Through the cross, "it is finished".

Homily: Commemoration of our Lord’s Passion

Although it may seem obvious to many of you, I don’t think that it is a bad idea to take a step back today and to ask ourselves, “Why do we celebrate the Passion of our Lord?”  There is, of course, the obvious reason: that, as believers, we have an obligation to commemorate this event through which we have all been redeemed—that is, the event through which our sins find the possibility of forgiveness.  An obligation so that we “never forget” that it is in and through Jesus Christ and his self-sacrifice that the possibility of a life beyond the suffering of this world is made possible for us.  Just as, for us citizens of the United States, we can “never forget” the events of 9/11, or Pearl Harbor, or the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and thus we must commemorate them, Christians can “never forget” the events of Good Friday through our yearly commemoration.

Perhaps a less-obvious reason, but one particularly poignant this year, is that we often need a reminder that suffering, embraced and endured for a good end, is never meaningless.  This year, through no fault of our own, we have been ordered to make sacrifices and, thus, to suffer, for the good of others (and, ultimately, ourselves).  This should give us a sense of solidarity with Christ who, Isaiah prophesied, would be one who had done no wrong but who nonetheless suffered as if he was a great sinner.  This same one who, the author of the Letter to the Hebrews testified, learned obedience from what he suffered and was made perfect, so as to become the source of eternal salvation.  On the surface, Christ’s suffering appeared meaningless: a cruel abuse perpetuated by authorities who wrongly convicted him.  Christ knew the good end for which he was suffering, however, and so he could persevere and even find strength to endure it to the end.  Although it may seem that we are suffering unjustly these days, I pray that we can see the good end for which we are suffering—saving lives—and thus find strength in knowing that our suffering has value so as to persevere in it until the threat of this pandemic ends.

After these two more practical reasons, there is still another reason why we celebrate the Passion of our Lord.  This is to remind ourselves of the truth that Jesus proclaimed from the cross: “It is finished.”  Here’s what I mean: There is so much anxiety among the faithful—all of you and myself included—for being separated from the sacraments.  I’m grateful for this anxiety as it shows a great longing in you to be free of this world and so untied to God.  There’s an anxiety, in particular, to be able to confess our sins and receive absolution (and, again, I feel that anxiety with you!).  Because of this, we perhaps feel a particular anxiety and a desire to weep in sorrow for our sins before the cross: the instrument of torture on which our Savior suffered precisely because of our sins.  While such a desire is completely appropriate to this day, I don’t think that this weeping is what we are called to do today (at least, not exclusively).  Rather, I think that we are called to acknowledge and to celebrate that “It is finished” and, thus, to make deep acts of faith in the truth that we proclaim during the Stations of the Cross: that is, that “by his holy cross, he has redeemed the world”.  These acts should give us consolation that, while God has given us the sacraments as our surety of his grace, he, nonetheless, is not bound by them.  Rather, he is "bound" by the perfect obedience of his Son, which won redemption for all who, in turn, obey him.

Friends, the Passion of our Lord is presented to us in narrative form so as to remind us that God worked out our salvation in the thick of our human messiness, so as to remind us that it is not by making our lives some idyllic perfection of piety and devotion that we come to salvation (as good as that would be), but rather that it is by embracing the cross—that is, taking up our daily sacrifices in the midst of our daily messes for the good of those around us—that salvation comes to us.  Today, in a special way, we unite the "mess" of this pandemic—and all of the sufferings that have come with it—to the cross of Christ: asking for its swift end, of course, but also that the redemption he won for us might be found and accepted in the midst of it.

May our veneration of the cross today remind us that the work of our redemption truly is finished; and, thus, give us hope to persevere through this trial and every trial still to come.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – April 10^th, 2020

The new "normal" after quarantine

If you're here early, the link for the video of my homily is not yet available. When it becomes available, I'll embed it here.

