstrate that this type of witness is not far from being demanded of us.  Therefore, as we come forward to venerate the cross, let us keep this in mind: that Christ suffered for our sins—yours and mine—and so we must constantly plead for his mercy; and that the cross, symbol of our victory in Christ, should be fearfully embraced: for one day what it demanded of Christ may be demanded of us, too.  Nonetheless we have hope: because in Christ the cross no longer means certain and irrevocable death, but it means life: the eternal life that dawns on Easter Sunday.

          El terrorismo es algo con lo que, tristemente, todos somos familiares y los terroristas son aquellos que intentan intimidar a las personas para que se ajusten a la ideología de su grupo. Por ejemplo, el matón del patio de recreo utiliza burlas y violencia física para obligar a los otros niños a reconocerlo como "rey del patio de recreo". A los otros niños no les gusta, pero tienen tanto miedo de él que se conforman para evitar sus agresiones verbales y físicas. En una escala más grande, los videos publicados por ISIS son verdaderos "actos de terror" destinados a infundir miedo en los corazones de quienquiera que vean o incluso escuchar sobre ellos para que nadie se resista a ellos por temor a sufrir el mismo destino.

          En el antiguo Imperio Romano, la cruz estaba destinada a aterrorizar a la gente. Como una forma de ejecución, no fue solo para castigar al criminal. Más bien, era también una muestra pública de crueldad destinada a infundir temor en el corazón de todas las demás personas: una forma de intimidación destinada a eliminar cualquier resistencia a las autoridades romanas. Por lo tanto, la acusación contra la persona crucificada se publicó sobre su cabeza como una forma de decir "Ni siquiera pienses en hacer esto, porque así es como terminarás". Tan efectivo era este método de intimidación que la gente de ese tiempo no hablaría de la cruz en una conversación educada: era inquietante incluso pensar en ello porque, para ellos, la cruz se equiparaba con una muerte horrible: una muerte que era humillante, angustiosamente dolorosa y, en última instancia, deshumanizante.

          Hoy, sin embargo, parece que hemos desinfectado la cruz. La hemos hecho nada más que una expresión de nuestro estilo personal o algo piadoso de lo que hablar. En otras palabras, hemos perdido el "factor de miedo" que originalmente vino con la cruz. Como parte del Triduo Pascual, el Viernes Santo nos invita una vez más a reconocer que verdaderamente es algo espantoso sostener la cruz como el símbolo de nuestra victoria; porque al hacerlo, proclamamos no solo que somos seguidores de Jesús, sino que también nosotros, con gusto, seríamos crucificados con él y por él, debido a nuestra fe en que algún día nos resucitará.

          Mis hermanos y hermanas, los eventos que suceden en todo el mundo, e incluso los que suceden aquí en los Estados Unidos, demuestran que este tipo de testimonio no está lejos de exigirse a nosotros. Por lo tanto, cuando avancemos para venerar la cruz, tengamos esto en mente: que Cristo sufrió por nuestros pecados, el suyo y el mío, y así debemos constantemente rogar por su misericordia; y que la cruz, símbolo de nuestra victoria en Cristo, debe ser abrazada con miedo; porque un día también se nos exigirá lo que exigió a Cristo. Sin embargo, tenemos esperanza: porque en Cristo la cruz ya no significa una muerte cierto e irrevocable, sino la vida: la vida eterna que amanece el domingo de Pascua.

Dado en la parroquia Todos los Santos: Logansport, IN – 30 de marzo, 2018

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – March 30^th, 2018

Christ crucified is essential

Homily: 5^th Sunday in Lent – Cycle B

          In the Gospel today, we encounter Christ in a liminal moment—that is, a transition… the proverbial “fork in the road”.  We know that he came for all people, but as he proclaimed multiple times throughout his public ministry, he came first for the Jews—the descendants of the ancient Israelites.  Nonetheless, his job was to fulfill the task that God had given to his chosen people from the beginning, which was to be a “light to all nations” so that all peoples would be drawn back to God.  Thus, in this reading, when the Greeks (that is, members of "the nations") come looking for Jesus, Jesus realizes that his "hour" had come (that is, the time for him to fulfill that for which he came).

