Let's make the Catholic Church Evangelical again

Sports Stadium or Evangelical Megachurch?  You decide!

Homily: 4th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

As you all know, I spent the middle two weeks of January in Central America (El Salvador and Guatemala, to be exact).  I was on a pilgrimage with other priests, deacons, and religious to learn about the Central American martyrs.  If you heard my homily last week, you’ll know that it was a much more sober experience than I expected from the outset, as I learned about the horrible violence that plagued those countries in the ‘70s and ‘80s.  I also learned more about how the Catholic Church has been a fixture in these places throughout those rough times.  One of my most consoling moments was concelebrating Mass in the parish church in Santiago, Atitlan, in Guatemala, which is the oldest parish still operating in Central America.  It dates to 1547!  And it is the place where Blessed Stanley Rother, an Oklahoma priest who worked in Guatemala, stood with the poor who were being oppressed: a stand which, ultimately, cost him his life.

There was a moment of disturbing contrast, however.  On one of the days, when we were traveling by mini-bus from El Salvador to Guatemala, we drove by what we, at first, thought was a sports arena.  Then, we read the sign by the road: “Casa de Dios”... “House of God”... an Evangelical Christian mega-church.  At first, we didn’t believe that we read the right sign, but we had to double back down the same road and, when we did, it was confirmed: this huge building—which looked like it could host Super Bowl 54—was an Evangelical mega-church.

It was no surprise to me that Evangelicals have been in traditionally Catholic Central America.  They’ve been there for some time.  The fact that they are such a large presence as to build such an incredibly large building was a bit of a surprise, however.  That building was a statement that Evangelical Christianity has taken a foothold in Guatemala.  Knowing what I know about religious attitudes of Guatemalans, I safely assumed that the Evangelicals are not winning-over the unaffiliated; rather, they’re winning over Catholics.  After talking with a couple of people, it seems as if it is the same situation that is happening all over Central America: that Evangelicals are going throughout these countries specifically targeting Catholics and seeking to lure them away from the practice of the Roman Catholic religion.  The fact that they are finding success is, to me, a big problem.

But this is just a microcosm of what has been happening around the world and even here in our own community.  How many of us here have watched as our children, grandchildren, godchildren, brothers and sisters have slipped away from the Catholic Church: either to stop practicing the Catholic faith altogether or who have been lured to an “Evangelical” community?  A good number of us, I’m sure.  Oh, and I do mean “lured,” by the way.  In many parts of the world, Evangelicals are on a mission to “convert” Catholics because they believe that what we preach is a false religion.  Let us not be deceived, however, into thinking that this is okay, because they’re still “Christians”.  When Jesus was accused of casting out demons by the power of Satan, he said to them, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”  My brothers and sisters, some Protestants and Evangelicals are striving to do just that: to divide God’s house; and, in many ways, we are letting it happen.

I think that, as the Catholic Church, we’ve allowed ourselves to become complacent.  We’ve allowed ourselves to think, “The world’s been evangelized, so I can sit back, relax and just hang out here in the Church until Christ comes back and everything should be fine.”  We’ve forgotten that the very nature of the Church is to be evangelical.  Thus, one of the things that is luring people away from the Catholic Church is that these other communities are doing what the Catholic Church has been failing to do: they are evangelizing!  So, where are our evangelists?  I’m looking at them!  Yes, I’m looking at all of you (and, if I had a mirror, at myself).  I hope that this does not come as a shock to any of you, but each of us here, because of our baptism, are called to be evangelists.

Our first reading today from the prophet Jeremiah reminds us that we are all called to proclaim God’s words to his people.  Sure, the words we heard were God’s words to the prophet Jeremiah at a specific place and time.  Nonetheless, they have been preserved up to this day because they are inspired by God and helpful in instructing us in following our own calls today.  And so, what does God say?  “Try to be holy and just show up to Mass and you’ll be fine”?  No!  He says, “Gird up your loins; stand up and tell them what I command you”!

