Evangelize through goodness

Homily: 5^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Friends, as you know by now, I have invited you to journey with me through these weeks of Ordinary Time, seeking each week one way, revealed to us in the Mass, that we can grow in our discipleship of Jesus during this time.  In previous weeks, I encouraged us to seek to behold Jesus, the Lamb of God, in the different moments and encounters of our daily lives, to see in the Word of God both a record of God’s promises to us and the evidence of their fulfillment, and to be lowly and pure so that we might be blessed to recognize his presence among us.  This week, I believe that the Mass moves us to remember that we have been given a mission to evangelize and what that looks like.  And so, let’s dive in to see how it reveals this to us.

Bishop Robert Barron, in explaining his discoveries over many years of seeking to evangelize and to inspire others to do so, often speaks of the difficulties trying to proclaim Jesus in a world that has lost much of its religious sense.  What he means by that is this: that since, in western culture, people have lost a sense of who God is—or that there even is God—to approach them with a proclamation of Jesus (whom most, if they know him, view him as an ethical teacher and a prophet) is ineffective, since they wouldn’t have a context in which to place him and thus accept him.  To counter this, Bishop Barron often proposes introducing people to what are called the “transcendentals”: that is, truth, beauty, and goodness.  These, he argues, are things, not specifically religious, that anyone can experience, and which can lead them to acknowledge realities that are beyond themselves (that is, realities that “transcend” their own).  When someone is able to do this, Bishop Barron argues, then they can be introduced to the idea of God and of our need for a savior, who is Jesus.

Truth, Bishop Barron argues, is a difficult one to begin with.  This is because our culture is so rife with relativism—that is, the idea that truth is relative to the person who perceives it—that even when presented with a universal truth, a person might not be open to experiencing its transcendent quality.  Beauty is a similarly challenging mode of evangelizing, he says.  This for a couple of reasons: first because to truly encounter beauty one has to “raise your eyes” above the world.  In western culture, so rife with images that speak to our passions and our primal urges, it’s hard to pull our eyes away to see something that is truly beautiful in and of itself.  Second, because the idea of beauty has also been subject to relativism.  “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” the saying goes.  But this is not true.  Transcendent beauty is something that has an objective quality.  You might say that this church does not appeal to your taste in regard to style, but you’d be wrong if you said that it wasn’t beautiful.

This leaves us with goodness.  This, Bishop Barron argues, is where we have the most opportunity.  This is because many in western culture still believe that we have a responsibility to care for those who are less fortunate than us.  Therefore, when folks see Christians serving the poor—especially if it is poor Christians serving the poor—they more readily recognize that there is something valuable in goodness and, thus, will be open to knowing what it is that motivates us to service, which is our chance, then, to share the Gospel.  This third transcendental as a means of evangelization is exactly what our scriptures point towards today.

In the first reading from the prophet Isaiah, we hear the Lord telling the Israelites how it is that they will be restored to God’s good graces and begin again to fulfill their purpose as God’s people, which is to be a light drawing people from every nation towards God.  And what does he say?  He says, “share your bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them, and don’t turn your back on your own.”  Still further he says, “remove from your midst oppression, false accusation and malicious speech... bestow your bread on the hungry and satisfy the afflicted...”  In other words, “Do good and avoid evil and the light that you have been given will shine brightly in the world, drawing people into my kingdom.”  Friends, if you read through the Old Testament, you’ll see that every time that the Israelites get in trouble with God it is because they have failed to be the light of God’s goodness in the world, thus turning people away from God, instead of towards him.

Then in the Gospel reading we hear Jesus in his Sermon on the Mount sharing with us the metaphors of salt and light.  “You are the salt of the earth”, he says to his disciples, meaning that they are meant to take what is good in the world and enhance it.  “You are the light of the world”, he also tells them, echoing the purpose that God gave to the Israelite people to be a light to all peoples so that they might turn to God.  He continues, saying, “Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.”  There it is, once again: by displaying goodness to others, others will, in turn, discover and glorify God.

Not included with today’s first reading, but implied by our Lord in his sermon, is the consequences for not evangelizing.  The result of evangelizing, of course, is that things get better: for the kingdom of God will grow and the brotherhood of mankind, united to God through Jesus, will bring peace and harmony to the world.  The consequence of not evangelizing, however, is not that things stay the same, but rather that they get worse.  As Jesus says, salt that loses its taste is good for nothing but to be thrown out.  When it is thrown out and trampled underfoot, it makes the ground sterile: that is, unable to support plant growth.  A burning flame (which is what Jesus means when he says, “light”, by the way) that is hidden by a basket will not keep burning, but rather will burn out after it consumes all of the oxygen under the basket.  In both instances, when the thing is not used for its good end, it doesn’t keep things status quo, but rather make things worse.

And so, my friends, it does, indeed, seem that our Mass today is encouraging us to consider our mission as disciples to evangelize and to do so through goodness: that is, by doing good so as to enhance the inherent goodness in the world and to be a light that draws men and women to know God, who is goodness himself, and, thus, to glorify him.  Let us, then, commit ourselves to spend time this week considering the ways that God is calling us to evangelize through good deeds in our daily lives and to seek out the ways that are still available to us to do more good (like, perhaps, removing “malicious speech” from our lives) so that we might become more fervent disciples of Christ and God’s kingdom of harmony and peace might be realized here and now.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – February 8^th & 9^th, 2020

Engage the world and build the kingdom

Homily: 25^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

Just about halfway through my time in seminary, when I was in my first year of theology studies, our annual retreat was to be a silent one at a retreat house run by the Ursaline Sisters near Owensboro, Kentucky.  Their house was outside of the city, right next to a farm.  It was early spring and so cool temperatures were still the norm.  Nonetheless, I made it a point to get outside each day and walk.  I was struggling with my vocation at that point and spent a lot of time on that retreat praying about whether or not this was really the vocation to which God was calling me.  Part of the farm was cow pasture and I remember sitting and watching the cows near the end of the day one day and thinking that this stressful life of preparing for a stressful life of ministry was for the birds; and I longed for a more simple life—like one I imagine I could find on a farm—in which my work would be clear and I could put in an honest day of work, every day, and return home to peace and tranquility.