          As he enters this moment he says a number of interesting things.  First, he reveals the utter fullness of his humanity and says, "unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit."  Jesus sees that, while all that he had done so far has been good, he still must hand himself over to suffer and to die if he is to produce the fruit for which he came.  It's the kind of sober thing that you say when you realize that your “fate has been sealed”, so to speak.  Then he says "I am troubled now."  What human wouldn't be troubled knowing that immense suffering was coming their way?  He follows it with "But what else would I do?  This is why I came!"  In this we hear echoes of the letter to the Hebrews: "He learned obedience from what he suffered."  Then Jesus sets his sights clearly on the end: the cross.  "When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself."

          While this last comment refers to the cross, it also refers to an image that any good first century Jew would have recognized; and it is something to which Jesus more specifically referenced earlier in the Gospel of John (we actually heard it read last week).  There, Jesus was speaking to Nicodemus, a member of the Jewish religious court, who had come to Jesus trying to figure out who he was.  Jesus said to him: “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.”  He is referring to the incident that occurred as the Israelites wandered through the desert on their exodus from Egypt, in which they complained one too many times against God for taking them from Egypt.  As a punishment, God sent poisonous serpents into their camp.  Many people were being bit by the serpents and were dying.  And so, they began to beg Moses to plead for relief from God, who instructed him to make a serpent out of bronze and mount it onto a pole so that it could be raised up and people could see it.  Anyone who had been bitten by a serpent, but who then looked at the bronze serpent with a repentant heart, was healed and lived.

          Jesus refers to this incident in order to make sense of his upcoming passion and death.  In the desert, the Israelites looked upon the image of the serpent, which was a sign of death to them and, thus, the image of the full weight of the punishment due to them.  In God’s paradoxical wisdom, however, the image of the punishment became the source of repentance and healing.  Jesus, in being crucified, takes this sign and brings it to fulfillment.  You see, when Jesus is crucified, the fullness of the punishment due to mankind is effected.  Therefore, the image lifted up is no longer a thing of fear, as the serpent was in the desert, which reminded the people of the punishment due to them, but rather it is a sign of hope, tinged with sorrow: hope, because those who acknowledge their sinfulness see in it one who has given himself over to pay the full debt of punishment due for their sins, and sorrow, because those same persons realize the pure innocence of the one who was sacrificed and that he truly did not deserve to suffer. 

          This image, the innocent one who suffered for our sake, and the reaction, sorrow for our sinfulness that caused him to suffer and die, yet with hope that our punishment has been fulfilled, has become the source of salvation for everyone.  Thus, the image of Jesus crucified fulfills what he said, that “when he is lifted up from the earth, he will draw everyone to himself”.  Anyone, therefore, who recognizes their own wretchedness has only one source of consolation: Jesus Christ crucified.

          This, my friends, is why we keep the image of the crucified Christ on our crosses.  Certainly, we honor the cross itself as the instrument on which our salvation was won for us, but it is Christ, who was crucified on the cross, that gives the cross its meaning.  Our non-Catholic Christian brothers and sisters criticize us for keeping the image of the dead Christ on our crosses, saying that “Christ is no longer dead!  So we shouldn’t show him as if he is!”  But without the image of Christ’s dead body on the cross, the image of the cross loses the power that Christ intended it to have to draw all men and women to himself.  This is because the image of Christ crucified on the cross says to the one who recognizes his or her sinfulness and who sees no way out of it: “Look at the punishment due to your sins and take hope in me, because I have been punished for you!”

          And this, in a sense, is what we have been called to do during this Lent: to acknowledge our sinfulness and to look upon Christ, crucified on the cross, and, thus, to see the horrible punishment due to us because of our sins; and then to repent from them, knowing that Christ has been punished for our sake, and so putting our hope fully in him once again (or for the first time) so that we may not lose the everlasting life that we have in him, through baptism.

          If you, therefore, do not have a crucifix somewhere in your home then you must get one!  Then (or if you already have one), spend time over these next two weeks looking at the image of Christ crucified and meditate on the punishment that he suffered for you.  Thank him for not saying “Father, save me from this hour!”, but rather that he said “Father, glorify your name”.  Then, commit yourself to rooting out sin in your life and to enduring whatever suffering may come your way in this world so as to console his heart, which opens the floodgates of his merciful love for us.  My friends, if you can do this, you will not only prepare yourself well to celebrate Easter, but you will become saints.

