Healed so as to serve

Saint Josephine Bakhita: Feast Day February 8

Homily: 5^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          Saint Josephine Bakhita was born in the Darfur region of South Sudan in 1869.  When she was seven years old, she was kidnapped and sold into slavery.  In the ensuing years, she was sold and resold to different slave owners, suffering physical and psychological abuse everywhere she went.  Bakhita was the name given to her by her first slave owner.  The abuse she received over the years traumatized her so much that she actually forgot the name that her parents had given her.  Finally, she ended up in the hands of an Italian ambassador, Callisto Legnani.  With this family, however, there was no abuse and Bakhita’s long journey of healing could begin.

          Because of political tensions in Sudan, ambassador Legnani had to leave Africa to return to Italy and, per Bakhita’s request, he brought her along with his family.  Upon returning to Italy, the Michieli family, who were friends of the Legnanis, requested that Bakhita stay with them.  Mr. Legnani agreed and when the Michielis gave birth to a daughter, Bakhita became her babysitter and friend.  When the Michielis were forced to move back to Africa for business, Bakhita and their daughter were entrusted to the Canossian Sisters of the Institute of Catechumens in Venice.  It was there that Bakhita would come to know God.

          After several months of prayer and study in the catechumenate, Bakhita received the Sacraments of Initiation, taking the name Josephine.  Not long after, the Michielis returned, having established their business back in Africa, to take their daughter and Josephine to be with them.  Josephine refused to go back to Africa, however, requesting to stay with the Canossian Sisters, instead.  Because Italian law had abolished slavery, the Michielis could not force her to go and thus she was granted her wish.

          Josephine stayed with the sisters; eventually following the call to enter religious life herself.  Six years after she was baptized she made her solemn profession as a Canossian Sister.  For the next fifty years, she humbly and dutifully served her fellow sisters and those with whom she came in contact through the sisters’ apostolate.  All who knew her knew the joy that radiated from her in every encounter.  She was known to say “Be good, love the Lord, and pray for those who do not know him. What a great grace it is to know God!”  In her, we today find the inspiring story of a woman set free from oppression and slavery through Christian action who then turned to offer herself completely in service to God.

          In our Gospel reading today, we hear a story with a similar outcome.  Having taught in the synagogue in Capernaum (where he freed a man from an “unclean spirit”), Jesus returned to the house of Simon and Andrew.  Simon’s mother-in-law lay seriously ill with a fever.  When they told Jesus about her, he went to her and healed her.  Then the Gospel says that “she waited on them.”  Viewed in the light of St. Josephine’s story, we can make these correlations: Simon’s mother-in-law was “enslaved” by an illness; Jesus’ disciples, having seen him cast out the unclean spirit just hours before, “immediately” tell him about her; Jesus approaches her and sets her free; and she, in her freedom, then chooses to serve.  In other words, set free by Jesus whom they encountered through the actions of his disciples, these women then freely chose to subject themselves in service to others.

          Although slavery is almost universally abolished, millions of men and women throughout the world still suffer from it.  Every day men and women are forced into oppressive work or, worse yet, are bought and sold as sex slaves to feed humankind’s exponentially growing lust.  In our own state, and even in our own county, addiction to alcohol, heroin, and prescription pain killers has enslaved many of our own family members and friends.  For many of these persons, life looks a lot like Job describes in our First Reading today: a drudgery, with days like those of hard labor with no relief in sight, and in which hope of ever experiencing happiness again has disappeared.

          Therefore, more than ever, these men and women need help to be set free.  As Christians, our first recourse is always to prayer, in which we beg the Lord Jesus to come to them, to help them up, and set them free.  Our work never ends there, however; for then we must act in the world and draw close to them, like Saint Paul did, making himself a “slave to all”—that is, becoming “all things to all”—so that, through our Christian action, these brothers and sisters of ours might actually be set free.

