Covering our faults with mercy

Homily: 31^st Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          There’s a story about a married couple—I’m not sure what their names were, but let’s call them Lawrence and Sarah—who had been married 15 years.  Larry and Sarah began to have more than the usual trouble that married couples have and they started to feel as if they had lost their way and that their marriage was in crisis.  Neither of them was ready to give up on the marriage, however, so they both decided to work on it.  Sarah had an idea of how to turn things around.  Her idea was to make a box: one for Larry and one for her.  The boxes were “Fault Boxes” and the idea was that every time either Larry or Sarah was irritated by something the other one did, he or she would write what that was on a slip of paper and drop it in the box.  Then, when the other one saw what had been written, he or she would be aware of many of the ways that he or she created tension between them.

          Both Sarah and Larry were diligent in filling out the little slips of paper.  Then, after doing this for a month, the couple sat down after dinner one night to open their boxes and review all of the little slips.  As Larry flipped through the pieces of paper he read things like “leaving the jelly top off of the jar,” “wet towels on the bathroom floor,” “dirty socks not in the hamper,” and on and on.  Larry began to think seriously about how the little things to which he didn’t pay much attention were creating big problems in his wife’s heart.  Sarah then opened her box and began to read the little slips.  They all said the same thing.  On each slip of paper that Larry dropped in the box he wrote, simply, “I love you.”  Needless, perhaps, to say, but the crisis ended right there.

          What Larry demonstrated was the power of mercy.  You see, it wasn’t that he didn’t think that Sarah had any faults, nor was it that he was trying to get her to ignore his own faults, but rather it was that he decided to cover over those faults with mercy.  And isn’t this exactly what God does with us?  In the Book of Wisdom, today’s first reading, we read: “For you love all things that are and loathe nothing that you have made; for what you hated, you would not have fashioned… But you spare all things, because they are yours, O Lord and lover of souls, for your imperishable spirit is in all things!”  God loves everything that he has made, especially each one of us!  And so, even though he sees all of our faults, he strives to cover over them with mercy.

          Yet how often do we think that God looks at us like Sarah looked at Larry, like a bag of faults that need to be fixed?  He knows that we do!  But this is one of the many reasons why he sent his Son to take on our human nature: so that, by the way he treated us as he walked among us, we could know how he has always treated us, which is how he will always treat us.  And this great story of Jesus and Zacchaeus the tax collector that we heard in our Gospel reading is just one example.

          Zacchaeus was a grave sinner in the eyes of all because he was a tax collector, which meant that he was a collaborator with the Romans who were occupying their land.  Tax collectors didn’t get paid from the Romans, so they added fees to the taxes they collected in order to make money.  These were completely unregulated, so tax collectors often made themselves wealthy by taking advantage of their kinsman, thus making them despised all the more.  Zacchaeus, the Gospel says, was a chief tax collector, which meant that he was particularly despised by the people.  Perhaps this is why, when Jesus came to pass through Jericho, Zacchaeus, who was very curious about him and, thus, wanted to see him, wasn’t concerned about how funny it must have looked for him, a grown man, to climb up into a tree so that he could see him: he had given up his concern about public opinion long ago.

          Perhaps Jesus noticed him in the tree and asked about him; or perhaps his disciples noticed him and decided to tell Jesus about him.  Either way, Jesus came to know who he was and, perhaps, some of his story: especially how he had become wealthy as a tax collector.  Jesus had a decision to make, however.  Would he focus on Zacchaeus’ faults or would he cover over his faults with mercy?  I think that we see, of course, that Jesus did the latter: inviting himself to Zacchaeus’ house so that he could express God’s love for him and, thus, urge him to leave off any sinful dealings in his life.  Thus, having been treated with mercy, Zacchaeus converts his life and promises to make restitution for his unjust dealings.  In other words, the crisis of whether or not Zacchaeus might be lost to sin forever ended when Jesus covered over his faults with mercy.

          My brothers and sisters, in so many ways, this is exactly why Pope Frances called for Jubilee Year of Mercy: he wanted us to experience anew how God covers over our faults with mercy.  More than that, however, he wanted us to learn anew that our experience of God’s mercy is an experience that is meant to be shared.  In other words, the Pope hopes that, through our experience of the Father’s mercy, we will become “merciful like the Father”, as the motto for the Year of Mercy reads.

          Friends, this experience of mercy comes to us every time that we celebrate the Holy Eucharist.  As we approach this altar today, let us open our hearts to experience God’s mercy anew once again—the experience of God seeing our faults and covering them with love—so that we might go forth from here ready to share that experience with everyone until the day we all are one with our merciful Father in heaven.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – October 29^th, 2016

A War of Mercy

Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Advent – Cycle C

          You know, I’m not sure if Pope Francis is crazy or courageous.

