Faith is the power to stand up for life

          I am indebted to the USCCB Respect Life committee for their excellent scriptural reflection for Respect Life Sunday.  I have only slightly edited their words to make it flow as a homily.  It otherwise expresses deftly and plainly the reality we face as a pro-life people and the gifts of faith and hope that we need to persevere in proclaiming the Gospel of Life.

Homily: 27^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

Brothers and sisters, in the first reading today we hear the voice of the prophet Habakkuk crying out to God in anguish: “How long, O Lord? I cry for help but you do not listen!”  How often do we feel that God does not hear our pleas for help?  How often do we fear that our prayers will not be answered in the manner that we desire?  The voice again cries out: “I cry out to you, ‘Violence!’ but you do not intervene. Why do you let me see ruin; why must I look at misery? Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and clamorous discord.”

I imagine that each of us can relate all-too-well to this feeling today.  When we watch the news or scroll through social media, we are inundated by stories of violence against human life.  The tone of public debate and discourse disrespects the dignity of the human person.  We can often feel that misery surrounds us as abortion, assisted suicide, the death penalty, and other affronts to the dignity of the person find wide public support.

But God, as he responded to Habakkuk, responds to us with a message of hope.  We are assured that the Lord, “will not disappoint.”  And that, “the just one, because of his faith, shall live.”  While God does not promise to answer our prayers on our schedule or according to our plans, we know that He does not abandon us.  While suffering is indeed a part of our earthly life, nonetheless our destiny is to share eternal life with Christ, and this reading reminds us of this today.

In his encyclical letter Evangelium Vitae (which translates to “The Gospel of Life”), Pope Saint John Paul II wrote that, “the Gospel of life is not for believers alone: it is for everyone.”  Although faith allows us to more deeply understand the sacred value of human life, the light of reason naturally endows the human conscience with the ability to recognize the dignity of each and every person, and so why does it seem that so many are ignorant of this truth?

In the responsorial psalm, we replied: “If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.”  It seems that many in our world have indeed hardened their hearts to the truth.  They are unable to see the humanity of the child growing in his/her mother’s womb.  They incorrectly believe that a person’s value is determined by his/her abilities (or by a potential to avoid suffering in this world).  They fail to comprehend that one’s worth is not dependent on one’s age or circumstance.  And perhaps, if we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll see that we’ve allowed our own hearts to be hardened to the attacks against human life.  Maybe we’ve allowed the pain of loss to make our hearts numb, too.

Therefore, in a world that seems to have lost sight of the value of human life, we must pray that those whose hearts have been hardened would hear the voice of God and come to see the invaluable dignity of every person they meet.  And we must pray that our own hearts would be pierced by the suffering of the most vulnerable among us. ///

Because the world in which we live is so often hostile to the Truth, proclaiming the Gospel of Life can be difficult.  In many arenas, defense of infants’ lives, the lives of those disabled or dying, or the lives of any vulnerable human population is met with resistance.  Proclaiming the Church’s teaching on topics like abortion, assisted suicide, and the death penalty can provoke challenging and emotional responses from those who disagree.  Sometimes we may find ourselves afraid to speak up about these issues in our families, among our coworkers, or with students in our school community.  We may fear disagreement, judgement, confrontation, or misunderstanding.  But in the second reading, Saint Paul tells us that, “God did not give us a spirit of cowardice.”  Rather, God has given us a spirit of “power and love”—and this spirit should cast out all of our fears.

Saint Paul also encourages us “not to be ashamed of our testimony to our Lord.”  He urges us to “bear our share of hardship for the gospel,” and reminds of our “strength that comes from God.”  Through our faith in Jesus Christ, we know that sin and death have been defeated.   We know that our identity can only be found in our Savior.  And we know that the sufferings and persecutions that we endure in our earthly life glorify God; and, thus, that we are given the strength and grace to persevere in hope.

Faith, my brothers and sisters, gives us this ability to hope.  Through it we are empowered to accomplish amazing things (like ripping up deep-rooted trees and casting them into the sea with only a word).  As a gift, however, faith is not something that we can claim as our own: it’s not something that we earn.  Rather, it is only the graciousness of God that provides it to us, for we are “unprofitable servants” who have done only what we have been obliged to do.  The example of the apostles in the Gospel, however, encourages us to ask God Himself to “increase our faith.”  If we struggle to find the courage to speak boldly about human life, we shouldn’t be ashamed: for the apostles—who themselves lived, ate, and prayed with Christ—needed God’s grace to carry out Christ’s saving mission.  Even still, we needn’t be afraid to take hold of the faith that we have been given: for if we have but “faith the size of a mustard seed,” Christ can give us the power to do incredible things in service of the Gospel.

So today, on this Respect Life Sunday, as we recommit ourselves to upholding the teachings of the Church on the inviolability of human life, may we recall that we have merely “done what we were obliged to do” as followers of Christ; and that this is no small thing, because Christ is our hope, in every season of our lives; and He, who is ever faithful to us, will not fail to snatch us from the snares of death and lead us to the victory of eternal life that He has won for us—the eternal life to which all human life is ordered—the eternal life that we experience, even now, here in this Eucharist.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – October 5^th & 6^th, 2019

Given at Saint Thomas Aquinas Parish: West Lafayette, IN – October 6^th, 2019

Healed so as to serve

Saint Josephine Bakhita: Feast Day February 8

Homily: 5^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          Saint Josephine Bakhita was born in the Darfur region of South Sudan in 1869.  When she was seven years old, she was kidnapped and sold into slavery.  In the ensuing years, she was sold and resold to different slave owners, suffering physical and psychological abuse everywhere she went.  Bakhita was the name given to her by her first slave owner.  The abuse she received over the years traumatized her so much that she actually forgot the name that her parents had given her.  Finally, she ended up in the hands of an Italian ambassador, Callisto Legnani.  With this family, however, there was no abuse and Bakhita’s long journey of healing could begin.

          Because of political tensions in Sudan, ambassador Legnani had to leave Africa to return to Italy and, per Bakhita’s request, he brought her along with his family.  Upon returning to Italy, the Michieli family, who were friends of the Legnanis, requested that Bakhita stay with them.  Mr. Legnani agreed and when the Michielis gave birth to a daughter, Bakhita became her babysitter and friend.  When the Michielis were forced to move back to Africa for business, Bakhita and their daughter were entrusted to the Canossian Sisters of the Institute of Catechumens in Venice.  It was there that Bakhita would come to know God.

          After several months of prayer and study in the catechumenate, Bakhita received the Sacraments of Initiation, taking the name Josephine.  Not long after, the Michielis returned, having established their business back in Africa, to take their daughter and Josephine to be with them.  Josephine refused to go back to Africa, however, requesting to stay with the Canossian Sisters, instead.  Because Italian law had abolished slavery, the Michielis could not force her to go and thus she was granted her wish.

