Faith is the power to stand up for life

          I am indebted to the USCCB Respect Life committee for their excellent scriptural reflection for Respect Life Sunday.  I have only slightly edited their words to make it flow as a homily.  It otherwise expresses deftly and plainly the reality we face as a pro-life people and the gifts of faith and hope that we need to persevere in proclaiming the Gospel of Life.

Homily: 27^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

Brothers and sisters, in the first reading today we hear the voice of the prophet Habakkuk crying out to God in anguish: “How long, O Lord? I cry for help but you do not listen!”  How often do we feel that God does not hear our pleas for help?  How often do we fear that our prayers will not be answered in the manner that we desire?  The voice again cries out: “I cry out to you, ‘Violence!’ but you do not intervene. Why do you let me see ruin; why must I look at misery? Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and clamorous discord.”

I imagine that each of us can relate all-too-well to this feeling today.  When we watch the news or scroll through social media, we are inundated by stories of violence against human life.  The tone of public debate and discourse disrespects the dignity of the human person.  We can often feel that misery surrounds us as abortion, assisted suicide, the death penalty, and other affronts to the dignity of the person find wide public support.

But God, as he responded to Habakkuk, responds to us with a message of hope.  We are assured that the Lord, “will not disappoint.”  And that, “the just one, because of his faith, shall live.”  While God does not promise to answer our prayers on our schedule or according to our plans, we know that He does not abandon us.  While suffering is indeed a part of our earthly life, nonetheless our destiny is to share eternal life with Christ, and this reading reminds us of this today.

In his encyclical letter Evangelium Vitae (which translates to “The Gospel of Life”), Pope Saint John Paul II wrote that, “the Gospel of life is not for believers alone: it is for everyone.”  Although faith allows us to more deeply understand the sacred value of human life, the light of reason naturally endows the human conscience with the ability to recognize the dignity of each and every person, and so why does it seem that so many are ignorant of this truth?

In the responsorial psalm, we replied: “If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.”  It seems that many in our world have indeed hardened their hearts to the truth.  They are unable to see the humanity of the child growing in his/her mother’s womb.  They incorrectly believe that a person’s value is determined by his/her abilities (or by a potential to avoid suffering in this world).  They fail to comprehend that one’s worth is not dependent on one’s age or circumstance.  And perhaps, if we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll see that we’ve allowed our own hearts to be hardened to the attacks against human life.  Maybe we’ve allowed the pain of loss to make our hearts numb, too.

Therefore, in a world that seems to have lost sight of the value of human life, we must pray that those whose hearts have been hardened would hear the voice of God and come to see the invaluable dignity of every person they meet.  And we must pray that our own hearts would be pierced by the suffering of the most vulnerable among us. ///

Because the world in which we live is so often hostile to the Truth, proclaiming the Gospel of Life can be difficult.  In many arenas, defense of infants’ lives, the lives of those disabled or dying, or the lives of any vulnerable human population is met with resistance.  Proclaiming the Church’s teaching on topics like abortion, assisted suicide, and the death penalty can provoke challenging and emotional responses from those who disagree.  Sometimes we may find ourselves afraid to speak up about these issues in our families, among our coworkers, or with students in our school community.  We may fear disagreement, judgement, confrontation, or misunderstanding.  But in the second reading, Saint Paul tells us that, “God did not give us a spirit of cowardice.”  Rather, God has given us a spirit of “power and love”—and this spirit should cast out all of our fears.

Saint Paul also encourages us “not to be ashamed of our testimony to our Lord.”  He urges us to “bear our share of hardship for the gospel,” and reminds of our “strength that comes from God.”  Through our faith in Jesus Christ, we know that sin and death have been defeated.   We know that our identity can only be found in our Savior.  And we know that the sufferings and persecutions that we endure in our earthly life glorify God; and, thus, that we are given the strength and grace to persevere in hope.

Faith, my brothers and sisters, gives us this ability to hope.  Through it we are empowered to accomplish amazing things (like ripping up deep-rooted trees and casting them into the sea with only a word).  As a gift, however, faith is not something that we can claim as our own: it’s not something that we earn.  Rather, it is only the graciousness of God that provides it to us, for we are “unprofitable servants” who have done only what we have been obliged to do.  The example of the apostles in the Gospel, however, encourages us to ask God Himself to “increase our faith.”  If we struggle to find the courage to speak boldly about human life, we shouldn’t be ashamed: for the apostles—who themselves lived, ate, and prayed with Christ—needed God’s grace to carry out Christ’s saving mission.  Even still, we needn’t be afraid to take hold of the faith that we have been given: for if we have but “faith the size of a mustard seed,” Christ can give us the power to do incredible things in service of the Gospel.