I became somewhat convicted by this idea and so decided to speak about it to my spiritual director for the retreat.  He was one of the monks from Saint Meinrad, Fr. Guerric.  Fr. Guerric is originally from the East Coast (New York or New Jersey, I can’t remember) and his accent shows it.  He also has a great “East Coast” way of telling you what he thinks: which means, straight in your face.  Thus, when I revealed to him that I was becoming more and more convinced that a life of ministry wasn’t my call, but rather a life of simple labor and quiet simplicity, his response was... how should I say it... direct.  “Oh, get over yourself, Dominic! That is not what God has called you to do”, was his response.  He could see right through my over-romantic notion: primarily because it involved giving up on the world; and he knew that a true vocation is never one that leads someone to give up on the world, but rather one that leads someone to give him/herself more fully for the world.  My frustration with dealing with the world, therefore, was no sign that I was wrong about my vocation; but rather a good sign that I was on the right path. (“Spoiler alert”: I think that you all know the rest of this story, because here I am today...)

In our Gospel reading today, Jesus presents a somewhat troubling parable.  There a household steward (today we might call this person a “personal asset manager”) is about to be fired for not doing his job well.  This causes him great consternation, of course, since he realizes that he’s about to lose his livelihood and be out on his rear end.  He knows that manual labor is not for him and so he devises a plan: “I’ll garner favors with my master’s debtors so that one of them will take me in once I’m homeless and so I won’t have to resort to manual labor.”  Two great ironies emerge: 1) the bad steward suddenly shows talent and the ability to work an advantageous deal as soon as his meal ticket is on the line, and 2) the master, who is getting ready to fire him, actually commends him for these “slick moves”.  In both, Jesus seems to be presenting this in such a way as to show this steward in a favorable light.  Our minds kind of automatically rebel against the idea of commending someone who is dishonest, however, so it begs the question: what is the point?

The point, it seems, that Jesus is trying to make to his disciples is that they must learn to be shrewd in their dealings with the world.  Jesus knew that his disciples would be sent out to proclaim this Gospel message in the everyday life of society; and that, if they weren’t shrewd in dealing with the world, then they would be ineffective and, thus, fail in their mission (for even those who are dishonest show themselves to be shrewd in dealing with the world… as the dishonest steward was).  In fact, in the early centuries of the Church, sects called “gnostics” promoted that the goal of life was “mental enlightenment”, after which one no longer really needed to deal with the world: because, through enlightenment, they would be living on a “higher” plane.  Jesus’ teaching squarely contradicts this, however, when he says, “Make friends for yourselves with dishonest wealth”, meaning, “Deal shrewdly with this world and its riches”.  In other words, it’s as if Jesus is saying, “I am not calling you to remove yourselves from the world, but rather to go out into it—dealing with it prudently, of course, yet nonetheless dealing with it—so as to bring this message of salvation to all peoples.”

Friends, we have to remember that Christianity is a religion: which means that, in part, it is a way of living in and interacting with the world.  This as opposed to a cult: which typically demands that people separate themselves from the world and from interacting with it.  Because of this, we need to heed Jesus’ words and not try to pull back from the world (like I tried to do during that retreat, ten years ago), but rather to engage the world and deal shrewdly with it.  This is what I feel like the Uniting In Heart 2030 Pastoral Plan does for us: as a diocese, it provides us with a roadmap of how to be more shrewd in how our parishes live in and interact with the world, which will allow us to be more effective in fulfilling our mission to proclaim the Good News of eternal life through Jesus.

My brothers and sisters, Jesus, the Master, is calling us to be good stewards of his household, the Church.  The parable of the dishonest steward is a warning and a challenge: a warning not to get lazy in our stewardship and risk losing our position all together, and a challenge, thus, to deal shrewdly in the world, while we are in it, so as to build up the Church and prepare for our Master’s coming (and for the accounting to which he will call us when he comes).  Uniting In Heart 2030 is a chance for us to renew and strengthen our stewardship of God’s household; and so I hope that you will all join me in committing yourself to doing what will be necessary to see it come to fruition for Christ and his Church.

It is true what Saint Paul said in his letter to Timothy, that “God wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth.”  Therefore, strengthened by this Eucharist, let us take up this good work so that more and more men and women can come to know Christ and his salvation; and that we, too, can be well prepared to enter the “eternal dwellings” that Christ, our Savior, has prepared for us.

Given at Saint Mary’s Parish: Lafayette, IN – September 22^nd, 2019

Participating in the mission of the Local and Universal Church

          This past weekend was our Missionary Appeal weekend and Monsignor Jerome Feudjio from the diocese of Saint Thomas in the Virgin Islands made the mission appeal.  He was unable to stay for our 5:30 p.m. Sunday Mass, so I preached this brief homily trying to capture his thoughts.

Homily: 25^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          When I was a kid back in Joliet, I remember hearing recordings of Bishop Joseph Imesh during mass.  When he had a message that he wanted to get to everyone he would sometimes make a recording and send it out to the parishes to play during the Sunday masses.  Now, I am just old enough to remember Saint Mary Nativity church before its latest renovation and I remember that one of the upgrades that they made in that renovation was to add a sound system with the capacity to play recorded materials like cassette tapes.  (Kids, if you don’t know what a cassette tape is, ask your parents about it after mass.)

          To be honest, I really had no clue who the Bishop was and why he got to have a recording of himself played in the middle of mass, but I do remember thinking that he must have been pretty important for Fr. Stalzer to give up some of his preaching time so we could hear it.  What it did help me realize, however, is that, as Catholics, we are all connected.

          I had heard in the past that one of the complaints about older Catholics is that they couldn’t see beyond the walls of their parish church: that they were too “parochial” and not “universal” enough.  Recent studies have shown that younger Catholics have trended the other direction, giving little attention to their local parish and identifying, rather, with the universal Church and the Pope.  (If you’ve ever heard of a little thing called “World Youth Day” then you know what I’m talking about.)  What gets lost in either case is the fact that we are a part of a diocese, which is under the pastoral care of a bishop, who is a successor to the Apostles, and that our mission as a parish is wholly bound up in the mission of our diocese, which is the mission of our bishop to bring the Good News of Jesus Christ to north-central Indiana; and, through that mission, to support the bigger mission of the universal Church.