Homily: 5^th Sunday in Lent – Cycle A

“Now a man was ill, Lazaras from Bethany.”  Perhaps we’ve heard this scripture a number of times before, but I’m guessing that, because of our present circumstances, we might hear these words in a new way today.  In this time of heightened anxiety about the severity of illness that the coronavirus can cause, none of us can sit back and hear the words, “Now a man was ill...” and not think of the countless men and women who have fallen ill over these past months; perhaps even more so given that men and women increasingly close to home are also starting to fall ill.  Any of us who have a human heart beating in our chest have, perhaps, become much more sensitive to news of anyone becoming ill.  Maybe today, therefore, as we hear these words, we are even more anxious to hear what good news the Gospel can speak to us; and so, let us see what our Gospel reading speaks to us today.

Martha, Mary, and Lazarus were close friends of Jesus.  The Gospel tells us that “Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus”.  Because of this close friendship, the three of them had come to acknowledge Jesus as the Messiah and they put their faith in his ability to heal even mortal sicknesses.  And so, when Lazarus fell ill, Martha quickly sent word to Jesus, hoping that he’d come to save her brother from this illness. Jesus didn’t come right away, however, and Lazarus died.  In fact, by the time Jesus had arrived, Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days.

Because of this, Martha and Mary both confront Jesus, saying: “If you had been here, my brother would not have died!”  They are hurt because Jesus did not appear to respond as quickly as they, because of their friendship, expected that he would.  Jesus, in spite of already knowing what he was going to do, nonetheless displays the fullness of his humanity when, confronted by the sorrow being experienced by these sisters whom he dearly loved, he himself weeps.  It’s a touching moment that we would do well to consider any time that we experience a loss in our own lives, but especially now when this experience is so tangibly apparent. But let’s imagine for a moment that the story ended there: Jesus weeping while Lazarus remains dead in the grave.  If that were the case, he’d be a great teacher, prophet, consoler, and even, perhaps, friend, but he wouldn’t be God.

Thus, when we hear Jesus tell Martha plainly, “I am the resurrection and the life”, we hear something different.  With these words, Jesus is telling her that it isn’t just his belief that Lazarus will rise, but rather it is his concrete knowledge of who he is and of what he is capable.  Friendship with God, Martha discovers, is not divine protection from pain, suffering, or even death, but rather a guarantee that, in that pain, suffering, and even death, God will be with us.  When Jesus weeps, we see the most touching, but telling evidence that he, indeed, is with us, in the fullness of our humanity. When he calls Lazarus from the grave, however, we see the still greater evidence that not only is Jesus with us—the great teacher, prophet, consoler, and friend—but that Jesus is, indeed, God: and that, in Jesus, God himself is truly with us.

Thus, in Jesus, the words of the prophet Ezekiel have been fulfilled.  When Jesus called Lazarus from the grave, he brought new light to the rebirth foreshadowed in his promise to bring back his chosen people from exile.  Those people thought themselves dead because they had lost the land from which they took their identity. Thus, when the Lord “brought them back to the land of Israel”, they truly felt reborn.  Little did they know, however, that one day God himself would take on human nature and walk among them and would, literally, open the graves of the dead and have the dead rise from them.

Notice that the ancient Israelites were not prevented from experiencing exile because of their friendship with God.  Rather, it was because of their friendship that they were eventually restored to their land and given “new life”.  Notice also, that Lazarus was not prevented from experiencing illness and death, nor were Martha and Mary prevented from experiencing the loss of their dear brother, because of their friendship with Jesus.  Rather, it was because of their friendship that Lazarus was raised and they were all given “new life”.  So it is now, that our friendship with God will be no guarantee that we will not experience sadness, difficulty, or pain.  Rather, our friendship with God is a promise that God will lift us from that sadness, difficulty, or pain, if we remain faithful to our friendship with him.

