Worship in spirit and truth

Homily: 2^nd Sunday in Easter – Cycle A

Friends, as we come to this second Sunday of Easter, the eighth (or octave) day since we celebrated our Lord’s resurrection, I’d like to take some time to reflect on a few scenes from the video series titled “The Chosen”.  Most of you have heard me refer to this series already, but they recently made the whole first season available through “livestreaming” events, the recordings of which can still be found on their YouTube channel.  I made it a point to watch one of the episodes each day this week and every one of them was very moving.  In my opinion, the producers have done an impressive job portraying the truths of the Gospel scenes while giving each of the “players” very well-rounded personalities.  In other words, for me, the writing, acting, and production have all helped me to see into the hearts of these persons, which in turn has helped me to enter into these Gospel scenes a little more deeply.

I bring this up today because I think that there are three scenes from these first eight episodes that can help us to interpret and enter into this our celebration of Easter amidst these very unique circumstances.  The scenes are these: the Shabbat dinner, Nicodemus the Pharisee, and the Samaritan woman at the well.

One of the early episodes, perhaps the second one, begins nearly 1000 years before Jesus’ birth, showing a family, living in tents out in the countryside, who are preparing for the Shabbat dinner (“Shabbat” being the Hebrew word for “Sabbath”, the day of rest).  A child, probably the age of 8, is questioning his mother about the Shabbat meal: why are they doing this (and why every week!), why are all of these extended family members invited, etc.  The mother’s responses are both generous and instructive: God commanded that we rest and so remember and give thanks for all that he has done for us, all are invited because in God’s eyes we are all one family, “peculiarly chosen to be his own”, etc.  The episode continues to show the different ways that the Shabbat dinner was continued in Capernaum in the time of Jesus: showing the very elaborate dinner hosted by the Pharisees, the simple dinner of Simon Peter, his wife, and his brother Andrew, and the awkward dinner provided by Mary of Magdala for a disparate group of people in town.

What struck me about this episode was that the dinner was liturgical.  What I mean by this is that it had a form that was to be followed, but which also allowed for adaptation to the means of the household and the circumstances under which it was performed.  It also meant that this was not just a dinner party, but rather a sacred event: a meal consecrated to giving thanks.  Beyond being liturgical, however, what struck me was that it was celebrated in the home.  This latter part is why I am sharing this with you today.  I see in our current circumstances a great opportunity to grow and develop liturgical prayer in the home, especially around meal times.  Parents (or elders in a household), during this time, be intentional about setting aside at least one time a week to engage in liturgical prayer with your family or those in your household.  This could be done around a meal, by using one of the meal blessings meant for households that can be found online and then having each person speak of what they are thankful for, or it could be taking time in the evening to pause and read from scripture and to talk about it with each other.  If you are a household of one, I encourage you to seek ways to do this virtually through the many video conferencing programs available on the internet.  The point being: that we apply ourselves during this time to making our homes into sacred places for prayer once again.

Throughout these first episodes, we are introduced to Nicodemus the Pharisee.  Honestly, he’s my favorite person throughout these episodes and I’ll show you why.  Nicodemus was a leading Pharisee: kind of like an Archbishop for us—a “teacher of teachers” among the Pharisees.  At first, he seems like the consummate “corporate man”, holding the corporate line and managing the “politics” among the other Pharisees.  We discover in this portrayal of him that he is also a man of deep faith.  He knows the Law and he teaches it faithfully.  But he also knows that the Law is not an end in itself, but rather the means that God had given them to keep them in right relationship with him, lest the people fall out of favor with God.  We see that he believes that God is a living God and, thus, looks for him to work in the world around him.  Finally, we see that he is someone who is truly awaiting the Messiah, but yet still surprised when he appears.

In our circumstances I see an invitation to be like Nicodemus.  Most of us have a great desire to serve God in the way that he has laid out for us in the Church: daily prayer, worship in community on Sundays, and the works of mercy.  As we are deprived of some of those things, we are being called to trust that God is still working around us and that he is ready to make himself manifest to us in ways that we, perhaps, are not expecting.  It might be as simple as an insight about God spoken by one of your children or a friend who calls unexpectedly; or it could be something bigger, like a healing that has long been prayed for.  If we get caught yearning only for things to go back to the way in which we’re comfortable, then we may miss the ways that Jesus wants to share his resurrection joy with us here and now.

In the last episode of this first season, the scene of the Samaritan woman at the well is portrayed.  It is presented really well as it first gives us a glimpse of this woman’s life before she meets Jesus, and it “fills-out” the interaction between her and Jesus at the well.  The exchange, as it is portrayed, is a rather argumentative one as the woman wants nothing to do with this Jewish stranger while Jesus wants nothing less than for her to see him for who he is and, thus, to be set free from her past and so live in the freedom of the children of God.  In the climax of the scene, she accuses the Jews of keeping God for themselves because they claim that worship can only be done in Jerusalem at the Temple (a place where Samaritans are forbidden to go).  Jesus speaks the famous line: “The hour is coming, and is now here, when true worshipers will worship the Father in Spirit and truth...”  He tells her that he has come to make it so that true believers won’t be limited by mountains and temples in their desire to worship, but rather will worship in the freedom of the spirit.  She is overjoyed by these words and, having come to believe that he is the Messiah because of how he revealed his knowledge of her heart to her, she runs off to tell whomever she can in the city.

In our present circumstances, I see that we, too, are being called to this kind of worship: that is, to discover (or re-discover) our capacity to worship God right from where we are; and to do so “in spirit and in truth”, which we are capable of doing because of the Holy Spirit who dwells in us who have been baptized.  In other words, while we cannot worship in our churches (as we’d prefer), we have not been prevented from worshiping God with our hearts and our voices.  When we sing hymns that we know or even just read the Psalms out loud, we praise God.  When we kneel in prayer from wherever we are, we praise God.  When we console and support one another, we praise God.  My friends, now is a time for each of us to worship God “in spirit and truth”.

In our Gospel reading today, Jesus declares those “blessed” who have not seen his resurrected body, but who yet believe that he is the Messiah, who died but now lives.  We who live today and who believe may count ourselves among the “blessed”.  More than that, we have been given a share in his Spirit which enables us to worship God from wherever we are “in spirit and truth”.  Let us be grateful for this gift.  And let us increase our trust that God is with us in this time of isolation, turning towards making our homes sacred places in which every day occurrences can become liturgies in which God is praised, thus opening ourselves to encountering our Lord in new ways.  Finally, let us commit ourselves to rejoicing, so that, as Saint Peter wrote, “the genuineness of our faith... may prove to be for praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ."  My brothers and sisters, Jesus Christ is alive and we have life in him.  Let us rejoice and be glad!

