Our noble duty.

Homily: 6^th Sunday in Easter – Cycle C

This weekend we celebrate Memorial Day.  Although this commemoration began as a memorial to the soldiers who died in the American Civil War, it has come to be recognized as a memorial for all who have died in service to the United States of America, particularly through the armed forces.  It’s original name, Decoration Day, points to the primary activity that marks this day: the visiting of cemeteries and decorating the graves of fallen service men and women with flowers or flags as a sign of honor and remembrance.  We will all do well to pay attention to this primary point as we embrace our activities this weekend.

I have to say, though, that I really appreciate this holiday.  As human beings, we recognize that the sacrifices that men and women make to defend our nation and our freedoms is something extraordinary; and that to have suffered death because of it is more extraordinary still.  In many ways these men and women are like martyrs: those who confront challenges to that which we value most (in this case, our nation and our freedoms) and who lay down their lives in defense of them.  These men and women exemplify the truth that Jesus spoke to his disciples the night before he died: “no one has greater love than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”  The men and women we honor this weekend loved us, as fellow citizens of this nation and, thus, friends, when they chose to serve our nation at the cost of their own lives.  Therefore, I appreciate this holiday because it honors something truly noble and worthy of remembrance.

In our second reading today, and over the last weeks of Easter, we’ve been hearing from the visions of John the Apostle while he was in exile on the Greek island of Patmos.  Although many over the centuries have called these visions a view of what Jesus’ second coming would look like, many more have said that these visions were given as prophecies of what the Christians in those days (and, really, Christians of every age following) would need to hear to strengthen them in faith so as to deal with the challenges that they will inevitably face to live the faith and to proclaim Jesus to others.  In these visions, John is often given a vision of a large multitude of men and women who stand before the throne of God in brilliant white robes.  These men and women are described as those who have “washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb”.  In other words, these are the martyrs: the ones who have suffered persecution for the faith and who have remained faithful to Jesus, to the point of dying for him.  In all of these readings, these are the ones who have an honored place in heaven.

In today’s reading, which is from the last chapter of this book (and, thus, from the end of John’s visions), it is Christ himself who speaks to John and, thus, solemnly declares the following: “Blessed are they who wash their robes so as to have the right to the tree of life and enter the city through its gates.”  Again, “those who wash their robes” are the martyrs who have handed over their lives in the imitation of Christ.  Their reward is the very thing that was taken away from Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden: access to the tree of life.  Thus, we see that, through Christ, we have been restored to the paradise lost by our first parents.  The martyrs seemed to lose everything in this world when they handed over their lives to death on account of their faith in Christ, but that same Christ reveals that, in reality, by handing over their lives, they have gained eternal life.

Of course, we recognize the extraordinary nature of this giving of life, also, and so we regularly honor the martyrs for their witness to the faith.  Like the honoring of our fallen military men and women, the honoring of the martyrs is a truly noble thing to do.  The honoring of the martyrs should also be a reminder for us, however.  A reminder that every Christian is called to be a martyr in some way: that is, one who gives witness to Jesus Christ in his/her life.  This is epitomized in the title given by the Church to Christians still living in time (a title that those who are old enough will remember learning in their early catechism classes), and a title that is fitting to be reminded of on this Memorial Day weekend: for we are called the Church Militant.

Although the term “militant” translates somewhat literally to mean something like “marching”, as in “walking around in space and time”, we should, nonetheless, allow ourselves to think of the term in the sense that it invokes: that we are God’s “armed forces” here on earth, sent into battle to proclaim and defend the name of Jesus and his kingdom here on earth.  We are God’s foot soldiers and we have a noble duty.  When Christ returns, as he revealed in the reading today, we will receive “recompense” for our faithfulness to that duty.  Notice, that I didn’t say “success”.  God won’t measure our success, as if we somehow earn our reward in heaven, but rather our faithfulness to the duty, thus demonstrating our love for him and our faith in the fact that he has already won the reward for us.  In our faithfulness to the duty—faithfulness, that is, without compromises—we demonstrate our love for Christ and, thus, our willingness to lay down our lives for him so as to have our robes “washed in the blood of the Lamb”.