So today, on this Respect Life Sunday, as we recommit ourselves to upholding the teachings of the Church on the inviolability of human life, may we recall that we have merely “done what we were obliged to do” as followers of Christ; and that this is no small thing, because Christ is our hope, in every season of our lives; and He, who is ever faithful to us, will not fail to snatch us from the snares of death and lead us to the victory of eternal life that He has won for us—the eternal life to which all human life is ordered—the eternal life that we experience, even now, here in this Eucharist.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – October 5^th & 6^th, 2019

Given at Saint Thomas Aquinas Parish: West Lafayette, IN – October 6^th, 2019

Things of God = Makarios

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

          Doesn't a beach on a Greek island sound amazing right now?  To me, it sounds warm and relaxing, yet full of life; and not so exotic that you are on sensory overload.  Just restful, peaceful... a place where you would love to live if you could find a little work to do to keep your finances up.  I’ve never been to a Greek island, but that’s the impression I have of them.  There's a reason for this: Nestled into the Mediterranean Sea, the Greek Islands are in a great climate and, thus, full of natural resources.  It is said that, at least at one time, the island of Cyprus was so rich in natural resources, that its residents didn't need to go off the island for anything.  They had everything that they needed on the island: they were content in themselves.  This led to the island being nicknamed "makaria"—a name playing off of the Greek word for "divine joy"—makarios.

          Makarios is a word indicating a deep, abiding joy or happiness: one that isn't dependent on external circumstances.  This is why Cyprus was called "island of makarios", because external circumstances didn't affect the ability of its residents to live a comfortable, peaceful life.

          The Greek philosopher Aristotle referred to this as he was trying to determine the "end" (or telos) of human beings: that is, the thing for which we are all striving.  By his observations, all living things have something to which they are striving.  A plant, for example, is always striving for the sun.  Not in a conscious way, of course, but in that natural, automatic way that living things strive after the things they need to survive.  Although a little more complicated, Aristotle nonetheless saw that human beings also have a common end toward which they are striving.  Again, by his observation, he could see that, in every choice that we make, either conscious or unconscious, what we choose is based on whether or not we think that it would move us toward that common end; and the end, or telos, for human beings, according to Aristotle, is happiness.  Not just any happiness, of course, but the deep, abiding happiness described by the word makarios.

          Now, we could be right or wrong about whether or not what we choose will lead us towards the greatest happiness and Aristotle certainly has his opinions on what things will move us toward the greatest happiness.  For Christians, however, we can look to Saint Thomas Aquinas, who took Aristotle’s philosophy and interpreted it using Christian theology.  Saint Thomas agreed with Aristotle that human beings have a telos, and that our telos is makarios: a deep, abiding happiness.  Saint Thomas then pointed to the true ultimate happiness that anyone could have: the Beatific Vision, that is, standing face to face with God in an eternal communion with him.  Therefore, for Saint Thomas, the criterion for “choosing so as to become happy” becomes, “whatever it is that moves us closer to the Beatific Vision”.

          Saint Thomas was not inventing this idea, however.  Rather, this idea of makarios is exactly that to which our scriptures are referring today.  Jeremiah, the prophet from whom we heard in the first reading, is teaching about where true makarios may be found.  It is not in human beings or in human/worldly things, he teaches; rather, it is in God and the things of God.  Jesus, in the first of his sermons recorded in Luke’s Gospel, the "sermon on the plain", speaks of this as well.   "Blessed are they..." he says; or, in other words, "Happy with an abiding joy are they..."  Jesus refers to things that cause suffering in this world, but says that we will be happy for suffering it, because in the end we will receive the good things of God.  In contrast, he then warns those who enjoy comfort in this world.  He warns them that it will be too easy for them to forget the things of God and, thus, lose the makarios that God has planned for them.  Implied in all of these statements is that the things of God are truly everlasting, while the comforts of this world are not.