          May his merciful love, poured out most perfectly for us here in this Eucharist, bring this good work to completion in you.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – March 18^th, 2018

Meekness as power

          Thank you to all who continue to read these and thanks be to God who inspires and provides for any good that is contained within them.  I'm posting this even before I preach it this week because I am leaving for retreat immediately after Masses this Sunday.  Please pray for me!  Know of my prayers for you.

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Homily: 7^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          In today’s First Reading we’re reminded of God’s command that we must strive to be holy as he is holy and that an essential characteristic of holiness is a heart that does not harbor anger within it.

          The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines anger as “An emotion which is not in itself wrong, but which, when it is not controlled by reason or hardens into resentment and hate, becomes one of the seven capital sins.”  Now each of the seven capital sins is a mortal sin; and a mortal sin is a sin that definitively severs our bond with God; and severing our bond with God is like a space station astronaut who goes out for a spacewalk and then cuts off his tether from the station: it is an act that means certain death.  Anger, therefore, that hardens into resentment and hate, not only hurts the person who is the object of our resentment and hate, but it also means certain spiritual death for us.  In other words, it’s a situation in which everyone loses.  Meekness, however, is a powerful remedy for the negative effects of anger.

          Although it is often portrayed as a weakness, meekness is actually a very powerful characteristic to possess.  This is because it involves a very virtuous effort not to strike, or even to dislike, the one who’s struck you, and effort that requires a very powerful discipline over the will.  We all know that true power is to be in control of powerful forces.  Since the human will is a powerful force that can bring great flourishing of life as well as widespread destruction and death, to have great discipline over one’s will is to have great power.  On the contrary, to be able to be provoked into action is actually to give your power to someone else.  Thus meekness, the virtue to resist provocation to resentment and hatred, is not a weakness, but rather a strength.  Genocide survivor Immaculée Ilibagiza is a great example of the power of meekness.

          Immaculee was born in a small village in Rwanda, Africa. In 1994, when she was home on spring break, the president of Rwanda, who was of the Hutu tribe, was assassinated.  The Hutus assumed that it was a member of Tutsi tribe who had committed the crime and, in a vengeful fit of anger, took up arms against the Tutsis, to which Immaculée’s family belonged.  This response was widespread and armed Hutu men went from house to house, killing every Tutsi they found.

          Immaculée fled to the local pastor’s house; and, to avoid being murdered, she had to hide in a 3-foot x 4-foot bathroom for 91 days with seven other women.  As she endured this, she felt anger and resentment beginning to destroy her heart and so she started praying the rosary.  “I said the Lord's Prayer hundreds of times, hoping to forgive the killers who were murdering all around me”, she wrote.  “It was no use: every time I got to the part asking God to ‘forgive those who trespass against us,’ my mouth went dry. I couldn't say the words because I didn't truly embrace the feeling behind them. My inability to forgive”, she wrote, “caused me even greater pain than the anguish I felt in being separated from my family, and it was worse than the physical torment of being constantly hunted.”  When she finally left that bathroom, she learned that all her family, with the exception of one brother studying abroad, had been murdered. In total, one million people had been massacred.

          After the genocide, Immaculée was led to the man, now in prison, who had murdered her mother and her brother.  This man had been one of her neighbors and the prison staff was prepared to kill him on her behalf.  She remembered how often she had imagined killing the Hutus who had done so much evil while she hid in that bathroom.  Despite all that she had suffered, however, when confronted with her family’s murderer, she simply said, “I forgive you,” and walked away.  Through her prayer she developed the virtue of meekness, in which she found the power to overcome her anger and resentment (and thus to preserve God’s grace within her) while demonstrating the power of God’s merciful love to someone who desperately needed to encounter it.

          When it comes to meekness, however, it is truly Our Lord who has set the standard for us.  Time and again in the Old Testament, God’s loving kindness was rejected by the Israelite people.  At times, he corrected them by letting them suffer—like when the serpents attacked them in the desert or when he allowed them to be driven into exile by the Babylonians—but he never allowed his anger to turn into resentment and hatred, thus demonstrating his superior power.

          Then, when God took on human skin and walked among us, he suffered an equal number of insults, yet remained meek: not allowing the anger he most assuredly felt to seep into his heart and lead him to hatred.  Rather, in his meekness, he was led to the crucifixion—a perfectly innocent man, murdered because of our hatred—and thus demonstrated the power of being meek: for by allowing himself to be murdered—even though it was in his power to avoid it—he accomplished what no man (or even mankind as a whole) could have ever accomplished on his own: the redemption of mankind from sin.

