A foretaste of heaven in a messy world

Homily: 21st Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          A few years ago, I made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.  Of all of the amazing things that I saw and was able to experience, one of the highlights was my visit to the Basilica of the Annunciation in Nazareth, which was built over the site of Mary’s childhood home and was the place in which she received the message from the archangel Gabriel, announcing that she would become the mother of God’s Son.  I remember reflecting about my experience there.  “In that place,” I said to myself, “the God who created everything, and whose existence cannot be contained even in the vast universe, somehow encapsulated himself in human flesh.”  For me, among all of the other experiences on that trip, standing in the place where the “Word became flesh and dwelt among us” was an awe-inspiring moment.

          I remember reflecting on the absurdity of it all: that God, who is limitless, would subject himself to the limits of his creation simply out of love for what he had created.  Nonetheless, as we’ve been reading in the sixth chapter of John’s Gospel, I’m often struck that this same Son of God then took the absurdity even further by claiming that for anyone to have life within them they had to eat his flesh and drink his blood.  On the surface, it’s a crazy statement, right?  I mean, Jesus is asking his followers to be cannibals: to eat human flesh and drink human blood!  Although our familiarity with it may mean that it no longer strikes us as odd, we need to grapple with the fact that this statement from Jesus is polarizing: either he is who he says he is (that is, the Son of God) and, thus, we have to give credence to what he says, or he’s not (and, therefore, he’s a madman) and we should run away immediately.

          Perhaps not many of us have thought about it in these terms, but this is one of those things about which, as Christians, we cannot be neutral: rather, we need to decide on which side we are.  If you need some help deciding on which side you are, I will offer this criteria: that if Jesus is crazy about one thing then he’s crazy about everything; but if he’s not crazy about everything, then he’s not crazy about anything.  I think that it’s safe for me to say that we don’t think that he’s crazy about everything.  Therefore, he must not be crazy about this one thing, and so we have to give it credence, no matter how crazy it sounds.

          And so, when Jesus says, “I am the living bread” and “the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world” we have to strive to believe that he is talking about the Eucharist: for the bread that we present is not “living” bread: that is, bread that is alive, as if it were something out of some B-rated horror film.  No, it is not “living” bread until it is given life when, through the words of consecration at the altar, its very substance changes and it becomes the Body and Blood of Jesus.  Although it still appears to be lifeless bread, it is in reality the flesh of Jesus, who lives; thus, it becomes “bread that lives” and makes it possible for us to eat his flesh without becoming cannibals.

          On the surface, of course, this is still incredible and, frankly, it cannot be accepted outright.  If any otherwise rational person came to you and said, “I promise you that you will live forever if you eat my flesh and drink my blood; and, by the way, you’ll be able to do that if you eat this thing that looks like bread and drink this cup filled with what looks like wine,” you’d immediately doubt all that you knew about that person.  Accepting something like this—something that pushes you beyond the bounds of understanding—comes only after a bridge of trust has been built with the person who is making this claim.  Just look at our Gospel reading today: “Many of Jesus’ disciples who were listening said, ‘This saying is hard; who can accept it?’” it says.  And later it goes on to say “as a result of this, many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him.”  These disciples had been only loosely connected with Jesus and had not yet built a “bridge of trust” with him.  Therefore, when he made this seemingly absurd claim, their fragile faith in him was shaken and fell apart.  They concluded that he must be crazy and so they turned away from him.

          The twelve Apostles, on the other hand, stayed with Jesus.  They had experienced so much more from him and, therefore, had built a bridge of trust that supported their faith.  And so, even if they didn’t understand what it was about which he was talking, they refused to write him off as a madman, but instead recommitted themselves to him: “Master, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.  We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.”

          So where do we go from here?  You know, I am convinced that those who leave the Church must not be persons who believe in the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist.  Otherwise, how could they walk away from it?  Peter and the other Apostles believed that Jesus was the Holy One of God and so could not be swayed to abandon him, even when he taught such incredible things.  In the same way, it does not seem possible that someone would acknowledge the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist and yet still feel as if he or she could go somewhere where it is not.

