Worshiping Jesus for his glory

Homily: The Transfiguration of the Lord – Cycle A

          Lest anyone be confused, let me clear something up for you right away: today’s feast is not about us.  It’s about Jesus and about celebrating who Jesus has been revealed to be.  I know, I know… most times—especially during Ordinary Time—we can walk away from Mass on Sunday and say something like, “Okay, there’s something else that I can work on in my life as I strive to be a better Christian” or “That was interesting, what those readings said; I’m really going to try to figure out what that means and how I can apply it in my life”.  Today, however, there’s none of that; it’s really all about Jesus and who Jesus has been revealed to be.

          On the one hand, as a preacher, that kind of stinks.  You see, it’s much easier to preach when I can take what comes to us in Sacred Scripture and then find some way to apply it to our lives: in other words, when there’s a discernable “moral to the story”.  On the other hand, however, I’m kind of happy for it; because it “upsets the apple cart” a little bit and, maybe (just maybe) leads us to something even more inspiring.  Therefore, if this feast is all about Jesus, then let’s dive in and see what it has to tell us.

          In the book of the prophet Daniel, we are given this vivid description of a vision that Daniel experienced; and this vision was really about the end of time.  The vision is given to us in two parts.  In the first part, Daniel describes having seen the “Ancient One” (with a capital “A” and a capital “O”).  This was common terminology for God because it pointed to two of God’s essential attributes: his eternity and his wisdom.  Describing his appearance as having a “bright whiteness” indicates his absolute purity.  This, however, describes more than moral purity, but rather a purity of mind and heart that enhances his wisdom.  Unsullied by any impurity, therefore, the “Ancient One” is able to judge all things rightly.  The flames of fire that form his throne and that surge in streams from his throne indicate the great power that he commands; and the millions who minister to him indicate the wide breadth of authority that he exercises over all things.  Finally, we hear that a court is convened in his presence, indicating that the Ancient One is ready to exercise his judgment.

          In the second part of the vision, Daniel describes one being presented to the Ancient One, presumably for judgment.  He is described as one “like a Son of man, coming on the clouds of heaven”.  “Like a Son of man…” describes someone who is human in appearance, though it doesn’t necessarily mean that he or she is human.  The vision goes on to describe how this one receives from the Ancient One great power and authority over the entire universe and that this dominion that has been given him will be everlasting: never to be taken away or destroyed.  This second part of the vision is describing the Messiah, of course: the one who, ultimately, would restore God’s kingdom on earth.

          The recounting of the Transfiguration of Jesus in the Gospels echoes the images described in Daniel’s vision.  First, and most obviously, Jesus is “one like a Son of man…” who goes “up a high mountain”, which, in the ancient world, always meant “going to the heavens to meet/communicate with God”.  Then, he is transfigured before Peter, James, and John, whom he took with him; and what do we see?  His face “shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light”.  Interesting that the one whom we at first connect with the second part of Daniel’s vision is described as suddenly having an appearance of “bright whiteness”, like the Ancient One in the first part of the vision.  This points to something truly amazing: that Jesus truly is “one like a Son of man”, but also that he is so much more; that he, at least, shares in the eternal life, wisdom, and power of the Ancient One, and maybe even that he is of one being with the Ancient One.

          Reading further, we, of course, see that our suspicion that Jesus is the “one like a Son of man” from Daniel’s prophecy is confirmed, as Jesus not only converses with Moses and Elijah (thus, demonstrating his equality with the ancient law-giver and the greatest of Jewish prophets), but a cloud overshadows them all (indicating, of course, the “cloud of the presence” that filled the ancient temple and indicated that God had made his dwelling there) and a voice comes from the cloud declaring “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.”  The voice declares Jesus’ divinity (this is my beloved Son) and that he has been given authority over all things (listen to him).

          My friends, those who want to reduce Jesus to the level of a wise sage or a devoted charity worker have never seriously read these two passages together.  Jesus is a wise sage and he is devoted to relieving the sufferings of the poor, but to reduce him to these things misses the point of who he is in himself.  Jesus is God’s beloved Son, who, nonetheless, is like a Son of man: human in form, but still divine.  I hope that you all can see how amazing this is: that the Ancient One—the eternal God who created all things in this incredible universe—nonetheless cares so much for us that he sent us his Son to become one with us so that we could become one with him.  If there is anything in this message today that is for us, it’s this: that God didn’t come to make us nice people, but rather he came to make us like him—to transfigure us, so that we could be one with him.