          Josephine stayed with the sisters; eventually following the call to enter religious life herself.  Six years after she was baptized she made her solemn profession as a Canossian Sister.  For the next fifty years, she humbly and dutifully served her fellow sisters and those with whom she came in contact through the sisters’ apostolate.  All who knew her knew the joy that radiated from her in every encounter.  She was known to say “Be good, love the Lord, and pray for those who do not know him. What a great grace it is to know God!”  In her, we today find the inspiring story of a woman set free from oppression and slavery through Christian action who then turned to offer herself completely in service to God.

          In our Gospel reading today, we hear a story with a similar outcome.  Having taught in the synagogue in Capernaum (where he freed a man from an “unclean spirit”), Jesus returned to the house of Simon and Andrew.  Simon’s mother-in-law lay seriously ill with a fever.  When they told Jesus about her, he went to her and healed her.  Then the Gospel says that “she waited on them.”  Viewed in the light of St. Josephine’s story, we can make these correlations: Simon’s mother-in-law was “enslaved” by an illness; Jesus’ disciples, having seen him cast out the unclean spirit just hours before, “immediately” tell him about her; Jesus approaches her and sets her free; and she, in her freedom, then chooses to serve.  In other words, set free by Jesus whom they encountered through the actions of his disciples, these women then freely chose to subject themselves in service to others.

          Although slavery is almost universally abolished, millions of men and women throughout the world still suffer from it.  Every day men and women are forced into oppressive work or, worse yet, are bought and sold as sex slaves to feed humankind’s exponentially growing lust.  In our own state, and even in our own county, addiction to alcohol, heroin, and prescription pain killers has enslaved many of our own family members and friends.  For many of these persons, life looks a lot like Job describes in our First Reading today: a drudgery, with days like those of hard labor with no relief in sight, and in which hope of ever experiencing happiness again has disappeared.

          Therefore, more than ever, these men and women need help to be set free.  As Christians, our first recourse is always to prayer, in which we beg the Lord Jesus to come to them, to help them up, and set them free.  Our work never ends there, however; for then we must act in the world and draw close to them, like Saint Paul did, making himself a “slave to all”—that is, becoming “all things to all”—so that, through our Christian action, these brothers and sisters of ours might actually be set free.

          Set free, therefore, by our prayer and our action, these men and women can then choose to serve, like Simon’s mother-in-law did and like Saint Josephine did: for having been loved, most people will choose then to return love through service to others, because Jesus assures us that “there is no greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

          My brothers and sisters, as a people set free by the love of Christ, who came close to us when he became one of us, and who remains close to us, especially here in this Eucharist, we must act to be his hands and his feet that draw close, in prayer and in action, to those still enslaved, so that they, too, might be set free and thus “know the freedom of the sons [and daughters] of God.”  Even as Saint Paul gave himself over freely (and free of charge) for the sake of the gospel, so that he might have a share in the blessings that come from it, so too we must bring this good news to those who are enslaved in our day; for we will only share in its blessings in proportion to the measure in which we have shared it with others.

          Therefore, my brothers and sisters, let us act so as to see the power of the Lord Jesus manifest: both throughout the world and right here in Cass County.  For when we do, we will begin to share in the blessings of the good news and, thus, when we return to this place, we will be inspired to sing, like the Psalmist in today’s Responsorial Psalm, “Praise the Lord, who heals the brokenhearted.”

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February 4^th, 2018

The authority of Jesus

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

          Last week we heard Jesus’ first words in the Gospel, according to Mark: “This is the time of fulfillment…”   In my homily, I reflected how Jesus was announcing that, with his coming onto the scene, the third age in human history had begun.  The first was the time of creation: lasting from the first word that God spoke to form light until the first sin of our first parents, Adam and Eve, and their fall from grace.  The second age was the time of promise: lasting from that moment when God promised to raise up a descendant of Eve who would crush the head of the evil one and save us from sin and death until Jesus himself is born and begins his public ministry.  We are still living in this time of fulfillment, the third age, in which God has entered time and space in order to rescue it from destruction; and we await the coming of the fourth and final age: the age of glory, when Christ will return and evil, death, and sorrow will be banished from the universe forever.

          Very interesting, then, that we hear today the next “scene” from Mark’s Gospel and, right on the heels of Jesus’ proclamation that the “time of fulfillment” had begun, we see him do something new: “he taught them as one having authority and not as the scribes.”  Here, Jesus is indicating exactly what he proclaimed.  By teaching as one with his own authority—not as one who referenced the authority of rabbis who had gone before him, like the scribes all did—Jesus steps out of the box to indicate that something new, indeed, has begun.  The scriptures say that the people were astonished at his teaching: not necessarily because of what he taught (Mark does not record for us what he taught that day), but because he spoke as one having an authority all his own.

          The more keen hearers in the synagogue that day would have hearkened back to the words of Moses, recorded in the book of Deuteronomy, which we read in our first reading today: that “a prophet like me will the Lord, your God, raise up for you from your own kin; to him you shall listen.”  Moses, to the Jewish people, is THE prophet, whose authority no one’s, except God’s, is greater.  Thus, for him to declare that a prophet like him will come—that is, one who teaches with authority, like he did—is something extraordinary indeed.  And if we fast-forward to the end of the book of Deuteronomy, we read there that “since then [the death of Moses] no prophet has arisen in Israel like Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face.”  Thus, the response of the people in the synagogue with Jesus that day, “What is this? A new teaching with authority”, highlights that some of them knew that Jesus might be the one of whom Moses spoke.

          To solidify this authority, Jesus then drives out the demon (who, astonishingly, presents himself to him).  Jesus is teaching with his own authority, which would have been a scandal to many in the synagogue that day, because, like I said, the scribes always backed up their teaching with the teaching of the great master rabbis who went before them.  Jesus proves that he has the authority in himself to teach when, by his word, he drives the unclean spirit out from the man.

          Even the words of the spirit are telling of Jesus’ authority; and that he is not some “new rabbi”, but truly the prophet of whom Moses spoke.  “What have you to do with us?  Have you come to destroy us?”  Notice how the unclean spirit recognizes the power and authority within Jesus to destroy them.  “I know who you are—the Holy One of God!”  “The Holy One of God” is an Old Testament title given to the great prophets.  Therefore, the spirit is not only acknowledging Jesus’ power and authority, but he is acknowledging him as the prophet of whom Moses spoke.  In quieting the spirt and driving it out of the man, Jesus confirmed the spirit’s words.  Thus, all in the synagogue were “astonished” and “amazed”.

          My friends, if this is the time of fulfillment and Jesus is the prophet of whom Moses spoke, then we must listen to him if we want to experience the fruits that this time will produce.  Moses relates the consequences that God himself laid out for those who would not listen to this prophet: “Whoever will not listen to my words which he speaks in my name, I will make him answer for it.”  When God says “listen” he doesn’t just mean “hear and consider it”.  Rather, he means “obey”, in the sense of “listening so as to respond”.  Thus, the statement might as well read: “Whoever will not obey my words which he speaks in my name, I will make him answer for it.”  My friends, this is the time of fulfillment and Jesus is the prophet of whom Moses spoke (and more than a prophet, right?), and so we must obey the words that he has spoken, which are God the Father’s words, else we face him on the day of judgment and have to answer for it.