We would do well, my brothers and sisters, to reflect on our faithfulness this weekend as we honor those who were faithful to us: our nation and our freedoms.  Are we giving ourselves as fully as we ought to Christ and his kingdom?  Or are we making compromises and, thus, shirking our noble duty?  My guess is that the answer for most all of us is that we can still give ourselves more.  And so, let’s let the inspiring example of those who gave their lives for our nation and freedoms point us to the inspiring example of the Christian martyrs; and, thus, lead us rededicate ourselves to fulfilling our noble duty to Christ and his kingdom.  For it is Christ himself who, out of love for us, first laid down his life for us; and it is Christ himself who, out of love for us, continues to give himself for us in the Eucharist; and it is Christ himself who, out of love for us, will one day return to take us home to himself in the glorious kingdom of heaven.  “Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!”

Given at St. Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – May 25^th & 26^th, 2019

Communion with Christ through the Mass

          This weekend our Deacons preached all of the regular Masses and I was left to preach the Mass of First Holy Communion.  This is my homily for that Mass.

Homily: 3^rd Sunday of Easter – Cycle C

Mass of First Holy Communion

Today, as we celebrate this Mass of First Holy Communion, we have an opportunity to take a unique perspective on our readings for the Easter Season.  As it is the third Sunday of Easter, we heard the readings for the Mass of this day.  These Easter readings—not specifically intended to be used for a Mass of First Holy Communion—give us a chance to think about Holy Communion in light of the Mass, in which it is received, as well as in the life of the evangelizing Christian community, in which its fruit is brought forth.  So, let’s take a closer look at these readings.

Let’s start with the second reading from the Book of Revelation.  Here John is given a vision of the great throne of God in Heaven and of how all of the creatures of heaven and earth turn to bow down in praise and worship of the one who sits on the throne.  The one whom they worship is called “the Lamb”.  Who is the Lamb?  It’s Jesus, of course.  And who is sitting on the throne?  It’s God, the Father, of course.  Thus, what we’re seeing is a vision of heaven, in which all of the creatures of heaven and all the creatures of earth are able to see God face to face (like I am looking at all of you).  And what do they do when they are given this vision?  Yes, they worship!  Now, let me ask this question: When we come to Mass, who is present here waiting for us?  It’s Jesus, right?  And so, what is it that we are doing when we celebrate Mass here, in the presence of Jesus?  Yes, we worship!  What we are offering to God in the Mass is our worship of him in thanksgiving for every good thing that we enjoy in our lives.  And so, what we hear about from the Book of Revelation today is truly a vision of what happens during the Mass: during this Mass and during every Mass celebrated everywhere, every day, throughout the world.  We would do well to remember that next time we’re having trouble paying attention: that is, to think about the angels and saints standing with us, shouting with full voice, “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, riches, and strength, honor, and glory, and blessing!”  That would certainly make Mass a little more exciting, wouldn’t it?

Let’s move on to the Gospel reading, however.  Here we see a different perspective on what the Mass is.  Here we see Jesus appearing to some of his disciples at the Sea of Tiberias.  As he makes himself known and as his disciples come to recognize him, Jesus calls them to gather around him in order to share with them a meal that he has prepared for them.  In this sharing of a meal with Jesus, the disciples—all of whom abandoned him when he was arrested and put to death—are now reunited with him.  This is also the Mass.  When we gather for the Mass, we gather to worship him, yes—like the image of the eternal worship of Jesus given in the Book of Revelation—but we also gather around a table—this altar—from which Jesus feeds us with a meal that he himself has prepared for us.  This sharing of a meal with Jesus unites and constantly reunites us to him.  Literally, in fact, it makes us one with him: as his Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity, enters our bodies and unites his with ours.  This act of communion (that is, of uniting with him) is the greatest privilege that anyone can receive; and it demands a true understanding of what it is and, thus, a true profession of faith in it.  Saint Justin Martyr, a second century Christian, wrote about this, saying: “No one may share the eucharist with us unless he/she believes that what we teach is true, unless he/she is washed in the regenerating waters of baptism for the remission of his/her sins, and unless he/she lives in accordance with the principles given us by Christ.”  Our young people have prepared themselves in this way and, thus, have now been invited to gather around this table of Christ’s Body so as to share in this union with him, just as the disciples gathered with Jesus to share a meal that he prepared for them on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, nearly 2000 years ago.

