Advent a time for showing our devotion

Homily: 1^st Sunday of Advent – Cycle B

          It’s no secret that we celebrate a lot of funerals here at All Saints.  As the number of funerals that I’ve celebrated continues to grow, I’m growing in my understanding of how, as a priest, I can best care for the spiritual and emotional needs of the family who is grieving the loss of a loved one.  Being present with them while their loved one is dying is, of course, important.  Meeting with them to pray with them, to let them tell the story of their loved one, and to help them plan the funeral Mass after their loved one has died is also very important.  What I have observed, however, is that the “behind the scenes” work of preparing for the funeral Mass is a great work of spiritual and emotional care for those in grief, as well.

          It seems to me that, when a family arrives at the door of the church with the body of their loved one, if they find everything prepared and that we have been waiting for their arrival, they will be comforted: comforted because they know that they have been cared for.  This sign of devotedness, I would argue, is some of the best spiritual and emotional care that I can provide.

          In ancient times, when the head of a household would go on a journey, he would measure the level of devotedness of his household servants by how ready they were to receive him when he returned home.  If he returned and found the house in order and his servants ready to welcome him, he would know of their devotedness.  If he returned, however, and found the house in disorder and his servants scrambling to make preparations to receive him (or, worse yet, ignoring the fact of his return altogether), he would know of their lack of devotedness.  In that culture, it would have been a sign of great disrespect to be unprepared to welcome an expected traveler.

          Jesus, therefore, uses this example to admonish his disciples about his second coming.  In a sense, he is saying to them: “It’s true, I'm going; but stay alert because I'll be back and I'll measure your devotedness to me by how ready you are to receive me.”  So strong is his admonition that he specifies that there will be no part of the night that will be “off-limits” for his return and so they should not let down their guard for one moment.  In this we should hear echoes of the parable of the wise and foolish virgins.  Even though they all fell asleep as they awaited the bridegroom’s return, only the wise virgins prepared for it and brought extra oil.  When they bridegroom returned and they were ready to receive him, they were welcomed into the feast; for they had shown him their devotedness.  The foolish virgins, who had to run off to buy more oil, had proven their lack of devotion and so were left outside and shunned by the bridegroom: so unloved had he felt by them that he even refused to acknowledge that he knew them.

          Thus, as we begin this Advent season, we are renewing this admonition for ourselves.  First and foremost, we are reminding ourselves that our master—the head of the household, the bridegroom—is away and we are awaiting his return.  Then, we are reminding ourselves that, if we are truly devoted to him, we must not let our guard down and begin to forget about our preparations, even if it seems like he is long-delayed in his coming.  Because the fact of the matter remains that he could come at any time; and that, in spite of the fact that God is, indeed, “rich in mercy”, he will not have mercy on those who had been forewarned so clearly through these parables.

          And so, the question comes to us: “Are we so devoted to Jesus as to be ready to receive him when he returns?”  In other words, are we actively preparing and watching for his return? or are we going about our own business, ignoring the fact that he could return today?  If the answer is “yes, I am actively preparing and watching for his return”, then great!  Keep up the good work!  If the answer is “well… not so much”, or, flat out, “no”, then here is your wakeup call!

          Hopefully, if you fall into this latter category (which, I would guess, most of us do), you feel some anxiety about it.  If so, then that’s a good sign!  It’s a sign that you have devotion to Jesus, even though you might be failing at demonstrating it right now.  In fact, even if you do feel like you are actively preparing and watching for Jesus’ return, you should feel some anxiety, also; because we all know that, no matter how much you prepare to receive someone you care for, you’re always a little anxious that it isn’t going to be good enough, right?  If you have no anxiety at all, however, it shows that you are either presumptuous (kind of like the foolish virgins) or that you really don’t care at all (which, then, begs the question: what you’re doing here?).  I’m going to continue, however, under the assumption that all of us here do have a devotion to Jesus at some level, but that we are less than prepared to receive him if he should come today.  If that is the case, then I think that the prophet Isaiah gives us a good “stepping-off point” to begin our Advent.

          Isaiah was frustrated that his people had wandered far away from the Lord, and so he cries out to God and asks him to come and fix it all!  Now, although this comes from a place of frustration, it also expresses a great faith: that the Lord is powerful enough to fix even this, their greatest mess!  Isaiah expresses his desire that, when the Lord comes, he would find his people busy about his work and mindful of him—that is, showing a devotedness to him by being prepared for his coming.  Isaiah knows, however, that they aren’t, but he calls on the Lord, anyway.  In other words, he doesn't panic and try to get everything fixed up by himself before the Lord comes, but rather he sends a note to say: "Hey, I know you're on your way, but the place is a mess and it may not get fixed up before you get here.  In fact, you're going to have to help us clean it up.  Know that we wanted to get it cleaned up for you, though!"

          We, too, should begin our Advent this way: by crying out to God and asking him to come, even though we're not as prepared as we'd like to be.  This, in itself, is a sign of devotedness: that is, that we are being watchful for his coming.  Having begun in this way, we will then be moved to do what we can to make preparations.  And what are those preparations?  Well, we heard them last week: that the hungry are fed, the thirsty are given drink, the strangers are welcomed, the naked are clothed, the sick are cared for, and those in prison are visited.  Jesus promised that, when we do these things to anyone, we do them to him; and so to perform these acts of mercy is great sign of devotedness to him.  Still more, however, when we do these acts of mercy we are making God’s kingdom present among us; and what better way can there be to prepare for the coming of our King, than for his kingdom to be vibrant and shining when he comes.

          My brothers and sisters, through the words of Saint Paul to the Corinthians, God has promised us that he has given us every spiritual gift that we need to make ourselves ready to receive our Lord when he comes.  Therefore, let us begin today to show our Lord our devotedness once again, so as to be ready to receive him with joy when he comes.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – December 3^rd, 2017

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