          “Okay, Father, I trust you.  But the problem is that God doesn’t speak to me.”  Bzzzt.  False.  Let me assure you that God’s words are readily available to you, in three different ways.  Number 1: the Bible.  The Bible is God’s Word, inspired and protected by the Holy Spirit, and it is living and effective for us today.  If we are going to answer for having obeyed God’s words, these are the first ones to which God is going to point.  Number 2: the teachings of the Church.  It is the Church, guided by the Holy Spirit, who has preserved and proclaimed the Word of God throughout the generations and thus who has authentically presented it to and interpreted it for each passing generation.  My friends, the Bible and the Catechism are the two primary ways that you will hear God’s words spoken to you.  Obeying (that is, listening with a readiness to respond to) these words is the first step towards realizing the fruit of this time of fulfillment.

          The third way that God’s words come to us, however, is in the silence of our hearts.  Here, God speaks to us directly and personally.  To hear God’s words in this way is more challenging, because we have to tune the ears of our heart to hear his voice.  Nonetheless, it is a work that we must do; and the only way that we will do it is if we listen for his voice in silence.  When we do, we will begin to hear it.  It will be the voice that speaks with authority.  It will be the voice that echoes the revelation of the Scriptures and the teachings of the Church.  It will be the voice that urges you to give yourself for others.  You will know the voice of the enemy: he is the one who sows confusion, discord, and discouragement.  God’s voice brings clarity, unity, and encouragement.  And it is available to us, right now: we need only ask to hear it.

          Then, of course, we must obey it.  What do we get when we obey Jesus’ voice?  Well, nothing short than his power working in our lives.  This means, the power of this “time of fulfillment” in which the negative forces (that is, the unclean spirits) that affect us can be driven away; and when they aren’t: we receive the strength either to overcome them or persevere through them.  Friends, Jesus is the Son of God, the one of whom Moses spoke, and he has ushered in the “time of fulfillment” in which has come this “new teaching with authority”.  In a world full of talking heads full of hot air claiming their own authority but having no power to fulfill anything, let us listen to the Word of God, Jesus our Lord, so that his kingdom—the kingdom that will be fully realized in the age of glory—would be made present to us here today.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – January 27^th & 28^th, 2018

Triumph and then triumph: the logic of God

Homily: Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion – Cycle A

          On the surface, Palm Sunday always seems to contradict itself.  On the one hand, we begin by recalling the grand and triumphal procession of Jesus into Jerusalem as he is hailed as the Messiah: “Hosanna to the Son of David!”  On the other hand, we recall the ignominious defeat of Jesus in his Passion, death, and burial.  Perhaps we’re left asking ourselves?  Which is it, Palm Sunday?  Triumph or defeat?  “Triumph and then triumph”, says Palm Sunday.  What?  How can that be?  Let’s take a look.

          Read using the logic of man, Matthew’s Passion Narrative seems to present Jesus as someone completely powerless to defend himself.  This is because, according to the logic of man, a person demonstrates his / her power over others by exerting control over them.  Since throughout the narrative Jesus seems to be subject to the control of others, he seems to be powerless.  This, it seems, is what gives the Jewish leaders all the more reason to complete their condemnation and execution.  The Messiah—the Son of David—as understood according to the logic of man, would be a powerful leader who would drive out the Roman occupiers.  Jesus, although he did perform acts of great power, did not show his power when challenged by the authorities.  Thus, he appeared to them to be weak and powerless; and, thus, his claims to be the Messiah were blasphemous: since the true Messiah couldn’t be someone powerless.

          Read using the logic of God, however, Matthew’s Passion Narrative presents Jesus as being supremely powerful.  This is because, according to the logic of God, a person demonstrates his / her power by submitting him / herself completely to the will of God, even (and especially) when submitting to God’s will causes him / her to suffer in this world.  The bizarre nature of this logic is on full display throughout the narrative.  For example, when Jesus commands his disciple to put down his sword, claiming to have legions of angels who could come to his aid if he commanded it, yet he didn’t command it.  And why?  Because he knew that it was the will of God that he should submit to this arrest, trial, conviction, and death.  Another example: when Jesus was hanging on the cross, those who had condemned him to death mocked him and challenged him to use his power to come down from the cross so as to prove—according to the logic of man—that he was the true Messiah, the Son of David, the King of Israel, but he didn’t.  Rather, he endured their insults and remained on the cross because he desired only to fulfill the will of his Father.  Thus, in contrast to the logic of man, Jesus showed himself to be supremely powerful according to the logic of God.

          Lent, and the work that we have been doing throughout it, has been about rearranging our logic to conform once again to God’s logic.  This is because the logic of man resists the logic of God.  Through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, we resist the logic of man and, thus, conform our minds and hearts to the logic of God, submitting ourselves completely to his will once again.  This week—the holiest week of the year—is the culmination of our work.  Each of the celebrations of this week is meant to lead us into the celebration of the ultimate triumph of Jesus’ suffering: his resurrection from the dead on Easter Sunday.

          And so, looked at with the logic of God, this liturgy itself no longer looks so contradictory.  No, my brothers and sisters, the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem is not followed by his ignominious defeat on the cross.  Rather, according to God’s logic, his triumphal entry is followed by his still greater triumph on the cross.  Thus, what we celebrate on Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion is truly triumph and then triumph.

            And so, my brothers and sisters, let us allow the seemingly contradictory tone of today’s liturgy to heighten our senses so as to enter more fully into the experience of the mysteries of our salvation that we celebrate this week: an experience which is renewed for us even now, here in this Holy Eucharist.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 9^th, 2017

Obedience makes us powerful

Homily: 2^nd Sunday in Lent – Cycle A

          Last week, as we celebrated the 1^st Sunday in Lent, I reflected on how the readings for the day seemed to indicate that God was asking us to enter into a 12-step addiction recover program this Lent.  I reflected how the journey through Lent can be like a journey through a 12-step program, as we acknowledge that we have sinned and have fallen short of all that God expects of us, that we, by ourselves, are powerless to overcome our sinfulness, and that we must give ourselves completely to the will of God (and his mercy)—particularly through the sacrament of reconciliation and the renewal of our baptismal promises at Easter—so that we can break free from the bonds of sin.  I noted how this last part is truly the key: that to hand over your will to one who is more powerful (and so, wise), yet loving—and to be completely obedient to him—actually leads to freedom, not greater slavery.