          The challenging thing for us today, I believe, is that the Scriptures seem to be telling us that this is a "zero sum" game: either choose the things of God and be happy or choose the things of the world and be lost.  In other words, "you can't have your cake and eat it too".  "But," perhaps you'll say, "don't we need the things of this world in order to do the things of God?"  And the answer, of course, is “Yes, we do!”  The trick—that is, the work of our Christian discipleship—is not to let the things of this world become ends, themselves: that is, to let them pull our focus away from the things of God.  Rather, we must remain "detached" from them: seeing them as a means towards a greater end, which is to move ourselves and others towards the Beatific Vision.  This detachment means that we must be ready to let them go if they become obstacles in our journey.  (If you’ve ever tried to “Marie Kondo” your house, you’ll know that this detachment isn’t very easy to come by.)

          This is why we come here, to this place set apart for the things of God, each Sunday.  We come here to remind us that true and lasting joy, that is, happiness... makarios, can only be found in God and, then, to equip us with the grace that we need to live in this understanding throughout the week.  (By the way, this is why it is a sin not to take a day of rest from work each week.  Failure to rest leads us to believe that the things of this world are the most important.  Taking a "forced" day of rest reminds us that, ultimately, it is only the things of God that matter.  And so, yes, a sabbath rest is “wasted” time: wasted in the sense that it is sacrificed, that is, “made holy”, because it has been given over to God.)

          Friends, let us not think that we are somehow poorer because we lack some of the niceties of this world (like a home on Greek island).  Rather, let us rejoice that, in Christ, we have every grace that we need to achieve the end for which we are made: our makarios... our happiness; and let us give thanks in this Eucharist for the blessing of this grace.  Then let us go forth from here to demonstrate our thankfulness by living lives focused on the things of God and, thus, on making his kingdom present among us.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – February 16^th & 17^th, 2019

Human dignity and the mission of the Church

Homily: 27^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle B

Friends, when we listen to our Scriptures today we can see that they are inviting us to consider God’s plan for marriage: that, “from the beginning” God made humankind male and female and that marriage—the union of man and woman in an indissoluble bond—is so fundamental to human nature, that it causes persons to break the natural bonds of family to enter into it.  I think that if we look a little more closely, however, we can see that these readings speak to us of something even deeper.

Within this exposition of God’s plan for marriage, we see revealed something of the dignity of humankind.  In our reading from the Book of Genesis we begin by hearing God, having just created man, exclaim “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a suitable partner for him.”  Then God creates the animals of the earth and presents them to the man, none of which prove to be a “suitable partner”.  Saint John Paul II, in his Theology of the Body, explains to us that God, in this story, is not some “bumbling inventor” trying to impress the man and failing before he comes up with the “genius idea” to make one “equal” to him to be his partner.  Rather, God is slowly revealing to the man something very important about himself: that he is not one unique type of animal, otherwise equal to them; but rather he is above them, more like God than the other animals.  This “original solitude”, as Saint John Paul II calls it—man recognizing that he is alone and without a “suitable partner” among the animals—is a sign of that fact.  The “suitable partner”, therefore, is the one who is “bone of his bones and flesh of his flesh”, that is, one who is equal to him: a human person.

This idea is further shown to us in the reading from the Letter to the Hebrews.  There, the author reminds us that Jesus came to live as one of us so that “he might taste death for everyone”: meaning that he would pay the price for our sins so that we might be restored to communion with God, which we lost through the sin of our first parents.  The author reveals that Jesus did this because he is “of the same origin” of those who he saved.  “He who consecrates and those who are being consecrated all have one origin”, he wrote, reflecting what was revealed to us through the creation story of the book of Genesis: that we are not just one type of animal among the others, but that we are above them, more like God than the other animals.

Friends, that Jesus, the Son of God, who is God himself, came to save us from sin and eternal death because he is “of the same origin” as us is not news to us (or, at least, it shouldn’t be).  What we sometimes forget, however, is that Jesus did not just come to save us (although that was his primary mission).  Rather, he also came to establish a Church to be the place where humankind would be reminded of this truth that sin has caused him to forget: that we have a particular dignity above the other creatures and that our destiny is not in this world, but in a world yet unknown to us, in which we will come to know God face to face: a dignity not afforded to any of the other animals.

            Ever since Christ’s ascension, the Church has proclaimed this truth that had been forgotten by man.  Today, this continues so that every person might rediscover their original dignity and order their lives in such a way so as to realize the end for which they were made: eternal life with God.  This proclamation happens though an enduring structure that helps ensure that this mission is as widespread as possible.  Our diocese, the Diocese of Lafayette-in-Indiana provides for this mission here in north-central Indiana.  As a parish, we are here because of a diocese (originally, the diocese of Vincennes, then the diocese of Fort Wayne, and now, for the past 74 years, the diocese of Lafayette-in-Indiana).  It is through the diocese that we realize that we are connected to something bigger, something truly universal.