What God is saying to us, then, is that it is not enough for us to give a minimal effort at holiness and to fulfill the basic requirements, like showing up on Sundays.  What God is saying to us, rather, is that we must also speak his words to others, especially those closest to us, challenging them in positive ways to seek God more deeply and then to support them as they do.

Perhaps, however, we are worried that we’ll push our loved ones away or that they will turn against us.  To that, the readings for today also have an answer.  God promised Jeremiah (and, therefore, he promised us) that he “would not leave us crushed before them,” but rather that he “would make us a fortified city….”

Jesus himself did not fear the reproaches of his family or his neighbors in Nazareth.  As we heard today in the Gospel reading, Jesus preached the truth to them and they boiled over with rage against him.  God did not leave him to their rage, however.  Rather, when he was about to be thrown over the edge of the cliff, Jesus “passed through the midst of them and went away.”

Thus, we need not fear the reproaches of our families or neighbors.  If our words inspire them to rage, then so be it.  God will not leave us to be “crushed before them.”  Hopefully, however, and if we speak the truth to them with love (as Saint Paul admonishes us to do today), our words will inspire in them a fervor to seek Christ where he may most fully be found: here in this church and in the Eucharist.

If we still have fear, however, then it probably means that we ourselves need to be ignited with fervor for the faith.  If so, don’t worry, because that’s where we come in: part of our duty as parish leadership is to provide you with what you need to be ignited with fervor for the faith.  I hope that you will pay close attention to the bulletin and announcements and respond to the opportunities that we are preparing for you.  With that fervor ignited (or stoked, if it was already ignited), our tasks then are the following: fervent celebration of the Eucharist every Sunday, consistent daily prayer and reading of the Scriptures, adoration of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament as often as possible, faith sharing in small groups, and frequent confession.  Close attention to these tasks will stoke our fervor for the faith into a burning fire.  Witness (telling others about this fire burning in us), invitation (inviting them to experience the same), and service (fervor expressed in the works of mercy), then, become the acts that will ignite that same fervor in others.

My brothers and sisters, we’ve procrastinated long enough.  Today is the day to act.  Let us respond to the Holy Father’s call and reclaim for our Church the name which has always been ours: Evangelical.  And let us be that shining light for Christ that leads our brothers and sisters—our families and our neighbors—to that communion with God that their hearts so deeply desire: the communion that we share here at this table.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – February 3rd, 2019

Staying connected to the vine

Homily: 5^th Sunday of Easter – Cycle B

          History's greatest leaders (that is, those whom have had a positive influence on the world) have a way to influence people from the outside in.  With their speech, their ideas, their example, and even their presence these leaders move and motivate those around them: drawing others into their good work and stirring them to action.  Jesus Christ—the world’s greatest leader, amen?—goes much deeper, influencing us from the outside in, yes, but also from the inside out.

          Jesus calls us not only from the outside—through the Scriptures, the Church, the actions of his providential care, and the example of his faithful disciples—but he also unites himself to us so intimately that his very life flows through our veins.  In other words, he’s “inside” us, too.  "I am the vine, you are the branches," we hear him say in today's Gospel.  If we think about this image, we can ask ourselves: “Where does a vine stop and its branches begin?”  And the answer is difficult to come by (unless, perhaps, you are a biologist).  The union between vine and branch is often too integrated to tell.  The sap that gives life to the plant runs seamlessly through the vine and into the branches.  This is not unlike how grace—the sap which is God’s divine life—flows through Christ and into us.  And so we see how, in using this image, Christ is identifying how he stands alone among every other great leader in history: not only does he beat them at their own game, so to speak—influencing others from the outside better than anyone else—but he plays at a level that is so far beyond those other leaders, literally empowering those who follow him with strength they did not have on their own; and in this demonstrating that he is more than just a leader, but that he is truly Lord of all things.  How grateful, therefore, we should be that he has seen fit to make us branches of his vine!