          In the Scriptures last week we saw this play out as the disobedience of our first parents (Adam and Eve) led them into the bondage of sin, while the obedience of Christ (as evidenced by his unwillingness to give into the temptations the devil presented to him) left him free and blameless before his Father.  This week, we once again encounter this theme of obedience in the Scriptures.  In the first reading, God commands Abraham to move from his native place to a land he doesn’t know based simply on a promise that God will give him blessings beyond his wildest dreams.  In the Gospel, we read how, at the transfiguration, Peter, James, and John hear God's voice identifying Jesus and commanding them "Listen to him".  This "listening" is much more than "hearing”.  Rather, it is a "listening" that results in "doing", which is obedience.  And so, in this way, it's like God is saying "This is my beloved Son … be obedient to him."

          But “obedience” often carries with it a negative connotation, right?  The common definition that many of us might give to obedience is “being subservient to the will of another”.  In this definition, obedience seems negative as it is often associated with one person’s domination over another.  Slaves and other servants are “obedient” to their masters, just as good children are “obedient” to their parents, grandparents, teachers, etc.

          The word obedience, however, comes from the Latin verb oboedire, which translates literally to mean “to listen towards” something, like when you lean in to listen because you value what is being said.  In this definition, obedience, implies a relationship between the one who speaks and the one who hears.  This is an affectionate relationship, since one would not “lean in” to listen to someone who he or she didn’t think had concern for him or her in return.  And so we see that obedience involves a level of intimacy between the one who speaks and the one who hears.  In a very real way, therefore, obedience, if it is true, is really an act of love.

          Given this, let’s think about Abraham’s obedience for a second.  If we take the reading literally (which can be a little dangerous to do), we see that Abraham didn’t say anything to God as God told him what to do and what he would give him for doing it.  Abraham’s response (“Abram went as the Lord directed him”, the Scripture says) would be crazy if he didn’t already have a relationship with God and knew his voice.  And so we must assume that he did have a relationship with God and that Abraham already trusted him to be a loving Father, who wouldn’t give him a rock when he asked for an egg or a scorpion when he asked for a fish.  With this loving relationship, therefore, it was easy for him to obey, even when that meant that he would suffer some hardships because of it.

          The apostles, too, would find that, because they spent three years with Jesus while he taught about the kingdom of God and worked miracles to demonstrate that it, indeed, had come to fulfillment in him, it would be easy to “listen to him”, because they already had a relationship with him and they knew him to be a loving master: more like a brother, than a boss.  Thus, they could give him their full obedience and not fear that they would ever be led astray.  Their obedience was not servitude, but truly was an act of love.

          Well, okay, Father, if obedience is love, then why is it so hard?  Well, perhaps it’s because we haven’t correctly understood love, either.  The love that we speak of here is so much more than affection (that is, good feelings for another person).  Rather, the love we are talking about here is the willing of the good (that is, happiness) for another: even if there is no reward (and, perhaps, even suffering) for yourself.  Obedience, therefore, often involves self-sacrifice.  This component of self-sacrifice is why we often view it as being slave-like.  We think, “I have to give up what I want in order for that other person to get what he or she wants.”  But true love doesn’t count the cost—it doesn’t count what I lose so that the other can receive something good.  This is why Jesus could say “No one has greater love than this; to lay down one’s life for one’s friends”.  And this is why Saint Paul, in our second reading, could remind Saint Timothy to “bear your share of hardship for the gospel”, because love sometimes asks us to bear hardships.  Obedience, therefore, willfully given, is really an act of love; and most especially when it involves some sacrifice of one’s self.

          Former farmer and US Secretary of Agriculture Ezra Taft Benson once said that “When obedience ceases to be an irritant and becomes our quest, in that moment God will endow us with power.”  Jesus is the Father’s “beloved Son” firstly because he was obedient.  Thus, the power on display in the transfiguration is the power that is available to us who seek to follow our Lord’s example of obedience.

          And so, my brothers and sisters, let us acknowledge that Lent calls us back to obedience; which means, then, that we are called to restore our relationship with God the Father through Christ Jesus.  And so, let us not spend this time of Lent in works that won’t draw us closer to God.  Rather, let’s engage works that lead us first to acknowledge our need for repentance (and, therefore, our need for God) and that help us, then, to submit our wills completely to his, because he has never proven to be anything but a loving Father who cares for us.  Because, when we do, we will see the power of the blessings that Jesus has won for us made manifest in our lives; the power that comes through true obedience; the power that comes to us here in this Holy Eucharist.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – March 11^th & 12^th, 2017

Meekness as power

          Thank you to all who continue to read these and thanks be to God who inspires and provides for any good that is contained within them.  I'm posting this even before I preach it this week because I am leaving for retreat immediately after Masses this Sunday.  Please pray for me!  Know of my prayers for you.

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Homily: 7^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          In today’s First Reading we’re reminded of God’s command that we must strive to be holy as he is holy and that an essential characteristic of holiness is a heart that does not harbor anger within it.

          The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines anger as “An emotion which is not in itself wrong, but which, when it is not controlled by reason or hardens into resentment and hate, becomes one of the seven capital sins.”  Now each of the seven capital sins is a mortal sin; and a mortal sin is a sin that definitively severs our bond with God; and severing our bond with God is like a space station astronaut who goes out for a spacewalk and then cuts off his tether from the station: it is an act that means certain death.  Anger, therefore, that hardens into resentment and hate, not only hurts the person who is the object of our resentment and hate, but it also means certain spiritual death for us.  In other words, it’s a situation in which everyone loses.  Meekness, however, is a powerful remedy for the negative effects of anger.

          Although it is often portrayed as a weakness, meekness is actually a very powerful characteristic to possess.  This is because it involves a very virtuous effort not to strike, or even to dislike, the one who’s struck you, and effort that requires a very powerful discipline over the will.  We all know that true power is to be in control of powerful forces.  Since the human will is a powerful force that can bring great flourishing of life as well as widespread destruction and death, to have great discipline over one’s will is to have great power.  On the contrary, to be able to be provoked into action is actually to give your power to someone else.  Thus meekness, the virtue to resist provocation to resentment and hatred, is not a weakness, but rather a strength.  Genocide survivor Immaculée Ilibagiza is a great example of the power of meekness.

          Immaculee was born in a small village in Rwanda, Africa. In 1994, when she was home on spring break, the president of Rwanda, who was of the Hutu tribe, was assassinated.  The Hutus assumed that it was a member of Tutsi tribe who had committed the crime and, in a vengeful fit of anger, took up arms against the Tutsis, to which Immaculée’s family belonged.  This response was widespread and armed Hutu men went from house to house, killing every Tutsi they found.

          Immaculée fled to the local pastor’s house; and, to avoid being murdered, she had to hide in a 3-foot x 4-foot bathroom for 91 days with seven other women.  As she endured this, she felt anger and resentment beginning to destroy her heart and so she started praying the rosary.  “I said the Lord's Prayer hundreds of times, hoping to forgive the killers who were murdering all around me”, she wrote.  “It was no use: every time I got to the part asking God to ‘forgive those who trespass against us,’ my mouth went dry. I couldn't say the words because I didn't truly embrace the feeling behind them. My inability to forgive”, she wrote, “caused me even greater pain than the anguish I felt in being separated from my family, and it was worse than the physical torment of being constantly hunted.”  When she finally left that bathroom, she learned that all her family, with the exception of one brother studying abroad, had been murdered. In total, one million people had been massacred.