Friends, this is the message of Lent: that we are dead because of sin, but through Jesus we are raised to new life.  The threat of physical illness, like that caused by the coronavirus, is serious and has raised in us new levels of compassion for others.  I pray that it is also raising in us a new awareness of our need for a savior.  I pray that this time in which we’ve been forced to isolate has helped us to examine our consciences a little more deeply and to become aware of how deeply rooted our sinful inclinations can be.  I pray that we will use this time—even as it extends into Easter—to turn back to the Lord in love, to grow our friendship with him, so that we might be given a “new life” when our social restrictions are lifted.

You know, when Lazarus was raised from the dead, he didn’t come back like a zombie.  Rather, he came back as himself.  I guarantee you, however, that his life never went back to the “normal” it was before he died.  I’m sure that he, and his sisters, began anew and created a new “normal”... a better one... one that united them more deeply to each other and to Christ and in which they worked to build the kingdom of God.  Friends, may the externally imposed penances that we are experiencing this Lent lead us to greater conversion, so that the new “normal” that we create after coronavirus restrictions are lifted—anchored, as it surely will be, in the Eucharist—lead us to do as Martha, Mary, and Lazarus did: uniting ourselves more deeply to Christ and to each other and dedicating ourselves to proclaim the Risen Christ and to build his kingdom until he comes again in glory.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – March 29^th, 2020

Pop quiz for the 1st Sunday of Lent

[My format looks weird today because of the way that this homily was set up and presented.  It just worked better this way.  Sorry if it is hard to read in this format!]

Homily: 1^st Sunday in Lent – Cycle A

          Okay, friends, today, on this first Sunday of Lent, we are going to shake things up a bit and start off with a little pop quiz based on the readings we’ve just heard.  Don’t worry about it, though, because you’re going to know most of the answers and there are no grades.  Ready or not, here we go!

•         Is humankind responsible for the presence of suffering and death in the world, yes or no?  [YES]

o   Even though it wasn’t included in the reading today, we all know “the rest of the story”, that Adam and Eve were punished and expelled from the garden so that they couldn’t eat from the tree of life and, thus, would have to suffer death.

•         Has humankind been able to eliminate suffering and death from the world, now that they are present in it, yes or no?  [NO]

o   Just look around.  Suffering and death are still very present here.

•         Is there any reasonable hope that humankind will ever eliminate suffering and death from the world, yes or no?  [NO]

o   Suffering and death have been part of the human condition for as long as history has been recording it.

•         Who is the only human being that ever existed who died, but then raised himself back to life?  [JESUS]
•         Is it reasonable to expect that this could be possible for any human being ever, yes or no?  [NO]

o   Again, human beings have been around for 200,000 years and we ain't figured it out yet!

o   Why then do we stubbornly act like we will?  DON'T ANSWER THAT!

•         If this Jesus has done something that no human being has ever been capable of doing nor will ever be capable of doing, then he must have super-natural powers (that is, powers beyond natural powers), true or false?  [TRUE]
•         Since this Jesus has done something that no other human being has ever been capable of doing, something that we cannot reasonably expect any present or future human being as being capable of doing, is it, therefore, reasonable to think that this Jesus could also do the other thing that humankind has been incapable of doing: that is, is it reasonable to think that Jesus could also eliminate suffering and death from the world, yes or no?  [YES]

o   It is reasonable to think that because we don’t know the limit of his powers.

•         Has this Jesus revealed the secret to unlocking resurrection (that is, the secret for overcoming suffering and death) for each and every one of us, yes or no?  [YES]
•         What is that secret (hint: it’s in the Gospel reading today)?  [OBEDIENCE TO THE WILL OF THE FATHER.]

o   Saint Paul said it in his letter to the Romans:

o   “For just as through the disobedience of one man the many were made sinners, so, through the obedience of the one, the many will be made righteous.”

§  The one who was disobedient was Adam and we were reminded of that in our first reading today.

·        Eve said, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden; it is only about the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden that God said, ‘You shall not eat it or even touch it, lest you die.’”

·        They ate it, in clear disobedience of God, and suffering and death entered the world.

§  The one who was obedient was Jesus and we were reminded of his first great act of obedience in our Gospel reading today.

·        Satan said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down… Jesus answered him, …'You shall not put the Lord, your God, to the test.’”

