The substance of vapor

Homily: 18^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          My mom was here last weekend with my sister, Deb, and her children, Rachel and Luke, my niece and nephew.  While they were here, my mom paused to ask me what sounded like a random question.  She let me know that her and my dad had an appointment with a lawyer in the next week to make up their “last will and testament” and that she and my dad wanted to know whether or not I would want one of dad’s old cars after he was gone.  At the moment I hadn’t really thought that much about it so I didn’t know what to tell her.  It gave me pause, however, to think about dad’s car collection.

          My dad is a “car guy” and so, growing up, there were always old cars from the 60’s in the garage.  By the time I graduated from high school, dad had settled in on a couple of cars: one that, for the most part, was always running and that he could drive or take to the track when he wanted and one for which he had a bigger project planned.  Soon, this expanded to a third car: which he said was a better “base” car for his bigger project.  The thing is, he never sold the second car after he bought the third one.  And then, in what can only be described as an “impulse buy”, he bought a fourth car (or, rather, the shell of a fourth car) and explained to me the extremely extensive project that he planned for it.

          My dad is nearly 74 years old and still works full time.  He’s a great grandpa and helps my sisters a lot.  That being said, I probably don’t need to tell you that those projects for which he bought those other cars haven’t begun.  In fact, I haven’t seen those last two project cars for over ten years: my dad is so far from being ready to begin those projects that he needed to find places to store them until he is ready for them.  I keep asking him when he is going to retire so that he can start realizing some of these projects and he keeps telling me that he doesn’t think that he can afford to, yet.

          My mom’s question, therefore, sparked a moment of fear in my heart: “Oh my gosh, dad’s gonna die and he’s gonna dump all of those cars on me!  What, in the world, will I do when them?”  But it also made me think again what I have often thought about every time that I ask my dad about retiring: “How sad that he has worried so long about having enough saved up to retire that he’ll probably never get the chance to complete any of these projects; and all that he has been saving up to enjoy will ultimately pass into another person’s hands.

          Thus, when I hear the words of our first reading today from the book of Ecclesiastes—“Vanity of vanities! All things are vanity! Here is one who has labored with wisdom and knowledge and skill, and yet to another who has not labored over it, he must leave property.”—or the words from Jesus’ parable in today’s Gospel reading—“You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you; and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?”—I can’t help but think of my dad and his cars and I worry that, after all his toil and labor, he will never have the chance to enjoy its fruits.

          But this is the narrative of our modern lives, isn’t it?  Who of us wasn’t told when we were young: “Work hard, go to college, get a good job, start investing, get married and raise your kids and hopefully, by the time you reach 65, you can retire; and then you can start to enjoy your life.”  Why else have we taken to calling those post-retirement years the “golden years” except that we believe that we can’t really live until we’ve done all of those other things?  But isn’t this exactly the situation that Jesus warns about in the Gospel reading today?

          There a man from the crowd who is worried about his 401k comes forward and he demands that Jesus—a teacher who teaches with authority—resolve his dispute with his brother so that he’ll receive his share of the inheritance and thus solidify his retirement plan.  And Jesus warns him with the parable: don’t be so obsessed with your retirement plan—that is, with your plans for how you’re going to live in the future—so much so that you forget to live today; because your life will disappear like smoke when you least expect it.  In fact, all life is smoke… vapor… vanity… says Qoheleth, the Teacher, in the book of Ecclesiastes, a “chasing after wind”.  You can imagine what it would be like to chase after wind and so you can see that it would be a meaningless exercise.  This, says Qoheleth, is life: a meaningless exercise.  Meaningless, that is, if life consists only of possessions and our capacity to enjoy them.

          Thus, Jesus’ clarion call: don’t turn your life into a chasing after wind by making it only about obtaining and enjoying possessions.  Rather, focus on the things of God, because it is he alone who gives your life meaning and substance; while possessions, just like everything else in the created universe, add nothing to it; because they, too, will one day vanish like smoke.