          Set free, therefore, by our prayer and our action, these men and women can then choose to serve, like Simon’s mother-in-law did and like Saint Josephine did: for having been loved, most people will choose then to return love through service to others, because Jesus assures us that “there is no greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

          My brothers and sisters, as a people set free by the love of Christ, who came close to us when he became one of us, and who remains close to us, especially here in this Eucharist, we must act to be his hands and his feet that draw close, in prayer and in action, to those still enslaved, so that they, too, might be set free and thus “know the freedom of the sons [and daughters] of God.”  Even as Saint Paul gave himself over freely (and free of charge) for the sake of the gospel, so that he might have a share in the blessings that come from it, so too we must bring this good news to those who are enslaved in our day; for we will only share in its blessings in proportion to the measure in which we have shared it with others.

          Therefore, my brothers and sisters, let us act so as to see the power of the Lord Jesus manifest: both throughout the world and right here in Cass County.  For when we do, we will begin to share in the blessings of the good news and, thus, when we return to this place, we will be inspired to sing, like the Psalmist in today’s Responsorial Psalm, “Praise the Lord, who heals the brokenhearted.”

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February 4^th, 2018

Conversion to a life of thankfulness

Homily: 28^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          There’s one of those “make you think” quotes that runs around on the internet and in social media and which lands in front of me every once in a while.  It asks a very important question that is intended to inspire you to change your attitude for the better.  It asks this: “What if you woke up tomorrow with only the things that you were thankful for today?”  (REPEAT)

          Anyone who has lost a loved one suddenly to an accident or a sudden illness can probably tell you of the regret they sometimes feel that they didn’t appreciate more the time that they had with that person.  When a fire destroys a family’s house and all their personal possessions, they too start to realize what a gift it was to have what they had, even though they weren’t always very thankful for it.  None of us, if we are paying attention to the news, can imagine what it must be like for the people of southwestern Haiti as entire villages and towns and hundreds of lives were swept away by Hurricane Matthew.  In their grief is an inherent acknowledgement that all that they had and have now lost was a gift; and they are thankful for the very fact that they are still alive.

          The question, therefore, is inviting us to realize the truth that anyone who has experienced any of these things can tell us is true: that it is better to appreciate the things that you have, while you have them, because tomorrow they could all be taken away from you.

          Our scriptures today speak of the type of conversion to thankfulness that this internet question seeks to inspire.  Naaman, a high-ranking Syrian official (and, thus, who wasn’t a member of the Israelite people) has been afflicted with a type of skin disease that people in the Ancient Near East simply referred to as “leprosy”.  This was devastating to him as this meant that he would be ostracized from public society for fear of infecting others.  At the prompting of a young Jewish servant, Naaman seeks out the prophet Elisha, hoping to find a cure.

          Elisha instructs Naaman to wash seven times in the Jordan River.  Naaman resists, at first, thinking that if all he had to do was wash seven times in a river, that he could have done that from home.  Encouraged by his companions, however, Naaman agrees to Elisha’s plan: accepting that there is something special about washing in the Jordon River, specifically.

          Today we heard that Naaman, after washing in the Jordon, which cleansed him of his leprosy, returned to offer Elisha a gift of thanksgiving.  Naaman was a high-ranking official in another nation and in the culture of that time was not required to return and offer the prophet anything.  Because he had seemingly lost everything, however, he was much keener to be thankful for having something that was very important to him restored to him.  And when Elisha declined his generous gift, Naaman asked if he could take two big piles of dirt back with him to Syria so that he could offer continual thanks to Yahweh, the God of Israel, on the very same ground on which he first encountered him.  Having been saved from losing nearly everything, Naaman converted his life to thankfulness.

          In the Gospel, ten men who had been afflicted with leprosy cry out to Jesus to ask for healing.  Similar to Elisha, Jesus instructs them to do something very simple: “go show yourselves to the priests”.  In faith, they respond and, as they go to show themselves to the priests, they find that they have been healed.  Certainly every one of them was appreciative of the fact that their health had been restored to them.  Only one, however, returned to give thanks.  This one, a Samaritan (who were despised by the Jews because they were “half-breeds” of both Jewish and non-Jewish ancestry), recognized the great gift that he had received and returned to give thanks to the giver of the gift.  Acknowledging that he had been saved through no effort of his own, he converted his life to thankfulness.