·        Jesus countered Adam and Eve’s disobedience by his perfect obedience.

·        His final and culminating act of obedience was his passion and death.

•         Friends, this is what Lent is about: returning to the garden through obedience.

o   If our Lenten practices are not freeing us to give our obedience more fully to the Father, then we should stop them and choose practices that will!

o   The first practice, of course, is giving up sin!

§  None of us should be giving up chocolate unless we have first decided to do the work of giving up sin!!!

o   Once we’ve done that, however, we take on physical discomfort (that is, giving up something good that we enjoy or taking up a good task that, perhaps, we don’t enjoy), so as to do two things: a) to show God that we are truly sorry for our sins, and b) to face our spiritual discomfort that God is calling us to still greater holiness (...a call, by the way, that never ceases!)

§  I think that we get “a)” no problem, but how many of us have ever really faced “b)”?

§  Not sure what I mean?  Let me give you an example. 

            Last Friday afternoon, I was working in my office and I had an e-mail that I had to write that was important and complicated to compose.  I was tired and really didn’t want to do it.  So there I am, staring at my computer screen, not wanting to do the thing that I knew I needed to do, and so what did I do?  Well, I opened up a new tab on my browser and hovered over the Facebook link.  Before I clicked on it, however, I remembered that I decided to fast from social media on Fridays during Lent and so I stopped myself and went back to my e-mail.  Soon, though, I was in a new tab hovering over the Facebook link again.  Once again, though, my commitment to what I was giving up one over and I went back to my e-mail.  Finally, I dug in and wrote the e-mail.  The point being that, if I hadn’t chosen to give up a physical comfort (checking out what was going on with my friends on Facebook), then I wouldn’t have confronted my spiritual discomfort (completing the work that I had been given to do).  Fasting from social media, therefore, showed both that I was sorry for my sins and made it so that I could confront this spiritual battle.

o   We have to give up sin, of course, but then we should give up (or take up) something good, both to show God that we are truly sorry for our sins and to face our spiritual discomfort that God is calling us to greater holiness and so put ourselves to work to do it!

§  THIS, in a nutshell, IS OBEDIENCE!!!

§  Obedience, Jesus has shown us, leads to resurrection and eternal life.

          Okay, a couple of more questions a then we’ll call it a day.

•         Is Jesus still alive, yes or no?  [YES]
•         Will we meet him, face-to-face, one day, yes or no?  [YES]
•         What, then, should we do during Lent?

o   A question you must answer yourself.

o   Whatever your answer is, it should be something that leads you to deeper obedience to the will of the Father so that, when Easter comes, you’ll be ready to die with Christ and so rise with him again.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – March 1^st, 2020

Your faith has saved you

Homily: 13^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          One of the more “epic” moments in television in the last twenty years occurred in 2004 on the Oprah Winfrey show.  In many ways, Oprah was at the height of her popularity at this time and she was using it to great advantage for others.  Now, I don’t recall of the background of that day’s show, but I remember that Oprah started by gifting eleven teachers, who were reputed to be extremely self-giving and, thus, were in financial trouble, with a new car.  This was an incredible gesture by itself, but Oprah wasn’t finished.  She then told the audience that she had one more car to give away and that one of them in the audience would receive it.  The staff then brought out identical gift boxes for each member of the audience and Oprah instructed them that in one of these boxes was a key to the twelfth car and whoever had that key in their box would take that car home.

          What happened next, of course, is what launched this moment into “epic” status: when Oprah commanded that the boxes be opened, the audience members found that each and every one of them had a key in it.  No, this wasn’t a trick.  Oprah intended to give each audience member a brand new car.  Because there was so much excitement—screaming and crying—mixed with confusion about whether or not this could be real, all you see is Oprah screaming over and over again: “You get a car, you get a car, you get a car… everybody gets a car!  Everybody gets a car!”  Now, perhaps none of us were in the audience that day, but you would have to have a pretty cold and hard heart not to feel a sense of joy for those audience members who received such an undeserved gift from someone that they didn’t even know.