          My brothers and sisters, let me ask you this question: What project for the building up of God’s kingdom here on earth has God placed on your heart only to have you store it in a remote garage or shed until the rest of your life settles out and you have the “leisure” to finally take it up?  In other words, have you ever heard yourself saying things like “One day I want to start a food pantry here at the parish, or a bible study, or to be a part of the Haiti mission, or to work with the youth group, but I just have too much going on right now. Once the kids are out of school, or I retire, or the house is paid off, then I’ll be able to do it”?  If you have, then whatever that is is the answer to my question: it is the work that God has given you that you have put in storage until you feel comfortable enough to “retire” and finally take it up.

          You know, I can’t help but think that this attitude is like my dad’s toward his project cars.  When his life turns to dust, those ideas will disappear like vapor and all he had hoped to accomplish by working another year longer will have been in vain, because there will be nothing to show for it.  “Thus will it be” Jesus warns us “for all who store up treasure for themselves but are not rich in what matters to God.”  My brothers and sisters, all of us will leave this life poor in material things, because, as we all know, “you can’t take it with you”.  If we are rich in what matters to God then we will be rich in the next life, because those things go with us.

          And this is good news!—the good news that Qoheleth hadn’t heard—that when we focus on the things that matter to God, God, the source of all existence, gives substance and meaning to our lives so that, when they disappear like smoke, there will be something that remains—something that lasts—that will go with us into the next life, proving that this life wasn’t all vanity, but rather that it had value: value earned for us through Jesus in his passion, death, and resurrection.  And so, as we turn now to re-present to the Father that perfect sacrifice of his Son, let us pray for the grace to take up the projects that he has placed on our hearts so that we might increase our wealth in the things that matter to him: wealth that adds real substance to the vapor of our lives and thus prepares us for the eternal weight of glory that we will enjoy in heaven.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – July 31^st, 2016

-------------------------------------------------

If you'd like a further meditation on this topic, check out this video from The Liturgists:

Making an eternal difference

Homily: 4^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          Back when I was working as an engineer for Delphi Automotive Electronics in Kokomo, one of the main products that I worked on was development of DVD players for rear-seat entertainment systems that are installed into new cars.  The great irony of that assignment was that, at that time, I didn’t even own a DVD player!  These were the first systems being integrated from the factory into new cars; and so you can imagine that there were some problems getting these systems ready for production.  I worked a lot of overtime chasing down software glitches and improving quality and all of that work started to wear on me.

          I remember having many conversations with a good friend of mine (who was also an engineer and a few years older than me) and saying to him “You know, I just don’t feel like I’m really doing anything.  I’m stressing out and working myself to death, and for what?  So that some soccer-mom’s kids can watch a movie in the back of the minivan?  That just doesn’t seem to be worth it; like it’s making a difference in the world.”  My friend would always remind me not to underestimate how important that five minutes of quiet could be for that soccer-mom, but I could never get over the feeling that I wasn’t making a difference that mattered in peoples’ lives.

          I suppose that all of you should be thankful that my friend’s response didn’t satisfy me, because otherwise I wouldn’t be here.  That dissatisfaction led me to pursue a different job—even a different career path—and ultimately (once I experienced a profound awakening of faith) to discern God’s will that I become a priest, which landed me right here at All Saints Parish.  All because I had this urge within me to make a positive difference in the world.

          I think that all of us have a similar urge within us: an urge to make a positive difference in the world—that is, to do something worthwhile.  And, although we love our vacations (and we wish that we had more of them), we all know that our fulfillment and meaning comes from achieving something that will last, rather than sitting around, soaking up the sun and drinking lemonade.  God made us in his image and God creates.  Therefore, we are, by nature, co-creators with him.  We are built to create things and our unique instincts tell us that we should build things that make positive, lasting impacts on the lives of those around us.

          Unfortunately, too many of us think that the way to do this is to be productive: that is, to make something tangible that will create this positive impact and, thus, stand as our legacy long after we’ve died.  While there many who will truly make a positive impact on the people around them (and, perhaps, even beyond them) by what they produce, there are only a few whose impact will be remembered beyond the generation that follows them.  For the rest of us, there is only one thing that we can build that will truly leave a lasting impact well into the future: the kingdom of God.