Finally, in our first reading, from the Acts of the Apostles, we are given a glimpse of what participating in the Mass and receiving Holy Communion demands of us.  The Apostles were brought forth to the courtroom of the religious leaders and questioned about teaching about Jesus.  These leaders didn’t understand who Jesus was and demanded that the Apostles stop teaching about him.  Peter, speaking on behalf of all of them, speaks up and says clearly: “We know who this Jesus is—that he is the Messiah, the Son of God—and, therefore, we cannot stop teaching about him: for to do so would be to deny this truth that we have come to know.”  Since we, too, profess that Jesus is the Messiah—and since we have worshiped him and have shared in this sacred meal of his Body and Blood—we, too, must teach others about him: both in the words that we speak and in the way that we live our lives.  To fail to do so would be to deny this truth that we have come to know: like Peter denying Jesus three times after he had been arrested.  When we receive Holy Communion—when we say “Amen” as the minister presents the Body and Blood of Jesus to us—we are promising God that we will teach others about him and the truths that he has revealed: even if that means being oppressed by worldly authorities who are hostile to this good news.  Our young people today are agreeing to take up this good work.  They need the rest of us to show them how to do it by being living witnesses of it in our own lives.

Today, however, we celebrate!  We celebrate because these young people will experience for the first time the fullness of Communion with Jesus as they receive his Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity into their bodies; and we celebrate that, in doing so, they come more fully into communion with all of us who share in this same sacred meal.  Tomorrow, and every day after, they will go forth with us to teach about Jesus: both by the way that they live their lives more like Jesus’ and by the way that they share with others what they have come to know: that to know, love, and serve God in this world is the path to the eternal happiness for which we all long: that is, to stand in the presence of God, face to face.  May Mary, the Mother of God and the Mother of the Eucharist, lead us—and especially these young people—by her motherly care into this fullness of God’s peace.  Amen.

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

Seeking the authentic voice of Jesus

Homily: 4^th Sunday in Easter – Cycle A

          Friends, in this Gospel passage, Jesus uses imagery that would have been very familiar to the people to whom he was speaking in the Ancient Near East: images of sheep and shepherds.  Now, most of us probably have never raised a flock of sheep (and even if we had, we might not have done it the same way as they did back then).  Thus, it might be helpful to unpack these images that Jesus uses so that we can understand the message that Jesus is trying to convey.

          First, Jesus refers to a sheepfold.  In his time, villages were much smaller and compact and people didn't have large, separate properties in which to raise their flocks.  Therefore, usually, just outside the village, there would be a large pen—or sheepfold—in which several flocks of sheep were kept.  This sheepfold would have a large, lockable gate to secure it and a hired guard to watch over it.  The gatekeeper would know the shepherds who had brought in their flocks and so would not allow anyone other than them to enter.  Thus, those who are seeking either to harm the sheep or to steal them for their own purposes would have to climb over the wall of the sheepfold in order to get in.  Jesus contrasts this image of the “sheep stealer” with the shepherd who freely walks in through the gate to retrieve his sheep.  Not only is he known to the gatekeeper, but he is known also to his sheep.  Even though the flocks are intermixed, a shepherd would simply stand to one side after entering the sheepfold and call out to his own.  His own, who would have grown accustomed to his voice, would then respond, drawing near to him.  They would not recognize the voice of a stranger, however, so, should a stranger call out to them, they would avoid him.

          Something analogous of this to our own situations might be a Neighborhood Watch team.  The Neighborhood Watch is a team of residents in a particular neighborhood that organizes itself in order to keep watch over the neighborhood so as to keep it safe.  The first goal of the team is to ensure that everyone in the neighborhood knows everyone else so that they will recognize strangers when they come.  The next goal of the team is to be vigilant for one another: that is, to watch out for one another’s safety and security.  Strangers that enter the neighborhood, but then enter someone's house by the front door are probably known to that person; and so, no alarm is necessary.  Strangers that enter the neighborhood and try to enter a home through a window or by climbing over a fence, however, are probably thieves and robbers and, thus, need to be stopped.  Basically, it's an understanding that the neighborhood is like a sheepfold and the residents are like gatekeepers.  Those with good intentions enter through the gate.  Those with harmful intentions try to sneak in through other ways.  Jesus, in describing all of these things, is contrasting himself, as the shepherd, with the false messiahs who had come before him, whom he is portraying as thieves and robbers.

          The chosen people of God were in the sheepfold and the Messiah was the shepherd who would call them out and lead them into pasture.  In fact, the Messiah—the shepherd—knows the sheep so intimately that he calls them each by name.  The false messiahs, Jesus implies, entered the sheepfold like thieves and robbers and have tried to lead the sheep astray.  By using this image, Jesus is trying to lead the Pharisees to realize that he is the true Messiah, and, thus, to accept him; and to teach his disciples about how to recognize authentic authority: authority that will lead them in God’s way, towards eternal life.  Thus, this is the message that Jesus is also trying to convey to us: for he is trying to teach us about recognizing and following authentic authority.