          I can imagine, too, that every audience for every show after that day walked in wondering “Will today be another day like that one?  Will I walk out of here with something I never dreamed of getting?”  None really have since then, of course, which is what makes that moment in 2004 so epic.  Sometimes, however, I wonder if this isn’t how we approach Jesus, especially here at Mass.

          As we read the Scriptures, especially the Gospels, we learn of how Jesus often healed the sick and even brought back to life those who had died.  Most of us, I’m sure, were already following him before we came to understand his incredible power to heal: in other words, we were coming to Mass and trying to follow his teaching.  Perhaps one day we came to know that Jesus worked a healing in someone else’s life.  And perhaps, once we learned of this healing, we began to expect a healing for ourselves.  And so, perhaps, we began to come to Mass hoping that this time would be one of those times that Jesus would appear before us and, like Oprah that day, dole out healings to everyone: “You get a healing, you get a healing, you get a healing… everybody gets a healing!”

          Perhaps, however, we aren’t even expecting anything that dramatic.  Perhaps, we are more like the woman in the Gospel today, who had been afflicted for twelve years with a hemorrhage.  Since a bleeding like that made her “ritually unclean”, she was excluded and needed to refrain from coming in contact with others for fear of making them “unclean” also.  And so, it’s understandable that she would approach Jesus in the way that she did.  “I’m embarrassed enough to have this defilement,” I imagine her thinking, “so instead of approaching Jesus directly, I’ll simply sneak up behind him and touch his clothes: surely his power to heal will come to me.”  Surely enough, it did.

          Having been healed, the woman then tried to slip away; but Jesus wouldn’t allow it.  You see, Jesus didn’t come just to bring healings: that is, just to spread joy by doling out healings to anyone who approached him, without concern for who the person was.  Rather, he came to bring forth the kingdom of God, which was a restoration of God’s original plan for each of our lives.  Therefore, when the woman was healed—that is, when the power of healing had “gone out of him”—Jesus took notice and decided to make this moment a teaching moment.  He wanted people to see this woman—whom they all knew to be the one who had been afflicted by hemorrhages for twelve years—and to see that she was now healed by her faith in him and thus restored to her status in the community.  In other words, for Jesus it wasn’t enough that she was healed; rather, he desired that her life also be restored; and for that, he needed to address her personally.

          This is also true of the young girl whom Jesus brought back to life.  Jairus, the synagogue official, came in faith to ask Jesus to heal his daughter, who was sick and at the point of death and Jesus agrees to come.  Even though the delay of addressing the woman healed from hemorrhaging meant that the child died before he arrived, Jesus remained unperturbed.  When he arrived and saw the mourning of those already in the house, he invited them to see this situation with the “eyes of the kingdom” when he said “the child is not dead but asleep.”  It was a reality that wasn’t visible to them, but that he would soon make visible to them: for in the “eyes of the kingdom” worldly death is no longer death, but rather a temporary sleep; and to prove this, Jesus resuscitates the twelve year old girl.

          As incredible as this was, Jesus once again proved that he didn’t come simply to dole out healings or to resuscitate people after they died.  He came with a concern of restoring people in the fullness of the kingdom of God.  Therefore, Jesus didn’t simply give the breath of life back to the little girl; rather he then saw that the girl was hungry and demanded that she be given something to eat.  In other words, his healings were never functional only; but rather they always came with a tenderness—a deep and abiding concern for the one who was healed: that he or she would not only experience healing, but also have his or her life restored completely.

          This, my brothers and sisters, is God’s plan for us.  We heard in the reading from the book of Wisdom that “God did not make death”; and in the Gospel reading Jesus proves to us that, even though God did not make death, he certainly isn’t powerless before it.  No, death was never part of God’s plan for us.  Death, rather, entered the world because of Satan’s envy, which led him to deceive our first parents into sinning against God.  God sent his Son, though, not just to demonstrate his power by doling out healings to anyone who asked for it, but rather to restore us to life—that is, to his original plan for us—by freeing us from eternal death.