          A way that we show our support for that mission is through our stewardship both at a parish level—sharing our time, talent, and treasure to support the many ministries in our local community—at the diocesan level (which we do by participating in the Fruitful Harvest campaign), and by our support of the missions—work being done in places where the Gospel still hasn’t been heard by everyone—by clergy and laity who, therefore, have little resources with which to work.

          Monsignor Jerome, the Rector of the Cathedral in the Diocese of Saint Thomas and the Vicar General of the Diocese was here this weekend to speak to us about the ongoing needs of their still relatively young diocese on the Virgin Islands.  Monsignor had to leave early this afternoon to fly to Washington D.C. to meet his bishop, Bishop Bevard, as they are scheduled to meet with the Apostolic Nuncio to the United States, Archbishop Christophe Pierre tomorrow.  He was disappointed that he could not address you all directly here at this Mass, but I promised him that I would do my best to share his thoughts with you here this evening as he seeks your continued support.

          Monsignor limited his thoughts to two points.  First: to say thanks.  You’ll recall that, last September, two category 5 hurricanes swept through the Carribean, directly hitting a number of U.S. territories, including Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands.  Monsignor spoke of the great damage that was done (not least of which, the roof of his rectory was destroyed…), but also of how the people of the dioceses in the United States (and our diocese, in particular) responded to provide funds to help supply them with food (as resources and supplies were thin) and the capacity to begin to rebuild.  For this he, on behalf of Bishop Bevard and all the people of the Virgin Islands, is extremely grateful.

          Second: he asks for further help.  While some supply lines have stabilized, Monsignor says that they are still in need of relief help.  The reason?  Instead of running their soup kitchens 5 days a week, as they were before the hurricanes, they are now running them 7 days a week so that some folks can have just even one meal a day.  Along with that, there are still many folks who, when they come for their meal, speak about other needs and, Monsignor relates, they cannot not help them.  Finally, one year removed, their Bishop, Bishop Bevard, is just now beginning to permit parishes to spend money on recovering buildings.  Up until now, Bishop Bevard has focused on supplying the needs of the people in their diocese.  Therefore, in spite of his great thankfulness, Monsignor Jerome needs to ask for our continued financial support so that the work of rebuilding may continue and the Church on the Virgin Islands may continue to grow.

          In our second reading today, the Apostle James tells us of how order is disrupted by selfishness and jealousy.  And in our Gospel reading, we hear Jesus’ famous instruction to his disciples: that those who wish to be acknowledged as greatest among them must be the servants of everyone.  One only needs to look around at society to see that we are becoming increasingly disordered, and at the television election ads to see that jealousy and selfish ambition are alive and well.  By responding to the needs both of those close to us, here in Lafayette and Tippecanoe County, and of those far away, like the people still recovering on the Virgin Islands, we overcome selfishness and jealousy and make ourselves the servants of all: like little children in the eyes of God who have found his favor and, thus, will receive the full riches of his kingdom.

          Therefore, my brothers and sisters, please be generous in supporting the needs of Bishop Bevard, Monsignor Jerome, and the people of the diocese of Saint Thomas in the Virgin Islands.  Your gift will not only be an act of service to those in need, but will also be an act of thanksgiving for the many blessings that you have received from God; and will prepare you to receive the fullness of blessedness: life eternal with God in heaven.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – September 23, 2018

The Gospel of the Ascension

Homily: The Ascension of the Lord – Cycle B

          Friends, today we celebrate this great feast of the Ascension: the final, culminating act of our redemption.  This is not, of course, the crucial act: that was Jesus’ Passion, Death, and Resurrection.  Rather, it is the culminating act: the ultimate reason for which Jesus took on our human flesh; and that is, to re-unite our humanity to God.  This, of course, is a joyful thing.  I mean, just think about your humanity for a moment.  Think about what happens when you don’t take a shower or a bath for a couple of days.  Think about changing diapers on babies or when they spit up on your shoulder.  Our humanity—as we experience it in this world, at least—is a messy (and, quite frankly, often gross) thing.  Yet the Divine Son of God, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, took on our humanity, in all its grossness, suffered all of the worst things that it can experience in this world, and glorified it in his resurrection so that it could be restored to its perfect communion with the Holy Trinity: which is to say, into an existence of perfect and eternal bliss.

          Yet, in our Scriptures today, the greatness of this event does not seem to be the message.  The message, rather, seems to focus on the mission that Christ gives to his apostles.  In the first reading from the beginning of the Acts of the Apostles, we hear Jesus speaking about the Holy Spirit that Jesus will send to empower them to be his “witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”  Then, in our reading from the Gospel of Mark, we hear Jesus giving them his specific command: “Go into the whole world and proclaim the gospel to every creature.”  Notice at the end of that reading, after it describes Jesus’ ascension, it doesn’t say “And the disciples sat around and marveled that Jesus has taken our human nature to be re-united with the Holy Trinity.”  Rather it says that “they went forth and preached everywhere”.  So why would the Scriptures spend so few verses on the Ascension and so many on the mission?

          This is because the Easter season is not only about celebration, but about preparation.  If you heard my homily last Sunday or any number of occasions over these past 40-some days, you’ll know that I’ve been encouraging us to consider this time of Easter as a time of preparation to be re-sent out on mission.  This is what the original “Easter Season” was, as the Acts of the Apostles records for us, saying: “He presented himself alive to them by many proofs after he had suffered, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God.”  What was this, but a preparation for being sent out to be his “witnesses … to the ends of the earth”?  Therefore, as I have said, if our celebration of Easter is going to be anything more than an excuse to eat our favorite foods that we gave up for Lent, and if our celebration of Pentecost is going to be anything more than a brief flash of red at church before going back to the green of Ordinary Time, then we, too, should have been preparing to renew our efforts to fulfill this great mission to proclaim the Gospel.

          But this begs the question… And what is the “gospel” (that is, “what is the “good news”)?  The Gospel is exactly that of which I spoke at the beginning of this homily: that “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.”  “Wait, that’s not what you said at the beginning of the homily.”  Well, yes it is.  The Life, Passion, Death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus Christ is what “giving his only Son” looked like; and restoring our humanity to its original glory so that it may dwell with God in eternal bliss once again (meaning that each of us with a human nature can also dwell with God in eternal bliss) is the ultimate result of this “good news”.