          One of the ways to know whether or not someone is crazy is to test them on their grasp of reality.  For example, someone who complains that it rains all the time while in the midst of a drought probably doesn’t really know what is going on.  This is magnified if the situation involves something dangerous: like, for example, should someone walk into a Lion’s den carrying cat treats to feed the “little kitties”.  There’s obviously a disconnection there between that person’s perception of danger and the reality.

          Someone is courageous, however, when, fully knowing the danger that he or she is walking into, he or she walks into it anyway.  Like the firefighter who runs into a burning house to search for anyone who might be trapped.  He or she wears a fire suit and an oxygen mask because he or she acknowledges the danger (thus assuring that he or she has a good grasp on reality), but, nonetheless, he or she runs into the fire anyway for a noble cause: making him or her courageous, not crazy.

          So, let’s see how Pope Francis measures up.  This past week, he made a trip to multiple countries in Africa.  Okay, to say it was a “trip” would indicate that he was on vacation or something.  In truth, it was an “apostolic journey” in which he sought to bring a message of peace to parts of Africa currently being torn apart by conflicts between its peoples.  One of the countries that he visited was the Central African Republic, a place where an active conflict between Christians and Muslims is ongoing.  Thus, he faced real danger in going there.  Now, he acknowledged this before he went—and many of his closest advisors acknowledged this, too, I’m sure—and yet he went anyway.  So was he crazy—that is, failing to acknowledge danger where danger existed—or was he courageous—that is, fully acknowledging the danger, but going anyway because of a noble cause?

          If you read the reports and look at the videos from the trip, it doesn’t look like the Pope had any extra protection for himself at any point.  Nonetheless, he embraced the danger of the trip.  One report even said that, after hearing of an attack on Christians not far from where he was, Pope Francis asked if he could “go to” the attackers (who had been arrested) so that he could speak to them.  This is the point when even his closest advisors must have said to him: “Are you crazy?  You’ll get killed!”  But Pope Francis isn’t crazy, he’s courageous.  He knew exactly what was going on and, in spite of appearances, he went into this situation armed and ready for what he would encounter.

          You see, I believe that Pope Francis is engaged in a “War of Mercy” (that’s a “war OF mercy” not a “war ON mercy”).  Pope Francis, as bishop, archbishop, and now pope, is doing everything he can to prepare for the coming of the Lord.  Like John the Baptist in today’s Gospel, who went out into the region of the Jordan River and proclaimed a baptism of repentance so that the people would be prepared for the manifestation of Jesus Christ as the long-awaited Messiah, so too is Pope Francis going out to the “margins” of the world to proclaim the Lord’s mercy so as to prepare people for when Jesus comes again.

          As you can see, this is not a war in the traditional sense.  Pope Francis is not fighting on their terms.  Rather, he is engaging them with the weapons of love and mercy.  In a traditional war, the combatants fight under the premise that “it’s us or them”.  Pope Francis, however, seems to acknowledge that, if our war is love, it can never be “us or them”, but rather it must always be “us for them”.  This is the courageous example that he is giving to us; and this, I would argue, is how he is living Advent.

          When we look around we see that our world is a war-zone.  In many places (too many places), it is a physical war-zone, where people have taken up arms against each other.  In many other places, it is an ideological war-zone, where people are attacked for their ideas and pressured into conforming to the prevailing notions of truth.  In either case, if we try to fight their war we will lose, because it is a worldly war and our victory is not of this world.  The only war that we will win is a war of mercy, for in this war the victory has already been won for us in Jesus Christ.

          To live Advent, therefore, means to be constantly working to “prepare the way of the Lord”, which we do, not by chopping down mountains and filling in valleys, but by opening a way for the Lord in men’s hearts.  For those who are against us both physically and ideologically, the only weapons we have to overcome them are love and mercy.  Thus, Pope Francis has, in a way, declared a great offensive in this war in opening the Jubilee Year of Mercy.  In it he is calling us first to be overcome by God’s mercy—especially in the sacrament of reconciliation—and then to blanket the world around us in mercy, especially through the corporal and spiritual works of mercy.  In joining him in this crusade of mercy, we will be preparing the way for our Lord to return to us and, thus, we will be living Advent.

          My brothers and sisters, Advent is our call to live as if our Lord’s second coming is imminent by making preparations for his coming.  The Year of Mercy is a special opportunity to make great inroads towards preparing the way.  May our experience of God’s mercy that comes to us through the sacrifice of Jesus, his Son, which we will re-present soon here on this altar, make us courageous crusaders of mercy so that the kingdom that is coming may truly dwell in our midst here and now.

