The Word of God is not chained

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

“The word of God is not chained.”  Saint Paul penned these words to his protégé, Timothy, while in prison.  His point: that although the minister may be bound by chains in prison, the word, itself, is not chained and will continue to move freely about the world.  From those first years after Christ’s Ascension into heaven until nearly 1500 years later, Saint Paul’s words rang true: the word of God truly was not chained and it continued to spread throughout the world.

In the early 1500’s, however, the Church—and I speak of it here using broad strokes: it certainly wasn’t like this in every place that the Church was... which was nearly everywhere—the Church was “resting on its laurels”, it seems, and, while the word of God was still not chained, it was not finding its best witness in its ministers.  Men, therefore, rose up seeking reform.  Finding little enthusiasm in response (except in attempts to silence their voices), they broke away from the Church, hoping to reestablish the Church on its Gospel foundations.  This “protestant reformation”, as we now call it, tragic in that it caused further division among Christians (which had already been divided into “East” and “West” at the time), was, nonetheless like an “intervention” for the leaders of the Church.  The response was to propose an internal reformation, capped by the Council of Trent in the middle 1600’s.  Much more concerned about safeguarding the true identity of the Church in contrast to all of the “reform movements” from outside of the Church, the post-conciliar Church became much more insular—very much “us vs. them"—and this is the way it remained (again, speaking in broad strokes) until the middle 1900’s.

Pope John XXIII (now “Saint John XXIII”), responding to a movement of the Holy Spirit in the wake of the global catastrophes that were World War I and World War II, called for a new ecumenical council—the Second Vatican Council—with the expressed purpose of opening the Church more fully to the world once again.  In calling the Council together, he expressed his desire that there would be a “new Pentecost” in the Church, in which the doors to the cenacle (that is, the “upper room” of the first Pentecost) would again be thrown open and Christ’s followers would go out with the missionary mandate to “make disciples of all nations” once again.  Far from being a call to conform the Church to the modern world, it was, rather, a call to take the Church out into the world—to “unchain” the word of God (which, of course, had never really been chained)—so as to convert what is good in it to the purposes of building God’s kingdom, and, thus, to make more disciples of Christ.

We need no better example of the Church doing just that than the pontificate of Pope John Paul II (also now “Saint John Paul II”).  As someone who grew up under the Nazi regime in Poland and suffered under Polish Communist rule (backed, of course, by Russian communists), John Paul II experienced the threat that these ideologies posed not only to the Church, but to humankind.  Did he call the Church to turn in on itself so as to insulate itself from these threatening ideologies?  No!  Rather, he went to the front lines to engage the modern world with all the force of the Gospel.  His influence, backed by the power of the Gospel, led to the downfall of Communism in Poland, and, in a domino effect, to other places where dangerous ideologies had taken hold.  Although it may be hard to believe, next month will mark 30 years since the fall of the Berlin Wall!  These facts alone are evidence that, following the Second Vatican Council, the word of God had certainly been “unchained” once more.

In our day today, Pope Francis has again renewed this missionary mandate of the Council.  In his encyclical letter “Evangelium Gaudium” (“The Joy of the Gospel”), he further urges us to take the Gospel out of our churches and into the streets—to those who are on the margins of society—to bring to others the “joy of the Gospel”, proving once again that the “word of God is not chained”.  Our own bishop, Bishop Doherty, chose for his episcopal motto this phrase, proving that he, too, believes in the urgency of this missionary mandate of the Council.

This truth, declared by Saint Paul, was true even before he declared it, however, as we see from our readings for today’s Mass.  In our first reading, we heard how Naaman, a high-ranking official in Syria, came to the Israelite prophet Elisha—in many ways, the only truly faithful person among the Israelites at the time—to seek a miraculous cure for his leprosy.  Generally speaking, he wouldn’t have sought recourse to a foreigner for aid, but one of his servants was a young Israelite girl who, after Naaman exhausted all of the resources in Syria looking for a cure, suggested that Naaman go to Elisha.  “The word of God” was not chained and, thus, came to Naaman through this young girl.  Having responded to it, and having been healed, Naaman was converted.  He abandoned his pagan gods to worship the one true God: the God of the Israelites.