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

An encounter with mercy

"The Incredulity of Saint Thomas" by Caravaggio

Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Easter (Divine Mercy Sunday) – Cycle C

          Over the years as I have been striving to live this Christian life well I’ve found that I’ve come to appreciate more and more those persons that I’ve met or read about who have provided a “lived example” not only of achieving holiness in their lives but also of the struggle to arrive at faith and to maintain that faith throughout one’s life.  This is why I’m enjoying Pope Francis so much.  He has been providing us with a different perspective on the Christian life.  While Pope Benedict XVI invited us to know Christ in prayer, especially with the Scriptures, Pope Francis is inviting us to go out and find Christ in the poor, the marginalized, and the suffering.  With both of their lived examples, we are getting a fuller, more rounded, perspective of how to live the Christian life.

          This is why I also enjoy encountering persons like Saint Thomas in the Scriptures.  I think that it is easy for us to step back and say “Oh yeah, there’s that ‘Doubting Thomas’ again” and fall into the trap made by the Pharisee elsewhere in the Gospel who said: “I’m glad that I’m not like him, doubting the Lord’s Resurrection and all.”  It’s certainly easy for me to stand here and say, “Now don’t be ‘Doubting Thomases, but believe!” (and, if that’s all that I had to say, then I might as well just sit down, because you’ve heard all of that before).  I have a great sympathy, for Thomas, however, because there seems to be something going on with him that is deeper than just a stubborn resistance to believing that the Lord had risen.  I think that Thomas was really struggling with something deeper.

          For years, Thomas had been following Jesus closely.  He had gotten to know him and certainly he had bonded with him.  No one can be that close to Jesus—God… love incarnate—and not feel a sense of intimacy with him.  Thus, Thomas had made himself vulnerable both to him and for him: “Ok, Jesus, I believe that you are the Christ and so I am willing to proclaim this to others, even if that means that I will be ostracized and persecuted by family, friends and the people of my nation.”  Thomas was convinced that Jesus was the one for whom he had been waiting and he put all of his trust in him.  And so, when Jesus appeared to be defeated—when all seemed to be lost because Jesus had been put to death—that hurt Thomas deeply.  He loved Jesus—which was perhaps something difficult for him to admit—and Jesus seemingly let him down.  It wasn’t that he was resistant to believing, but rather that the wound was still fresh and demanded a personal encounter before it could begin to be healed.

          You know, I think that this is an experience that we see both in ourselves and in one another.  Not just the experience of being disappointed or let down by someone we’ve come to love and trust (though that experience is common enough), but also the experience of being disappointed and feeling let down by Jesus (or, at least, by his Church).  A few years ago, I shared a table at a wedding reception with a woman who had a lot of negative opinions of the Church.  I was still a seminarian at the time, and so the woman felt free to express her thoughts to me; and we had a lively, but respectful discussion.  I of course gave her (as best I could) all of the reasoned arguments about why the Church teaches this and why it can’t change that, but she didn’t seem to be buying much of it.  Finally, I realized that there was something else going on with her—that this wasn’t just a philosophical struggle with principles—and so I stopped and gently asked her: “You’ve been hurt by the Church, haven’t you?”  “Yes”, she replied.  She, like Thomas, wasn’t necessarily doubting Jesus, but she needed more than intellectual arguments and the testimony of witnesses to resolve the hurt that she was feeling inside of her.  She needed, rather, an encounter with the one who had hurt her, who had let her down, so as to reconcile that hurt before she could move forward.

          I would guess that many of us know somebody in a similar situation: somebody who has left the Church for reasons unbeknownst to us and who has strong feelings about why he or she refuses to return.  And I would guess that most of these persons have some sort of hurt or disappointment that they have experienced with the Church and that only a personal encounter with the one that has hurt them can resolve.

          In the Gospel today, Thomas receives that encounter.  Notice, however, that it wasn’t immediate.  Thomas had this news for a whole week before Christ would return to reveal himself to him.  And what a blessing it was that Christ gave him this chance to have that personal encounter that he needed to reconcile this hurt within him.  And what mercy Jesus showed him.  For he could have easily chided Thomas for his unbelief, but instead he tried to remove all barriers to his believing—to his reconciling himself to him: “Peace be with you… Come, touch my hands and put your finger into my side… do not be unbelieving, but believe.”

          My brothers and sisters, this is exactly the mercy that we commemorate today on Divine Mercy Sunday.  This is the eighth day of the Lord’s resurrection: the day when he mercifully appeared to Thomas so as to reconcile him to himself.  And so today we too are reminded that Christ offers us the same opportunity to encounter him and to reconcile our hurts with him.  He comes to us, immolated for us on this altar so as to say “Come, see my hands, touch my wounds—the wounds that I received for you—and do not be unbelieving, but believe.”  “Come,” in other words, “and be enfolded in my mercy.  I know that you’ve been hurt and I want you to be healed.  And so, whatever it is, just come.  Come and see my sorrow for your pain and let my mercy wash over you to bring you healing and peace.”

          And so, my brothers and sisters, how good it is that we are here to celebrate this great mercy.  May our hearts be open to his heart today so that we, too, may believe and, thus, may have life in his name: the life of the Resurrection… the life of mercy.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – April 28^th, 2019

Divine Mercy and the Birth of Christ

Homily: Christmas – Mass During the Day

          In April of 2015, I joined a group of pilgrims on a journey to the Holy Land.  I wasn’t leading the trip, like many priests do, but rather “tagged onto” a trip that another priest was leading; and this for a couple of reasons.  First, because I wanted my first trip to the Holy Land to be a “personal” pilgrimage, in which I could just focus on praying and engaging the pilgrimage on my own.  This, because my first trip may be my only one and I wanted to be sure that I didn’t get lost worrying about keeping a group together.  The second reason was to make a pilgrimage of thanksgiving for have been in remission from cancer for five years (at that point).  This, again, necessitated that I make a “personal” pilgrimage, instead of a pilgrimage in which I’m trying to lead a group.