          Believe it or not, each and every one of us that bears the name of “Christian” is called to be a prophet: one who builds God’s kingdom by proclaiming Christ and by making the world a more just and loving place through the works of mercy.  Listen to what the Catechism has to say, which quotes the Second Vatican Council:

 “Christ... fulfills this prophetic office, not only by the hierarchy... but also by the laity. He accordingly both establishes them as witnesses and provides them with the sense of the faith [sensus fidei] and the grace of the word.” … Lay people also fulfill their prophetic mission by evangelization, “that is, the proclamation of Christ by word and the testimony of life.” For lay people, “this evangelization... acquires a specific property and peculiar efficacy because it is accomplished in the ordinary circumstances of the world.” (CCC 904, 905)

In other words, Christ himself establishes all of us—the clergy as well as the laity—as prophets in the world, due simply to the fact that we participate as members of his one Body.  The prophetic role of the laity, moreover, is unique: since “it is accomplished in the ordinary circumstances of the world”—that is, in the circumstances of your day-to-day lives.  Thus, by proclaiming the Good News of Jesus Christ and by living our lives in accord with what we proclaim, we build God’s kingdom and make a positive impact on the world: an impact that lasts.  When we choose not proclaim this message in both our words and actions, we lose our chance to make that change and the world is negatively impacted.  No, there is no neutral ground.  Either we proclaim this message and build God’s kingdom or we fail to do so and the kingdom suffers.

          In our network of relationships, there are literally hundreds of opportunities to call people to "repent and believe in the Gospel".  And so, the question that we need to ask ourselves daily is: “Who in our network of relationships needs to hear this message?”  A son or a daughter?  A friend, cousin, or co-worker?  Let us make a commitment today to reach out to at least one of them: perhaps with a phone call, a letter, an e-mail, or even message on Facebook.  And what about how we live as followers of Christ?  What areas of my life need reform in order to proclaim this good news by my actions?  Let’s also make a commitment today to start working on that reform.  Although both of these may make us uncomfortable (in fact, they make me uncomfortable just talking about them, since I know that, because of my position, I’ll be held more accountable if I don’t follow through), it is better to be uncomfortable for a while here in this life, than to be uncomfortable forever in the next life.

          Friends, let us not be afraid to engage in this good work that God has given to us: for he has given us the same promise that he gave to Jeremiah, the prophet, when he said “They will fight against you but not prevail over you, for I am with you to deliver you, says the Lord.”  Consecrated by our baptism and strengthened by this Eucharist, we already have every grace that we need to fulfill it.  May the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary and all of the saints keep us faithful to this work so that we might see the kingdom of God flourish among us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – January 30^th & 31^st, 2016

Frustrated? Good. Pay attention.

Homily: 23^rd Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          When I returned to Guatemala to work on my Spanish skills a couple of years ago, I went back to the same place where I had studied initially while I was in the seminary.  I remember that one of the things that struck me about my return visit was how frustrating life seemed be for the Guatemalan people.  All of the infrastructure things that make our lives here relatively comfortable—things like, good roads, new cars, convenience stores, etc.—are relatively underdeveloped there (if they’re even developed at all).  I imagined that this meant that their daily lives are probably filled with frustrations as they try to accomplish even what I might consider to be the simplest tasks; because, for example, maybe the electricity shut off, or the gas station was out of fuel, or the road washed out in the heavy rain last night.  They, I supposed, are a people very familiar with frustration.

          On some level, however, all of us are familiar with frustration in one form or another.  When your pen runs out of ink, or your coupon is expired, or you leave your leftovers on the table at the restaurant… these are all examples of how we experience frustrations even in the smallest things of our daily lives. Now, as weird as this may seem, I want to propose to you that all of those frustrations have a purpose.  “A purpose?  Father, frustrations are things that get in the way of accomplishing other things.  In other words, they get in the way of fulfilling a purpose, so how could they themselves have a purpose?”  Believe it or not, frustrations are meant to be a signal to us that something isn’t right.  In other words, much in the same way that the pain that we feel in our hand when we touch a hot stove has as its purpose to warn us that we are doing something to harm ourselves, so too frustrations have as their purpose to remind us that the world is “out of order”. 