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

Mercifully chosen

          We have all been mercifully chosen by God to labor in his vineyard.  Let us not look down on those who have come to labor "late in the day"!  If you have not presented yourself in the marketplace as someone who is able to be chosen, that is, elected by God for the grace of eternal life, then go today!  Even if it is "late in the day", God will not fail to find you and choose you to go out into his vineyard and receive a "full day's wage"!

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

          Pope Francis, after being elected the pope, chose for his papal motto the same motto he had chosen when he was ordained a bishop: “Miserando atque eligendo”, meaning “by having mercy and by choosing”.  In choosing this motto, what Pope Francis hoped to acknowledge was  that he did not see his election as pope (or as bishop, for that matter) as being something that he earned through any merit of his own; but rather that it was because he had been “looked upon mercifully” by God, that he was chosen anyway.  I mention this here because I think that this, in a way, is the hidden theme behind the lesson of today’s Gospel reading.

          First, of course, we must emphasize that Jesus, in giving us this parable, is speaking about the end of all time, for he states: “The kingdom of heaven is like…”  Therefore, this is not a lesson in how to be a generous, more “Christ-like” business manager; but rather it is a lesson about the meaning of life and what it is that we are all doing here.  With that in mind, let’s look at the parable.

          Jesus gives us the image of a landowner (who, in this case, represents God) who goes out to hire laborers for his vineyard (who, of course, represent us).  Now, before we run past this detail, let’s first take note of something.  Those laborers went out to the marketplace hoping someone would come and hire them for the day so that they could earn money; presumably to provide for themselves and their families.  In other words, they acknowledged that they were, in a sense, powerless to acquire what they needed on their own and so were looking for a generous landowner who could provide it for them in exchange for some commitment of labor.  They, therefore, went to the marketplace in the hope of being hired.  And so the first lesson we learn from this parable is that if we want to be receivers of God’s generous mercy we must make ourselves available to God’s mercy by turning away from our self-reliance and seeking his generous election.

          This, in fact, is the message that we heard from the prophet Isaiah in the first reading: “Seek the Lord while he may be found,” we hear Isaiah proclaim, “call him while he is near … let [the wicked] turn to the Lord for mercy; to our God, who is generous in forgiving.”  Therefore, while it is true that the Lord will come to us to choose us for his vineyard, it is also true that he will only do so when we have turned away from the illusion of self-reliance and have “gone out to the marketplace” to give ourselves over to his generosity.  Then, having been mercifully looked upon and chosen for God’s kingdom, we will go out to labor in his vineyard.

          Then, in the parable, we hear that the landowner goes back to the marketplace four more times and finds other able laborers who were “standing idle”, indicating that they had not been hired for work.  This, of course, indicates that God never ceases to seek out those who are lost or abandoned; but it also shows just how abundant the labor in his vineyard is: “The harvest is abundant, but the laborers are few”, Jesus says in another place.  Here we see that there is no limit to the number that God will choose to go out into his vineyard.  God, therefore, is constantly seeking those who turn to seek him.  Therefore, we (that is, those who already have been mercifully chosen by God) must share in God’s mission to choose more laborers for his vineyard by calling those “standing idle in the marketplace” to go, as Isaiah exhorts us, and “seek the Lord while he may be found.”

          My brothers and sisters, I cannot emphasize this point enough.  We must go out, like the landowner, and seek those who have no direction, who are “standing idle in the marketplace”, and invite them to come into the Lord’s vineyard.  Jesus’ parable states that at 5:00—the last hour of the workday—the landowner goes out and finds still more laborers standing in the market and he asks them, “Why do you stand here idle all day?” and they reply, “Because no one has hired us.”  It is a truth of our time that when asked why an individual hasn’t joined a church, a majority of those who are un-churched will say that it’s because they have never been invited.  We must, therefore, be that representative of God who, finding them having “stood idle” most of their lives, invites them to go out and find deep meaning and purpose in their life by working in the vineyard of the Lord.

          Finally, my brothers and sisters, having been looked on mercifully by God who chose us for his vineyard, we must not fall victim to the temptation to look down on our brothers and sisters who have come “late in the day”, so to speak, into the vineyard to labor.  This is the sin of the laborers who were hired first in Jesus’ parable: they forgot that they had been recipients of the mercy of the landowner and thought that they deserved more than what had been given to those who came late in the day to work.  Instead of being thankful for the grace of being able to provide for themselves and their family for another day, they became jealous of the others who earned the same amount with less labor.  Therefore, my brothers and sisters, we must not allow ourselves to forget with what mercy God has chosen us and the grace that he has bestowed upon us and so become jealous of our brothers and sisters who, perhaps, have come only recently to know and experience God’s merciful election and the grace that comes with it; because, by God’s mercy, they are co-heirs to the kingdom of heaven with us.