          And yet, as human beings we are a unique kind of branch.  A branch on a natural vine has no choice about whether or not it will stay attached to the vine.  We, however, are responsible for keeping ourselves united to the vine and can choose to separate ourselves from the vine.  And this is a problem: because, as branches, we are tasked to bear fruit from the vine for the world; and if we separate ourselves from the vine, Jesus tells us that we will not bear fruit; and not only that, but that we will then wither, die, and be burned.  So the question arises, how do we stay united to the vine, so that we can bear fruit and, therefore, share in eternal life?  I see four fundamental ways to do just that.

          First, staying united to the vine means constantly growing in our life of prayer.  Prayer is how we expose our souls to the divine sunlight.  Just as plants need exposure to sunlight for energy, so we need to expose ourselves to God's truth and love through reading and reflecting on the sacred scriptures and through conversing with God in the quiet of our hearts.  This must be a daily habit and must grow and adapt over the years in order for us to continue to grow and produce fruit.

          Second, staying united to the vine means making good use of the sacraments, most especially the sacraments of the Eucharist and confession.  If a branch gets damaged in a wind storm, a good gardener knows how to tie it up properly so that it will once again attach itself firmly to the trunk: he binds it or grafts it back on to the vine.  This is what happens through confession: Jesus heals the connection to him that had been damaged or broken because of our sin.  And in the Eucharist, our union with Christ is strengthened more powerfully than at any other time.  Through it we receive an influx of grace like no other.  In the Eucharist, the sap from the vine comes directly into us to nourish us and give us strength.  Every Holy Communion, therefore, is like a spiritual springtime in which a new outpouring of divine life surges into our hearts and minds.

          Third, staying united to the vine requires loving obedience to God's will.  This is that to which Saint John refers in today's Second Reading when he writes: "Children, let us not love one another in word or in speech, but in deed and truth."  It's easy to say pretty words: that is, to talk the talk of being a good Catholic.  But that talk has to translate into actions.  Otherwise, we are no better than actors on a stage, making a show out of looking like Christ's followers, but not really following Christ.  Eastern Orthodox Saint Diadochus of Photike put it this way: “All of us who are human beings are in the image of God.  But to be in his likeness belongs only to those who by great love have attached their freedom to God.”  To stay attached to the vine, we must attach our freedom to God through our acts of loving obedience to his will.

          Fourth, staying united to the vine means allowing God to prune us.  Jesus says that each healthy branch of the vine must be pruned "so that it bears more fruit."  This pruning takes the form of suffering, which may come in the form of painful, physical sufferings, like sickness, disease, financial insecurity, or old-age, or it may come in the form of hidden, interior sufferings, like losing a loved one or watching a dear relative abandon their Catholic faith.  Whenever God permits these kinds of sufferings—that is, the ones over which we don't seem to have any control—we have to let our faith remind us that they are under his control.  He is the vine-dresser.  He knows how much pruning we can handle and he knows how to use that suffering to unite us more deeply with Christ, who suffered on the cross to redeem the world.  In times of pain and hardship, therefore, we must recognize that God is begging us to trust in him more and more, to pray in the depths of our hearts that beautiful prayer that he himself taught us through his revelations to Saint Faustina of the Divine Mercy: "Jesus, I trust in you."  Accepting the Cross, not rebelling when God tries to prune us, is the secret of how all the saints remained united to Christ.

          Prayer, the sacraments, loving obedience, and suffering in union with Christ are what keep the grace which is God’s divine life flowing in our lives.  These yield the fruit for which we most yearn: a life that resounds with meaning and energy, a life that positively impacts others and exudes joy and enthusiasm, a life that changes this world for the better in as profound a way as Christ's own life did, and a life whose meaning and impact overflow into eternity.  This is what God wants for us; this is why Jesus came to earth: “By this is my Father glorified,” he said,

“that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”  Bearing such fruit makes life worth living; because without it we are dry, dead branches good for nothing except the fire.

          As we continue with this Mass, let's thank God from the depths of our hearts for uniting us to the vine of Christ.  And when we receive our Lord in Holy Communion, let's promise him that this week we will make a decent effort to do our part to protect and strengthen that union.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 28^th & 29^th, 2018

Listening to the voice of Jesus

          The text of this homily is still a little "half-baked", but after preaching it five times this past weekend, it got cooked pretty well.  May you have a blessed week!