          Why do we need to be reminded that the world is “out of order”?  Well, because our souls long for things to be “in order”.  Let’s think about this for a second: if being “out of order” was the way things were supposed to be, then we wouldn’t get frustrated because everything would seem to be just as it was supposed to be.  For example, in a world where “out of order” is the way things are supposed to be, if I were to blowout a tire on my car during a trip I wouldn’t get frustrated because I would be able to say to myself “Well, I expected this to happen because that’s how the world works.”  But “out of order” is not the “order” of things, and so we become frustrated when “out of order” things happen.  We instinctively know that “out of order” isn’t right and so we experience discomfort when we encounter it as a sign to remind us that it isn’t right.

          And this is so important for us, and here’s why.  You see, when I think about it, I find that there are two basic ways that we deal with frustration: 1) we confront it and try to overcome it (that is, we try to put back “in order” what is “out of order”) or 2) we resign ourselves to being frustrated and thus give up on trying to overcome it altogether (in other words, we accept that being frustrated with “out of order” is the only way it can be).  Because there are so many things that are outside of our control in this world, we more often than not deal with frustration in the second way that I described.  The danger of this is that, if we are constantly facing frustrations, we might quickly lose hope that anything really ever could be “in order” again.  This can lead us into apathy, which numbs our sense of frustration, thus causing us to forget that there is an ideal “order” for which we should be striving, and “out of order” becomes the “way things are supposed to be”.

          In the first reading, we heard an encouraging proclamation from Isaiah.  In his proclamation he is talking about how God is coming to vindicate his people from their enemies and he is using terms of restoration: that is, of restoring things that are “out of order” so as to put them back “in order”.  In other words, Isaiah is saying that when God’s vindication comes things that had been out of order—like eyes that are blind, ears that cannot hear, legs that cannot be used for jumping, and tongues that cannot speak—will be restored to order—for the blind will see, the deaf will hear, the lame will leap, and the mute will speak.  He proclaimed this to them so that they wouldn’t become resigned to accept what they couldn’t change and thus become apathetic to how “out of order” everything was.  In God’s eyes, it was better for the people to have a healthy sense of frustration, for that would keep them longing for the order that he planned to restore for them; and so would strengthen their faith.

          As Christians we know that God sent his Son Jesus to vindicate us from our enemies and thus to restore order to the world; and the stories recorded for us in the Gospels are meant to support this claim.  Today we heard of how Jesus opened the ears of a man who was deaf and of how he freed the tongue of that same man who also had a speech impediment.  This was a sign that Jesus had come to vindicate God’s people as he put back “in order” that which was “out of order” in this man.  In this we also see that, when Jesus brings restoration, he makes it personal.  What I mean is this: instead of healing this man in front of the whole crowd so that everyone could see, he takes the man aside, away from the crowd, before he heals him.  Jesus’ interest was in restoring to this man what he, perhaps, never had—the ability to hear and to speak—and not in making a scene in front of the crowd.  In this way he shows us that he wants to meet each of us, personally, so as to put back “in order” what is “out of order” in our lives: thus freeing us from what oppresses us and restoring us to fullness of life.

          Therefore, my brothers and sisters, let us not be afraid to bring our life’s biggest frustrations to Jesus, because these are the things most “out of order” either in our lives or in the world and Jesus wants to restore them to order for us.  And let us hold on to hope: the hope we have in the fact that Jesus has vindicated us; and that the world of perfect order that our hearts long for—the kingdom of God—will come to us when Jesus comes again to make all things new.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – September 6^th, 2015

Get your wings this Christmas

          The angel Gabriel's first message to Mary was that she was highly favored by God.  Each of us, made in the image and likeness of God is also favored by him.  Many people today do not know this.  This Christmas, let's be angels of God by bring the message to all around us that their lives matter and that God has amazing plans for them.  It is a gift of hope that each of us can't afford not to give.