          After the genocide, Immaculée was led to the man, now in prison, who had murdered her mother and her brother.  This man had been one of her neighbors and the prison staff was prepared to kill him on her behalf.  She remembered how often she had imagined killing the Hutus who had done so much evil while she hid in that bathroom.  Despite all that she had suffered, however, when confronted with her family’s murderer, she simply said, “I forgive you,” and walked away.  Through her prayer she developed the virtue of meekness, in which she found the power to overcome her anger and resentment (and thus to preserve God’s grace within her) while demonstrating the power of God’s merciful love to someone who desperately needed to encounter it.

          When it comes to meekness, however, it is truly Our Lord who has set the standard for us.  Time and again in the Old Testament, God’s loving kindness was rejected by the Israelite people.  At times, he corrected them by letting them suffer—like when the serpents attacked them in the desert or when he allowed them to be driven into exile by the Babylonians—but he never allowed his anger to turn into resentment and hatred, thus demonstrating his superior power.

          Then, when God took on human skin and walked among us, he suffered an equal number of insults, yet remained meek: not allowing the anger he most assuredly felt to seep into his heart and lead him to hatred.  Rather, in his meekness, he was led to the crucifixion—a perfectly innocent man, murdered because of our hatred—and thus demonstrated the power of being meek: for by allowing himself to be murdered—even though it was in his power to avoid it—he accomplished what no man (or even mankind as a whole) could have ever accomplished on his own: the redemption of mankind from sin.

          And so Jesus, knowing well the command that he himself gave to Moses that the people must strive to be holy as he is holy, teaches his disciples that, in order for their righteousness to exceed that of the Scribes and Pharisees, they must live meekness in its fullness and forgive, even when they have suffered injustice, submitting themselves to even greater injustices.  And why?  Because he wants a Church full of wimps who can’t defend themselves?  No!  Of course not!  Rather, he teaches us to “turn the other cheek” because he knows that, in doing so, we will keep anger (righteous as it may be) from seeping into our hearts and, thus, turning into hatred, which not only separates us from one another, but which also separates us from God and his saving grace.

          My brothers and sisters, in today’s on-edge, thin-skinned, and irritable society, the command to “turn the other cheek” is a tall order and it’s not something that we can accomplish overnight.  But it is something that we can accomplish; and we can begin today.  The best way that I have found to accomplish it is to contemplate Christ crucified whenever anger strikes.  None of us have been mistreated as badly as he was.  And so, when we contemplate how he was able not only to bear those injustices, but also to forgive those who hurt him, we begin to see that it is possible for us to overcome our anger before it becomes resentment and hatred; and, thus, to choose the path of grace: the path by which we become perfect, just as our heavenly Father is perfect.

          As we not only contemplate, but also encounter the great sacrifice of Christ here at this altar, let us ask for the grace to be meek, as our Lord is meek, so that our holiness might increase and become a light of hope that draws all those around us to be united with us in God’s heavenly kingdom.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February 19^th, 2017

Summer blockbusters

          Although we don't have explosions, we do have a pretty dramatic story to tell.  Every drama needs actors, however, and so each of us needs to step up to play our part.  The Easter-Ascension-Pentecost drama is a story of blockbuster proportions, but no one will see it if we don't live it.  Jesus has promised power to those who follow him.  May the power of the Spirit move us to proclaim him in word and in deed to all around us.

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Homily: The Ascension of the Lord – Cycle B

          With this weekend’s opening of the movie Mad Max, among others, it seems like the summer blockbuster season is already upon us.  Terminator, Jurassic Park, Mission Impossible, The Avengers… the list goes on and on.  As we know, a “blockbuster” is a movie with a lot of action, violence, usually some sort of “end of the world” threat, and, of course, plenty of gratuitous explosions.  One of the classic clichés of these types of movies is what I call the “gasoline fueled warehouse explosion”.  This is where the character douses a warehouse with gasoline (or, at least, allows flammable liquid already in the warehouse to flow—and these days, it seems, the warehouses are almost always full of some sort of explosive material) with the intent of setting it ablaze and destroying the whole structure.  Then, just as he or she leaves, the character drops a lighter onto the fuel and walks away, while the flames quickly spread.  Then, the “money shot”: a wide angle shot where the character is walking towards the camera, away from the warehouse, when suddenly the warehouse explodes in the background, without so much as a flinch from the character.  You’ve seen this, right?  How many of you have seen some version of this scene in a movie before?

          In a way, this feast, the Feast of the Ascension of the Lord, is kind of like that.  Since Easter, the day of his Resurrection, Jesus, in his glorified body, has walked among us, teaching about how his death on the cross and resurrection from the dead has fulfilled all that had been written about the Messiah and preparing us for this moment when he would ascend into heaven to return to the right hand of his Father.  Then, he ascends: leaving us the promise of something dramatic that will happen soon.  This “something dramatic” is the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.  In other words, for 40 days, Jesus “set the stage” by pouring the fuel of his teaching all over the warehouse, which was his disciples; and as he left he dropped the lighter, which was the promise of the coming of the Holy Spirit; and on Pentecost, the warehouse exploded as the Holy Spirit descended and gave the Apostles power to witness to Jesus to the ends of the earth.

          In a way, this is exactly how it had to be.  The blockbuster “money shot” isn’t when the character spreads the fuel.  If the movie ended there, we’d all be disappointed.  Instead, the character has to set the blaze and get away for us to feel satisfied by the explosion.  Jesus knew that God’s plan for the human race was bigger than his band of followers from Galilee, that it was bigger than the Jewish people, that, in fact, it was so big that it would encompass the entire world; thus, it had to be that, after Jesus had accomplished man’s redemption, he would then return to the Father so that the Holy Spirit—the power by which God’s plan for the whole world would be accomplished—could explode forth into the human scene.

          To use another example:  Many of us have seen what it’s like when 5 year olds play soccer.  Even though their coaches try hard to teach them to play different positions, as soon as that ball is loose, it’s a free-for-all scrum surrounding it.  This is kind of like the disciples while Jesus was with them.  Even though, on occasion, Jesus sent them out to preach, they always came back around him and followed him wherever he went.  After Jesus’ ascension into heaven and the descent of the Holy Spirit, however, the disciples looked much more like a professional team: spread out across the field, using their different talents towards one purpose, making them much more effective.  Jesus ascends so that his disciples could spread out and be more effective.