          And so Jesus, knowing well the command that he himself gave to Moses that the people must strive to be holy as he is holy, teaches his disciples that, in order for their righteousness to exceed that of the Scribes and Pharisees, they must live meekness in its fullness and forgive, even when they have suffered injustice, submitting themselves to even greater injustices.  And why?  Because he wants a Church full of wimps who can’t defend themselves?  No!  Of course not!  Rather, he teaches us to “turn the other cheek” because he knows that, in doing so, we will keep anger (righteous as it may be) from seeping into our hearts and, thus, turning into hatred, which not only separates us from one another, but which also separates us from God and his saving grace.

          My brothers and sisters, in today’s on-edge, thin-skinned, and irritable society, the command to “turn the other cheek” is a tall order and it’s not something that we can accomplish overnight.  But it is something that we can accomplish; and we can begin today.  The best way that I have found to accomplish it is to contemplate Christ crucified whenever anger strikes.  None of us have been mistreated as badly as he was.  And so, when we contemplate how he was able not only to bear those injustices, but also to forgive those who hurt him, we begin to see that it is possible for us to overcome our anger before it becomes resentment and hatred; and, thus, to choose the path of grace: the path by which we become perfect, just as our heavenly Father is perfect.

          As we not only contemplate, but also encounter the great sacrifice of Christ here at this altar, let us ask for the grace to be meek, as our Lord is meek, so that our holiness might increase and become a light of hope that draws all those around us to be united with us in God’s heavenly kingdom.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February 19^th, 2017

Your "yes" also means "no".

Homily: 34^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

          In the Gospel today, we jump right into the middle of Luke’s account of the crucifixion.  In it Jesus is being taunted by bystanders while he is in the midst of his greatest suffering.  The Jewish authorities, the Roman soldiers, and even one of the criminals crucified with him all pressure him to prove he’s the Messiah—the divinely appointed King of the Jews—by using divine power to save himself from the crucifixion.  I can only imagine what Jesus felt.  He knew that he was the king, but reviling him these men were calling him a phony, a poseur, because the real king would save himself from this disgrace.

          Jesus also knew that he had the power to save himself.  Recall what happened when, in the synagogue at Nazareth, the townspeople tried to throw Jesus over the brow of the hill on which the town was built for what he had said, but that Jesus “passed through the midst of them” and escaped.  But Jesus didn’t do that this time, did he?  And why?  Well, because he knew that he had already said “yes” to do the Father’s will, which was to be sacrificed for the redemption of all mankind.  And because of this, he could say “no” to the distractions surrounding him: the temptations to use his divine power to save himself from this incredible suffering.

          It’s a simple fact that when we say “yes” to something, it automatically says “no” to a lot of other things.  Many of these things are known to us at the time: the other options from which we chose the thing to which we said “yes”.  Sadly enough, there are whole reality shows based on this premise.  Has anyone out there watched the show “Say ‘yes’ to the dress”?  This is the whole premise to the show: saying “yes” to one and, therefore, “no” to many others.

          Still more, however, saying “yes” to something also means that we’ve said “no” to a lot of things that we haven’t yet encountered.  For example, saying “yes” to get married means that I’ve said “no” to many things: namely, to having romantic relationships with other people besides my spouse and to the relative freedom of having lived on my own.  It could also mean, however, that, perhaps without your conscious acknowledgement, you’ve already said “no” to the job promotion that would relocate you to another city because your family couldn’t move from where you are.

          Catholic author and speaker Matthew Kelly reminds us that to turn towards something is at the same time to turn away from something.  He reminds us of this because he acknowledges that too many people ignore this basic reality.  In other words, many people think that they can say “yes” to one thing without really saying “no” to the others.  But this is a lie, he says: a lie that will eventually leave us feeling lost and dissatisfied.  Again, in the midst of all of the taunting and reviling, Jesus remembered that to which he had said “yes” and, thus, could say “no” to using his power to save him from the cross.  Similarly, all those who were reviling Jesus had said “yes” to a type of Messiah that was different from the one that Jesus presented to them.  Thus, they had to say “no” to anyone purporting to be the Messiah who didn’t fit the type for which they were looking.