----------------------------------------------

Homily: 4^th Sunday of Advent – Cycle B

“Look Daddy!  Teacher says, every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings.”  “That's right, that's right.  Attaboy, Clarence.”

          I would guess that more than a few of us could probably name the film that this line comes from.  For those who may not be able to, it is a line from the end of the movie It’s A Wonderful Life.  It’s A Wonderful Life is a classic film for the holidays that tells the story of George Bailey who, after building a successful life in small-town America, falls on hard times and on Christmas Eve has become so depressed that he believes that life in general would have been better without him.  As he stands on a bridge, ready to throw himself into icy waters, an angel intervenes to show George what life would have been like without him.  This “assignment” for the angel was a test that would prove whether or not the angel was ready to “get his wings.”  Hopefully, I won’t ruin the plot too badly for you by telling you that the angel, Clarence, was successful in his task of making George realize just how valuable his life had been, and so at the end of the film, when a bell rings, the little girl quotes her teacher and George realizes that Clarence indeed has made it.

          Now, the word “angel” comes from the Greek word “angelos,” which means “messenger,” “envoy,” or “one that announces.”  And so the irony of the movie, which is mostly—and, I would say, rightly—overlooked, is that Clarence achieves his full-fledged angel status by doing exactly what it is that angels do: bringing a message of hope to George, reminding him that his life was truly valued by the people around him and, at least implicitly, by God.  /// Angels are sent to carry important messages from God.

          Of course, the most important messages are going to be sent with the most important messengers.  Therefore, we see that it is Gabriel, an archangel, who is sent to carry God’s most important message to Mary.  For it was Gabriel who was sent to Zechariah, Elizabeth’s husband, to announce the conception of John the Baptist and it is also thought to be Gabriel who spoke from the tomb of Jesus, announcing that “the one they were looking for was no longer there; but that he was risen.”  Scholars have argued that this evidence indicates that Gabriel is indeed the “archangel of archangels.”  Yet, it is not his particular abilities that make him great, but rather it is the greatness of the message that he carries that sets him apart.

          Gabriel’s message, as we’ve heard in today’s Gospel reading, is that the beginning of the fullness of time is at hand.  He is announcing that, after generations of waiting, the Promised One of God is about to appear. /// You know, the amazing thing about the annunciation is that so many things had to line up for it to happen.  Kind of like a supernatural game of chess, God had been waiting for all of the pieces to line up so that he could enact his perfect plan for the salvation of mankind.  Ever since the first sin of Adam and Eve, God had been moving among us, revealing himself and his plan for the salvation of man to us and encouraging us to learn to walk in his ways.  He waited as our sinful inclinations caused us to drift away from his plan and then he waited as his grace slowly led us back into it, so that, in his perfect timing, his favored one, Mary, could be born free of sin by an extraordinary act of grace and thus be ready to receive the message that the angel Gabriel would bring to her on that glorious day.

          The angels, too, waited anxiously for God’s perfect plan to come to fruition.  And so when it came time for this great message of the Incarnation to be delivered to Mary, the angel Gabriel arrived in haste to deliver it.  When he greeted her, Gabriel did not do so as if his message was some sort of subpoena proclaiming that she must comply with God’s will.  Rather, his greeting came with an acknowledgement of her sublime dignity as one highly regarded by God.  Mary, on her part, received the message with surprise, unaware of the dignity that God had bestowed upon her.  And while certainly the message that God’s only Son was to become man and be born of Mary is the primary message that Gabriel carried, it seems also that he carried a secondary message of significant importance: “O lowly handmaiden of the Lord.  Rejoice!  You have been highly regarded by God.”  This angel, who already knows the blessing of being regarded by God, was eager to bring this message of great joy to Mary.  And so we see that the message itself is a blessing, a blessing that opens the door for an even more abundant blessing: the Word become flesh in Mary’s womb.