          And so, my brothers and sisters, as we daily respond to God’s mercy and his generous call to go out into his vineyard to labor for his kingdom, let us not forget our responsibility to invite those around us to join us in this joy-filled work; for the promise of “a full day’s wage” is available to them, even if they’ve gone out into the vineyard late in the day.  And let us resist the temptation to be jealous of God’s generosity to all his laborers, for this only breeds bitterness in our hearts and contempt for one another and for God.  Rather, let us celebrate God’s generous mercy in choosing each one of us—the mercy won for us by the sacrifice of his Son, Jesus—the mercy that we turn now to offer back to him here on this altar.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – September 20^th & 21^st, 2014

God's mercy continues to come to us

          What a great weekend for me!  Friday night with the Knights of Columbus to open up their State Convention in Indianapolis, then Saturday morning concelebrating the Mass of First Holy Communion with my godson Isaiah, then today celebrating our two new pope saints, Saint John XXIII and Saint John Paul II the Great (#2popesaints) with a Holy Hour before the Blessed Sacrament and praying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy!

God's mercy is truly infinite!  Alleluia!  He is Risen!

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Homily: 2^nd Sunday of Easter – Cycle A

          Back when I was a deacon, I spent the summer getting pastoral experience in Anderson.  One of the things that I did while I was there was to try and get the young adult Catholics to connect with one another.  And so I organized a weekly gathering - much like the Theology on Tap events here - to discuss a topic of faith or an issue that is important in their lives.

          I had met Jennifer a few weeks before as she and her parents were walking out of mass.  She was a college student home for the summer and so I invited her to come to our weekly meetings.  She didn't come the first week, but the second or third she did.  I think that night I presented a little thing on the saints and devotion to them, but then opened the table up to any other questions or discussion that the folks wanted to have.  After a little bit of general conversation I heard Rebecca (the youth and young adult minister at the time) say, "I think that would be an excellent question for the Deacon!"

          "Ok," I thought, "I guess that means that I'm on."  Jennifer, a little bit shy to ask, said "but what if you struggle to believe that the Eucharist is really the body and blood of Jesus?"  Now, I've heard this question asked before, but never in a direct way to me.  In other words, I've always heard it in terms of someone else saying to me "well, I was talking to this person and they said that they don't believe in the Real Presence, but I wasn't sure what to tell them."  Now I was that person receiving the challenge to explain/defend this belief.

          At first, I tried to explain it reasonably.  I explained how the Scriptures record Jesus giving his disciples not only the instruction to eat his flesh and drink his blood, but also the manner in which we would do just that when he said "this is my body" and "this is my blood".  And I explained how our reasoning can only take us so far and that eventually we need to make a step in the dark to get to the place of complete faith (making the proverbial "leap of faith").  But then it struck me that this was not enough; and I believe, then, that the Holy Spirit inspired me with another idea.

          "Bottom line, Jennifer," I said to her, "is that Jesus wants you to know the truth about all of this.  He loves you and and he doesn't want you to be in the dark about it.  So go to him in prayer and ask him with a sincere heart to reveal to you the truth about the Eucharist: ask him, 'If it truly is your Body and Blood, then help me to know that.  If it isn't, then help me to know that, too.'  I promise you," I said to her, "Jesus will not fail to answer that prayer."  I know that must have been inspired, because it was something that she took to heart and she agreed to give it a try.

          I didn't hear anything more about this from her until a few weeks later when we were at the annual Frassati Society Young Adult Conference.  On Saturday morning, after the morning Mass, Jennifer came up to me and said, "I got it!"  "Got what?" I was thinking.  "It happened at Mass," she said.  "I had been praying, like you suggested, and today, when the priest raised up the host during the consecration, I looked up and suddenly I knew in my heart that it was Jesus really present there!"  Now in my head my first thought was, "Holy cow, that really worked!" But in the moment I, of course, praised God and shared in her joy with her.

          Now, I share this story with you today because today, the Octave Day of Easter, is also celebrated as Divine Mercy Sunday, and I think that this story is a great example of how God continues to meet us in his Mercy.  Just as Jesus returned to appear to the disciples locked in the upper room so as to dispel the doubts of Thomas, Jesus also mercifully made himself known to Jennifer, a disciple with doubts, so as to dispel her unbelief.

          This story is also a great example of the continuing power of personal witness and support that the Christian community must provide to bring others to faith.  In the account from the Acts of the Apostles, we read how the first community of believers met daily for prayer and the breaking of the bread and that they enjoyed favor among all the people; and that, through this witness, every day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.  As a small community of believers (young adults), we gathered to break bread together and by our sharing in sincerity the truth of God's mercy, Jennifer came to a personal encounter with it when the Lord revealed himself to her in the Eucharist.