          Nonetheless, many have walked away; and the great tragedy is that many of those have walked away because of the sins committed against them by leaders in the Church: men who they called “Father”.  This is an enormous tragedy: first, because it discredits the Gospel, but second because it turns people away from the Eucharist: the Eucharist, which is the event in which we literally commune with God, offering him our sacrifice of thanksgiving and praise, remembering the great work he has done to bring us to salvation, calling down the Holy Spirit to strengthen us for our mission on earth, and partaking in a sacred meal, which is a foretaste of the eternal banquet in heaven.

          My brothers and sisters, I get it if some of you (or some people that you may know who are not here) find it hard to look at the failures of bishops and priests and not think “Can we really trust these men who have failed us so horrendously, and, therefore Christ and his Church?”  I urge you, however, to remember Christ’s words: that “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his Blood, you do not have life within you” and, thus, to hold in tension the sacred actions of the priest, in which he stands in the person of Christ so that his Body and Blood and his healing mercy is made present to us, with the worldly actions of the man, weak and fallible as he is and subject to the attacks of the evil one: holding him accountable for his failures while supporting him in his efforts to grow in holiness.  This so that not one more of us would be separated from this foretaste of the eternal banquet, which strengthens us and preserves us for eternal life.

          I pray, therefore, my friends, that we would make it our task to seek out our brothers and sisters who need this grace from the Father to believe that Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist, in spite of the sometimes serious failures of the men through whom it is provided; and to help them, with our prayers and companionship, to open their hearts to this grace, so that we all might be joined together at this Holy Table, the foretaste of the eternal banquet prepared for us in heaven, to feast on the Bread of Life: Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – August 26, 2015

The necessary bridge of trust

Homily: 21^st Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          Last week I spoke about the pilgrimage of thanksgiving that I took to the Holy Land in April.  I mentioned that now, some four months removed from the trip, I was getting some clarity on what impacted me the most during the trip.  One of the highlights, I noted, was my visit to the Basilica of the Annunciation in Nazareth, which was built over the site of Mary’s childhood home and was the place in which she received the message from the archangel Gabriel, announcing that she would become the mother of God’s Son.  “In that place,” I reflected, “the God who created everything, and whose existence cannot be contained even in the vast universe, somehow encapsulated himself in human flesh.”  It was an awe-inspiring moment.

          I reflected on the absurdity of it all: that God, who is limitless, would subject himself to the limits of his creation simply out of love for what he had created.  I then went on to reflect how this Son of God then took the absurdity even further by claiming that for anyone to have life within them they had to eat his flesh and drink his blood.  On the surface, it’s a crazy statement and I challenged those who heard my homily to realize that this statement from Jesus was polarizing: either he is who he says he is and, thus, we have to give credence to what he says, or he’s a madman and we should run away immediately.  I invited them to decide which side they were on and the criteria that I used were these: if he’s crazy about one thing then he’s crazy about everything; but if he’s not crazy about everything, then he’s not crazy about anything.  Since we don’t think that he’s crazy about everything, then he must not be crazy about this one thing, and so we have to give it credence, no matter how crazy it sounds.

          Therefore, when Jesus says, “I am the living bread” and “the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world” we have to strive to believe that he is talking about the Eucharist: for the bread that we present is not “living” bread until it is given life when, through the words of consecration at the altar, its very substance changes and it becomes the Body and Blood of Jesus.  Although it still appears to be lifeless bread, it is in reality the flesh of Jesus, who lives; thus, it becomes “bread that lives” and makes it possible to eat his flesh without becoming cannibals.

          On the surface, however, this is still incredible and, frankly, it cannot be accepted outright.  If any otherwise rational person came to you and said, “oh, and if you really want to live you need to eat my flesh and drink my blood” you’d immediately doubt all that you knew about the person.  Accepting something like this—something that pushes you beyond the bounds of understanding—comes only after a bridge of trust has been built with the person who is making this claim.  Just look at our Gospel reading today: “Many of Jesus’ disciples who were listening said, ‘This saying is hard; who can accept it?’” it says.  And later it goes on to say “as a result of this, many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him.”  These disciples had been only loosely connected with Jesus and had not yet built a “bridge of trust” with him.  Therefore, when he made this seemingly absurd claim, their fragile faith in him was shaken and fell apart.  They concluded that he must be crazy and so they turned away from him.