          This restoration, however, isn’t automatic.  Like Jairus, the synagogue official, and like the woman afflicted with hemorrhages, we must first come to Jesus in faith to seek this healing if we ever hope to receive it.  This faith, however, must not only be in Jesus’ power to heal—though that is fundamental—but it must also be faith in his will: faith, that is, that Jesus’ will is wiser than my will so that, if his will is that I not be healed at this time, I might not despair and thus lose all faith, even in his power to heal.

          Ultimately, my brothers and sisters, the choice is ours.  When we choose to place our faith in Jesus—and in his power to save us—we choose God’s original plan for us: which the book of Wisdom tells us is a plan “to be imperishable; the image of God’s own nature…”  When we do otherwise—placing our faith in ourselves or in someone or something else—we place ourselves in the company of the devil, through whose envy death entered the world.  The book of Wisdom tells us that to keep company with him makes us susceptible to it: death, that is, in the “eyes of the kingdom”, which is eternal suffering and sorrow… eternal separation from God.

          You know, Oprah did a great thing that day back in 2004.  Her gift, however, was a momentary thing and could not restore the lives of the people in her audience that day.  Through Jesus God offers us so much more than a one-time gift can give us: he offers us the opportunity to have our lives restored to his original plan: a plan where death—and the sorrow and suffering that comes because of it—no longer has any place.  Ultimately, we must choose this plan over the many others that the world offers.  We choose it by saying “Amen” to Jesus when he appears on this altar; and when we live our lives with the “eyes of the kingdom”, looking beyond our life in this world to our life in the world to come.  My brothers and sisters, God desires to give us this life, because we matter to him.  Let us choose this life for ourselves today—and everyday—so that we, too, may go in peace, healed and ready to proclaim this Good News.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral Parish: Lafayette, IN  - July 1^st, 2018

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

A Prayer of Repentance

Friends,

I, like all of you, have been appalled at the violent and senseless attack that occurred in Las Vegas on Sunday.  I can't imagine the fear and the horror that was experienced by those attending that concert and, for those who will survive, the traumatic memories that will scar their minds and hearts for many years to come.

I suppose that I was surprised, however, that one of my first thoughts after first hearing about this attack was "So what?  People are being shot and killed in the streets of Chicago every day!"  I quickly looked up to see where this tragedy in Las Vegas ranked aside the violence that happened in Chicago that same weekend.  4 persons killed (killed!) and 29 injured by gun violence in Chicago alone last weekend.  Over 470 people have been murdered in Chicago since January 1, 2017.  No national headlines, though, because (sadly) this has become normal in Chicago.

Because our hearts can't handle daily grieving of the sort demanded by the daily losses being suffered in Chicago (and many other cities), it takes violence of grand proportion to get our attention.  This is an emotional defense mechanism that allows us to get on with our lives, which is normal; and so I'm not blaming anyone (myself included) for not reacting to these daily tragedies.  The contrast in our reactions, however, should give us pause to ask ourselves whether we are insulating our hearts from being overwhelmed or intentionally ignoring an uncomfortable truth, one that demands something of us.  If I had to guess, I'd say that we all began in the former, but have found ourselves in the latter.

Friends, what happened in Las Vegas was not an isolated incident.  I have no data to prove a direct connection to any other influences that the shooter may have had, of course, but I know that this violent act was not isolated from the thousands of other violent acts (of lesser proportion) that are perpetrated day-in and day-out in cities and towns throughout our country and our world.  This, because all violence is a result of unrepented sin in our lives.  When we tolerate even small sin in our own lives, we give sin a place to extend its roots and be nourished, which then allows it to spring forth in thousands of violent ways each and every day; and sometimes in incomprehensibly grand ways, like it did in Las Vegas this past Sunday.