          I actually think that we can sum this up by referring to a statement Jesus made elsewhere in the Gospel.  One day, one of the Pharisees asked him “Why don’t your disciples fast like John’s disciples do?”  Jesus replied and said, “While the bridegroom is with them, they cannot fast, but when the bridegroom is taken away from them, they will fast.”  I don’t mean to change this into a homily about fasting, but rather to focus on how Jesus acknowledges that there will be different circumstances while he is here with us versus after he has been taken up from us.  Adapting this idea to today’s feast, I might re-write it that Jesus says “While the bridegroom is with them, they will be limited, but when the bridegroom is taken away they will succeed freely.”  Jesus ascends not to abandon us, but so that we can be “launched”, if you will, to fulfill the Father’s plan for all humanity.

          Thus, the Ascension, particularly in connection with Pentecost (and it’s always in connection with Pentecost!), has something to say to us today.  Some of us are upset that Fr. Mike has been reassigned and, thus, is leaving us after 13 years of serving this parish.  But what if this is part of the Father’s plan to “launch” us—the members of this parish—to the next level?  Fr. Mike has done a good job “setting the scene”, so to speak; but now, perhaps, he must go so that the flame that he has ignited can explode into new life for this parish.  My brothers and sisters, this is the hopefulness with which we need to step into this transition: that if Fr. Mike is going forth from us, it is so that we can continue to grow “to the unity of faith and knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the extent of the full stature of Christ” as Saint Paul tells us in his letter to the Ephesians.

          Thus, today we celebrate and we look forward.  We celebrate that Jesus, Our Redeemer, has gone before us to prepare a place for us in heaven and to advocate for us eternally before the Father.  We look forward to Pentecost: praying that God will fill us more generously with his gifts—that is, the power of the Holy Spirit to explode into the world in order to be his witnesses to the ends of the earth for the building up of Christ’s Body “to the extent of the full stature of Christ”.  Therefore, my brothers and sisters, let us not be afraid to worship with our whole hearts the Lord Jesus who, having risen from the dead so as to destroy death forever, has ascended into heaven and now stands eternally at the Father’s right hand; and let us not be afraid to pray fervently for God’s Holy Spirit to fill us with his power: the power to witness to Jesus and his saving love to those suffering in mind, body, and spirit—the power of Jesus which has overcome the finality of death—the power that we encounter when we receive his Body and Blood from this altar.

          My brothers and sisters, the summer blockbuster season is upon us.  May our blockbuster—the feasts of Easter, Ascension, and Pentecost—be the live action film that tops the Box Office here in our community.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – May 16^th & 17^th, 2015

Do we truly accept Jesus as the one sent to save us?

Homily: 4^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          The 1993 Stephen Spielberg film Schindler’s List provided the world with a glimpse into the story of Oskar Schindler whose heroic acts during World War II in Nazi Germany would save the lives of over one-thousand Jews.  Nevertheless, he was a very unlikely hero.  His biography notes that he was a member of the Nazi party who was a spy for Germany.  He was a businessman whose was always looking for an angle—ethical or otherwise—to gain an advantage and to maximize his profits.  And he was a husband known for being unfaithful and for drinking in excess.  As he was confronted with the horrors of the Holocaust, however, he was transformed from a Nazi war profiteer to a protector of Jews.

          Thankfully, many Jews overcame their fear of trusting Germans to accept work in his factories, in which he often falsified documents so as to protect them from being sent to concentration camps.  I wonder how many others could not overcome their fear, however, perhaps in spite of having seen the good works he had already been doing, and thus missed a chance to find some semblance of protection from the Nazi oppressors, all because Oskar Schindler didn’t fit what they imagined their savior would be?

          Nearly three thousand, three hundred and fifty years earlier, the ancient Israelite people stood on the cusp of entering the land that God had promised to give them when he led them out of the Egypt.  Moses, then about one-hundred and twenty years old, who had led them in their dramatic exodus, and in the forty years of desert wandering that followed, would not cross into the promised land with them, for he was about to die.  Knowing this, he gave his last testimony to God’s chosen people, which is recorded for us in the book of Deuteronomy.  In it, he tells the people of God’s promise to raise up for them another prophet, like himself—a man mighty in word and deed—to lead them once again.  Although in the ensuing years many a prophet had arisen from among God’s chosen people, none of them seemed to completely conform to the prophet promised by God through Moses.

          Just over fourteen-hundred years later, a man named Jesus, the son of a carpenter from Nazareth, appeared on the scene in Galilee and began to teach in a new way.  He had come out of nowhere, it seemed, as he had not been a student of any of the great Jewish teachers of the day.  Nonetheless, he taught the people as one having authority.  This means that, instead of teaching according to the generally accepted experts of the Scriptures, claiming their authority, he taught claiming his own authority over them (for example, when he said “You have heard it said… but I say to you…” he was claiming his own authority to interpret the Scriptures).  To back this up, he also commanded evil spirits: thus proving that his word had definitive authority.

          The people who witnessed this were amazed and many began to wonder whether or not Jesus was the prophet promised to them by God through Moses so many years ago.  Nonetheless, many doubted as Jesus did not seem to fit the image of the Messiah who was to come to save God’s people: the image of a warrior prince who would topple all of Israel’s enemies; an image that had been imprinted in the minds of the Jewish people ever since they returned from the Babylonian exile.  Therefore, many refused to follow him and, as we know from the Gospels, some even turned against him.  Perhaps it was fear that led them to this.  Perhaps, however, they weren’t ready to let go of what they had—the security of their livelihoods or, perhaps, their favorite sins—so as to follow him.

          In our own time, we see that we are in a time of serious trouble: and one doesn’t need to be but half-serious about being Christian to see that.  (And, by the way, if you aren’t troubled by what you see happening in the world—even here in our own town—then I would seriously question your commitment to being a Christian!)  And so, perhaps we, too, are looking for a hero, a prophet, who will come and save us from this mess.  Pope Francis, of course, is doing everything in his power to fit this bill, speaking frankly about the evils of our time and challenging all peoples, himself first and foremost, to take an active role in reversing this tide.  Our own bishop, Bishop Doherty, is the prophet of our Local Church who also strives to speak grace into our modern lives and to challenge us to take up our part in this mission.  Fr. Mike and myself are extensions of the bishop’s ministry right here in Cass County.  Ultimately, of course, it’s Jesus—mediated through us, his human instruments—that we are looking for, regardless of whether or not we recognize it.

          Yet how often do we turn away from these prophets, because our priest, or the bishop, or the Pope, doesn’t fit the image of a true prophet/hero that we have created for ourselves?  Better yet, how often do we fail to seek them out because we are afraid that they will challenge us to leave off our sin—you know, our favorite sin, the one we hope no one will ever make us feel guilty for—and so choose to remain oppressed by these evil spirits instead of approaching these prophets, and pleading for their help so that these spirits might be cast out?