In the Gospel reading, we heard how a group of persons suffering from leprosy call out to Jesus to ask for healing.  What great faith they had in Jesus!  When Jesus commands them to go and “show themselves to the priests”, they all believed that, through his word, they would find healing; and they did!  Only one, however, found true freedom: the Samaritan—the foreigner—who returned to glorify God and give thanks to Jesus, through whom he received healing.  True freedom, because, while the others went on to show themselves to the priests and, thus, remained under the Law, the Samaritan returned to Christ, through whom he could find fulfillment beyond the Law.  When Jesus says to him, “Stand up and go; your faith has saved you,” he speaks the truth that, through faith in Christ, one finds true fulfillment apart from the Law.  Through this one, too, we see that “the word of God was not chained”; but rather went out to bring healing and freedom to those “outside” of the covenant with Israel and to incorporate them into Christ.

Today, this continues to ring true as we continue to welcome men and women from outside of the Church—men and women to whom the word of God has gone out and drawn to us—to become one with us as part of the Mystical Body of Christ.  Tomorrow/Today, we will formally welcome already baptized men and women who seek full communion with us in the Church and accept those who have not been baptized into the Order of Catechumens as they seek the definitive rebirth in Christ through the waters of baptism.  These persons are proof that, even in our modern times, the “word of God is not chained”.  We must, therefore, be grateful for these persons as it is proof that God is still with us and that he desires his Church to grow and blossom.

Nonetheless, we Catholics are called today to recognize that we ourselves were all once outsiders who, by God’s gracious mercy and the ministry of those around us, have now been incorporated into the true freedom of Christ.  In recognizing this, we are, thus, called to turn away from any complacency that might lead us to take this gift for granted: instead, giving ourselves more and more to an “apostolate of martyrdom”, that is, an “apostolate of giving witness”, so that this “unchained word”, might continue to go out and draw in men and women into Christ’s Mystical Body.

            My brothers and sisters, we are the lepers that have been healed by the unchained word of God that has come to us.  We (hopefully) have returned here to this altar to give thanks.  Let us, therefore, never neglect thankfulness.  For, in doing so, the word of God will remain unchained; and the kingdom of heaven—the kingdom of harmony and peace among all peoples—will be known among us.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – October 12^th & 13^th, 2019

The happiness that you are looking for

Homily: 2^nd Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          “What are you looking for?”  This is a common question that we ask one another whenever someone has that “searching” look on his / her face.  When Jesus asks this question, however, we immediately sense that he means something more than just “Have you lost something?”  When Jesus asks, we realize that he’s speaking in “ultimate” terms: that is, “What are you really looking for?”  And it is a question with which human beings have been constantly wrestling.

          The Greek philosopher Aristotle was a pagan who lived in the 4th century BC.  Pagan, which meant that he didn't know of, let alone believe in, God as he has been revealed in the Judeo-Christian tradition.  Nonetheless, he was an incredible philosopher who could observe the world around him and draw astute conclusions about "the way things are".  He was the world's top scientist when philosophy was the world's science.

          One of the core things that Aristotle taught was that all living things have an end—a telos in Greek—for which they are striving.  For example, by his observation, a plant is striving for the sun.  He could see this by the way that a plant will stretch out its leaves way beyond its roots in an effort to reach the rays of the sun.  We, of course, know that the plant needs the rays of the sun to hit its leaves for photosynthesis to happen, in which it converts the energy from the sun’s rays into nutrients to help it grow, but it doesn’t change the fact that the living spirit in the plant is striving always towards the sun as if reaching it was its ultimate purpose.

          Now, I think that we can all agree that we human beings are a little more complex than a plant.  Nonetheless, Aristotle still thought that we have a telos: an end to which we are striving.  When Aristotle observed human beings in order to determine for what it is that we are striving, he concluded that the end we are all trying to reach is “happiness”.  In other words, when he looked at the reasons why human beings do anything, he could see that all of them boiled down to one thing: happiness.  Simply stated: everything that we choose to do, we choose because we think that it will make us happy (or, at least, will lead us to happiness).  We, of course, could be wrong about whether or not it will make us happy, but the fact remains that we choose it because we think that it will make us happy.

          Saint Thomas Aquinas lived a little more than 1500 years after Aristotle, but he was one of the first to synthesize truly Aristotle’s philosophy into Christian theology.  Saint Thomas agreed that human beings have a telos, and that this telos is happiness.  Because Thomas was a Christian, however, he could tell us that the truest and fullest happiness for which we can strive—the happiness for which we were made—is what Christian Theologians call the Beatific Vision: that is, standing face to face with God, in perfect communion with him.