          My brothers and sisters, today, like every Sunday, we worship God for having humiliated himself out of love for us by taking on a human nature in order to save us from sin and death (in other words, from eternal separation from him).  In a specific way, today, we worship Jesus who made his divinity known to us in his Transfiguration so that we might have the confidence to call him “Lord” and so that we might be filled with the hope of knowing that our human nature can be transformed by the divine power of God working within it.  And how does that divine power come into our human nature?  Well, there are seven specific ways that it comes to us.  Does anybody know what those seven ways are called?  Yes, the Sacraments.  When we receive any one of the seven Sacraments we receive a share of God’s divine life and, thus, make it possible for our nature to be transformed—transfigured—to be like his so that we can be one with him in eternity.

          Yes, my brothers and sisters, today’s feast is a celebration of Jesus and of who Jesus has been revealed to be.  We celebrate because, in revealing his full nature, Jesus also revealed who we can be when his divine life dwells within us.  As we place our sacrifice on this altar today, let us be mindful to unite to it our prayers of thanksgiving to God for his great mercy that brought Jesus to us, and for his divine life in which we will share more deeply when we receive this gift from this altar once again.  Through the intercession of Mary and the Apostles Peter, James and John, may each of our lives be transfigured so as to show forth the splendor of God’s glory to all those around us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – August 5^th & 6^th, 2017

This is nice, but isn't there more?

          Jesus revealed his glory to his closest followers before his crucifixion so that they would be sustained in faith (even amid doubts and confusion) after his crucifixion.  He did this to show them that he did not come to make this world perfect, but rather to perfect us for our destiny in the next.  Let us commit ourselves to achieving greater holiness this Lent!

P.S. If you'd like to see the whole story as Fr. Larry tells it, click here.

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Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Lent – Cycle A

          One of my favorite preachers is Father Larry Richards and in one of his most well-known talks he tells the story of a man from Crete, which is one of the islands of Greece.  This man, he says, was a great man and he loved his land.  Not only did he love his land, but all the people of his land loved him.  Whenever somebody died, he was always the first person to come and offer condolences.  Whenever a new baby was born, he was always the first person to come and offer congratulations.  And all of this because he so deeply loved his land and his people.

          Finally, when he was ninety-nine years old, it was time for him to die.  Surrounded by his ten children, he asked them to carry him out to the secluded spot in the back of his farm, which was his favorite spot to pray, and to lay him down on the earth.  There, as he closed his eyes for the last time, he clenched in his hands the dirt of the land he so dearly loved and he died.

          He awoke to find himself standing at the gates of heaven and when God came forth to welcome him in, he first asked the man what it was that he had in his hands.  “This is Crete,” he said, “it is all that I ever loved in the world.”  God looked at him and said, “Sorry, no dirty hands in heaven.”  Upset by this, but unable to let go of the one thing he held so dear in his life, the man turned away and God went back into heaven and closed the gate behind him.

          As the story goes, God would return two more times to implore the man to let go of the remnant of his beloved land so as to enter into heaven.  At the first, the man still refused to let go.  But at the second, the man found that the dirt in his hands had become so dry that it was now slipping uncontrollably out of his hands.  So, at God’s prompting, he opened his hands and just then the Spirit of God blew forth a strong wind that swept away every last remnant of the man’s beloved land.  Then, taking the man’s hand, God led him through the gates of heaven.  And when the man entered heaven what do you think that it was that he saw, but the land of Crete laid out completely before him.

          I share this story with you today because it is a great story and a great reminder that God never takes anything away from us, but rather only asks us to let go of some things so that he can give us more.  I also share it with you because I think it demonstrates for us just how short-sighted our vision can be at times.  This man thought that he had everything that he had ever wanted in the land of Crete and thus he let the vision of his life become limited to the years that he spent on earth.  He couldn’t imagine heaven being anything better than what he enjoyed on earth and so he tried to take his greatest joy on earth with him into heaven.  He had lost the vision that God promised to give him the “fullness of joy” in heaven and so stubbornly clung to the passing joy of the earth until it finally (and literally) passed out of his hands.