          Nevertheless, on the pilgrimage, I couldn’t escape the fact that I am a priest on a pilgrimage with a group of lay persons and so, inevitably, I was asked to lead certain portions of the trip, like celebrating Mass on some of the days (which I was happy to do).  Since that pilgrimage, every time that Christmas rolls around, I’m reminded of that trip; and here’s why.

          As I said, the trip was in April.  In fact, the trip left the Wednesday after Easter, which meant that we were celebrating much of Easter week in the Holy Land.  It was awesome to be celebrating the Easter Solemnities in the land on which Jesus walked and which was the birthplace of the Church.  A certain set of circumstances, however, meant that we were presented with an interesting situation when the Second Sunday of Easter—Divine Mercy Sunday—rolled around.

          The day before—Easter Saturday—we attempted to visit the church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.  As it turned out, however, the Eastern Orthodox Christians weren’t celebrating Easter week that week, but rather Holy Week.  Thus, it was Holy Saturday according to the Orthodox calendar and the church of the Nativity was full of Christians preparing to celebrate the Easter Vigil.  This meant both that there was a long line of people waiting to descend the staircase to the crypt to visit the location of Christ’s birth and that access was about to be cut off since the Easter Vigil was soon to begin.  As it turns out, we didn’t get to make our visit that day.

The next day—again, the Second Sunday of Easter for us—another turn of events meant that our schedule for that day was upended.  Our very experienced tour guide decided to take the opportunity to take us back to the church of the Nativity so that we could make our visit.  In addition, he arranged it so that we could celebrate Mass there that day.  As it turns out, it was my turn to celebrate Mass and I was excited to be able to do so there.

One thing to note about celebrating Mass at these pilgrimage sites in the Holy Land is that, when you celebrate Mass at one of them, you celebrate a votive Mass for the events or persons honored at that place: including using any scripture readings that refer to that event or person as the readings for Mass.  Thus, at the church of the Nativity, we were handed scripture readings for the Mass of Christmas.  So, there we were, celebrating Divine Mercy Sunday, while hearing the readings we heard today, which proclaim Christ’s birth to us.

It was a striking contrast, but it immediately made sense to me: for we do our faith harm if we try to separate the birth of Jesus from the death and resurrection of Jesus; and we have to recognize that the mercy that we celebrate in Jesus’ death and resurrection was first made manifest to us in his birth as an infant in Bethlehem.  The message of Christmas is, therefore, one of mercy: God’s Divine Mercy made manifest to us.

Let’s pause and take a moment to think about mercy.  Although there are many ways that one could define mercy, I like to think of it in this way: that mercy is giving something to someone that he/she absolutely does not deserve.  To use perhaps a most common example: often when we forgive someone, we do so even though he/she doesn’t really deserve it.  He/she has hurt us in some way and the apology, though sincere, has not restored to us what has been lost and so he/she does not deserve our forgiveness.  Yet, we forgive: often, I guess, in the hope of restoring the peace and harmony in our lives that was lost by the offense.  Nonetheless, this is mercy: even if it doesn’t qualify as mercy in the grand sense that we may often think about it.  And so, in light of this, how is the birth of Jesus a manifestation of God’s mercy?

Let’s take a look at our Gospel reading.  There we find the prologue of John’s Gospel.  In it, he begins by speaking of Jesus’ “other”-ness: that is, that the Word of God, the Divine Logos, is not only separate and set apart from the world, but also completely above and before all creation.  Christ, the Second Person of the one God, existed before all things and needs nothing of creation to be complete in himself.  This Divine Word of God “became flesh and made his dwelling among us”.  Later in John’s Gospel we’ll hear the reason for this: “sic Deus dilexit mundum... for God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life”.

This, my friends, is the greatest act of mercy ever made.  We sinful humans could not be any more undeserving of God’s forgiveness, yet “the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us”.  As we celebrate the birth of our Savior today, let us remember and acknowledge God’s mercy: that we, completely undeserving of this gift, have nonetheless received it.  And let us give thanks, as we do here in this Eucharist today.  Then, as recipients of God’s unfathomable mercy, let us go forth from here to be generous distributors of God’s mercy to all those around us.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – December 25^th, 2018

Solemnity of the Nativity of Our Lord

Honoring the Divine Mercy

Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Easter (Divine Mercy Sunday) – Cycle B

          This weekend we celebrate the second Sunday of Easter, which is also the 8^th day of Easter, otherwise known as the octave day.  “Octave” day, because for each day during the last week, we have been celebrating as if it is still Easter Sunday.  Hopefully, the joy you felt last Sunday has stayed with you throughout this week and into today, because this is what the Church truly wishes for us.

          This 8^th day of Easter has, since the year 2000, been named “Divine Mercy Sunday”: primarily in response to the instruction given by Jesus in a series of visions to Divine Mercy Sister (now “Saint”) Faustina Kowalska, in which he asked that the 2^nd Sunday of Easter be dedicated to honoring the Divine Mercy.  That begs the question, of course: “What does it mean when we say that we are ‘honoring the Divine Mercy’?” as well as “What does that look like for us?”  Both our celebration and our scriptures today open for us both of these answers and so let’s take a look.

          First, let’s be sure that we understand why we honor the Divine Mercy on the 2^nd Sunday of Easter.  Last week, we celebrated the Resurrection of Jesus.  This event, in and of itself, is worthy of solemn celebration and honor: that Jesus, the 2^nd Person of the Divine Trinity of persons, took on human flesh, lived among us, suffered the full force of evil-induced pain that the world can offer, and overcame the world by rising from the dead—in the same body, yes, but a body that had been transformed to be the glorious image of humanity restored to its original splendor.

          This Sunday we celebrate an equally beautiful thing: that God’s power, as demonstrated when Christ rose from the dead, was not just for himself—that is, to demonstrate to us his power and so oblige us to worship him alone (although he would be in the right to do that)—but that his power was for us, too.  In other words, we celebrate God’s mercy: that, through baptism, we have participation in the Resurrection: participation in the splendor of Christ’s glorified humanity.  The fact that this celebration comes on the octave day of Easter reminds us that these two celebrations—the Resurrection of Jesus and our participation in it—form one complete celebration of Easter.

          Therefore, when we celebrate today, we are truly honoring the Divine Mercy in that we honor Christ, who paid the price of God’s justice so that we could receive forgiveness of our sins.  Notice that, although throughout the Gospels we hear that Jesus gave his disciples a share in his power to heal the sick and drive out demons, Jesus doesn’t give them the power to forgive sins until after his death and resurrection: indicating that, in some sense, this power couldn’t be transferred until the full debt for sin had been paid.  And so, again, in honoring Christ for his saving work we are truly honoring the Divine Mercy which brought it about.