          For Aristotle, therefore, the answer to the question “What are you looking for?” is happiness.  For Saint Thomas Aquinas, the answer is the same: happiness.  With him, however, the answer has a second part: “And what is happiness?  The Beatific Vision.”  And so, for Saint Thomas, the answer to the question “What are you looking for?” is God.

          Friends, perhaps all of this talk about “ultimate things” has you a little exasperated.  If so, I understand.  It’s difficult for us, who are very practical creatures, to think so abstractly.  For most of us, it can be tough to get past the concerns of the present moment and the near future.  “What are you looking for?”  “Well, I’m looking for my keys… or for a new job… or for this homily to be over…”  I suspect that it was difficult for Jesus’ first disciples, too.  Just look at how they responded to Jesus’ question.  “What are you looking for?”, he asks.  Andrew responds, “Where are you staying?”  My guess is that Andrew felt the weight of the question, but was unprepared to answer it and so he equivocates.  He didn’t respond “Nothing” but he didn’t give a straight-forward answer, either.  His answer reveals that he recognized something in Jesus—something that he couldn’t yet name, but something in him that might answer that question for him—and so he wanted to know more.  Thus, he asked “Where are you staying?” so that he could get to know Jesus better and find out for sure.

          Friends, this is the same for us.  Perhaps we don’t have a clear idea of what it is that we are looking for.  My guess is that most of you here, at this point, are acknowledging that, at your core, what you are looking for is happiness.  Perhaps a good number of you also recognize that it is Jesus who can lead you to happiness (that is, to real, lasting happiness).  For others, however, you’re not so sure.  Regardless, for all of us here today, Jesus is turning to us as we are looking to him and he is asking us “What are you looking for?”  Perhaps we can answer boldly: “Happiness!  And I believe that you can lead me to it!”  Perhaps, however, the best we can muster is to say, “Jesus, where are you staying?”  If so, this is enough.  To the first, Jesus will say: “Come and I will show you your happiness.”  To the second, Jesus will say, “Come and you will see.”  As we see in both, He invites us to come to him: for he will give us what we are looking for if we come to him.

          This is our work: to find Jesus, to ask him where he is staying, and to put ourselves towards following him there.  Then, after we’ve heard him and are convinced that he is the Messiah, we must go and bring others to him, as well.  This is our vocation.  When we accept it, God will give us grace to fulfill it.  Just as Eli identified the Lord’s voice for young Samuel so that he could follow it, and just like John the Baptist pointed his disciples to Jesus, and just like Andrew then brought his brother Simon Peter to Jesus, so we, too, must continue this long chain of disciples-begetting-disciples by first coming to know Jesus (helped, as we most assuredly have been, by others) and then by pointing him out to others and bringing them to him.  If we do this, my brothers and sisters, we will find what we have been looking for; and the kingdom of heaven, the kingdom in which our happiness flourishes, the kingdom which is present to us here in this Eucharist, will expand and grow in our midst.  This, my friends, is what you are looking for.

          May this new year be the year that God’s kingdom grows in a rich and powerful way, both in our hearts and this community.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – January 13^th & 14^th, 2018

Asking for the right thing

Homily: 17^th Sunday, Ordinary Time: Cycle A

          I grew up with an older brother and sandwiched between two sisters.  My brother was the oldest and so I wasn’t all that close to him.  I ended up being closer to my older sister and, being somewhat of a mama’s boy, I often found myself watching things like beauty pageants on TV, because that’s what my mom and my sister wanted to watch.

          I don’t hear much about them anymore, but back in the ‘80s the Miss America, Miss USA, and Miss Universe contests all had that allure of pageantry and glamour that made it all seem fascinating to me.  For me the highlights were the talent portion, where these women would display their incredible abilities to play instruments, to sing, or to dance, and also the evening gown competition, as each tried to outdo the other in having the most luxurious dress.  Then, there was the interview portion, where these women had to respond to questions with extremely complicated answers with poise and alacrity to prove that they could represent the best of our nation (or the world, for that matter) on a world stage.  Inevitably, the “one wish” question would come up.  “If you could have one wish for anything in the world, what would it be?”  After watching a few of these you quickly learned that if a contestant even hinted at wishing for something for themselves, that their chance at winning the crown was gone.  And, as years went on, the answers to these became somewhat rote and always altruistic.  “I would wish that there would be world peace.”  “I would wish for an end to world hunger.”  “I would wish for a cure for cancer.”  While these are all wonderful things to wish for, the fact that they became the “pat” answer to this question made these young women seem to me to be rather fake and inauthentic.