          When we recognize something that we have as being a gift—that is, as something that we didn’t earn and were incapable of earning—then we are much more apt to be thankful for it.  When we’ve worked for something and have achieved or acquired it, we tend to look at it as our just due.  Thus, although we certainly enjoy what we have earned, we are much less likely to be grateful for having it.  When we lose such a thing, we tend to be angry, as if a great injustice has been committed against us.  In other words, our reaction is not a residual thankfulness for having been able to enjoy whatever it was, but rather anger bred from a greediness that only desires to enjoy it more.  Now, while we should never be content with injustice, conversion to a life of thankfulness means that, even when we’ve lost something unjustly, we acknowledge the gift that it was to have had it and so give thanks.

          As your pastor I feel like it is my duty to remind you of the reason that we come here week after week.  Many Catholics, I fear, would limit their reasoning for coming to Mass to a sense of duty: to fulfill their “Sunday Obligation”.  This, although noble in itself, is limited and, frankly, unsatisfying.  My reminder to you is that we don’t come here to celebrate the “Holy Satisfaction of our Obligation”, but rather we come here to celebrate the “Holy Eucharist”—that is, the Holy Thanksgiving.  In other words, we come here not to try to satisfy a vengeful God so that he won’t strike us down, but rather to offer him the ultimate sacrifice of thanksgiving for all of the blessings of life (including the blessing of life) that we have enjoyed in the past week.  In it we receive many things, of course, but the core reason we come is to offer God worship and praise in thanksgiving of all of the abundant gifts that he bestows upon us.

          And so, the question comes to us again: “What if you woke up tomorrow with only the things that you were thankful for today?”  My brothers and sisters, if you are worried that right now you wouldn’t wake up with much, then today is the day to take action.  Starting today, if we aren’t already doing it, let us commit ourselves to taking time to give thanks for every good thing that we’ve received in the world.  Then, each week, as we return here to give thanks to God for all of these gifts, we’ll be ready to drop in the collection basket all of the blessings (and even the struggles) for which we are thankful so as to unite them to the sacrifice of thanksgiving that we offer on the altar: the perfect sacrifice of Jesus that won for us the greatest gift ever, our salvation and the gift of eternal life.  In doing so, we will not only find greater satisfaction and joy in our lives, but we will also prepare ourselves for the fullness of joy that awaits us in heaven.  May God’s grace strengthen us as we commend ourselves to this good work.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – October 8^th & 9^th, 2016

The grace to give thanks

          Thanksgiving is still more than a month away, but can we get on board with the idea of giving thanks everyday?  Here's to hoping that we can...

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Homily: 28^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          Not long before I entered the seminary, just a few months before I would leave my job as an engineer, I was on a business trip in south Texas.  At that time, I was in the throes of discerning how God was leading me to follow his call to be a priest and so I was praying and fasting a lot, asking mostly that I would be humble enough to know what God was asking me to do and to be courageous enough to do it.  It happened to be the middle of March and I was about a thirty minute drive from South Padre Island, where hundreds of thousands of college students were celebrating their Spring Break.

          I was there over a weekend and didn’t have to work on Sunday, so I decided to head over to South Padre  to spend some time relaxing on the beach.  Now, before any of you get the idea that I was going there to party, remember that I had already discerned that God was calling me to be a priest and that I was trying to discern how he was leading me to follow that call.  Thus, I went with the idea that I might evangelize some of the Spring Breakers, not party with them.

          When I got to the beach, however, I quickly understood why Jesus sent his disciples out two-by-two.  Although the beach wasn’t crowded, I quickly felt overwhelmed by the task and, with no one to support me, I gave in to the idea that my impact on the beach that day would be minimal, at best.  And so, armed as I was with some pamphlets that invite people to consider God’s great love for them, I decided to enjoy the beach and pray, hoping that God would send someone my way who needed to be touched by his love.