          Notice, for a moment, what the “gospel” isn’t: it isn’t that Jesus came to show us how to be good persons and, therefore, we are eternally grateful to him for it.  It is that our broken, messy, and often gross humanity has been perfected (that is, glorified) in Jesus Christ; and that, through him, we, too, can achieve and enjoy that perfection.

          Friends, if you need any sign that this gospel is needed in today’s world, you don’t have to look too far.  Did anyone watch the Met Gala last week (or at least see news reports about it)?  If you did, what you saw was disfigured humanity on display.  Not in any raucous bad behavior, mind you, but in how fashion designers proved infinitely capable of desecrating beautiful things while believing that they were improving upon them.  This kind of thinking—that we can perfect ourselves by our own ingenuity and, thus, have heaven right here—is our greatest modern plague; and it usually results in things looking more distorted (and, therefore, less perfect) than they were in the first place.  The gospel of Jesus Christ is the answer for anyone who has gone down this dead-end road.

          Unfortunately, however, many people around us do not even know that there is anything more for which to hope than this disfigured humanity and our attempts to perfect it by ourselves.  Thus, we must be re-sent out on mission.  Just like Jesus’ first apostles, we, too, are called to be his “witnesses … to the ends of the earth” to bring this good news: that life is not just about how good you can make it in this world, but that it’s destined for something so much greater, as Jesus, in his ascension, has shown us.  We are witnesses when we live as Saint Paul exhorts us to live in today’s second reading when he says: “I … urge you to live in a manner worthy of the calling you have received, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another through love, striving to preserve the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace…”  In this way we will model authentic human community, built on love, and, thus, attract those seeking a perfect humanity so that they might find it in its fullness through union with Jesus Christ.

          Therefore, my friends, in this final week of the Easter season—that is, the final week of preparation to be re-sent out on mission—let us pray fervently for a renewal of God’s Holy Spirit in us: so that we can be Church—and, therefore, witnesses—for Christ once again.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – May 12^th & 13^th, 2018

Easter Preparation for Mission

Homily: 6^th Sunday of Easter – Cycle B

          Friends, today our Gospel reading presents us with a contrast of contexts, so to speak.  The text is taken from Jesus’ beautiful Last Supper discourse in John’s Gospel.  Next to the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew’s Gospel, the Last Supper discourse is the longest continual sermon recorded in all of the four Gospels.  In the context of the Last Supper, these words serve as a “farewell speech”, of sorts, to his disciples on the night before he was going to be betrayed, tortured, and killed (that is, the day in which all of his disciples would “have their faith in him shaken”).  We, however, are hearing these words in the context of our continuing celebration of Easter.  Therefore, while they still express for us Jesus’ deep affection for us, his disciples (as they expressed to his disciples at the Last Supper), they nonetheless don’t have the same “dark gravity” for us that they did for the Apostles, given that we are no longer anticipating Christ’s Passion, but rather celebrating his victory over death.

          Nonetheless, in each context, the message that comes to us is similar: Christ is giving his disciples the most important things for them to remember before he leaves them on their own.  For the disciples at the Last Supper, these words would be critical in the days and weeks that followed: not just as they dealt with the intense events of Christ’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection, but also as they tried to make sense of Jesus’ commission to take the Gospel to the ends of the world.  Those were tumultuous times when the prophesies that Jesus proclaimed began to become true: when father would be turned against son, and son against father; and mother against daughter, and daughter against mother.  In other words, when friends became enemies and enemies became friends.  How else could they have survived as a community unless they held fast to Jesus’ commandment: “Love one another as I have loved you”?

          For us here today, these words are also critical: and for much the same reason.  The Gospel is still a thing that creates division: both in our society (for example: pro-life v. pro-choice, sanctity of marriage v. same-sex unions, etc.) and in our personal lives (like when children rebel against their religious upbringing, or choose to take up religion in spite of their parents’ lack of religious practice).  In order for us to survive as a community, we too must hold fast to Jesus’ commandment to “love one another as he has loved us”.

          Still more, and I wonder if this isn’t something that we overlook each year as we celebrate the Easter season, these words are critical for us because we ought to be preparing to be re-sent out on mission.  As I’ve said in a number of different contexts this Easter season, too often, we Christians look at this time of Easter as a time of celebration only.  It is a time of celebration, don’t get me wrong; but it is also a time of preparation.  “Oh, Father, aren’t you confused?  Lent is a time a preparation: not Easter.”  Technically speaking, you’re correct; but I’d like you each to consider Easter as time of celebration and preparation.  And here’s why.

          In a couple of weeks, we are going to celebrate Pentecost—the birthday of the Church—in which the Holy Spirit descended on the Apostles to empower them for their mission to take the Gospel to the ends of the world.  The days between Jesus’ Resurrection and Ascension (a.k.a. the original “Easter season”) were days of preparation to begin this great mission.  Therefore, if our celebration of Easter is going to be anything more than an excuse to eat our favorite foods that we gave up for Lent, and if our celebration of Pentecost is going to be anything more than a brief flash of red at church before going back to the green of Ordinary Time, then we, too, should be preparing to renew our efforts to fulfill this great mission to proclaim the Gospel.

          And so, we return to the scene of the Last Supper and listen once again to Jesus’ beautiful words: “As the Father loves me, so I also love you.  I no longer call you slaves… I have called you friends.”  This, so that we can be comforted in our times of trial (especially when those trials are the result of our friendship with Jesus) and strengthened to fulfill his command: “Love one another as I have loved you.”  In order to prepare ourselves to fulfill this command, let us reflect briefly on what “loving as Christ has loved us” looks like.

          Loving one another as Christ has loved us means that we must give of ourselves for the benefit of others.  And so, we have to ask ourselves, “What is the very best thing that I can do for someone?”  There are, of course, many good things that we can do for others: giving food and clothing to those in need, giving education to the ignorant, and comfort to the sick and dying… These are what the Church traditionally calls the “works of mercy”.  But are any of these the best thing?  Not really.  Rather, the best thing that we can do for another person is to lead them to friendship with Christ.  This is what our first reading shows to us today.