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Homily: 30^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          The priesthood is entered into when a man receives the sacrament of Holy Orders, one of the seven sacraments of the Church.  Holy Orders is one of the two sacraments through which God pours out grace into the person in order to increase the holiness of others.  A priest receives sacramental grace for the purpose of sanctifying—that is, making holy—God’s faithful people.  Holy Orders, therefore, is a sacrament given by God for the whole spiritual family of the Church.

          Because of their special role in the Church, priests have a unique dignity: to stand in the person of Christ for the world.  Thus, Saint John Paul II could say this about the priest: "The world looks to the priest, because it looks to Jesus!  No one can see Christ; but everyone sees the priest, and through him they wish to catch a glimpse of the Lord!”  And so it stands to argue that the more we appreciate and understand this gift to the Church, the more fully we will be able to benefit from it.  Our second reading today, from the Letter to the Hebrews, points out three aspects of the priesthood that can help us do exactly that.

          The first key aspect of the priesthood is that it is a vocation, not a career.  The author of the Letter to the Hebrews tells us: "No one takes this honor upon himself, but only when called by God."  Like the other sacraments, Holy Orders is a gift from God.  No one takes a gift for himself; rather it is of the very nature of a gift that it is received.  Therefore, no one has a “right” to the priesthood: it is a gift from God to the man who is called to it and to the Church.

          The second key point about the priesthood concerns what the priest is called to do.  A priest is a servant: he serves God and he serves God's people.  The second reading tells us that a priest is "taken from among men and made their representative before God, to offer gifts and sacrifices” to God on behalf of the community of believers.  Thus, the priest is ordained to be a servant: a servant of God on behalf of God's people, and a servant of God's people on behalf of God.

          The third key aspect of the priesthood is that every Catholic priest is a normal human being.  A young man is not called to the priesthood because he is superior to others or because his is some kind of spiritual superman.  And once he is ordained, it is no guarantee that he will suddenly become either.  The second reading points out that a priest "...is able to deal patiently with the ignorant and erring, for he himself is beset by weakness..."  Priests are normal human beings: ordinary men with an extraordinary calling.

          Having described these aspects of the priesthood, I would like to share with you an incident that happened recently in my own life that illustrates these aspects well, especially because they connect well with today’s Gospel reading.  Last Sunday I was asked to lead the Youth Group in making a renewal of baptismal promises at the end of their session.  It had been a long day with a lot of demands for my time and attention, but I was happy to do this for them.  That evening, I didn’t have much time to prepare everything so I hurriedly began making preparations.  Just then, a parishioner walked into the sacristy and asked if I had time to answer a short question.  As I mentioned, I was a little tired and was very focused on getting everything ready and so I retorted rather curtly: “I’m busy right now, can it wait?”  Realizing that I had been rude, I tried to make up for it by allowing her to ask her question, even while I continued to prepare, to which I responded with what I felt was the bare minimum that would satisfy her question so that I could focus on finishing my preparations.  The look on her face indicated that she was upset by my manner of response, but she accepted it and left me to finish my work.

          In the Gospel, the blind man, Bartimaeus, wanted to be cured of his blindness and he had faith, because of what he had heard about Jesus, that Jesus could heal him.  Thus, when Jesus came by, Bartimaeus cried out to him: begging for his mercy.  Surely, Jesus was focused on where he was going and what he was going to do (for he was going to Jerusalem to be crucified).  Nonetheless he stopped, gave Bartimaeus permission to make his request, and then he responded.  Bartimaeus was so edified by this experience that he continued to follow Jesus instead of returning home.

          The parishioner in my incident came looking for Jesus—who she knows to look for in the priest—and she needed him to be a servant, like Jesus, and to say “What do you want me to do for you?”  What she found, however, was a weak human being, who failed to live up to his calling at that moment.  Thus, instead of being edified (and, perhaps, strengthened in faith to follow Jesus more closely), she went away seemingly upset and disappointed.