          Further still, this story is an example of the living presence of Jesus Christ in our midst.  Such an experience of the Risen Christ would not have been possible for Thomas had Jesus not risen from the dead.  Neither would such a convicted experience of the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist have been possible for Jennifer without the Resurrection.  The passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the Son of God, is the fullest measure of God's mercy poured out for us and is the central tenet of our faith.  So powerful is it that we celebrate it for eight days straight.

          My brothers and sisters, everything that we do as Church must be centered around this truth and the joy that comes from it: that we have been saved from eternal death by the death and rising from the dead of the Son of God, Jesus our Lord.  For through him, in God's mercy, we have been "given a new birth to a living hope..." A hope we must share with others so that "every day the Lord will add to our number those who are being saved."

          In this weekend that we are also celebrating the historic "weekend of four popes" as it is being called (for we have Pope Francis, Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, and the canonization of the Popes John XXIII and John Paul II), I think that it is fitting that we also recall what Pope Francis has taken for his papal motto "miserando atque eligendo" - "looking with mercy on him, he chose him."  My brothers and sisters, it was in mercy that we were chosen to be born again into this living hope of the Risen Jesus Christ and it is in mercy that we are given the grace of faith.  Let us not fail to live that faith "with exultation and sincerity of heart," like the first Christians, so that all may find the joy of God's mercy in the waters of baptism and in the blood poured out from this table: the very water and blood that flowed out from Jesus' side on the cross - the living fount of mercy poured out for us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 26^th & 27^th, 2014

The grace of baptism

          The Christmas Season ends today! Take one last moment to worship Christ in the manger in Bethlehem and get ready to jump boldly into Ordinary Time, in which we follow the Lord and "order" our lives after his model!

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Homily: Baptism of the Lord – Cycle A

          Last year was kind of a whirlwind year for the Catholic Church.  The historic retirement of Pope Benedict XVI probably garnered him more headlines and news time than any of his speeches, encyclicals, or other statements (perhaps, even more than all of those combined!).  Then the world debated over and then waited for the election of our new Pope, Francis.  Nobody really had Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio on their radars and so the first surprise of Benedict’s retirement was amplified by the surprise of who the cardinals elected to replace him.  Then, things became really interesting as Pope Francis’ outgoing personality and protocol-breaking behavior has given us one surprise after another for the rest of the year.  In a media culture in which news about an event such as how sections of a whole nation got wiped out by the strongest typhoon seen anywhere for a few generations gets but a couple of weeks of attention, the fact that Pope Francis has stayed in the eyes of the media pretty consistently for nine months is saying something about the impact he has already had on the public at large.

          And how has he done that?  By standing on the loggia (which is the balcony on which the new pope stands to greet the people in Saint Peter’s Square) and immediately shouting out pronouncements that he was going to change the church and the world?  Or by immediately firing everyone in the Vatican in order to make way for his people to step in and change how things are done?  Or by cracking the whips on bishops who don’t “toe the line” on his policies (however new and/or different they might be)?  No.  Rather, he’s done it by being… what… humble, right?  (That’s what everyone keeps saying to me: “I love Pope Francis, because he just seems so humble.”)  And rightfully so.  Pope Francis stood on the loggia and first asked the people to pray for him.  He went to the Vatican City parish to celebrate Mass and greet people on the Sunday after his election.  He welcomes workers from the Vatican to come and celebrate daily Mass with him in his chapel.  He visits with the infirm, the imprisoned, and the invisible (the folks “at the margins” as he likes to call them).  He condemns no one, but invites everyone to turn to Jesus so as to come to know him (and to be known by him).

          He doesn’t shout or cry out, he isn’t making his voice heard in the streets, the bruised reed he doesn’t break and the smoldering wick he does not quench.  It certainly sounds like the servant of the Lord that Isaiah sings about in our first reading.  Pope Francis, I’m sure, would say that it’s an image of Jesus and that he is just striving to make that image visible in the world.  And that is exactly what the Liturgy is giving us today by placing this reading in the context of the Mass celebrating the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord.  In other words, we are meant to see the fulfillment of this prophesy from Isaiah in Jesus.

          As we recount the somewhat familiar story of Jesus’ baptism in the river Jordan by John the Baptist, we are reminded that Jesus came forward, not to shun John’s baptism or in some way to denounce it, but rather to submit himself to it; because, as he said, it was fitting for them to “fulfill all righteousness.”  And so we see that Jesus did not come shouting, crying out, or making his voice heard in the street; but rather he came in humility so as to show from the very beginning that to lead was to serve and to submit yourself to the ways of God.