          The twelve Apostles, on the other hand, stayed with Jesus.  They had experienced so much more from him and, therefore, had built a bridge of trust that supported their faith.  And so, even if they didn’t understand what it was that he was talking about, they refused to write him off as a madman, but instead recommitted themselves to him: “Master, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.  We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.”

          Jesus knew that some of those who followed him would not believe.  And he knew that their lack of belief would stem from a lack of openness to grace.  Thus he could say, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted him by my Father.”  In other words, we don’t come to this on our own.  If the bridge of trust with Jesus has been built in any of us so that we can take him on his word, it is because of the gracious initiative of the Father.  Thus Jesus can say to Peter in another place: “Blessed are you Simon son Jonah, because flesh and blood did not reveal this to you, but my Father who is in heaven.”  Nevertheless, we still must open ourselves to receive it.  This grace is open to all, but not all receive it, as our Gospel—and the state of our Church—reveals to us today.

          So where do we go from here?  You know, I am convinced that those who leave the Church must not be persons who believe in the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist.  Otherwise, how could they walk away from it?  Peter and the other Apostles believed that Jesus was the Holy One of God and so could not be swayed to abandon him, even when he taught such incredible things.  In the same way, it does not seem possible that someone would acknowledge the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist and yet still feel as if he or she could go somewhere where it is not.

          This is not to say that all who stay believe, of course; recent polls indicate that around 33% of you here don’t believe.  Rather, it is to say that those who leave the Church have either never believed in the Real Presence of Jesus or, if they have believed, have turned their backs on him completely.  Thus our task is either to help them to come to belief—that is, to open their hearts to God’s gracious initiative surrounding this—or to help them to return to belief and thus right relationship with God.  My brother and sisters, this is an urgent task.  Pope Saint Pius X, whose feast day we celebrated last week, once said that “Holy Communion is the shortest and safest way to heaven.”  If our brothers and sisters have walked away from this and do not believe in the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, then there is no greater mercy and love that we can show them than to gently lead them back to this short and safe way to heaven.

          Let us make it, therefore, our task to seek out our brothers and sisters who need this grace from the Father to believe that Jesus is truly present in the Eucharist and to help them, with our prayers and companionship, to open their hearts to this grace, so that we all might be joined together at this Holy Table to feast on the Bread of Life: Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – August 23, 2015

The Living Bread of the Abundant Life

Homily: 20^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          Perhaps many of you will remember that last April I had the happy opportunity to make a pilgrimage of thanksgiving to the Holy Land, where I gave thanks to God that I have been free from cancer for five years.  After my return many of you asked me what my favorite part was.  At the time, having experienced so many powerful things, I couldn’t name any one experience that stuck out.  A few months removed, now, however, one of the experiences has begun to stand out above the rest and that was our visit to the Basilica of the Annunciation in Nazareth.

          This Basilica is a relatively modern basilica in that ancient land as the current church was built in the 1950’s.  It is built over the place that tradition holds was the home of Joachim and Ann and thus the place where Mary grew up and received the life-changing visit from the archangel Gabriel.  It is a magnificent structure that proves that modern church architecture can be meaningful without being weird.  It wasn’t the architecture that most impacted me, however.  Rather, it was the little grotto in the lower portion of the Basilica.

          Inside this grotto there is an altar built over the exact place where, according to tradition, Mary received the message from the archangel Gabriel: thus making it the exact place where the Holy Spirit “came upon” Mary and Jesus was conceived in her womb.  In other words, in that humble little place—a peasant’s home in a town nobody knew about—the Word, the Son of God, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, became flesh and dwelt among us.  I remember being overwhelmed by the absolute incomprehensibility of that spot: that right there, in that spot, the entire fabric of the universe was changed forever because God—the uncreated creator of all that exists—took on the flesh of a creature.