          My brothers and sisters, there are many voices trying to lead us in different directions in this world.  The one who wields authentic authority is the one to whom we should pay attention.  We know that Jesus is the one who wields authentic authority; but the question remains: how do we hear his voice?  In the Holy Scriptures, of course; but also through his bishops, priests, and deacons.

          And so, if this is true, then why are so many people being drawn to places of purported revelation?  I think that it is because they’re hungry for authentic authority and they don't see it in their churches.  Therefore, if Jesus speaks to us through the authentic authority of his bishops, priests, and deacons—and if people are hungry for authentic authority—then it must be that there is not enough bishops, priests, and deacons to satisfy the needs of the people; and so they are flocking to places of purported revelations seeking to satisfy their need for someone to wield authentic authority in their lives: that is, for someone to shepherd them in the name of Jesus.

          My brothers and sisters, this is why we pray for vocations on this Sunday, which is commonly known as Good Shepherd Sunday, so that there might be an increase in the number of priests and religious in the Church who can interpret for us Jesus’ authentic voice in our lives.  And while prayer is always very necessary, so is action in the world.  Thus, I have homework for you: If you know a young man in your life who you think might make a good priest someday (or even if you don't know what his vocation might be), invite him to consider the priesthood.  Most priests will tell you that they began considering the call to the priesthood because someone invited them to consider it.  Your invitation could open a young man's heart to this call from God.  And so, please make a resolution today to make it a habit in your life to invite young men to consider the priesthood.

          Then, pray for them every day.  This doesn’t have to be complicated.  You could simply pray a Hail Mary during your morning or evening prayers, or at any other time that you think about it throughout the day.  You could also come and offer prayers to Jesus here in the Church before the Blessed Sacrament.  Any and all of these little sacrifices of prayer win grace for the young person so that he might discern well God’s voice in the midst of the thousands of voices that call out to him each and every day.

          St. John Vianney, the patron of parish priests, once said that "The priesthood is the love of the heart of Jesus."  As we offer to God this Eucharist today, which is made possible for us only because of the priesthood, let's pray in a special way for the young men in our parish that God is calling to be priests: that they would be kept safe from all temptation that would lead them away from this noble calling and that they would respond generously to his call.  And let us pray also for the grace to rely on the authentic authority that he has already placed in our midst—and to trust in the fullness of spiritual revelation that he has already given us by His presence, both in the Scriptures and in His real presence here in the Blessed Sacrament—so that we might always be anticipating the fullness of his presence among us when he, the Good Shepherd, returns to call us each of us, by name, back unto himself.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – May 7^th, 2017

Rock concerts and living fully alive

Homily: 3^rd Sunday of Easter – Cycle C

          For many of us, when we were in our most formative years, a certain style of music or perhaps one band in particular, had a profound influence on how we came to understand ourselves, that is, who we are, and how we approach and deal with life.  When I was in high school, the alternative rock band Pearl Jam was that band for me.  In spite of being a fervent follower of the band, and in spite of the fact that I lived near Chicago, which meant that on each of their tours there was a stop close enough for me to have a chance to go to it, I had never been to a Pearl Jam concert.

          A couple of years ago Pearl Jam came to Chicago to play a special concert at Wrigley Field.  A few of my friends from high school, who still lived in the Chicago area, called me and invited me to go.  I had stopped following Pearl Jam some years before, so I didn’t feel like this was something I had to do, but the chance for a “reunion” of sorts with some of my high school friends was enough for me to agree to go.

          Now, I hadn’t been to a rock concert in many years—since before I entered the seminary, really—and so there were a lot of things about this experience that were kind of shocking to me.  The most surprising of them all to me was what I observed after the concert started.  It was nothing that I hadn’t seen before, but in the light of my “conversion” to follow the Lord and my seminary formation, it was very striking to me.

          What struck me was how the people responded when the band came out to play.  There was a lot of applause, of course, which was to be expected, but a great majority of people spontaneously thrust their hands into the air and began to scream at the top of their lungs.  And what struck me at that moment was the thought: “Oh my, these people are worshiping!  They are worshiping these men on stage!”

          If you’ve never thought of it before, perhaps now you will, but this motion (thrusting your hands in the air and crying out in the direction of some object or being) is an act of prayer: either adoration (in which we are trying to “throw” our praise towards the object of our prayer) or petition (in which we are trying to “pull” help and favor from the one to whom we are praying).  Thus, when I saw this at the concert, I was immediately struck that this act of fervent prayer was being directed to these men playing music on a stage.