          In that reading, we heard how Saint Peter brought the Good News of Jesus Christ to Cornelius, a high-ranking official in the Roman army, and to his family and friends who had gathered in his house with him that day.  This was, of course, remarkable in that Cornelius was not a Jew, and so was completely unfamiliar with the history of creation, the fall, and the plan for salvation.  Nonetheless, he was impressed by the Apostles and open to receiving the truth.  Peter, seeing that Cornelius was a Gentile, remembered Christ’s command, loved Cornelius as Jesus had loved him, and led Cornelius to friendship with Christ, which was confirmed through the gift of the Holy Spirit.

          Friends, as the great solemnity of Pentecost approaches, we must prepare ourselves to overcome our prejudices of others, like Saint Peter did, by remembering the generous outpouring of love that Christ has made for us so that we might find the courage to love everyone we meet with that same love: always striving to lead each one to friendship with Christ.  We do this first with our loving actions (that is, with the works of mercy), but then also with our words that invite them know Christ and to allow him to love them as he has loved us.  My friends, this is the greatest good that we can do for others.  Let us, then, spend this remaining time in Easter preparing ourselves well to take up this good work; and, therefore, to experience, once again, the complete joy that comes with being friends of Christ.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – May 6^th, 2018

The Risen Christ removes blindness

Homily: 3^rd Sunday of Easter – Cycle B

          One of the common threads that seems to run through our readings today is the idea that Christ’s Resurrection is the light that takes away blindness.  In the first reading, Peter is speaking to the crowd who had gathered around him and the Apostle John after they had healed the crippled man near Solomon’s Portico just outside the temple.  We hear Peter accuse the crowd of having “denied the Holy and Righteous One” and having put to death the “author of life”.  Then, in a turn of mercy, he acknowledges that they “acted out of ignorance” and assures them that, if they repent, their sins will be wiped away by the very same “Holy and Righteous One” whom they denied.  In other words, when they denied him, they were blinded by their ignorance, but now see the fullness of Christ, risen from the dead, and his saving power.  Thus, they can turn to him and receive forgiveness.

          In the Gospel reading, we hear how Peter and the Apostles were the first (or maybe second) to be enlightened by the risen Christ.  There the disciples from Emmaus to whom the Risen Christ appeared and was made known in the breaking of bread, have returned to Jerusalem and are recounting their encounter with the Risen Christ.  “While they were still speaking about this,” the Gospel records for us, Jesus appeared in their midst, rebukes them for their unbelief in the resurrection, and then “[opens] their minds to understand the Scriptures” about how the Christ had to suffer and die and then rise to fulfill what was written.  In spite of what Jesus told his disciples before his Passion, Death, and Resurrection, it took his risen presence to take away their blindness so that they might see the full truth of his teaching.

          In the second reading, the words of the Apostle John also aim at opening the eyes of its readers.  Our reading begins with John saying “I am writing this to you so that you may not commit sin.”  In other words, “so that you may recognize sin and, thus, avoid it.”  Then, like with Peter in the first reading, we hear him announce God’s mercy: saying, in effect, “If, in your ignorance, you have sinned, don’t despair; because Jesus is our Advocate before the Father and he has expiated our sins.”  In other words, “If you have sinned because of blindness, be blind no longer and turn to Christ who will advocate on your behalf before the Father.”  For John, it is Christ, risen from the dead, that gives light and hope to those who had been blind in their sin, just as it was for the crowd that listened to Peter that afternoon in Jerusalem, and just as it was for the disciples gathered in the Upper Room on that first Easter.

          And so, why is this important to note today?  Because it will be important to remember in the coming years as it will become necessary to propose once again these great truths to a generation who has largely turned away from it.

          Newspaper columnist Terry Mattingly recently reflected on Europe’s woes regarding young adults and religion.  He specifically quotes Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI who, while still Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, noted that the trend in Europe meant that the Church would be “reduced in its dimensions” making it “necessary to start again.”  Here, nearly 20 years later, we see this playing out in Europe.  A recent study showed that, in 12 of 22 European nations polled, over half of 16-29 year olds claim no religious affiliation whatsoever.  In 18 of these 22 nations less than 10 percent of young adults admit to attending religious services on a weekly basis (this includes all religions, not just Catholicism).

          According to the report’s author, a key to understanding this shift is to acknowledge that “nominal” or “cultural” faith doesn’t transfer from one generation to the next.  Which means that, if this generation’s parents are Christians “in name” only—perhaps believing in a "vaguely benevolent 'Something' out there"—then their children’s generation is likely to cut ties with religion, rather than continue the charade.  Again, this seems to be playing out: in an extremely pronounced way in Europe, but also here in the United States.  If this trend continues, Mattingly notes, “the future that Pope Benedict predicted, that a smaller church would have to return to basics”, will become a reality.  In this reality, according to the retired Pope, believers will once again have to be missionaries and to “propose again … the questions on God, salvation, hope, life, especially what has a basic ethical value."

          This is where these lessons from today’s Scriptures come in.  Many of these young people—and, of course, many of the adults—who have strayed from the faith will, at some point, “hit a wall”, so to speak.  Having lived a life of what Benedict XVI has called “practical atheism”—in which God is not explicitly denied, but one’s life reflects no consideration of God—many will find it empty and will begin searching for answers.  Our job will be to be there and to propose again the hard, yet merciful truth that Jesus proposed to his disciples when he said: “How could you doubt?  Look at how this fulfilled everything that the Scriptures proposed”; and that Peter proposed to the crowd when he said: “You killed the author of life!  But if you repent you will find forgiveness”; and that John proposed to the early Church when he said: “Those who say ‘I know him’, but don’t follow his commandments are liars!  But those who sin have an Advocate in Jesus”.  If we have been faithful witnesses—not just in word, but in action—then these persons, their blindness lifted, will turn back to the Lord and the Church will begin to grow again.

          This is why today I want to encourage you to study closely the Acts of the Apostles during this Easter season.  Just as Lent was our time of preparation to celebrate the Resurrection, so should Easter be our time of preparation to re-propose the Gospel to a generation that is abandoning it; and studying how the early Church proposed the Gospel the first time will be a great way to prepare.