          Yet, there was one voice that refused to revile Jesus: the voice of the other criminal crucified with him. He, it seems could see something… let’s say… incongruent about Jesus’ crucifixion.  This criminal could see that Jesus was innocent of any capital crime and hadn’t really been any threat to the power of the Roman occupiers, and so perhaps he thought Jesus really was who he said he was: a king who has yet to come into his kingdom.  And so, in his own suffering and nearness to death, this criminal makes an incredible act of faith in Jesus—he decides to say “yes” to Jesus by acknowledging him as King—and for that “yes” he received his eternal reward.

          And so the question, of course, comes back to us.  Have we said “yes” to Jesus?  In many ways, this is what the Year of Mercy, which ends today, has been all about.  It’s been about re-discovering and renewing our “yes” to Jesus by saying “yes” to serving him by serving the bodily and spiritual needs of those around us.  And whether or not we spent this year well, today we are called to acknowledge the kingship of Jesus—that he truly does rule over us—and to renew (or, perhaps, to speak for the first time) our “yes” to follow Jesus, so that a new flourishing of faith can blossom as we begin a new liturgical year.

          You know, as Catholics, we don’t do the whole “Have you accepted Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior” thing, but the idea of it is something to which we are constantly being called.  In baptism, we receive the grace of salvation: the grace won for us by Jesus’ death and resurrection.  Yet, at some point in our lives, we all have to say “yes” to Jesus and to acknowledge him as Lord and ruler of our lives.  In other words, we have to let Jesus be our king.

          But this is dangerous, is it not?  By saying “yes” to Jesus, then we’ll have to say “no” to so many other things.  So how, then, can we say “yes” to him?  I mean, where can we find the courage to allow him to be Lord and ruler of our lives?  This courage, my brothers and sisters, comes only through an encounter with him.  And where do we encounter him?  In prayer (especially before the Blessed Sacrament here in the Church), in communal worship (especially here in the Eucharist), in the Scriptures (especially when we meditate on them and allow them to speak to us and to our lives), and in our suffering (i.e. when we are able, in our suffering, to turn, like the “good thief” in today’s Gospel, and see Jesus, crucified there with us).

          My brothers and sisters, when we encounter Jesus we can see the hopelessness of our striving in contrast with the hope contained in Jesus’ resurrection from the dead; and in this light we can find the courage to say “yes” to him (and, thus, “no” to so much else).  In this Eucharistic encounter with Jesus, let us not fear to say “yes” to him and acknowledge him as our King; and let us not fear all to which we’ll have to say “no” because of this: because, although it may cause us to suffer for a time in this world, paradise—that is, eternal happiness—awaits those who persevere in their “yes” to God.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – November 20^th, 2016

It's not just what happened, it's what's happening still...

Homily: Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord – Cycle B

          Each year, Palm Sunday invites us to enter deeply into that fateful week in which Our Lord fulfilled the Father’s plan to redeem us from sin and to conquer sin and death forever.  In this week we follow literally in his footsteps as we watch, day by day, as events unfold leading up to his passion, death, and resurrection.  Today, we preview what Friday will bring us by recounting our Lord’s Passion.  In order to help us to enter more deeply into this experience of Our Lord’s Passion, I would like to share with you a reflection by Father Edward Steiner that was recently published in The Priest magazine.  Fr. Steiner invites us to identify with various persons highlighted in this Passion account so that we might more deeply experience the profound power of God’s mercy, poured out in what Jesus—God’s only Son—suffered for us.  Let us now consider his words.

(I have no desire to invite any sort of copyright complaints, so click here to read Fr. Steiner's full reflection, found on the Our Sunday Visitor website. What follows is what I added to his words at the end of my homily.)

          But what about the woman who anointed Jesus with costly perfumed oil? Are we ever her, offering all that we have simply to honor Jesus for who he is and for what he has done for us?  If we can see and admit our role in the crucifixion, then perhaps we can also acknowledge the chance we are being given to humble ourselves before the Lord and to anoint him with our praise and our service.

          Therefore, this week, let us courageously humble ourselves before the Lord and let us acknowledge our role in his Passion and Death, so that we, too, might glory in the power of his mercy when we celebrate his Resurrection on Easter Sunday: the power that we receive, even now, in this Holy Eucharist.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – March 28^th & 29^th, 2015