          Now that we’ve seen what it means to honor the Divine Mercy, we can answer the question “What does honoring the Divine Mercy look like for us?”: that is, “How do I honor the Divine Mercy in my everyday life?”  Here we can look to the early Christian community.

          In our first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, we heard not about Jesus’ first disciples fearful and huddling in the upper room, but rather about the post-Pentecost community proclaiming Christ openly and growing day by day.  We heard how “The community of believers was of one heart and mind, and no one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they had everything in common.”  From a historical standpoint, this made sense: because the first Christians were convinced that Jesus was going to return in their lifetime and so began to dissociate themselves from the world so as to be ready for Christ when he came.  Now we today can look at this in one of two ways: we can say either “Look at how the first Christians lived!  That is how we should be living!” or we can say “That was how they were called to live at that time, but we aren’t called to live that way in this time.”  The problem with this is that neither of these two responses is completely right.  And so, I would like to propose a middle ground, one that demonstrates how we are to live today so as to honor the Divine Mercy.

          One of the things that I can see in that early Christian community is how aware they were of the Divine Mercy.  Astonished that this gift would be available to them, they quickly recognized that to have the Divine Mercy was more important than having anything in this world.  Thus, when the interpretation of Jesus’ prophecy was that he would return within their lifetime, they freely shared everything they had with the community because their possessions had become unimportant to them.  For them, what was most important was sharing this good news and living in immediate preparation for Christ’s return.

          We who have received this same astonishing gift must interpret the prophecy of Jesus’ return for our own times and respond accordingly.  First, however, we must recognize the Divine Mercy as the most valuable gift we could ever receive and, thus, prefer nothing in this world to it.  Then, like the first Christians, we must remain vigilant for Jesus’ return: for although he has not yet returned, nearly two thousand years after his resurrection and ascension into heaven, he may still choose our lifetime to return.  The way that we remain vigilant is by being detached from our worldly possessions: ready to share them with others when demanded of us; because, soon enough, we’ll take leave of them all anyway.

          Nonetheless, the Father’s plan may be for Jesus not to return for another two thousand (or more) years!  Therefore, like the first generations of Christians learned, we have to plan for our future so that, if necessary, we can continue to proclaim this good news until the day that Christ appears again in glory.  Finding the balance between the two is the work of our lives.

          To make this somewhat concrete for us, I’d like to use a very practical rule that saints throughout the centuries have used, and of which 20^th century U.S. Catholic Activist Dorothy Day gave simple form.  She said “If you have two coats, one of them belongs to the poor.”

          Friends, if we acknowledge the great gift that we have in the Divine Mercy—that is, the forgiveness of sins because Jesus paid the price for us—then we must honor the Divine Mercy by living mercy in our lives.  We do this when we lived detached from this world: providing for our needs, yes, but then sharing freely so that others may receive what they need.  And so today, as we bask in this celebration of God’s mercy, may the discipline of our Lenten fast, now ended, bring about a more concrete experience of God’s mercy for all—and, thus, his kingdom: the kingdom we experience most fully in this world, here in this Eucharist.

Given at all Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 8^th, 2018

The wounds that show us his mercy

Homily: Sunday in the Octave of Easter – Cycle A

(2^nd Sunday of Easter – Divine Mercy Sunday)

          One of the things that I’ve come to realize over the years is that boys are strange.  I have many reasons for drawing this conclusion, but one in particular stands out to me today.  It’s a behavior peculiar to boys in which they readily show and compare open wounds and / or scars to one another.  Am I right?  They do this especially when the story of how those wounds / scars were obtained is something of which they were particularly proud.  While most of us would look at one of their gaping wounds and feel disgusted, a boy would say “COOOL!!!!” while the boy with the wound recounted how he obtained that wound while attempting to leap between tree limbs, like the monkeys that he saw at the zoo on the school field trip.  His wound, far from being a thing of shame for having failed in his attempt to imitate a monkey, is displayed as if it is a badge of honor for having attempted something adventurous and having survived.  Yep, boys are strange.

          Today, in our Gospel reading, we recount that, when Jesus appeared to the Apostles on Easter, He showed them the wounds in His hands and His side.  Hearing this passage again, nearly two thousand years after it was written, the oddity of this situation may no longer strike us as odd: rather, we’ve become accustomed to the idea that Jesus’ risen body retained the wounds of his crucifixion.  Perhaps we even think of this showing of His wounds in terms of the young boys who show off their wounds like badges of honor.  For the disciples, however, this whole experience was odd, frightening, and shocking: not only to see the Lord risen from the dead, but risen with the gaping wounds still in his body.  I imagine that everyone who encountered Jesus after the Resurrection must have noticed that His glorified body retained these wounds of the Crucifixion; and the fact that the wounds, themselves, remained not as scars, but as torn flesh: flesh which Thomas’ fingers and hands could probe and examine.

          Imagine, for a moment, that we were hearing this news for the first time.  Wouldn’t we stop and ask ourselves, “Why is it that Jesus chose to retain the wounds of such a gruesome death, a death that His Resurrection had powerfully defeated?  Wounds, or even scars, are imperfections.  Why, then, do the marks of Jesus’ Passion remain in His perfect, glorified flesh when, just as easily, He could have chosen not to have them?”

          As in all things, when we look for the reasoning behind the actions of God, the best place to start is always with the answer: “He did this for me.”  Remember that God never needs to act to help Himself because God is perfect in Himself.  God is also love; and so all of His actions are acts of self-giving love which are directed towards our salvation.  With this in mind, therefore, we can assume that Jesus chose to keep the wounds of the Crucifixion in His glorified body for our benefit. “He did this for me.”  This, of course, begs the next question: “If Jesus did this for me, how am I helped by encountering the wounds of the Risen Jesus as His disciples did?”

          First, the wounds of Jesus are a proof of His identity.  When Our Lord showed his hands and side to the Apostles on Easter, they rejoiced because the wounds verified that the man in front of them was truly Jesus, the crucified One, who had been raised.  There’s a legend that says that the devil once tried to fool Saint Martin of Tours into worshiping him by appearing to him dressed in fine clothes and jewelry, and claiming to be Our Lord.  Martin, however, quickly spotted the devil’s trick and said: “Where are your nail marks?  Where is the wound in your side?  When I see the marks of the Passion then I will adore Him.”  Without the wounds of the crucifixion, Martin knew it was not Jesus.