          Friends, the joy of the resurrection and the promise that Jesus is our advocate—two things which are renewed each time we celebrate this Eucharist—will be our strength to fulfill this good work.  So let us take it up, trusting that Christ, whose light broke through the darkness of death, can break through the blindness of those around us and bring them to new life.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 15^th, 2018

We are witnesses

Peace and joy in the Risen Christ to all of you!  He is Risen!  Alleluia!

Homily: Easter Sunday – Cycle A

          Praised be Jesus Christ, now and forever!  My brothers and sisters, He is Risen!  I hope that you are joining with me today in this joyful sense of relief that our Lenten fast has ended, that is, our preparation for the celebration of our Lord’s resurrection has been fulfilled, and that we can now feast on the splendor of this holy day.  It has been a long journey since Ash Wednesday to today; and especially in these last three days, recalling our Lord’s passion, we have witnessed many things.  In order to bolster our joy today, let’s take a quick look at what we’ve experienced.

          First, on Thursday night, we witnessed the Last Supper in which Jesus, knowing that he was about to die, instituted the Eucharist by giving to his twelve closest disciples his body to eat and blood to drink in the form of bread and wine.  At the same time, we witnessed how he instituted the priesthood that same night in order to ensure that this Eucharist would continue after he was gone.  And we witnessed how Jesus bent low to wash his disciples’ feet, giving them an example of how it is that they were to serve one another.  Finally, we witnessed how he went out to the garden to pray and was arrested after he was betrayed by Judas, one of his twelve closest disciples.

          Then, on Friday, we witnessed how Jesus was brought before Pontius Pilate and was condemned unjustly.  Perhaps we even felt the sting of guilt as we joined in with the crowds who shouted “Crucify him!  Crucify him!” and who demanded for the release of Barabbas the murderer instead of Jesus.  We witnessed how he carried his own cross and was crucified on Calvary.  Perhaps the sorrow for our sins moved us to venerate the cross that day: the cross on which Jesus suffered for our sins, but through which he set us free.  At the end, we watched as his dead body was taken down from the cross and laid in a tomb before nightfall that night.

          On Saturday, we witnessed that strange, eerie silence that always comes with Holy Saturday.  “There is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness” an ancient Christian homilist wrote.  He continues, “The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep.”  We witnessed the closed tomb of our Lord and (hopefully) witnessed the Sabbath rest.  We sat and waited, not knowing if what Jesus had said about the resurrection was true and, if so, how and when it would come about.  We witnessed night fall and felt the anxiety of not knowing what the future would hold and the sadness in our hearts for having lost, it seemed, all that we had hoped for.

          Now this morning we come here and we are witnesses to the incredible news that has come to us from the women who went to the tomb: “They have taken the Lord from the tomb!” and we are witnesses of what Peter would tell us after he ran to the tomb and found it empty.  “Could it be that our Lord has risen?”  Yes, Peter, he is risen and of this we are witnesses.

          In its most basic definition, a witness is someone who sees an event take place.  Typically, we associate a witness with legal proceedings; and because of this, we all generally recognize that being a witness carries with it responsibilities, specifically the responsibility to recount what it is we have seen or experienced.  Here in the United States, one can only be demanded to “give witness” in a court of law.  Otherwise, we have the “right to remain silent.”  For Christians, however, this right doesn’t necessarily exist.  Certainly, our freedom to remain silent can never be taken from us.  Nevertheless, as Christians we believe that an encounter with the risen Christ demands a kerygmatic response.  It is in fact a response commissioned by Christ when he told his disciples, “You are witnesses….”

          Now I know many of you are probably looking at me and saying, “I was with you, Father, right up until that “K”-word.  Right, kerygmatic.  First let me tell you that it is not important that you know how to say this word and it is even less important that you know how to spell it (if it wasn’t for spell-check, I would get it wrong every time).  Now let me tell you what it means.  It’s a Greek word that means a convincing proclamation of what one has seen and heard.  For Christians, kerygma is a proclamation that the crucified and risen Jesus is God’s final and definitive act of salvation.  This is exactly the witness that Peter gives in our first reading today.

          In it he has been summoned to the house of a Roman Centurion, named Cornelius, who was experiencing conversion.  Peter, upon hearing all that God had done to prepare this man to receive the gift of faith, gave this kerygmatic witness.  Upon hearing it, they Holy Spirit came down upon Cornelius and all in the household and many of them spoke in tongues.  Cornelius and his entire household was baptized that day, demonstrating the power that the kerygma, the convincing witness to the faith, holds.

          My brothers and sisters, we are witnesses.  We have encountered the risen Christ.  In fact, we encounter him every Sunday, here at this altar. Peter and the other disciples knew that once they had encountered the risen Christ, they could not remain in the Upper Room, but had to go forth from there to proclaim what they had seen and heard.  And so it is with us.  As much as we can no longer claim ignorance of our sins, having seen the suffering that they caused our Lord on the cross, no longer can we stand idle, either, now that we have encountered the risen Christ.

          Every Sunday, and in a particularly powerful way on Easter Sunday, we participate anew in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ; we encounter again the risen Lord in Word and Sacrament.  My brothers and sisters, we are witnesses.  Therefore, the dismissal at Mass is never the end of our Christian obligation for the week, but rather it is just the beginning.  The “go” in the “go in peace” is not simply permission to leave, but rather it is a sending forth; and it is understood that this “sending forth” involves some sort of mission.

          My brothers and sisters, the privilege of being a witness—and it is a privilege—brings with it the responsibility to proclaim what we have seen and heard in every place where we live.  Saint Pope John Paul II reminded us of this when he said these words at the beginning of his pontificate, “Do not be afraid to go out into the streets and the public places—like the first apostles!—to preach Christ and the good news of salvation in the squares of cities.”  Friends, if we are to be authentic witnesses then we must take seriously this “sending forth” that we receive today and every Sunday.