As a parish, we have a responsibility and a capacity to reach many persons with this saving message; but we can’t reach everyone.  Through the diocese, persons who might not otherwise be touched by this saving message, or efficiencies that might not otherwise be realized, are made possible for us.  One perennial example is Catholic ministries at universities in our diocese.  Saint Thomas Aquinas parish on Purdue’s campus, Saint Francis of Assisi parish on Ball State’s Campus, and the Newman Center ministry on Wabash College’s campus are all supported by funds provided by the diocese because, as all of you well know, I’m sure, none of them could survive on contributions provided by students alone.

Further, the diocesan offices help support parishes by providing resources to help each parish accomplish its mission: its various offices helping to provide and support priests for every parish, administrative support (from human resources, to payroll, to IT support, and beyond), and pastoral support: so that parishes with less resources don’t always have to “re-invent the wheel” to provide quality ministry to those whom they serve.

Therefore, we, as Catholics, have a responsibility to our parish and, because of our parish, to the diocese.  The biennial Fruitful Harvest Appeal is our opportunity to directly help the Bishop in his ministries—ministries that we could not provide on our own—and the administration of the diocese as a whole: without which we would not exist as a parish.  It is fundamental that we support Fruitful Harvest so that this mission to bring this radical message of the dignity of each human person, redeemed as they have been in Christ, to all who are in need of hearing it continues (even if we, ourselves, may be in need of hearing it again).

As a sign of our recognition of our responsibility to the Bishop, and of our gratefulness to God that we have this diocese through which we connect with him, we are all invited to offer our pledges here today at Mass to be united to the sacrifice of the Eucharist that will be presented on this altar.  If you received your pledge card in the mail and have already returned it, THANK YOU!  If you brought your pledge card with you today, great.  In a few moments we will collect it from you.  If you forgot your pledge card, but still want to make your pledge with us here today, or if you didn’t receive a pledge card in the mail, but want to be included, please use one of the blank cards in the pew.  We’ll give you a couple of minutes to fill it out before taking up the collection.  When the ushers come forward, please place your cards—sealed in the envelopes—into the baskets.  Please be generous.  In this difficult time for God’s Church, your gifts are sign of faith that the Church is Jesus Christ’s and not man’s and that its mission to proclaim to each person their exalted dignity must continue.

On behalf of Bishop Doherty and his staff, thank you for your generosity.  May God bless each of us as we Walk Together in the Light of Christ.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – October 6^th & 7^th, 2018

Virtuosos in the art of human living

Homily: 22^nd Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          For many years I’ve had a desire to learn how to play the piano.  Over the years, I’ve made multiple attempts to learn.  Each time I’d sit down with a lot of hope that this will be the time that I begin to become proficient.  Now, anyone who’s tried to learn how to play an instrument knows that it’s a lot of work!  You have to learn how to read sheet music, first and foremost; and then you have to learn what keys correspond to the notes on the page and how to move your hands and fingers in the proper ways in order to strike those keys in sequence and thus play the song.  At first, it can be very frustrating as it seems like all of this work is very limiting.  I mean, I just want to play a few songs!  Why does it have to be so complicated?  Perhaps needless to say, but every attempt that I’ve made to learn how to play the piano has ended in frustration and abandonment, not proficiency and success.

          In our first reading today from the book of Deuteronomy Moses is preparing to instruct the Israelites in the Law that he received from God on Mount Sinai.  The Israelites are getting ready to enter into the Promised Land, but Moses won’t be going with them.  Thus, he’s going to remind them of the Law that God had revealed to him so that they’ll be prepared to follow it when they cross over into the Promised Land.  First, however, he gives them the “why” behind the “what”.  Basically he says, “Follow these statutes and decrees of the Lord and you will live well in the land.”  In other words, he’s prefacing his recounting of the Law by saying that these are your guidelines to living a long and abundant life in the Land that God is promising to you.  “You’ll see,” he says, “that following these statutes and decrees of the Lord will make your lives so rich that other nations will be jealous!”