          The wounds of the Risen Christ are more than just a means of identification, however. Rather, they are integral to who He is.  Jesus cannot be separated from His wounds, even in His glorified body, because His wounds continually show us that He is Our Savior.  The Risen Lord Jesus kept the marks of His sacrifice, which freed us from our sins.  He carried in His Resurrected flesh the marks that prove that He, too, knows our physical and emotional suffering intimately, and that, through His victory, our suffering may be transformed into a means of salvation for ourselves and others.  In other words, Jesus bears the wounds of His crucifixion in his glorified body to show us that he did not come to eliminate our woundedness, but rather to redeem it.  Finally, Jesus bears the wounds of the crucifixion in His glorified body for all eternity so that we may experience the power and depth of His merciful love for us when we meet Him in the flesh, just as Saint Mary Magdalene, Saint Thomas, Saint Peter, and Saint Paul did when they themselves encountered the Risen Lord: a power and depth that we can experience when we meditate on these wounds through which he saved us.

          Saint Faustina Kowalska, the Polish mystic to whom Jesus appeared and gave the task to spread devotion to Divine Mercy, wrote in her diary: “As I was praying before the Blessed Sacrament and greeting the five wounds of Jesus, at each salutation I felt a torrent of graces gushing into my soul, giving me a foretaste of heaven and absolute confidence in God's mercy.”  Friends, Jesus’ glorified body bears the wounds of the crucifixion so as to continually invite us to approach him so as to receive his mercy.  Thus, meditating on Jesus’ Sacred Wounds is a way to put us in contact with His merciful love.

          Still more, my brothers and sisters, Our Risen Lord appears to us at each Mass—body, blood, soul, and divinity— in Holy Communion: glorified wounds and all.  Although Saint Thomas could touch these wounds with his hands, we can experience them even more intimately by entering into them each time that we receive Holy Communion.  And so, as we prepare to receive Our Lord here today, let us meditate on this great mystery of the glorified wounds of Christ, so that we, too, might feel “a torrent of graces” rushing into us, and thus receive, like Saint Faustina, “a foretaste of heaven and absolute confidence in God’s mercy.”  Filled with this confidence we ourselves, wounds and all, will be strengthened to realize our vision of a Catholic Cass County, united in the Eucharist.

          May Mary, the First Disciple of Divine Mercy, be our guide and protection as today we rededicate ourselves to this joyful work.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 23^rd, 2017

A time of mercy

Homily: 24^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          Yesterday, I celebrated a wedding for a young couple from our parish.  On Friday evening the couple invited me to the dinner after the rehearsal.  After the dinner the groom’s father sat down next to me and wanted to talk.  He’s not Catholic and he recently had a similar conversation with his Lutheran pastor (whom he surmised was similar in age to me), and so he wanted to take the opportunity to get my opinion on the same question.

          It was a very earnest question: “Taking a look at everything that is going on in the world, is there any hope,” he asked, “or have we already lost the world?”  My first answer, of course, was “Yes, of course there is hope!  God hasn’t changed.  He is still the all-powerful Lord of the universe.  And nothing has changed about Jesus, his Son, who saved us from sin and death by his own death and resurrection.”  To this he nodded in agreement as if he already knew the answer.  Thus, it was the second part of that question to which he seemed to need an answer.  “Doesn’t it seem as if we have lost the world to the forces of darkness and evil?”  To this, I tried to be a little more nuanced.

          I wondered, perhaps, if he was worried about the final judgment and about being caught up in the final unleashing of God’s wrath on the human race because of its increasing disregard for his commandments.  I tried to assure him that his feelings were a sign that this is a time of action: a time when people of faith must be intentional about sharing the Good News of Jesus in both word and in action.  I assured him that now is a time of mercy, but only if we take action.

          It’s true, isn’t it, that God’s anger should be blazing against us because of rampant sin in our world, especially by those who call themselves “Christians”?  We’ve offended him, time and again.  But look around; it doesn’t seem like anything resembling God’s anger is working around us, does it?  Rather, what we’ve been given is a time of mercy, instead.  Our scriptures today reveal to us that this has been God’s pattern from the beginning.

          In the first reading, we hear about Moses, acting as a type of Christ, who intercedes before God on behalf of the Israelite people to turn away God’s anger from them.  The people have fashioned an idol which they have been worshiping: an offense so grave that God wants to put them to death immediately.  Moses, resisting the offer from God to have a nation of people made for himself, invokes the promises that God made to the people’s righteous forefathers, saying, in effect, “Although these people don’t deserve your mercy, please give it to them for the sake of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel.”  To this God relents and bestows his mercy on the people who deserved his righteous judgment.

          In the second reading, we heard Saint Paul who wrote of his gratitude that he had been “considered trustworthy” to be a minister of the Gospel.  He acknowledged that, because of his actions as a persecutor of Christians, he deserved the full wrath of God; but that he had been “mercifully treated” by God; and not for his benefit alone, but rather for the benefit of the Gospel: that, in treating Paul mercifully, God would prove that no sin is too big for his mercy.

          Then, in the Gospel, we heard three parables that Jesus used to illustrate how extensive God’s mercy is towards us.  In them, Jesus teaches us that God refuses to let us be lost.  The shepherd, who risks his own life (and the life of the ninety-nine sheep who didn’t stray) in order to find the one sheep who was lost, and the woman, who turns over her whole house to find the one coin even though she had nine others, are illustrations of how God doggedly pursues any of us who have turned away from him.  The father who daily waits with anxious anticipation for his prodigal son to return home, and who receives him with joy and celebration when he does, is an illustration of God’s “prodigal” willingness to ignore our past when we turn away from it and back towards him so that we might not be lost forever to darkness, but rather live forever with him in the light of grace.

          But it is not just the scriptures that confirm that this is a time of mercy from God.  Rather, there have been many events in the last century that demonstrate this as well.  The apparitions of Mary at Fatima in Portugal in which she called the world to repentance and acts of reparation for sins so as to avert tragedies that were to come.  The mystical revelations of Jesus to Sr. Faustina Kowalska in Poland in which he gave her the task to foster a renewed devotion to Divine Mercy.  The election of Pope John Paul II, which made it possible for St. Faustina’s message to be spread throughout the world.  And now, this Jubilee Year of Mercy, which calls us both to open ourselves to an experience of God’s mercy and to share God’s mercy with those around us.  All of these (and more) point to this time as being our chance (perhaps our last chance) to repent and to plead for God’s mercy before God’s final judgment takes place.