          Since we are learning Greek vocabulary today, why don’t we try one more?  Does anyone know what the Greek word for “witness” is?  It’s martyr.  Martyr is the noble title give to Christianity’s most fervent witnesses: those whose unfailing proclamation of the risen Christ led them to be killed for their faith.  Brothers and sisters, may our kerygma, our witness, to the risen Christ whom we encounter here at this Mass earn for each one of us so noble a title.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 16^th, 2017

Pentecost and the Church's unifying mission

Homily: Pentecost – Cycle C

          Many of us, I dare say, remember the events surrounding the death of Saint John Paul II in 2005.  It was really extraordinary how, from the moment that news broke that he was approaching death, up to and through his death and his funeral, the world became fixated on the life of this man.  Those extraordinary few weeks also gave us a brief glimpse of mankind somewhat united as men and women throughout the world watched with and prayed for this man who had had such an impact on the world.

          It was counted that more than three thousand foreign journalists descended upon Rome as John Paul II was dying; and, almost overnight, hundreds of media broadcast tents sprang up on the outskirts of Vatican City.  This worldwide media gave around-the-clock coverage to viewers across the globe, to people of every age and ethnic group.  Then, during the week before the funeral, it was estimated that 2 million pilgrims paid their last respects in person to the pope as he lay in state: some of them waiting in line up to 24 hours to do so.

          On the night before the funeral, more than 800,000 pilgrims spent the night praying and waiting in the streets and plazas of Rome.  Most of these were young people who had come to the Vatican from all five of the continents.  All night long you could see them waiting in line for confession at makeshift, outdoor confessionals that Rome's priests had set up on doorsteps and under lamp posts.

          The funeral itself was followed closely by millions via television and radio and the amount of world leaders who were present was extraordinary.  It included four queens, five kings, seventy prime ministers or heads of government, and more than 100 other recognized dignitaries.  Dozens of Orthodox, Protestant, and Jewish leaders joined them, as well.  Yes, one wouldn’t have been exaggerating if they would have said that the funeral of Saint John Paul II looked and sounded like Pentecost.

          Many of us might be surprised to discover however, that Pentecost is not a Christian festival in origin.  Rather, it was a Jewish festival (which is why it is named as if it already existed in the Acts of the Apostles).  For the ancient Jews, Pentecost was one of the top three religious holidays (known as “pilgrimage feasts”, because believers were expected to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem in order to celebrate it).  Pentecost was known also as the feast of “weeks” because it falls seven weeks (or 50 days) after Passover.  (The word “Pentecost”, in fact, comes from the Greek word for “50”.)  For the Jewish people, this feast celebrates two important things: things that make it fitting to be the day on which the Holy Spirit descended from heaven to give birth to the Church.

          First, on Pentecost, the first fruits of the spring grain harvest were offered to God in a special sacrifice at the Temple.  Now, that may sound strange to us, because we live in a climate that has only one harvest each year.  In Palestine, however, they have two yearly harvests: one in spring and one in fall.  In this sense, it is appropriate that God sent the Holy Spirit to his Church in a public way on Pentecost.  This is because the Holy Spirit is the first fruit of the harvest of the New Covenant; and the New Covenant is Christ giving us a new, redeemed life of grace; and this life begins here on earth under the action of the Holy Spirit; and, just like the first sweet corn to come off of the stalks does not make the harvest, but is enjoyed and offered to those we wish to honor the most, so, too, the action of the Holy Spirit, which came as first fruits nearly 2000 years ago, will only reach its fulfillment—i.e. the full harvest—in heaven.

          The second thing that the Jewish festival of Pentecost celebrates is the commemoration of when God gave Moses the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai.  Soon after the Israelites had miraculously escaped from Egypt, God sent them the Law, which would be a guide for them on how they should live now that they were freed from slavery to Pharaoh.  And so, in this sense, too, it was appropriate that God sent his Church the Holy Spirit during Pentecost.  This is because the Holy Spirit is the bond of unity between the Father and the Son; and the Law of the New Covenant, that is, the Law of the Church, is unity.  Thus, the unifying power of the Spirit is the new “Law of the Covenant”, which descended upon the Church at Pentecost.  In a way, the descent of the Holy Spirit fulfilled the old covenant Law by making it universal.  For this reason, Saint Paul could write to the Corinthians and say that the Church is a body that has many parts yet remains one, united body.  Bringing unity, in Christ, to the divided human family; this is the work of the Church, which began on Pentecost and won't stop till history ends.

          If we think back now to the funeral of Saint John Paul II, we see a further illustration that this effort of the Church to reunite the human family continues today, symbolized by the architecture of the Church's most famous plaza, the place where Saint John Paul II’s funeral was celebrated: that is, Saint Peter's square, in Rome.  Almost a hundred thousand people can fit inside that plaza, which is as wide as three football fields and located in front of Saint Peter's Basilica.  It is constructed in the shape of a rectangle connecting the basilica's entrance with a huge oval space surrounded by almost 350 massive columns and pilasters.  If you look down at the plaza from above, those curved lines of columns surrounding the oval look like huge arms spread in welcome.  The artist who designed the plaza, Gianlorenzo Bernini, described this as a symbol of "the maternal arms of Mother Church".

          As we know, the arms of a mother are always ready to welcome all her children, both the ones who are already full members of the family, and those still looking for their spiritual home.  And these arms of Mother Church have indeed welcomed pilgrims from every continent, age group, and walk of life for the last 500 years—ever since this expanded plaza was first constructed.  And the crowds are still coming. Every Wednesday the Pope welcomes pilgrims to the plaza, and in the last two years the number of pilgrims in those audiences has averaged 20,000 per week.  The unity symbolized by this space even goes beyond the limits of time; because lining the columns and walls around the plaza are 140 taller-than-life-sized statues of saints: men and women, peasants and kings, hermits and housewives, who come from every period of history and every corner of the globe.   Again, this is the Church's work—reuniting the divided human family with God and with each other—a work that began on Pentecost.

          Now, there are many people, many of whom are non-Christians, who would agree that uniting mankind is a worthy goal.  In fact, there are many international lobbying groups who are dedicated full time to noble causes like achieving world peace, eradicating poverty, and reducing the sale of military weapons.  Indeed, the modern world is full of creative initiatives for unity.

          As Christians, though, our efforts are different.  This is because we aim not only at the symptoms of disunity, but at its cause.  The Church has taught us throughout its history that the fundamental cause of disunity in the human family is sin, the rebellion of the human heart against God.  “How can we all be united in one family,” she argues, “unless we all love and obey one Father?”  Now, we know that it wasn't the Apostles' human brilliance that enabled them to speak in foreign tongues on that first Pentecost, but rather that it was God's grace—the Holy Spirit—working in and through the Church.  And so, if we are to fulfill our role as members of this Church whose mission is building unity—that is, if we are to be active, efficient, and effective builders of unity in our families, schools, communities, and workplaces—then we must, first and foremost, be men and women of prayer.