          In today’s first reading, we see God putting King Solomon through a similar “interview” as he is taking over the reins of the kingdom from his father David.  As we hear the dialogue between God and Solomon, we can almost feel the tension building as Solomon discerns what it is that he should ask from God.  Waiting with abated breath we hear his answer: “I wish for ‘an understanding heart to judge your people and to distinguish right from wrong.’”  “Wait, ‘an understanding heart’?  He asked for wisdom?  Something for himself?  NO!  He is supposed to ask for world peace or an end to hunger or that everyone in the world would be as rich as he is!  What was he thinking!?!?”  Yet, what do we hear as God’s response?  We hear that God was pleased with his answer… Why?

          Well, first Solomon acknowledged his relationship with God.  He acknowledged that the kingdom that he has been given is really God’s kingdom and that the people he is ruling are really God’s people and that, in actuality, it was God who had made him ruler over his people.  Because he had a relationship with God, Solomon knew that God wasn’t just some divine magician who could be called upon to magically make everything wrong in the world right.  Instead, he knew that God had called him to rule over his people and that God had given him the great responsibility to care for and to provide for his people.  With such a great task—and the shadow of his father, king David, looming over him—Solomon humbly acknowledged that he couldn’t handle this task alone and that he needed God’s help to fulfill the work to which he was calling him.  Thus, he didn’t ask that there would be no problems, but rather that he would have the understanding—the wisdom—to lead his people well in both good times and in bad.  And God was pleased with his answer.

          I think that many days we find ourselves in a similar situation to Solomon yet we hardly recognize it.  Daily we are surrounded by the needs of God’s people and yet (if we manage, first of all, not to ignore them) all we can think to do is to pray that God will wave his hand over the earth and make it all go away.  We fail to recognize that the task of caring for God’s people here on earth has been given to us.  Certainly, God doesn’t need us to care for his people—he is all-powerful and can handle it himself; but in his desire for a relationship with us, he invites us to participate in the work of caring for his people here on earth.  With this in mind, perhaps we can look to the example of Solomon to see how we ought to pray and thus know for what we ought to ask when we come before God with our needs.

          When we come before God we must first acknowledge our relationship with him.  Solomon acknowledged before God that he was God’s servant, called to care for and to rule over God’s people.  And so, we too must acknowledge that God has called each of us to be his servant and has given each of us a particular task in the care of his people.

          Next, our task is to ask God for the understanding to know how he has called us to participate in alleviating the problem or issue that we are bringing before him.  Solomon, recognizing the great responsibility that God had given him, asked for understanding to be able to judge God’s people well and to distinguish right from wrong.  First time parents, I suspect, are quite familiar with this prayer.  Faced with the responsibility of caring for and raising a child, new parents ought to find frequent recourse to pray for the understanding they need to raise their children.

          Finally, as we begin to take responsibility for the tasks that God has given us, we will find the things for which we truly need God’s intervention—such as a miraculous healing from an addiction for a friend (or even ourselves) or the conversion of a family member long-estranged from the Church.  Then, we can come again before God, bringing these things to him, and trusting that he hears and answers these prayers too.  Friends, when we pray in this way, taking responsibility for the things to which God has called us and asking for God’s wisdom to fulfill them, we not only engage in our relationship with him, but we also make ourselves open to uncovering the hidden treasures that are the kingdom of heaven. 

          My brothers and sisters, the characters in the parables from today’s Gospel reading were “surprised by joy” to find the hidden treasure and the pearl of great value.  When we accept the particular way that God has called us to serve his people here on earth, then we too will be “surprised by joy” when we find the ways in which the kingdom of heaven is being realized in our midst: a family healed after the leaving off of an addiction or the deathbed conversion of that long-estranged family member.  This is the same kingdom that each week we come together to realize and to celebrate when we come here to worship at this altar; and the meal that we share from it is a participation in the eternal banquet of heaven: the banquet of God’s kingdom yet to come.  Let us pray, then, for God’s wisdom to take up the task that he has given us as his servants and thus prepare ourselves to be surprised by joy when his kingdom appears like a great treasure before us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – July 30^th, 2017