          The events of September 11th, 2001, which we also remember today, are a sign that the time of mercy is now: because when violence like this increases in our world, so the need to proclaim God’s mercy to the world increases as well.  As we remember these tragic events, let us not allow them to remain in the realm of lamentation.  Rather, let us use them to remind us of our need to act: first to convert ourselves so that we are not objects of the just judgment of God, and then to go out and to call others to conversion and thus transform the world.

          My brothers and sisters, our world has gone far astray from God, but it is never too late to return.  This is because God's mercies are not exhausted; rather, they are renewed every morning.  Particularly here, on this altar of sacrifice, God's mercies are renewed as Jesus becomes truly present to us.  With confidence, then, let us approach this throne of grace and receive God's mercy: Jesus, our Savior.  Then, let us go forth from here to be instruments of God's mercy, that the day of judgment might be a day of joy in which we all will be united with God our Father forever.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – September 11^th, 2016

Reflections on my Pilgrimage to Poland

         Although I didn't advertise it much, I recently made a pilgrimage to Poland with a small group of young adults from the Frassati Society of Young Adult Catholics.  I was the spiritual director for the trip which was based in Krakow, the same place where World Youth Day will be held later this month.  One week ago today we returned to the States.  With a week to recover from jet lag and to reflect on my experience, I thought I'd try to share some of the highlights with you who read my blog.

         First, I was very blessed to be the spiritual guide of a beautiful group of young women who impressed me with their enthusiasm, reverence, love for God and overall joie de vivre.  Although I joked about how difficult it would be for me, a man, to spend nine emotional days with nine women, I cannot help but sing their praises, as the strong witness to faith that they showed deeply bolstered my own.  (There were, of course, plenty of times that I wished there were guys on the trip, but the ladies truly gave me very little to complain about.)

Our pilgrim group after landing in Poland

         Next, my reflections.  As I've been reflecting on my experience, I found that there were so many things that impacted me.  I don't know that I can share them all, however, so I thought I'd try to boil them down into some highlights that might summarize my experience.

1. Saint John Paul II

Without doubt, the face that dominated this pilgrimage was the face of Saint John Paul II.  This makes sense, of course, since we were staying in Krakow, which many have called "the city of John Paul II".  As the first Polish Pope and a canonized saint, it's no wonder that his face dominated our journey.  The Polish people are rightly proud of their saintly son and it certainly showed in every place that we visited.

I myself had to admit that I didn't know St. JPII very well before setting off on this journey.  I knew of him and some of the highlights of his life, but I didn't really know him.  I got to know him both in preparation for this trip and during the trip in a very special way.  He was a very special man who suffered greatly in his life, but who God had obviously destined for great things and who, through faith, achieved them.  Somehow, through all of the darkness he experienced, he continued to live with positivity.  He believed, even through the darkness, that Jesus had overcome it and that all we had to do was to continue to live with this confidence and share it with others to see the victory of Christ realized.  He truly was, as his biographer George Weigel called him, a "Witness to Hope".

From the Saint John Paul II Shrine, just outside of Krakow

Now that I know him better, I feel and understand the powerful devotion that so many people have to him.  I will now look to him as both an example and an intercessor as I strive to become a pastor after the heart of the Good Shepherd.

2. Devotion to Mary

In an article that I read on the way back to the States, it said that St. JPII was greatly responsible for restoring devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary after it had become something "passe" after the Second Vatican Council.  Although I know that Vatican II never downplayed who Mary is and her role in the life of the Church, I read those words and felt a sense that there truly has been a loss of devotion to Mary in many parts of the Church.

This pilgrimage, however, awakened in me my own devotion to Mary.  Our Lady of Czestochowa is a national icon in Poland and I cannot think of one church in which this icon wasn't found.  Poles definitely see her as their mother and John Paul II was no exception.  After his mother died at a young age, his father took him into the parish church in Wadowice where they knelt before the miraculous image of Our Lady of Perpetual Help.  His father pointed to the image and said to young Karol, "She is your mother now." Praying before that very same image was powerful for me as I've had a particular devotion to Mary under the that same title.  Seeing that image along with visiting the shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa were powerful reminders to me both of Mary's maternal love for me and of her powerful presence in the Church.

Miraculous image of Our Lady of Perpetual Help in the Minor Basilica of the Presentation of Mary in Wadowice, Poland, the childhood home of Pope Saint John Paul II

If all this wasn't enough, there was a museum right next door to our hotel in which an exhibit featuring different images of Mary under the title "Mother of Mercy" was opening while we visited.  Mary was a big part of our pilgrimage experience.

3. Merciful Love

We, of course, are in the middle of the Jubilee Year of Mercy.  No pilgrimage to Poland would be complete without a visit to the Sanctuary of Divine Mercy, where Saint Faustina Kowalska received her mystical visions of Jesus who asked her to reignite devotion to his Divine Mercy in the world.  To prepare ourselves for our visit to this shrine, we completed Fr. Michael Gaitley's "33 Days to Merciful Love" as a preparation to consecrate ourselves to Jesus' merciful love.  God's providence could not have been better as our consecration day fell on a Friday, which was the solemnity of the Birth of St. John the Baptist, and in which we could pray the Chaplet of Divine Mercy with St. Faustina's sisters at the hour of mercy (3:00 p.m.) in the chapel in which St. Faustina is buried!  The day was overflowing with God's mercy as we (unintentionally) received Benediction from the Blessed Sacrament THREE TIMES that day: once after praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet and then, after returning to Krakow, two more times in two different churches that we visited!

Image of Divine Mercy in the Lower Church of the Sanctuary where we made our consecration to Merciful Love.

Convent and chapel where St. Faustina is buried.

Our hearts were definitely full of God's Mercy on this day and since then.  This is the time of Mercy and I myself know that it is now my task to share both what I've received (an outpouring of God's Mercy) and this devotion with everyone I encounter.

          Wrapping up this reflection, all I can say is how grateful I am to have been invited to be a part of this trip.  The Frassati Society was a big part of what re-integrated me into the Church and led to my discerning a vocation to the priesthood.  Being up in Logansport, I've felt somewhat separated from that group and so being able to be a part of this pilgrimage was a great gift to me.  That, coupled with the chance to celebrate Mass in these holy places did this priest's heart much good.