          Of course, Jesus came to be baptized at the inauguration of his public ministry and so when the heavens opened after he emerged from the water and the Spirit of God descended upon him and the voice from heaven said “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased”, we are meant to see in that the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophesy, which states: “Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen one with whom I am pleased, upon whom I have put my spirit.”  Thus, we are also to expect of Jesus what is prophesied of the servant’s works: that he will “establish justice on the earth” and that he will “open the eyes of the blind, bring out prisoners from confinement, and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness.”  What we are also meant to see, however, is the importance of baptism.

          Jesus, as we know, had no need of baptism.  John the Baptist recognized that and so do we.  He had no personal sin, which is what John’s baptism was meant to cleanse, and he certainly did not suffer from the stain of Original Sin and so he would not need a baptism to be cleansed from that.  The importance of Jesus’ baptism lies not in those things that we all need baptism for, but rather in a third aspect, which we too all enjoy: the election by God and the anointing of the Holy Spirit.

          In our own baptism, just like in Jesus’ baptism, we were each claimed by God as his sons and daughters and we were anointed with God’s Spirit for his holy purpose: to become saints and to fulfill his work of bringing about his Kingdom here on earth.  Baptism, therefore, makes us different.  It isn’t just some empty ritual that we do as a way of showing membership in our community (or as a way of showing off our babies to the congregation); rather, it changes us; it marks us as different, as belonging to God.  (As I reflected on this I thought of the old Dymo® label makers: you know the ones that would emboss letters into plastic tape with an adhesive back and which most often made labels reading “Property of …”  Baptism marks us like this, only much more permanently.)  Thus, as God’s adopted sons and daughters, we are then called by God to go out, like Jesus did, to establish justice on the earth by how we live and work every day.

          Baptism, therefore, is the beginning of something new.  Whether you were baptized as an infant, an adolescent, or an adult, you were born anew in baptism.  Thus, just as Jesus left behind the carpenter shop in Nazareth to take up his ministry of preaching and healing, so we, too, must leave behind our old lives before baptism to take up the vocation that God has called us to so as to continue Jesus’ ministry here on earth.  And just as each year we remember the baptism of Jesus here at Mass, so too should each of us remember and celebrate the date of each of our baptisms, for it is the day even more important perhaps than our birthdays: the day in which we were born into the eternal life that Christ won for us.

          My brothers and sisters, it’s no mistake or coincidence that we celebrate the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord at the end of Christmastime and the beginning of Ordinary Time: for just as Jesus inaugurated his public ministry by first being baptized by John in the Jordan, so too do we go forth into the time of year in which we renew our efforts to “order” our lives according to Jesus’ model by celebrating the remembrance of that baptism.  And just as Jesus then ordered his life according to what was proclaimed at his baptism (“This is my beloved son…”) so too are we called to go forward into Ordinary Time so as to order our lives in the same way.

          My brothers and sisters, in this Eucharist, “let us ask the Lord from our hearts to be able to experience ever more in everyday life this grace that we have received at Baptism.  So that, by encountering us, our brothers and sisters may encounter true children of God, true brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ, true members of the Church”; and that, through this encounter, they too may find the joy of experiencing this same call and election in their own lives.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – January 11^th & 12^th, 2014

The Feast of the Baptism of the Lord      

Good King Wenceslaus

          King Saint Wenceslaus' commemoration was last Saturday.  When I pondered the readings for Mass I couldn't help but think of the old song Good King Wenceslaus.  It actually fit quite well, so I went with it.  

          This week I'll return to Joliet to celebrate my aunt and uncle's 50th wedding anniversary!  Then, following this weekend, the priests of the Lafayette diocese will be on retreat.

          Happy Saint Terese of Liseux feast day!

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Homily: 26^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle C

          King Saint Wenceslaus was born in the early 10^th century near Prague to a Christian father and a pagan mother.  This was a time of instability and unrest in the area of Europe known as Bohemia.  On account of his grandmother, Saint Ludmilla, Wenceslaus received a good Christian upbringing.  After his father died, his mother became regent and began to implement many anti-Christian policies.  Thanks, again, to his saintly grandmother, Wenceslaus was encouraged by the people to take reign of the government from his mother and even though his grandmother Ludmilla was murdered for her efforts to promote her grandson, Wenceslaus eventually did become king.

          As king, Wenceslaus worked for unity and peace throughout the region.  He strenuously promoted Christianity, even bringing priests from neighboring Germany when there were not enough native-born priests in Bohemia.  All of his work, however, only increased the fervor of the anti-Christian population in Bohemia.  This faction even recruited his brother, Boleslaus.  In September of 929 Boleslaus invited Wenceslaus to the town of Alt Bunglou to celebrate the feast of Saints Cosmas and Damian with the intention of murdering the king.  On the morning of the feast, as Wenceslaus was making his way to the cathedral for mass, Boleslaus and a band of others ambushed him on the front steps of the church and murdered him.  Thus, the Church celebrates King Wenceslaus as a martyr and his feast day falls just two days after those great martyrs of the Early Church, Cosmas and Damian.