          Initially, of course, the Israelites were on-board.  Who wouldn’t want to live an abundant life after so many years of wandering in the desert?  History has shown, however, that, once they settled in the land, following the statutes and decrees of the Lord was easier said than done.  Faced with the reality of living the Law, the Israelites more often than not abandoned it out of frustration.  At times, God would send them a prophet to call them back to right living according to his Law (and, thus, the abundant life he promised them), but the Israelites continued to abandon it.  The ultimate realization of this is when God allowed them to be conquered by the Assyrians and exiled into Babylon: the promise of a long life in the land now completely unfulfilled.

          When God relented of his punishment and allowed them to return to the Land, there rose up a cult of persons dedicated to ensuring that the people observed the law to the letter.  In Jesus’ time, there were multiple groups of these persons: the scribes, who were Scripture scholars, and the Pharisees, who were scholars in the Law, specifically.  For these groups, the Law was an end in itself and therefore it must be followed to the letter for fear of offending God again.  The idea that the Law was a means for achieving the abundant life was lost on them.

          When we think about learning to play the piano, however, we see that all of those lessons in learning how to read sheet music and how to move your hands and fingers to play the notes in sequence are all intended to ensure that the notes are played harmoniously.  For the astute learner, these lessons begin to sink in a little deeper and he or she begins to learn what sounds go together (for example, the chords) and how to intermingle those sounds to make new sounds.  Thus, having become proficient, the astute learner comes to know how to improvise in the middle of a song; and how to do so in such a way that it seems to fit perfectly with the notes on the page.  True experts—the virtuoso pianists—can improvise whole songs, so deeply have they assimilated the laws governing the extraction of music from the piano.  Thus, they are truly free to play as their heart moves them: because their heart has learned to desire only the most beautiful sounds that the piano can provide.

          As I mentioned, Moses presented the Law as a “guidebook” for living the abundant life that God wanted for his chosen people.  This is why he said to them, “Hear the statutes and decrees which I am teaching you to observe, that you may live…”  God did not give this Law to his people in order to restrict them; but rather to focus them towards the ways of living that would truly fulfill them, both as individuals and as a people.  Over the centuries, as I mentioned, this notion was lost as the people abandoned God’s lessons for living the abundant life.  The Pharisees and Scribes of Jesus’ times strove to restore God’s Law, but only as an end itself: that is, a protection against the wrath of God.

          In today’s Gospel Jesus is reminding them that the Law was meant to free us, not restrict us: much in the same way as the laws governing the playing of a piano are meant to free the musician to do more, not less with it.  Therefore Jesus instructs them that observance of the Law for the sole purpose of observance is empty.  This, he implies, is no better than no observance at all: for both are breeding grounds for sin.  Observance as training for right living sanctifies, however, because through it we purge those things from within us that cause us to sin (things like those Jesus listed for us): “evil thoughts, unchastity, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, licentiousness, envy, blasphemy, arrogance, and folly.  All these come from within,” Jesus says, “and they defile.”

          And so, my brothers and sisters, we come back to a question that perhaps we need to ask ourselves periodically: “Why do we have the Law?”  The answer is simple: “In order to train ourselves to be virtuosos in the art of human living: that is, to give us true freedom by teaching our hearts to desire that which truly satisfies it.”  And what truly satisfies it?  The Bread of Life, of course!  Jesus, the living bread come down from heaven, is the only thing that can satisfy our hearts in this world.

          Our hearts, however, are attuned to desiring worldly bread and so this work of training our hearts to desire only that which truly satisfies it is hard work: work that can leave us frustrated so that we want to abandon it.  Thus God’s grace comes to us through the Sacraments and prayer.  In the Sacraments, we receive specific grace from God to strengthen us in this work; and in our prayer, God gives us grace to refresh us and to renew our hope daily.  For those of us who know this grace, we can only be grateful.  Thus we come here each week to give God thanks even as we receive more grace from him.  For those of us who don’t know this grace, however, the law seems only to be an end in itself or as a means for appeasing a wrathful God.  These don’t have thankfulness in their hearts and often their religious observance is empty.

          Nevertheless, the truth revealed to us by God through the Sacred Scriptures reminds us that if God has given us a law, it is so that we can live the abundant life for which he made us.  And if he has given us freedom, it wasn’t so that we could do whatever we want; rather it was so that we would have the right to choose to do what we ought.  Let us, therefore, set our hearts on achieving the abundant life that the Lord desires for us: a life lived in accordance with his Law after the model of Jesus, the Bread of Life, whom we now turn to meet at this altar.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – August 29^th & 30^th, 2015