         My brothers and sisters, this is the time of Mercy!  We must proclaim it from the rooftops that darkness is not the end, but rather that God's goodness and mercy overcomes all.  May Mary, the Mother of Mercy, keep us in her heart and the heart of her Son, Jesus, so that we might have the courage live this message in our lives.

Verso l'alto!

Face to face with Divine Mercy

Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Easter (Divine Mercy Sunday) – Cycle C

          On April 30^th of the year 2000, two important things happened that have directly affected our celebration today.  First, Pope John Paul II canonized Sr. Maria Faustina Kowalska, a Polish nun who was blessed to have received revelations from Jesus asking her to spread devotion to Divine Mercy.  Second, Pope John Paul II declared that the second Sunday of Easter would be known from now on as “Divine Mercy Sunday”.  The first was important as an authentication of the revelations made to Sr. Faustina, thus making it possible to promote devotion to Divine Mercy throughout the whole world.  The second was important as it fulfilled one of the requests that Jesus made to Sr. Faustina: that is, that the entire Church reserve the second Sunday of Easter to honor and commemorate God’s infinite mercy.  And so, today, it is appropriate that we spend some time in this Mass reflecting on God’s mercy.

          In the Scriptures, we see God’s mercy on display.  In the Gospel, we rewind back to Easter Sunday, where the disciples of Jesus had gathered together and did not yet know of Jesus’ resurrection.  The risen Jesus then appears before them, even though the doors to the place were locked—which was a display of great and fearful power—and what does he say to them?  Does he say, “How could you?  You all abandoned me in my hour of need!  Then, you huddle away in fear as if I never told you that this is how it had to be!  It’s like you weren’t even listening!”  No, he doesn’t say that, does he?  What does he say?  He says, “Peace be with you” and he makes himself available to them: showing them his hands and his feet so that they will know it’s him in the flesh and not a ghost.  He didn’t chastise them; rather, he had mercy on them, even though they had abandoned him.

          Not only that, but Jesus’ next move is to give them a commission to go and share this joyful message with others.  Notice that this commission, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you”, has no limits on it.  Thus Jesus is extending his mercy even to those who put him to death as he sends his disciples to proclaim that he is risen and that redemption can be enjoyed by all who put their faith in him.

          To be sure that there is no doubt about whether or not a person has received God’s mercy, Jesus does something even more incredible: he gives his disciples the authority to forgive sins.  Therefore, whenever they encounter anyone, they don’t have to rely on a vague “I’m sure that God forgives you”, but rather they can boldly proclaim “I know that God forgives you, because I have been given the authority to proclaim his forgiveness, and I proclaim it”.  This, of course, is the institution of the Sacrament of Reconciliation: the sacrament of God’s mercy extended to sinners.

          Yet, there comes a moment of drama in today’s reading, doesn’t there?  Thomas, one of Jesus’ twelve closest disciples, wasn’t with them when Jesus appeared to them on that first Easter evening.  When he returns to them and they tell him that they had seen Jesus alive, Thomas denies it.  He is so hurt by the seeming defeat of Jesus—the one who he thought would be his new king—that he will not accept the testimony of others, but instead insists on a face-to-face reconciliation with him.

          For a whole week Thomas broods over the fact that Jesus allegedly appeared to the other disciples without him being present until the following Sunday when, present this time with the other disciples, Thomas, too, sees the risen Lord.  Again, mercifully, Jesus does not condemn Thomas, but rather he invites him close.  In a way, Jesus is saying to him, “Do not let your hurt get in the way of placing your faith in me.  Come, touch the nail marks and my open side and know that it is me, alive even after death!”  Thomas, having come face to face with the man who was dead, but now lives, confesses the truth that his heart probably knew all along: “My Lord and my God!”

          This, my brothers and sisters, is the unbounded nature of God’s mercy: not just that he would forgive us our sins, but rather that he would come close to us, never allowing us to stay far from him, but rather pursuing us because he desires so much that we would be reconciled to him.  And do you think that it was an accident that Jesus appeared to the disciples when Thomas wasn’t with them on Easter Sunday?  Of course not!  In doing so, Jesus wanted to prove to us that, even in our doubt, he would not abandon us.  Thus, he allows Thomas to miss his first appearance so that he might show us all that doubt—even if it is significant!—is not enough to scare him away or offend him.  Rather, he comes to us again… and again… and again, if necessary until we allow his tender gaze to fall upon us and so confess our faith in him.

          Each of us, I’m sure, has experienced the anxieties, frustrations, and doubts that Thomas experienced when he watched his Lord suffer and die.  I suspect that it is safe to say that each of us, like Thomas, has resisted believing that God really has overcome what seemed to be our defeat.  What this Gospel reading today does for us—and what our commemoration of Divine Mercy today does for us—is remind us that God never abandons us in our anxieties, frustrations, and doubts, but that he comes back to us, ever ready to meet us, hands exposed and saying “Peace be with you.”  It is peace that he offers us, the peace of believing that God’s goodness can never be exhausted and that no darkness in the world can ever extinguish his light: the very light that broke through the darkness of death so that we might experience eternal life.

          Each Sunday, my brothers and sisters, when we approach Holy Communion, we come face-to-face once again with God’s mercy.  Today, on the day in which we particularly celebrate the Divine Mercy, let’s open our hearts to allow Jesus’ words to be spoken into our lives once again: “Peace be with you.”  And then, as our “Amen” proclaims the words of St. Thomas—“My Lord and my God!”—let us also speak the words that Jesus taught St. Maria Faustina to say when she was face-to-face with his mercy: “Jesus, I trust in you.”  With these words in our hearts, we will then be ready to go forth from here to be the face of God’s mercy to others so that they, too, might proclaim the most important truth of them all: that Jesus, the Son of God, the crucified one, is alive… that he is truly risen!

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 3^rd, 2016

Notice:

            In September of 2009 I was diagnosed with Stage 4, Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma.  In the spring of 2010, I completed the full cycles of chemotherapy and the cancer was officially declared to be in remission.  Many experts say that after five years without a recurrence one is considered to be “cured”.  In January of this year I was scanned once again and the cancer remains in remission.  Praised be God!  Anticipating this last fall, I decided that I would make a pilgrimage to offer thanks to God for his mercy.  On April 8^th, I left for the Holy Land to make this pilgrimage.  How appropriate that I will be there on Divine Mercy Sunday, when we celebrate God’s saving mercy that has come to us through the death and resurrection of His Son, Jesus Christ Our Lord.  There I will walk in the land where Our Savior walked and pray in the holy places, offering thanksgiving to God, especially through the Eucharist.  I will remember all of you there.  Please pray with me during this time as I invoke the maternal protection of Mary, Our Lady of Perpetual Help, for my journey.