So what do we do?  Well, I hope that you can already see the (decidedly uncomfortable) answer: we must each cry out to our Lord Jesus for mercy and then work to purge sin from our own lives and help those closest to us to do the same.  Perhaps we can begin by praying this prayer of repentance today (see below) and making a commitment to seriously examining our lives so as to purge sin completely from them.  Then, I'd suggest getting to know your neighbors (the persons who, literally, live on either side of you), if you don't know them already.  No one goes on a violent rampage because their neighbors were "too kind" to him/her.  We are our brothers' keepers.  Let's make sure that we are fulfilling this important responsibility.

May the Precious Blood of Jesus wash over us and cleanse us, so that we might enter the life that his shed Blood won for us: the life of light, happiness, and peace with him eternally in heaven.

Prayer of Repentance

LORD, WHO ARE WE AS A PEOPLE, having been given blessings in portions as no other nation before us?  What has become of us, Father?  We have spoiled your spacious skies with buildings and cities breathing with sin.  The amber waves of grain are no longer viewed as our blessing but as our due.  The awe and reverence due You when we gaze upon the purple mountains and their majesty is no longer held; rather, how much pleasure they can give us.  Father, we have spurned You.  We’ve blamed our problems on those who promote darkness, but You have revealed yourself to us through Your Son.  Now our eyes have been opened by Him.  Our lack of holiness, our not being light has allowed darkness to prevail.  Indeed, our sins which we wrongly view as small have allowed those in darkness to commit great sins without shame.  We now realize that it is because of our failings as Christians.  Father, Samuel told your people, “It is true you have committed all this evil, still you must not turn from the Lord, but worship Him with your whole heart. For the sake of His own great name, the Lord will not abandon his own people.”  Father, we come before You with our whole hearts and ask You to grant us the pardon won for us by your Son.

Jesus, we do not deserve to even be heard, yet we know Your passion merits that we are.  Lord Jesus, we call You as You have called us.  Please, intercede before God to forgive us, to heal us, to heal our families, and to heal our nation.

Father, grant Your Son’s intentions and hear His pleas for us. We know you are justly irritated with us but we beg and plead for forgiveness through our repentance from our hearts.  We realize our nation is headed toward disaster by so many signs You have given us.  Holy, Holy, Holy God, grant Your Son His requests that we may again be your people, not a nation above God but one nation humbled and under God.  Amen.

Adapted from the “Prayer to Heal America” by A Friend of Medjugorje

Pagans, Saints, and the Cross of Christ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Discipleship from the heart

Homily: 6^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          Today we continue hearing from what is, for sure, the greatest sermon ever given: Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.  While in the last two weeks, we’ve been given passages that focus on one central theme, today we seem to have been given a bunch of different lessons.  Each one of these lessons, it seems, could be expanded into an entire book.  And so, we better get started… ready?

          Even though Jesus does hit us with a lot of heavy punches that seem to be coming from all sides, there is, nonetheless, a common theme.  The core of them all, I believe, is that true discipleship is in the heart: not in merely outward appearances.

          Firstly, however, we must acknowledge that our exterior behavior must follow God's will.  This is exactly what Jesus means when he says, “Do not think I have come to abolish the law…”  If he did, that would give us a false freedom: a freedom from morality which, because of our human nature—a nature that is moral at its core—simply doesn’t exist.  What Jesus is trying to tell us, however, is that exterior behavior, that is, appearances alone, are not enough.  For a true, faithful citizen of God's Kingdom, rather, the attitudes and desires of the heart must also be in harmony with God's plan for our lives.  This, therefore, is what Jesus means when he says: “I have come… to fulfill the law…” that is, to bring the Old Testament Law to its fulfillment both in the exterior and the interior of mankind.