          My friends, if perhaps you are a little bit numb to this I should point out that this is, in large part, what makes Christianity unique among world religions.  The fact that we are monotheistic—that we believe in only one God—puts us in rare company already, but that we believe that God—whose existence cannot be contained even in the vast expanse of the universe—became a creature: that sets us apart from every other religion.  No other religion would ever dare to say that their god became human: they believe that that would be an insult of the highest order.  Yet we believe that God somehow made the fullness of His being dwell inside the tiny cells of a human embryo, which grew into the fullness of humanity so that He might be made a sacrifice for all humanity, restoring humanity’s original glory through His resurrection and giving it a place of honor at the Father’s right hand in heaven.  The full realization of this is what made my visit to the Basilica of the Annunciation so powerful that all I could do was kneel before that place and bow down before God, whose wisdom and mercy is so far beyond our own.

          The absurdity of the Christian claim doesn’t end with the simple fact of the Incarnation, however.  Jesus in today’s Gospel reading takes His humanity to its fullest absurdity.  The “Bread of Life” discourse that we have been listening to over the past weeks is coming to its climax and today we hear Jesus teach his followers to be cannibals.  Yes, that’s right, I said cannibals.  For those of you who may not know, a cannibal is someone who eats human flesh.  Obviously that is repulsive to any of us, yet look at the words Jesus says in the Gospel: “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.”  On the surface, this appears to be crazy, doesn’t it?  And it is!  Thus, we can understand the response of the Jews who were in the crowds and argued among themselves, saying “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?”  Of course, we have to take everything in the context of the bigger picture and so we now know that John the Evangelist is using this to make clear what the Eucharist is, but we first have to come to grips with what Jesus says; and what Jesus says makes him look crazy!

          Here’s where we have to make a decision.  Because if we hear these words of Jesus and think that he is crazy, well, then he’s crazy!  You know, we can’t have it half-way: either Jesus is who he says he is—both fully God and fully man and the savior of mankind—or he’s a madman and we should turn and run away from him right now.  In other words, if he’s crazy about something, then he’s crazy about everything; but if he’s not crazy about everything, then he’s not crazy about anything, and even these words about eating his flesh and drinking his blood are real, rational statements that we have to give credence to.

          The first clue that Jesus is talking about the Eucharist (and, thus, moving away from the disgusting idea of actually eating what appears to be human flesh) is what he says at the beginning of today’s reading.  Jesus says to the crowds: “I am the living bread that came down from heaven…”  I don’t know about you, but I’ve never seen living bread: all the bread that I’ve ever eaten has been lifeless.  So how can Jesus be living bread?  Simple.  It’s called transubstantiation, and it’s what happens at the consecration of the bread and wine at the altar.  When I repeat Jesus’ words over the bread and the wine, they truly become the Body and Blood of Jesus, in substance.  Yes, they still look like bread and wine (I mean, this isn’t a magic show), but substantially—that is in their substance—they’ve changed into the real flesh and blood of Jesus.

          Now the flesh of Jesus is still living flesh, am I right?  I mean we believe that Jesus still has a human body, am I right?  A glorified human body, of course, but a human body, nonetheless.  And we believe that Jesus lives, right?  I hope so!  Because as Paul says in one of his letters, “If Christ is still in the tomb, then your faith is worthless!”  So, if Jesus still has flesh and if he still lives, then that would make the bread that becomes his flesh, while still retaining the appearance of bread, something living, wouldn’t it?  This, therefore, is the living bread, his flesh that is true food, which we can eat so as to live forever.  And the cup that contains his Precious Blood, while remaining under the appearance of wine, is the cup of life: the true drink through which life enters into us.  And this is amazing!  A thing of true wonder and awe, no matter how familiar it has become to us.

          My brothers and sisters, Jesus came in the flesh in order to give us life through it.  Let us, therefore, not waste the opportunity that we have been given to receive it: for to receive it, but then to return to a life of debauchery is empty.  To receive it, however, and thus to go forth filled with the Spirit, giving thanks and praise to God always and in all ways, is the abundant life that God desired for us when he spread this banquet before us.

          Mary, our Blessed Mother, could not have known the fullness of this abundant life that awaited her when she said “yes” to the archangel Gabriel.  And her life was filled with many sorrows following that day—so much so that it would have been understandable if she had given up on it all—but yet she never failed in giving thanks to God and in praising Him; and thus she now enjoys the fullness of this abundant life—body and soul—in heaven.  May we follow her example in our lives so that the banquet that we approach here at this altar may lead us to that same fullness of life in heaven.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – August 15^th & 16^th, 2015