          Not long after I took my bible out of my backpack and began to pray, I was approached by two men looking for some money for food.  One of them, the man who addressed me, was obviously inebriated.  As has become almost instinctual for us these days, I immediately said to myself “I’m not going to give him money, he’ll just spend it on alcohol.”  Even still, I did see this as an opportunity to share one of my pamphlets with someone and to pray with them, and so I offered this to them instead.  The inebriated man declined my offer, however, and the two of them moved on.

          As they walked away, I was immediately convicted that I should have offered them more.  “I should have offered to take them somewhere to eat”, I thought to myself.  Thus convicted, I sat back down and promised God with all sincerity in my heart that if I saw them again that day that I would offer to take them somewhere to eat.

          I spent a little longer on the beach praying and enjoying being near the water and then got up to return to my car.  As I was leaving the beach and heading towards the parking lot, there were these two men sitting on a bench.  When I recognized them I immediately thought “Thank you God for giving me a chance to make good on my promise.”  I walked towards them and asked them if they were still hungry.  They, of course, replied “yes” and I invited them to go get some food.

          The second man, who said nothing to me the first time we met, asked why it was that I had changed my mind.  When I explained how I felt after they left and the promise I made to God, he began to cry.  He explained that this was not the first time that God had intervened to help him.  He began to thank me profusely, even to the point of asking me not to do this kind gesture for him, so deeply he felt undeserving of my kindness.  The other man, it seemed, thanked me as a formality and was soon focused on getting back to the beach, perhaps to continue begging for money.  His companion, however, continued to thank me and asked if I would pray for him, which I did right there, and then they went on their way.

          These men were of obviously different ethnic backgrounds and the thankful man was definitely of a minority ethnic group.  I imagine that, coupled with being impoverished and needing to beg for food meant that he often felt ignored and unacknowledged.  Yet that day, by the grace of God, I saw him, acknowledged his need (both material and spiritual), and tried to meet it.  Perhaps that was the first time in a really long time that he felt acknowledged and for that he was moved to gratitude.

          In the Gospel reading today, ten lepers cry out to Jesus asking him for mercy.  They all had faith in Jesus’ power to heal, which moved them to cry out.  All of them responded to that faith by immediately following Jesus’ instructions, even though they weren’t immediately healed.  Yet only one returned to give thanks to the one through whom the healing had come.  That one was a Samaritan: a person of an ethnicity that was looked down upon by Jews.  He was not used to being acknowledged, but that day Jesus saw him and acknowledged his need (both physical and spiritual) and he met it.  And for that he was moved to gratitude.

          The question for us, my brothers and sisters, is not whether or not we can see and respond to the beggars and the lepers in our midst like Jesus did (although we are called to do that, of course).  Rather, the question for us is whether or not we can recognize that we ourselves are beggars and lepers in need of God’s mercy.  What would it be like if we wore our sin on our skin, like a leprosy that we couldn’t hide from anyone?  Would we, then, know rejection like the lepers did?  And do you think that Jesus would still acknowledge us?

          The truth, my brothers and sisters, is that when Jesus looks at us he sees our sin as clearly as if it were a skin disease.  Even so, he still acknowledges us when we call out to him for mercy.  He does not pass us by.  Rather, he says to us, “Go show yourselves to the priest.”  And what else can that mean except “Go to Confession.”  And in following his command we realize that we have already been forgiven; we have already been healed.  And thus who wouldn’t want to return to give thanks to the one who looked so lovingly on us, even in the ugliness of our sin?  Yes, the one who is truly grateful for having been seen by him returns, glorifying God for his mercy and giving thanks.  And how do we do that?  Well, we do that every time that we return here to celebrate this Holy Eucharist with joy and gratitude in our hearts.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – October 12^th & 13^th, 2013