          Now, friendship with God (which is precisely the thing that Jesus offers to us) requires a union of hearts.  And we know, because it is written elsewhere in the Bible, that God “wills all men to be saved”—which means that he desires that the hearts of all men will be united with each other in his heart.  And so, if this is true, how can our friendship with God be complete when we harbor resentment or contempt towards some people, or tarnish their good name by spreading rumors about them or speaking ill of them?  And how can I live in intimacy with a God who loves every man and woman as a father loves his children, when in my heart I desire to use some of them only as an object of pleasure and self-indulgence?  And how can I be a true friend of God, when I make promises that I don't intend to keep?  While other people may be satisfied with merely exterior appearances—a kind of “I’m okay, you’re okay” attitude—God is interested in the complete package: and so Christ teaches us to look not just at the exterior, but all the way into our hearts, as well.

          Here’s the thing: If we live our faith superficially, looking like a Christian on the outside only, our lives will never have the meaning or the power that they are meant to have.  Rather, we will end up just following the latest trends and fashions, never really having the stability or making the progress in life that Jesus wants us to.  But if we live our faith from the inside out, that is, keeping Christ alive in our hearts, we will be people who set the trends, not just follow them.  Strange as this may sound, it's kind of like the difference between a thermometer and a thermostat.

          You see, a thermometer merely tells what the temperature is in a particular area.  If your thermometer reads seventy degrees and you place that thermometer in a room that is currently eighty degrees, then it won’t be long before the thermometer reads eighty degrees.  This is because thermometers change according to its environment.

          The thermostat, however, does just the contrary.  Instead of changing in accord with its environment, it acts to change the environment in accord with a setting that was given to it by an outside power.  Instead of adjusting to the room temperature, it adjusts the room temperature.  Thus, if the thermostat is set at seventy degrees and the room is eighty degrees, the thermostat will influence the heating or air conditioning systems so that the temperature of the room will gradually change to conform to whatever the thermostat is reading.  The room, therefore, not the thermostat will become seventy degrees.  Thermometers passively reflect what’s around them; thermostats actively affect what’s around them.

          If our hearts are truly Christian, that is, if they are filled with knowledge of God and with his grace, then we will be like thermostats and the world around us will change to match up with God’s will for human flourishing.  But if our faith only goes skin deep, that is, if we are only going through the motions of friendship with Christ, then we'll just be like thermometers, and the Gospel will have no effect and our communities will continue to splinter and divide.

          (Ron and Helen Russow example: “Perfect example of Christians being thermostats is on the front page of this weekend’s paper… Ron and Helen gave a beautiful testimony to what love really is and how prayer and sacrifice are integral to it.  Many people who struggle to know what real love looks like will read that and begin to seek it out in their lives.  This is what it means to be a thermostat!)

          Thankfully, Jesus is very practical about what can corrupt our hearts and turn them into thermometers instead of thermostats.  He identifies anger, lust, and dishonesty as hidden viruses capable of damaging, and even destroying, our integrity, our souls!  And all of us, if we are being honest, must admit that we struggle with temptation in each of these areas.  And so what are we to do?  Are we simply doomed?  I mean, when Jesus looks at our hearts, does he look away in disgust?  No, of course not!  Rather, he comes with the medicine of his grace to cure us.   We have to give him the chance to give it to us, however, and today's First Reading tells us how:

          "If you choose," the Book of Sirach tells us, "you can keep the commandments; they will save you."  My brothers and sisters, every day of our lives, we remain free to choose the thoughts and actions to which we will commit: either godly ones, or selfish ones.  And so, when a lustful thought flashes through our minds, we don't have to accept it; rather, we can reject it and turn to Jesus and Mary instead.  And when selfish anger boils up in our hearts, we don't have to let it rule our lives; rather, we can turn to Christ on the cross and learn from him how to turn the other cheek.  And when we are tempted to get ahead by compromising the truth, we can hold our tongues and cling to Sirach's promise: that "Before man are life and death, good and evil, whichever he chooses shall be given him."

          Friends, Jesus wants us to choose life, a fulfilling life here on earth and eternal life with him in Heaven, by choosing to reject temptation and to follow him.  During this Mass, he will give us the grace we need to make that choice, every day.  And so, let’s thank him for that; and then let’s go forth from here to put his grace to good use.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February 11^th & 12^th, 2016