          Now, my purpose here is not to condemn these people for idol worship (it would be presumptuous of me to accuse them of that); but rather to highlight something about what heaven might be like, in light of our experience of something as inspiring of our passions as a rock concert, and to invite us to imagine how our lives here on earth can draw us into that experience until the day that we experience it fully.

          In our second reading today, we read from the revelations given to the apostle John while he was exiled on the Greek island of Patmos.  His exile came during a time when the early Church was experiencing increasing persecution from the Roman authorities.  These visions were given to John as a way to bolster the faith of Christians in the face of these persecutions.  The vision comes in fantastical imagery, which included symbols that Christians would understand, but that their persecutors wouldn’t necessarily understand.  The vision we read from today is a vision of the ultimate victory of the Lamb (that is, the Lamb of God, who is Jesus), seated on the throne of heaven (that is, the highest throne of the universe), and who is worshiped by all the beings in heaven and all of the creatures of the universe (that is, everything that exists).

          This is a very powerful image!  In a time when the active worship of God was part and parcel of people’s daily lives—and when kings and rulers often claimed that their people should worship them (as Caesar did)—an image of the one that you acknowledged as king and God being worshiped by every creature of the universe would be powerful and inspiring.

          Unfortunately, however, we seem to have accepted an image of heaven as a place where we lounge around on clouds, listening to gentle music from harps, and where everything is colored in light pastels: in other words, we’ve accepted an image in which heaven is a place in which none of our passions are excited, but rather where everything is artificially sweet and calm.  The image presented to us in this reading, however, seems to indicate that heaven is much more like a rock concert than a serenity garden.

          And so, what should we take from that?  That heaven will be like a rock concert and, if we don’t like rock concerts, then too bad?  No, of course not.  I think what we can take from this image of heaven, however, is that heaven will be a place in which we are fully alive, passions and all; and that this experience of the fullness of life will be very dynamic, joy-filled, and never-ending.  When people leave a concert, they are often full of energy: still screaming, laughing, and often immediately reliving the best moments from it.  In other words, it is an experience that stays with them and gives them a fuller sense of living as they return to their daily lives.  Imagine that kind of experience never ending and you’ll begin to have an idea of what it means to be in heaven, before the throne of the Lamb, worshiping him for all eternity.  It’s like a never-ending Pearl Jam concert. (I just ruined it for most of you, didn’t I?)

          Why is this important for us to realize?  Well, for starters, perhaps it can give us an awareness of where we have been worshiping false idols in our lives, right?  I mean, if we find ourselves responding to things that aren’t God with gestures and acclamations of adoration and praise, then perhaps we need to review where those things are on our list of “most-important things” in our lives.  More than that, however, when we realize that heaven won’t be a place in which, it seems, we will be barely alive, but rather a place in which we will be fully alive, we can choose to begin to approach that experience by striving to live as fully-alive as we can in this life, giving God adoration and praise by being the fullest and most alive versions of ourselves, using all of our gifts and talents for our good and the good of everyone around us.

          Saint Irenaeus of Lyons wrote in one of his defenses of the Christian faith that “The glory of God is a living man; and the life of man consists in beholding God.”  Thus, to give God glory in this life we must be fully alive, or living, so as to move us towards that for which we are alive: to behold God, the Lamb of God on the throne of heaven.

          This, my brothers and sisters, is what the Easter season calls us to do: to live fully alive in this world in anticipation of the true fullness of life we will experience in the next: the fullness of life made possible for us by the death and resurrection of Jesus our Lord.  The temptation is to think that the Lord has abandoned us, having gone back to heaven; and to respond, like the apostles did, going back out into the boat without Jesus, just trying to make something of our lives.  The joy of Easter reminds us that it is for God that we live and so our lives must always move in response to God; and when they do, like when Jesus intervened for the apostles, they will be abundantly fruitful.

          Let us, then, my brothers and sisters, commit ourselves to the proper worship of God: the full living of our lives for him in this world in anticipation of the fullness of life that we hope to enjoy in his presence in heaven; a glimpse of which we receive when we re-present to him this perfect sacrifice of thanksgiving: the Lamb of God who has taken away our sins and who now sits on the throne in heaven to rule for all eternity.  Come, now, let us adore him.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 9^th & 10^th, 2016