          My brothers and sisters, it is clear to me—and hopefully to all of us here—that the world is full of evil spirits who are wreaking havoc on our lives.  It is also clear to me, however, that most of us spend far too much time pleading with God that the spirits oppressing others—you know, the ones that offend us the most—would be cast out, when we should be pleading with God—and with the prophets that God has sent to us—that he would cast out the evil spirits within us.  This, my brothers and sisters, is the work of a true disciple: to acknowledge one’s own sin—and the havoc that it has caused—and to plead for God’s mercy to be liberated from it; and it is a work that the disciple must take up every day. ///

          I imagine that the man oppressed by the unclean spirit, who nonetheless came to the synagogue in Capernaum of Galilee that day, was probably afraid to approach Jesus.  We read, too, that the spirit who was oppressing him was even more afraid.  Had the man turned away from this carpenter from Nazareth, he would have remained oppressed by this spirit and Jesus’ power would not have been made manifest.  The man approached, however, and Jesus showed his power.  Let us, then, come to the Lord Jesus—both here, at this altar, and there, in the confessional—even if we are full of fear, so that we, too, might experience his power and begin to see our world set free.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – January 31^st & February 1^st, 2015

The key that unlocks happiness

          Certainly on this Sunday, we can get stuck on the notion of authority and who it has been given to.  This is important, so it makes sense.  But for each of us, individually, perhaps there is an even greater theme here.  Peter's confession of faith is a key that unlocks for him more than he had imagined; but it didn't come by chance.  It grew out of a relationship with Jesus - the "keymaster", if you will - and we are called to enter into that relationship, too.  May we find the key to happiness in our relationship with Jesus: the faith that unlocks for us God's plan for our happiness and the further building of his kingdom.

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Homily: 21^st Sunday, Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          Most of us probably don’t realize this, but every day we carry around a little bundle of power in our pockets, purses, etc.  No, in spite of what all of the advertisers are trying to convince you of, it isn’t that latest Smartphone with the 80 billion aps on it.  It is, in fact, our keys.  You see, keys are powerful.  Sure, practically speaking they don’t seem to do much: they lock and unlock our doors and start our cars, but when you look at it a little more broadly, you see that they do in fact have a lot of power over how we live our lives.  Just think about the last time you lost your keys.  How powerless did you feel?  Particularly here in the United States, without our keys we are immobilized.  We can’t go anywhere because we can’t unlock, let alone start our car, and we wouldn’t want to leave anyway, because we either wouldn’t be able to lock the house or, if we could, we wouldn’t be able to get back in.  So, yes, keys are apparently pretty powerful.

          Well, maybe not exactly.  It’s not the keys themselves that have the power, but rather it is those who possess the keys who have it.  Parents, of course, know this.  How often have you—against your better judgment—handed over your car keys to your teenager with the ominous warning, “I expect you to bring it back in one piece, got it?”  You realize that putting keys in their hands is handing power over to them and so you feel it is your duty (and rightfully so) to remind them of the responsibility that comes with it.  This, I think, can help us understand our readings today, because in both we see that power is being handed over to another by the conferring of keys.

          In the first reading, we see that it is God himself who has this power, which he is exercising through the prophet Isaiah.  In the reading we see that God is exercising his power over the keys of the kingdom of Judah, taking them from one and giving them to another.  Shebna was given power over the kingdom, yet he was not a good steward of the authority given to him.  So the Lord stripped him of the keys and gave them to Eliakim, whom the prophet identifies as the Lord’s servant and who, presumably, would be a better steward of the kingdom.  Teens, could you imagine losing the keys to the car to your younger brother or sister?  Multiply that disgrace by about hundred thousand and that’s what you have going on here.  You see, God was looking for a good steward for his kingdom, someone who would serve the needs of his chosen people well.  Shebna, apparently, didn’t cut it, so the keys—and, thus, the power—were given to Eliakim.

          In the Gospel today, we see a similar scene, though in this instance it is more like a test.  As a group, the disciples are able to report all of the facts about what others have been saying about Jesus.  Yet when Jesus confronts them and asks them to weed through all of that and tell him who they say that he is, only Simon Peter is recorded as having a response.  As a result, Jesus reveals to Simon his plan for him in his Kingdom.  Two things, I think, are important to note here.  First, Jesus carries the authority to confer the keys of the Kingdom of God.  Now, no Jew in their right mind would ever presume to do this, because they all knew that God alone had the authority to do so.  Thus, Jesus is either outside of his right mind or he really is God.  (fyi, as Christians, we believe the latter. <wink>)  Second, Peter, in confessing that Jesus is the Son of God, proves that he acknowledges Jesus’ authority and that he is ready to be a steward of God’s Kingdom.  Thus, it is only after Peter makes this confession that Jesus reveals to him his true calling, represented by conferring on him a new name and by promising to give him the keys to the Kingdom.  Now there’s so much richness to this story, but, unfortunately, we don’t have time to unpack it all.  But what’s important for us to see today is that Peter’s faith—that is, his ability to respond to God’s grace and confess what was unknowable to his human senses alone, that is, that Jesus is God—is itself a key to unlocking God’s loving plan for his life.  And so we see, my brothers and sisters, that faith is a powerful key.

          Of course, as we encounter this reading today, we, too, are confronted with the same questions.  “Who do they say that I am?”  And for us that’s a relatively easy question to answer.  We have nearly 2000 years of history and study behind us to help us.  In fact, there’s a whole theological science—called Christology—that is dedicated to answering just that question.  The challenge comes, as it did for the disciples who were with Jesus that day, when Jesus asks that second question, “Who do you say that I am?”  No matter how deftly we synthesize 2000 years of Christology to make it sound like our own, if we answer using only the knowledge we’ve gained through study of what others have said, our answer will never be more than just that, what others have said about Jesus.  This question cannot be answered by study alone.  Rather, it also requires a relationship.

          Think about it.  If a close friend came up to you and said, “What are other people saying about me?” how would you respond?  My guess is that it would be things like, “Oh, they say ‘he’s a nice guy,’ or ‘a good worker,’ or ‘a great soccer player.’”  Or perhaps, “‘she’s a good mother,’ ‘an excellent teacher,’ or ‘a nice boss,’” etc. etc.  And what if your friend then turned to you and said, “Well, who do you say that I am?”  If you don’t have a good relationship with that person, what more can you say except what everyone else has already said?  Yet, if you have a relationship with that person, you can look at him or her and say, “You’re Greg, or Susan, or Cindy.  You’re Larry, or Samir or Elaina… and you’re my friend.”  Do you see the difference there?  Without a relationship we are unable to see that person for who he or she is.  My friends, the same applies for our ability to answer these questions from Jesus today.  We can’t just listen to what other people have said about him.  Rather, we have to spend time with him and get to know him.  Then we will be able to respond, “You are Jesus, my friend.  And because of this I believe that you are who you say you are: the Christ, the Son of God.”  My friends this is a powerful confession.  It is powerful because it unlocks for us the relationship in which God can reveal his plan for us—that is, his plan for our happiness—and so entrust us with the responsibility to help bring about his kingdom here on earth.