          Prayer, my brothers and sisters, binds us firmly to God, so that through us his strength can bring together the scattered pieces of fallen humanity; and a mature prayer life makes us partners in the work of the Holy Spirit in the world.  Today, therefore, when the Holy Spirit renews his presence in us and in the world during this Mass, let's renew our commitment to becoming mature men and women of prayer, so that we can then become mature men and women of action and boldly advance the Church's beautiful and urgent mission to bring true unity to the human race: the unity in God’s Spirit that we hope one day to know fully in heaven.

Given at All Saints Parish, Logansport, IN – May 14^th & 15^th, 2016

Remember the mission

          Sorry for the delay!  Adjusting to all of the additional responsibilities of being Administrator means that my routine has been thrown off and I almost forgot to post this.  Blessings to you all!

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Homily: 15^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          I don’t know how many of you out there are Facebook users, but if you are I hope you won’t be offended if I criticize it a little here.  Facebook had been around for a few years before I first encountered it.  I had joined the e-mail revolution and thought that it was a pretty efficient way to communicate with friends and to keep up with what was going on in their lives.  I came to know of Facebook in the seminary and I quickly decided that I didn’t need it because it just sounded like another form of communication and, since I was happy using e-mail, I didn’t feel like I needed another thing to “check” on a regular basis.

          As an ordained minister in the modern world, however, I quickly discovered that it would be necessary to have a Facebook account so as to communicate with a much larger number of people.  Thus, I reluctantly opened one.  Since then I’ve come to appreciate its positive aspects (a way to connect with friends that I had long since lost touch with and to share good information with people who share my interests without a lot of work), but have also lamented how it has simply become part of the system that has led us to lose the art of dialogue in the public square.

          Like much of the more traditional media (like TV and radio), Facebook has become a place where debate has devolved into “who can argue the loudest, longest”, and thus where the majority opinion quickly drowns out the voices of those who dissent from it.  And so we see that, in Facebook as in other forms of media, messages that run contrary to popular opinions are increasingly marginalized: that is, pushed out of the public square by the “bullies” in the majority.  This, however, is nothing new.

          In the first reading for today’s Mass, we heard of how the high priest Amaziah was trying to bully the prophet Amos to take his message out of the public square and back to his home town.  In other words, the man in high political power was trying to bully the man without any power who brought forth an unpopular message into retreating back to the margins, thus silencing his message.  “Go back home and preach to your choir”, he seems to say, “and leave us alone.”

          It should be a surprise to no one when I say that the fullness of our Christian message is being increasingly pushed to the margins.  Without directly saying it like the ancient high priest Amaziah did, the political powers of our day are enacting laws and policies that essentially are telling us to take our message out of the public square, because it isn’t welcome there, and so to keep it at home, inside the walls of our churches, thus marginalizing our message along with those of us who proclaim it.  So what do we do about it?

          Some would say that we should retreat, shaking the dust off of our feet in testimony against them, as Jesus instructed his apostles to do when he sent them out to preach.  I’m not so sure, however, that this is the correct approach.  Jesus was thinking about individual towns and villages, not the overall landscape of political power.  He was thinking of dialogue with individuals and groups of individuals, not wholesale rejection by the majority.  Therefore, I think that in order to know what we must do, we must first remember our mission.

          In the Gospel reading today we heard that Jesus sent out his apostles to preach the kingdom of God and gave them authority over unclean spirits.  Later we hear that the apostles went out and preached repentance and both drove out demons and healed many people who were sick.  In other words, they preached repentance in preparation for the coming kingdom of God and demonstrated its nearness by doing acts of great power and mercy.

          My brothers and sisters, our mission is the same.  Thus, if we are engaging in the public square, we cannot be in it for the sole purpose of winning debates and asserting ourselves over others because our message is the most powerful.  Rather, we must be in it for God’s purposes: to preach repentance in preparation for the coming of God’s kingdom and to bring mercy to those who are desperately in need of it.

          To emphasize that he didn’t want his disciples trying to gain political power or influence, Jesus sent them first to small towns and villages, instead of to Jerusalem to engage the ones with great political influence; and he sent them without provisions so that they would remember that they were God’s missionaries, relying solely on His providence, instead of trying to build clout by growing their wealth and political influence.

          And so, Jesus sends us today, instructing us to bring no worldly help along with us—that is, nothing that can help us gain political power.  Rather, we are only to bring his message (repent for the kingdom of God is at hand) and the authority that he has given us as his apostles to do works of mercy.

          Part of the challenge we face today is that the message has lost its credibility because it has increasingly become separated from works of mercy.  This is why Pope Francis is having such a great effect on people.  Pope Francis is pushing to put works of mercy in the forefront so that we might rebuild our credibility and thus gain a hearing for our message.  He is showing us that to retreat from the public square because our message has been rejected would be to fail in our mission.  Rather, he wants us to see that we must first manifest the kingdom of God by doing works of mercy and that, in doing so, we will gain a hearing for our message.  This is because he knows that, in a culture soaked in cynicism and distrust, we must first build a bridge of trust with those whom we hope to reach with our message: which we do when we enact the works of mercy.

          My brothers and sisters, this is uncomfortable work, to be sure.  It requires us not only to go outside of our comfort zones—engaging, perhaps, with someone outside of our normal circles—but it also demands sacrifices of us—forgoing, perhaps, that vacation or purchasing that new car or new couch or new pair of jeans—so that God’s mercy can be worked through us; and this with no guarantee that our message will be heard and accepted!

          We must not let the fear of rejection keep us from going, however, because we have the power and authority of Jesus and have been given a commission by him; woe to us, therefore, if we do not go.  And so, my brothers and sisters, let us go boldly to bring mercy to God’s people so that they, too, might hear and accept God’s call to repentance and thus be joined with us at this table of God’s mercy: the Eucharistic banquet which is a foretaste of eternal happiness that we all long for.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – July 11^th & 12^th, 2015