          In a way, this is the same lesson that Jesus is giving to his disciples Peter, James, and John in our Gospel reading today when he invites them up onto a high mountain to reveal to them the fullness of his nature.  Now, when the Scriptures speak of going up onto a “high mountain” they are always referring to the place where man encounters God.  There, Jesus reveals the fullness of his nature—the divine nature that coexists with his human nature—in order to point to the transcendent end of his being on earth (that is, to the fact that his coming in this world wasn’t meant for this world alone, but rather to re-open the possibility for man to enter the glory of God in the next world).  The disciples, however, are slow to see the meaning behind this and focus, rather, on clinging to the event in this world.

          “Well, this is nice,” Peter said, “why don’t we build some tents and stay here?”  Jesus, however, intended for this to be a lesson that would extend their vision beyond an earthly end and towards the end that he came to establish: that is, the return of man to perfect communion with God.  Thus the cloud (which, in biblical terms, always connotes the presence of God) descends upon them and overshadows them, and the voice from the cloud speaks to them, and it is then that they realize that something otherworldly is happening to them and they fall down in reverence and in fear of the absolute power that has overshadowed them.  Thus we see that Jesus didn’t take them up on that mountain to have a “nice” experience or to show off his divine nature to them (good as that was!), but rather to have an experience of the absolute holiness that he possessed and that he was calling them to enter into.

          I think that if we look at our own lives that we, too, will find that our vision of what we are here for has become somewhat limited.  If I asked you what you thought the prevailing moral norm is that governs our society, many of you might say “To love your neighbor as yourself”: and that’s good!  But if I asked you to tell me what that means in real life, I suspect that the answer many of you might give would be “To be nice and try to get along with everyone.”  Well, this is fine if all that you are concerned with is trying to have a peaceful life here on earth.  If, however, we are placing our vision on our eternal end in heaven, then we need to take just as seriously Jesus’ other, very strong moral mandate: “Be yourselves holy just as your Father in heaven is holy!”  This goes beyond being “nice” and sometimes means that we will have to act rather harshly with others.  It reminds us that while harmony in this world is a goal, it isn’t our end.  Our end, rather, is the vision of Jesus’ glory and being overshadowed by the presence of God!

          My brothers and sisters, Jesus did not say “just be good and nice to each other and you’ll be fine.”  Rather, he said “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness and all the rest will be given to you.”  And what is God’s righteousness?  Well, nothing short of the absolute holiness that he revealed to Peter, James, and John on the high mountain that day!  Don’t just be nice, then, but be holy!  And what does that mean?  Well, it means overshadowing the world with God’s presence: with his uncompromising love for each and every one of his creatures, most especially our brothers and sisters who live among us.

          Friends, this time of Lent is a time for rediscovering this incredible gift that God has given us in restoring our humanity to full glory in Jesus; and for reconciling ourselves with, and re-conforming ourselves to, that truth so that we might overshadow the world with God’s love and one day enjoy the Easter glory of Jesus in heaven; the glory that we encounter in sacrament here in this Eucharist.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – March 15^th & 16^th, 2014

Rocky Mountain High...

So, I have this week in between trips to Saint Meinrad for different "continuing formation" programs and I really thought that I'd have some free time to take care of some odds and ends.  That is not happening, though, and so it's Tuesday night and I am publishing my Sunday homily... from last Sunday :-/

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and I hope that your Lent has been fruitful so far.  May God continue to bless your prayer and your work!

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Homily: 2nd Sunday of Lent – Cycle C

I would guess that most of us here have had the experience of being on vacation where everything has been working out just perfect.  Flights were on time, there was no traffic, the hotel was actually better than what the pictures in the advertisement showed it to be; the weather was perfect and you had just the right amount of time to do all of the things that you had set out to do without rushing through anything, which left you with just enough down time to relish all that you’ve enjoyed.  It’s the kind of vacation that makes you think to yourself, “Man, I wish that we could just stay here forever.”

For me, it was a trip to Rome two years ago where I most experienced this feeling.  I was traveling with a group of seminarians on a study tour through Rome and some of the surrounding areas.  It was January, but the weather was all but perfect: Mostly sunny and about mid-60’s each day, which was just about perfect for walking through the city and seeing all of the sights.  Ancient ruins, the great Basilicas and holy places, an audience with the Pope, some of my closest friends from the seminary, and, of course, incredible pastas and wine every night.  You can probably imagine how much I desired to return home.  In fact, I remember very clearly telling Fr. Denis, the rector of our seminary who was leading the trip, “You better hope that the weather turns bad before we have to leave, because if it doesn’t there’s no way that I’m going back to Indiana in January.  I’ll stay here and join a band of gypsies if I have to.”  Of course what I was saying was “It is good that we are here.  I wish that we could stay here forever.”