          In many ways, we are experiencing another time of waiting, much like the ancient Hebrews experienced as they were waiting for the coming of the Messiah.  Jesus Christ, the promised one of God, has come and has brought us salvation through his life, death, and resurrection.  He ascended into heaven and waits now, until the fullness of time comes to completion—that is, until all of the pieces of God’s wonderfully mysterious plan come into place—when he will come again to usher in a new heaven and a new earth and to call his chosen ones home.  This anticipation of his coming is what we have been remembering in these past three weeks of Advent.  As we turn now and focus our attention on our remembrance and celebration of Christ’s first coming, we find ourselves with a perfect opportunity to cooperate in putting into place those pieces that will lead to Christ’s second coming.

          You see, part of our calling as Christians is, in some sense, to be angels of the Lord.  There are many people around us who have never heard the message that Mary received from the angel Gabriel: that they are highly regarded by God.  Yet, I suspect that every day we are given the opportunity to give that very message to someone.  In the book of Genesis, it tells us that “God looked at all he had made and said, ‘It is very good.’”  Therefore, in a special way, because each of us is made in the image and likeness of God, God looks on us with favor and invites us all to receive a message similar to the one Gabriel carried to Mary: “Hail, favored one!  God desires to dwell in you, if only you would let him.”  Now, I don’t believe that I exaggerate when I say that each and every day God gives us a chance to say to someone, “You are important here.  Your life matters, because God has a beautiful plan for your life.”  Perhaps even now we are aware of someone who needs to hear that message.  If so, then I invite you to make a commitment right now to carry that message to them this week.  If not, then I invite you to pray this week that God will reveal to you who he wants you to bring this message to, the joyful message of Emmanuel, God with us, in this coming week.  And when you feel the prompting of the Holy Spirit—in other words, when you feel moved to share this message with someone that you encounter this week—I encourage you to respond just like Mary did: Fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum, Let it be done to me according to your Word.

          My sisters and brothers, as we complete our preparations to celebrate our remembrance of the coming of Christ—that is, as we prepare not only our homes, but our hearts as well—let us also heed our call to be angels of God’s mercy to those around us.  If we do, perhaps then on Christmas Day a bell will ring also for each one of us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – December 21^st, 2014

Find your deepest meaning in the cross

          Happy Labor Day to all!  Although there are nearly no schools that wait to start their year until after Labor Day, it still marks the end of the summer "vacation season" for most everybody.  For me, Labor Day is a clear marker for the end of summer.  Last Saturday I witnessed my seventh (and last) marriage of the summer "wedding season".  I'm looking forward to some Saturday afternoons off!  God's blessings are truly abundant, however.  And in a culture that tells us that marriage is "optional", to have seven weddings this summer is almost a miracle.  Please pray for more happy and holy marriages!

OK.  Vacation's over.  Get back to work!

-------------------------------------------------

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

         It was spring in the year 2000 and I was on the cusp of completing my Senior Thesis project after which I would be eligible to graduate with a degree in Mechanical Engineering.  I was excited about the prospect of graduating and finally being able to pursue a career working for one of the “Big Three” automakers, eventually working my way into their design studios.  In anticipation of my graduation, I participated in a job fair in Detroit in which I submitted my resume to each of the Big Three companies as well as to many of their major suppliers.  “If I could just get my foot in the door in Detroit, I’d be well on my way”, I thought.

         In June of that year I received my degree.  A couple of months afterward, I received a call from Delphi Corporation, a supplier of various components and systems for cars that used to be a part of General Motors itself.  Delphi had a position that they wanted to interview me for and, having not heard from any of the other companies I submitted resumes to, I quickly jumped on the opportunity.  “We’ll make all of the arrangements and send you the itinerary”, they said.  When I received it, I distinctly remember the surprise and confusion I felt when my flight wouldn’t take me to Detroit, but rather to Indianapolis.  “Perhaps they have a human resource center in Indiana where they conduct their interviews”, I reasoned, and left it at that.