O Mother of Perpetual Help,

I invoke your powerful name

which is the safeguard of the living

and the salvation of the dying.

O purest and sweetest Mary,

hear me when I call upon you

for help in all my physical

and spiritual needs.

I offer myself into your hands.

Hold me close to your heart

as you held your Son Jesus,

and ask the angels, Michael and Gabriel

to keep watch over me always

in times of trouble and temptation.

Amen.

I look forward to being with you all again after my return on April 18^th.  Pax.

God's mercy continues to come to us

          What a great weekend for me!  Friday night with the Knights of Columbus to open up their State Convention in Indianapolis, then Saturday morning concelebrating the Mass of First Holy Communion with my godson Isaiah, then today celebrating our two new pope saints, Saint John XXIII and Saint John Paul II the Great (#2popesaints) with a Holy Hour before the Blessed Sacrament and praying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy!

God's mercy is truly infinite!  Alleluia!  He is Risen!

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Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Easter – Cycle A

          Back when I was a deacon, I spent the summer getting pastoral experience in Anderson.  One of the things that I did while I was there was to try and get the young adult Catholics to connect with one another.  And so I organized a weekly gathering - much like the Theology on Tap events here - to discuss a topic of faith or an issue that is important in their lives.

          I had met Jennifer a few weeks before as she and her parents were walking out of mass.  She was a college student home for the summer and so I invited her to come to our weekly meetings.  She didn't come the first week, but the second or third she did.  I think that night I presented a little thing on the saints and devotion to them, but then opened the table up to any other questions or discussion that the folks wanted to have.  After a little bit of general conversation I heard Rebecca (the youth and young adult minister at the time) say, "I think that would be an excellent question for the Deacon!"

          "Ok," I thought, "I guess that means that I'm on."  Jennifer, a little bit shy to ask, said "but what if you struggle to believe that the Eucharist is really the body and blood of Jesus?"  Now, I've heard this question asked before, but never in a direct way to me.  In other words, I've always heard it in terms of someone else saying to me "well, I was talking to this person and they said that they don't believe in the Real Presence, but I wasn't sure what to tell them."  Now I was that person receiving the challenge to explain/defend this belief.

          At first, I tried to explain it reasonably.  I explained how the Scriptures record Jesus giving his disciples not only the instruction to eat his flesh and drink his blood, but also the manner in which we would do just that when he said "this is my body" and "this is my blood".  And I explained how our reasoning can only take us so far and that eventually we need to make a step in the dark to get to the place of complete faith (making the proverbial "leap of faith").  But then it struck me that this was not enough; and I believe, then, that the Holy Spirit inspired me with another idea.

          "Bottom line, Jennifer," I said to her, "is that Jesus wants you to know the truth about all of this.  He loves you and and he doesn't want you to be in the dark about it.  So go to him in prayer and ask him with a sincere heart to reveal to you the truth about the Eucharist: ask him, 'If it truly is your Body and Blood, then help me to know that.  If it isn't, then help me to know that, too.'  I promise you," I said to her, "Jesus will not fail to answer that prayer."  I know that must have been inspired, because it was something that she took to heart and she agreed to give it a try.

          I didn't hear anything more about this from her until a few weeks later when we were at the annual Frassati Society Young Adult Conference.  On Saturday morning, after the morning Mass, Jennifer came up to me and said, "I got it!"  "Got what?" I was thinking.  "It happened at Mass," she said.  "I had been praying, like you suggested, and today, when the priest raised up the host during the consecration, I looked up and suddenly I knew in my heart that it was Jesus really present there!"  Now in my head my first thought was, "Holy cow, that really worked!" But in the moment I, of course, praised God and shared in her joy with her.

          Now, I share this story with you today because today, the Octave Day of Easter, is also celebrated as Divine Mercy Sunday, and I think that this story is a great example of how God continues to meet us in his Mercy.  Just as Jesus returned to appear to the disciples locked in the upper room so as to dispel the doubts of Thomas, Jesus also mercifully made himself known to Jennifer, a disciple with doubts, so as to dispel her unbelief.

          This story is also a great example of the continuing power of personal witness and support that the Christian community must provide to bring others to faith.  In the account from the Acts of the Apostles, we read how the first community of believers met daily for prayer and the breaking of the bread and that they enjoyed favor among all the people; and that, through this witness, every day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.  As a small community of believers (young adults), we gathered to break bread together and by our sharing in sincerity the truth of God's mercy, Jennifer came to a personal encounter with it when the Lord revealed himself to her in the Eucharist.

          Further still, this story is an example of the living presence of Jesus Christ in our midst.  Such an experience of the Risen Christ would not have been possible for Thomas had Jesus not risen from the dead.  Neither would such a convicted experience of the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist have been possible for Jennifer without the Resurrection.  The passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the Son of God, is the fullest measure of God's mercy poured out for us and is the central tenet of our faith.  So powerful is it that we celebrate it for eight days straight.

          My brothers and sisters, everything that we do as Church must be centered around this truth and the joy that comes from it: that we have been saved from eternal death by the death and rising from the dead of the Son of God, Jesus our Lord.  For through him, in God's mercy, we have been "given a new birth to a living hope..." A hope we must share with others so that "every day the Lord will add to our number those who are being saved."

          In this weekend that we are also celebrating the historic "weekend of four popes" as it is being called (for we have Pope Francis, Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, and the canonization of the Popes John XXIII and John Paul II), I think that it is fitting that we also recall what Pope Francis has taken for his papal motto "miserando atque eligendo" - "looking with mercy on him, he chose him."  My brothers and sisters, it was in mercy that we were chosen to be born again into this living hope of the Risen Jesus Christ and it is in mercy that we are given the grace of faith.  Let us not fail to live that faith "with exultation and sincerity of heart," like the first Christians, so that all may find the joy of God's mercy in the waters of baptism and in the blood poured out from this table: the very water and blood that flowed out from Jesus' side on the cross - the living fount of mercy poured out for us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 26^th & 27^th, 2014