          Whether or not you are ready to make this confession today, the important thing to remember is that there is always room for each of us to deepen our relationship with God.  Each time that we encounter him in both the Word and the Blessed Sacrament—whether here in the liturgy or in private prayer—we should ask him to reveal himself to us more and more.  However it is that you decide to do that—whether it is through Bible Studies, time in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament, participating in a Cursillo weekend or any other of the ways we have available to us here in this parish—let God unlock the faith in you that will be your key to unlocking the life that he has planned for you, a life that will lead to your eternal joy in heaven.
          Believe it or not, my brothers and sisters, we can even begin right here.  As we each approach to receive Jesus in this Eucharistic meal, let us imagine Jesus asking us that question, “Who do you say that I am?”  Then, let’s let our “Amen” echo Peter’s words and thus unlock for us the joys of God’s Kingdom.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – August 24^th, 2014

The Power of Keys

This was my homily that I preached last weekend at Our Lady of Mount Carmel parish in Carmel, Indiana.


Most of us probably don’t realize this, but every day we carry around a little bundle of power in our pockets, purses, etc. No, in spite of what all of the advertisers are trying to convince you of, it isn’t that latest smartphone with the 80 billion aps on it. It is, in fact, our keys. You see, keys are powerful. Sure, practically speaking they don’t seem to do much: they lock and unlock our doors and start our cars, but when you look at it a little more broadly, you see that they do in fact have a lot of power over how we live our lives. Just think about the last time you lost your keys. How powerless did you feel? Particularly in America, without our keys we are immobilized. We can’t go anywhere because we can’t unlock, let alone start our car, and we wouldn’t want to leave anyway, because we either wouldn’t be able to lock the house or, if we could, we wouldn’t be able to get back in. So, yes, keys are apparently pretty powerful. Well, maybe not exactly. It’s not the keys themselves that have the power, but rather it is those who possess the keys who have it. Parents, of course, know this. How often have you—against your better judgment—handed your car keys over to your teenager with the ominous warning, “I expect you to bring it back in one piece, got it?” You realize that putting keys in their hands is handing power over to them and so you feel it is your duty (and rightfully so) to remind them of the responsibility that comes with it. This, I think, can help us understand our readings today, because in both we see that power being handed over to another by the conferring of keys.


In the first reading, we see that it is God himself who has this power. In the reading we see that God is exercising his power over the keys of the kingdom, taking them from one and giving them to another. Shebna was given power over the kingdom of Judah, yet he was not a good steward of the authority given to him. So the Lord stripped him of the keys and gave them to Eliakim, whom the prophet identifies as the Lord’s servant. Teens, could you imagine losing the keys to the car to your little brother or sister? Multiply that by a couple hundred thousand and that’s what you have going on here. You see, God was looking for a good steward for his kingdom, someone who would serve the needs of his chosen people well. Shebna, apparently, didn’t cut it, so the keys were given to Eliakim.


In the Gospel today, we see a similar scene, though in this instance it is more like a test. As a group, the disciples are able to report all of the facts about what others have been saying about Jesus. Yet when Jesus confronts them and asks them to weed through all of that and tell him who they say that he is, only Simon Peter is recorded as having a response. As a result, Jesus reveals to Simon his plan for him in his Kingdom. Two things, I think, are important to note here. First, Jesus carries the authority to confer the keys of the Kingdom of God. Now, no Jew in their right mind would ever presume to do this, because they all knew that God alone had the authority to do so. Thus, Jesus is either outside of his right mind or he really is God. (fyi, as Christians, we believe the latter. ) Second, Peter, in confessing that Jesus is the Son of God, proves that he acknowledges Jesus’ authority and that he is ready to be a steward of God’s Kingdom. Thus, it is only after Peter makes this confession that Jesus reveals to him his true calling, represented by conferring on him a new name and by giving him the keys to the Kingdom. This is such a rich story that we could spend a lot more time unpacking, but, unfortunately, we don’t have time to do so. What’s important for us to see today is that Peter’s faith—his ability to respond to God’s grace and confess what was unknowable to his human senses alone, that Jesus is God—is itself a key to unlocking God’s loving plan for his life. My brothers and sisters, faith is a powerful key.


Of course, as we encounter this reading today, we, too, are confronted with the same questions. “Who do they say that I am?” Well, for us, that’s a relatively easy question to answer. We have nearly 2000 years of history and study behind us to help us. In fact, there’s a whole theological science—called Christology—that’s dedicated to answering just that question. The challenge comes, as it did for the disciples who were with Jesus that day, when Jesus asks that second question, “Who do you say that I am?” No matter how deftly we synthesize 2000 years of Christology to make it sound like our own, if we answer using only the knowledge we’ve gained through study of what others have said, our answer will never be more than just that, what others have said about Jesus. This question cannot be answered by study alone. Rather, it also requires a relationship.


Think about it. If a close friend came up to you and said, “What are other people saying about me?” how would you respond? My guess is that it would be things like, “Oh, they say ‘he’s a nice guy,’ or ‘a good worker,’ or ‘a great soccer player.’” Or perhaps, “‘she’s a good mother,’ ‘an excellent teacher,’ or ‘a nice boss,’” etc. etc. And what if your friend then turned to you and said, “Well, who do you say that I am?” If you don’t have a good relationship with that person, what more can you say except what everyone else has already said? Yet, if you have a relationship with that person, you can look at him or her and say, “You’re Greg, or Susan, or Cindy. You’re Larry, or Samir or Elaina… and you’re my friend and I know that you’re a good person.” Do you see the difference there? Without a relationship we are unable to see that person for who he or she is. My friends, the same applies for our ability to answer these questions from Jesus today. We can’t just listen to what other people have said about him. Rather, we have to spend time with him and get to know him. Then we will be able to respond, “You are Jesus, my friend. And because of this I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God.” My friends this is a powerful confession. It is powerful because it unlocks for us the relationship in which God can reveal his plan for us—his plan for our happiness—and so entrust us with the responsibility to help bring about his kingdom here on earth.


Whether or not you are ready to make this confession today, the important thing to remember is that there is always room for each of us to deepen our relationship with God. Each time that we encounter him in both the Word and the Blessed Sacrament—whether here in the liturgy or in private prayer—we should ask him to reveal himself to us more and more. However it is that you decide to do that—whether it is through Bible Studies, time in the adoration chapel, participating in a Christ Renews His Parish weekend or any other of the hundreds of ways we have available to us here in this parish—let God unlock the faith in you that will be your key to unlocking the life that he has planned for you, a life that will lead to your eternal joy in heaven. My brothers and sisters, we can even begin right here. As we each approach to receive Jesus in this Eucharistic meal, let us imagine Jesus asking us that question, “Who do you say that I am?” Then, let’s let our “Amen” echo Peter’s words and thus unlock for us the joys of God’s Kingdom.


~ Given at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Parish, Carmel, IN – August 20th & 21st, 2011