Thus, I certainly wouldn’t blame Peter for his response to his experience on the mountain that we heard in today’s Gospel reading.  You could imagine what it was like living in Israel in ancient times.  There was no indoor plumbing or modern sewage system.  There were no street cleaners or washing machines.  For the most part, people walked around pretty dirty and for them that was normal.  Thus, when Peter, James and John got a glimpse of the glory of God when Jesus was transfigured before them, and when they saw Moses and Elijah—the two great prophets of the Hebrew people—standing there with Jesus, it’s no surprise that Peter blurts out (even in his fear) “Lord, it is good that we are here.  Let’s set up some tents and stay here.”

That’s a natural tendency for us, isn’t it?  That once we’ve experienced an escape from the messiness of our daily lives we think it easier to throw all of that away and grasp onto what is in front of us: an experience of beauty, closeness with others, and joy.  But soon, however, we realize that the experience that is in front of us cannot be contained and we find that what we thought was an escape was nothing more than a temporary reprieve.

Peter, James and John get that awakening.  Peter wanted to build tents and stay on the mountain, but, as the Scriptures tell us, “he did not know what he was talking about.”  This was an experience of Jesus, the Son of God, as someone wholly different from him—as someone completely beyond his grasp—yet Peter wanted to stuff him into a tent so as to keep that experience for himself and the other two.

Christ, for his part, wouldn’t allow that.  Just as after his resurrection, when Mary Magdalene met him in the garden outside of the tomb, Jesus told her “Stop holding onto me.  I have not yet ascended to my Father”; and when he told his disciples at his Ascension into heaven “Do not be sad, for I must go up so that I can send the Spirit to you,” so here Christ does not allow the apostles to hold onto the experience of his glory, but rather he directs them back down the mountain to take that experience to others.  In other words, these experiences were meant to be permanent—at least, not in this world, anyway—but rather catalysts propelling them into the world to proclaim Christ’s glory.

Nevertheless, I believe that this experience of Christ’s transfiguration can be a model for us during Lent.  Every year, the Church sets aside this time to be for us a “retreat” of sorts.  During Lent we are called to take a serious look at our lives to see where we’ve been falling short in following the way that Jesus laid out for us.  Even more so, however, we are being called by Jesus to this “mountaintop experience.”  Through fasting and abstinence we leave off the messiness of our daily lives so as to follow Christ up the mountain.  Thus detached from the world, we are freed to see him as he truly is in prayer.  Having experienced Jesus as he truly is, we then come down the mountain—renewed and energized—to take this experience to our neighbors by witnessing what we’ve experienced both in words and in acts of love.

It starts with detachment.  My brothers and sisters, we must learn to detach ourselves from the things of this world, otherwise we’ll never even make it up the mountain to experience Christ in a profound way.  One way we do that, of course (I mean, aside from our fasting and abstinence), is through the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  Through it we commit ourselves not only to leaving off our sinful ways, which bind us to the world, but we step forward to encounter Christ in an intimate way, reconciling our hearts to his.  My dear friends, if you have not celebrated this sacrament yet during Lent, I hope that you will make a commitment today to do so soon.  Second only to an encounter with Jesus’ real presence in the Eucharist, the Sacrament of Reconciliation is the best place for you to experience that deep, personal encounter with Christ in the person of the priest, to feel his love for you, and to receive his healing forgiveness that has the power to free you from whatever binds you to this world.

My brothers and sisters, if you’ve been afraid of returning to the Sacrament of Reconciliation, or if you’ve just been apathetic about it, now is the time to face your fear or apathy and to follow Jesus’ call to meet him on the mountain, where he desires to reveal to you his glory and to hear, not only the words of the Father regarding him—“This is my chosen Son”—but also the words of the Father regarding yourselves: “You are my chosen son… you are my chosen daughter… and I love you.”  If we can know that, my dear friends, then we won’t need the mountain any longer and on Easter Sunday we’ll rush down it proclaiming the joy that we celebrate even now: He is risen!

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February 23rd & 24th, 2013