          Of course, to be such a virtuous leader, Wenceslaus must also have been a virtuous man; and that he was.  His legend recounts how he paid particular attention to the poor.  Perhaps he had read the prophesy of the prophet Amos that we read today and knew that he could not allow himself to become complacent in the comforts that being king afforded him.  Or perhaps his saintly grandmother had read him Jesus’ parable about the rich man and Lazarus, which we heard in our Gospel reading today.  And perhaps that reading awakened in him a holy fear of suffering the same, sad end of the rich man.  Either way, Wenceslaus knew that if he had, indeed, been trusted with much, that it was not for his comfort alone, but rather that he might serve the common good of the people over whom he ruled.

          Many of you, at this point, might be remembering the traditional Christmas carol entitled “Good King Wenceslaus”, which is good, because that is exactly who we are talking about.  And you know it’s really not a Christmas song at all, but since the story it recounts takes place on Saint Stephen’s feast day, which is December 26^th, it is traditionally sung during Christmastime.  The story is of how the king, seeing a peasant man gathering sticks in the snow to make a fire in his home, loads up his own sled with wood for a fire and food for cooking and walks with his page through a winter storm to provide this peasant man and his family a feast, literally fit for a king, for it was eaten with his king, and it shows us plainly how this saintly king remained a humble servant of the people over whom he ruled.

          So, was it for virtue alone that Wenceslaus did all of these things?  I would venture to say “no”.  Rather, I believe Wenceslaus could see in his own state of life an image of Jesus, who, though he was lacking in nothing as the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, nonetheless was not complacent in his “comfort” and, when he saw us languishing in sin, responded to the prompting of the Father and left off his comfort to come among us—amidst the winter storms—to bring us warmth and nourishment.  No, I think Wenceslaus knew that this was the way that God had called him to be united with Jesus—and not just Jesus, but Jesus crucified—as the particular way that he could “lay hold of eternal life”, in those great words from Saint Paul that we heard in our second reading today.  “But you, man of God, pursue righteousness … compete well for the faith … lay hold to eternal life, to which you were called…”  No, Wenceslaus didn’t do it because he wanted to be better than all the other kings in Europe; but rather because he saw the special opportunity to draw closer to the “King of all kings”, our Lord Jesus Christ, and so he left the comfort of his palace to serve the poor man so that he might not feel alone. ///

          Yesterday I heard the confession of a young person that impacted me.  In it, this young man confessed having not reached out to some students at his school who seemed to be marginalized.  Once I heard that I thought, “Man, this kid gets it.”  He gets right to the heart of what this week’s readings are talking about.  In fact, he gets right to the heart of what Pope Francis has been talking about in his first six months as pope: that we need to go out to the margins of our communities—that is, out from our “comfortable spaces”—in order to draw in those whom we find there.  Why?  Because that is exactly what Jesus did for us.  And that is exactly where we will find Jesus. 

          The last phrase of the carol “Good King Wenceslaus" sums this up beautifully.  It says:

Therefore, Christian men, be sure

Wealth or rank possessing

Ye who now will bless the poor

Shall yourselves find blessing.

          Let us, then, my brothers and sisters, heed the words of that beloved carol and, strengthened by this Eucharist, let us “seek the Lord where he may be found”: in our brothers and sisters who long to feel that sense of belonging; and we, too, will find that, in bringing the love of Christ to others, we will receive that love in return.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – September 29^th, 2013

The Feast of the Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael

A Passionate Week

Even though it won't look good on a t-shirt... I love my Argentinian Shepherd! :D

What a blessing to be entering my first Holy Week as a priest (and I'm already exhausted)!  I'm looking forward to many blessings this week.  May God bless you with a very "passionate week" as we focus on Christ's Passion and his Passover from death to life!

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Homily: Palm Sunday – Cycle C

It’s been a week and a half now and I have to say that I am totally enamored with Pope Francis.  Don’t get me wrong, I love and miss Pope Emeritus, Benedict XVI.  After Benedict’s election, I was one of the first to buy and wear the “I love my German Shepherd” t-shirts.  Pope Francis, however, has this wonderful “Latin affability” about him that, in a positive way, contrasts him with Pope Emeritus Benedict’s deep German sincerity.  I’ve been eating up everything that Pope Francis has been saying and watching as many videos of him as I can find and I can say that I am really enjoying getting to know our new Holy Father.  One of the things that struck me as I was reflecting on the readings for today was just how much some of our new Holy Father’s actions reflect much of what we learn about Christ in these readings.