         After arriving in Indianapolis my surprise and confusion only grew when, after driving north out of Carmel, I started to realize that even what I had reasoned to be true about the purpose for sending me to Indiana and not to Detroit probably wasn’t true.  When I arrived in Kokomo, my excitement about this potential opportunity had all but disappeared.

         The next day, after the interview—and after I realized that it had been for a job in Kokomo and not in the Detroit area—I felt like I had been duped.  Delphi did soon offer me the job and, having no other offers on the table (and it was a good offer), I hesitatingly took it and prepared to move myself to Indiana, hoping optimistically that I could eventually transfer to a job in Detroit.

         In our first reading, we heard the prophet Jeremiah lamenting the fact that he had allowed himself to be duped by God.  Very young when God first called him, Jeremiah tried to convince God to pick somebody else.  God, however, insisted on promises that he would be with him to deliver him from whoever would oppose him.  Jeremiah, however, wasn’t feeling the love.  Every time that he prophesied in the Lord’s name he was compelled to speak of God’s outrage at his chosen people for having disobeyed him for so long and of the violence that would come upon them if they didn’t change their ways.  Because of the seeming absurdity of his message—and, perhaps, because of his young age—Jeremiah was roundly mocked, derided, and at times assaulted for speaking such things.  Thus, he felt like God had tricked him into doing this with false promises of security and we hear him today “kicking himself” for allowing himself to be tricked.

         In our Gospel reading, Peter seems to be feeling like he had been duped also.  After having responded to divine inspiration to acknowledge Jesus as the Christ of God, and after having received such a glowing approval from Jesus (which we heard last week: “Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah…), Peter is now confronted by Jesus’ proclamation that he must go to Jerusalem to suffer and be killed by the elders and to be raised on the third day.  Perhaps we could understand Peter’s strong reaction: “What?  No way will we ever let that happen to you!”  Peter was confident that he had found the Christ and the Christ that he was waiting for would be an all-conquering king.  Thus, he felt like he had been duped when Christ revealed that his grim fate would be to suffer and to be killed at the hands of the elders.

         Jesus, however, took this opportunity to teach his disciples an important lesson.  Discipleship would not lead one into honor and prestige in this world; rather it would lead to shame: the greatest shame known to man at the time, that of being crucified.  The shame would only be an earthly shame, however, for having lost their lives for his sake in this world, they would in turn find the eternal life that salvation would bring them.  And, as we would see years on from this event, Peter would eventually find the deepest meaning of his life in the cross that he had been “duped” to carry.

         Jeremiah, too, would find the deepest meaning in his life by carrying the cross that he felt he had been “duped” to carry.  For when he says that he tried to keep himself from speaking the Lord’s words, those words would become like a fire burning within his heart that he could not contain, that he could not endure; as if trying to contain them was something unnatural to him, while their spilling forth from him brought relief, even as it brought forth the cross of ridicule and derision.

         Not long after moving here to Indiana, I was certain that I had been duped and I started looking for a job so that I could move back.  I strove with no success, however, but found that when I accepted what I felt I had been duped to accept and decided to settle here in Indiana that God revealed the deepest meaning of my life to me—that is, that he had called me to be a priest in this very same place—and so here I am today.

         My brothers and sisters, our lives are full of times when we feel like we’ve been duped by someone into accepting something that turned out to be a much more difficult or unsatisfying experience than what that person promised it would be.  Perhaps, like the prophet Jeremiah, we even feel like God has been that other person.  Nevertheless, if we take some time to look deeper at the situation, perhaps we will see how God is revealing to us the deepest meaning of our lives; that is, how through the cross he has “duped” us to carry he is preparing us to live in the Father’s glory when Christ returns.

         This truth is never more evident than here in the Eucharist.  For through the cross that Jesus was compelled to bear came the fount of everlasting life: the sacrifice of his Body and Blood that we re-present here on this altar and the grace of redemption that we receive when we consume it.  And so, my brothers and sisters, let us boldly take up whatever cross we may have been “duped” to carry because we are disciples of Christ: for there we will find Jesus, carrying the cross with us and leading us to our everlasting reward.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN - August 31^st, 2014