One of the primary things that we learn about Christ from these readings is that he is our self-emptying savior.  You know, Christ did not come with a great military force to overthrow all of the powers of the world in order to save us from sin and death.  Rather, it was his supreme humility that saved us.  Though he was God, he came to be like us: and not just any one of us, but he came to be the one who would be the most despised among us; so much so that he even got to the point of despair that he had been completely abandoned by everyone, including God the Father.

Pope Francis, from what I’ve read about him so far, never let his “exalted” status as the Cardinal Archbishop of Buenos Aires keep him from meeting people wherever they were at.  He eschewed the espiscopal residence in favor of a simple apartment and walked past the car and driver that awaited him to take public transportation.  He remained known as “Fr. Jorge” the whole time, yet he never backed down from speaking frankly to political leaders who proposed laws that were contrary to the teachings of the Church.  For this he was persecuted at times in the Argentinean media and was even accused of complicity in human rights violations during a military dictatorship there.  In other words, though he was the Cardinal Archbishop, a prince of the Church, he nevertheless always chose to serve among his people, not above his people.

Another thing that we learn about Christ from these readings is that he is also our highly exalted savior.  Again, Jesus did not win this great name for himself—the name at which every knee must bend—by putting down all of his enemies (which, by the way, he could have easily done since he was God).  Rather, he allowed himself to be put down.  In doing so, he showed us how we are to live: standing always for truth, in obedience to the Father who alone has the power to exalt us.

When the conclave started, Cardinal Bergoglio (as he was known at the time) wasn’t on anybody’s radar as being a contender for being elected.  Everybody seemed to know that he had garnered the second highest number of votes in the conclave that elected our now retired pope, Benedict XVI, but no one thought that he had much of a chance of getting a large number of votes this time around.  Yet, his brother cardinals recognized him in his “lowliness” and decided to “raise him up” to be exalted among them—that is, to give him a name above all of their names: that of “Bishop of Rome”.  In other words, our new Holy Father didn’t go out and make a name for himself, rather he received it simply by being obedient to the service he had been given.

The final broad theme that we learn about Christ from today’s readings is that Christ is an example for us.  From the Old Testament prophecy of Isaiah, to the New Testament testimony of Saint Paul, to our recounting of the Passion narrative from the Gospel of Luke, we see how Christ offered himself for us and for our salvation.  Yet, it is precisely through these same Scriptures that Christ continues to offer himself to us as an example that we are to follow: calling us to empty ourselves for others just as he emptied himself for us.

From the moment that he first stepped out onto the Loggia, Pope Francis has also been offering himself to us as an example to follow.  From eschewing the papal limousine to ride the bus back to the hotel with the other cardinals, to descending from the pope-mobile during the procession after his installation mass to greet (and tenderly kiss) a severely handicapped person, to committing to celebrate Holy Thursday Mass at a juvenal correctional facility, Pope Francis has been showing us that he takes his title as “servant of the servants of God” quite literally.  Like Christ, our Holy Father promotes conversion not by demanding change in forceful speech or by coercion, but rather by providing a “lived example” for others to follow.  I suspect that this “lived example” is going to challenge each and every of us (if it hasn’t done so already).

My brothers and sisters, we recall Christ’s Passion at the head of this the most holy of weeks of the year in order to remind us of his self-emptying and that his self-emptying calls us to our own self-emptying.  Our new Holy Father, following this example, intends to empty himself by spending time with the poor this week so as to enter more intimately into Christ’s Passion.  Each of us ought to meditate on Christ’s Passion this week and thus seek our own way to empty ourselves for others.  Maybe we could be like the women from Galilee who stood by Christ in his suffering and make a visit to a nursing home or the hospital.  Or perhaps we could feel the compunction of the Good Thief and do a little “spring cleaning” in our homes, sharing what we don’t need with those who go without through the Salvation Army, the Saint Vincent de Paul store, or the Emmaus Mission.  Maybe we are like Simon of Cyrene and we see a friend, family member, co-worker, or neighbor who is carrying a heavy cross—perhaps the recent death of a loved one, a broken family, or the loss of a job—and we decide to take it up for them and with them.

Whatever it is, seek to enter into Christ’s Passion this week by opening your heart to be emptied for others, because when we empty ourselves for others like Christ did, we open ourselves to be exalted as he was.  More than that, however, when we empty ourselves like Christ did, we also open ourselves to discover him: Jesus Christ who suffers both in the poor and with the poor.  Thus emptied of ourselves, we become truly ready to experience the joy of the Resurrection: the joy that awaits us on Easter Sunday.

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

Palm Sunday of the Passion of Our Lord