          So, why all of this?  Well, because I think that it gives us a good example of the basic workings of the spiritual life.  By using the example of my life and vocation, I hope to illustrate how each of us can grow and strengthen our own spiritual lives.  First, we discussed the priesthood and the sacrament of Holy Orders.  This demonstrates that, before anything else, we have to know who we are, what our calling is, and acknowledge the grace we receive from God to live it.  Next, we discussed an incident in my life that correlated to a passage from the Gospel and we compared how my actions, given my vocation, lived up to the model that Jesus gave us.  This demonstrates how we have to examine our lives, in the light of Sacred Scripture, to determine how well we are fulfilling God’s call and utilizing the grace that God has given us.  Finally, we must respond to the results of our reflection.  If we’ve found that we’ve failed to live up to our vocation, then we must repent, seek forgiveness (both of God and the person we’ve offended), and re-commit ourselves to living like Christ in the state of life to which he has called us.  If we found that we did live up to our vocation, then we must praise God for his grace and redouble our efforts to remain faithful to this grace.

          My brothers and sisters, there is no one way to do discipleship.  A person first has to seek to hear and understand God’s call, then respond when he calls, and then constantly reflect on and readjust how we are responding as we strive to follow and to serve him. /// My prayer for us today is that we would all strive to be Christ-like in the way we live our vocations, so that every Bartimaeus that we encounter will have his or her eyes opened to see in us the love and mercy that we have found in Jesus: the love and mercy that we will encounter once again, here in this Eucharist.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – October 24^th & 25^th, 2015

Saying "yes" to our King

          Happy end of the Year of Faith!!!  I pray that it has been a fruitful year for you in which you came to a deeper knowledge of the faith and, thus, a more profound encounter with Jesus Christ, our Lord.  If it hasn't been all you had hoped it would be, don't worry!  This has been just the beginning.  In the months and years to come we'll be celebrating the anniversaries of the promulgation (or release) of various documents from the Second Vatican Council, which will give you a chance to read them as a means of deepening your faith.  Besides, our Good God is never far from us and so he is always ready to meet us and lead us into a deeper encounter with him in faith.  With Christ as our King, what have we to worry about?!?!

P.S. Next Sunday is "Liturgical New Year's Day" (the First Sunday of Advent).  Are you planning any celebrations for the New Year?

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Homily: Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe – Cycle C

          Michigan mega-church pastor Rob Bell has produced a series of videos that take a simple, straight-forward approach to demonstrating how the Gospel applies to everyday life.  In one of the videos that I’ve seen, Mr. Bell speaks about the importance of saying “yes” to something.  In doing so, he emphasizes, we can then come to know what it is that we need to say “no” to in our lives.  He uses Jesus as an example to illustrate his point, stating that because Jesus said “yes” to do the Father’s will, announcing the Good News and redeeming God’s people, he could say “no” to many other things (like when Jesus turned away when he knew the crowd was going to carry him away to make him their ruler).

          This is a video (a short film, really) and so of course there is a visual component to his speaking.  In the film, the whole time that he is talking he’s walking, seemingly from one side of a city to another.  At first his surroundings just seem like normal busy streets, but if you’re paying attention you begin to notice that the surroundings are part of the point.  The visual noises are distractions that surround him as he walks.  At a couple of points, a person actually walks in between Mr. Bell and the camera as he’s walking, but he never loses his stride until he arrives at his destination (which happens to be a school where he meets a young girl that we are to assume is his daughter).  The well-made point of both his words and the visual presentation is to emphasize how knowing what it is that we have said “yes” to keeps us focused (i.e. able to say “no”) in the midst of the world’s distractions.

          In the Gospel today, we jump right into the middle of Luke’s account of the crucifixion.  In it Jesus is being taunted by bystanders while he is in the midst of his greatest suffering.  The Jewish authorities, the Roman soldiers, and even one of the criminals crucified with him all pressure him to prove he’s the Messiah—the divinely appointed King of the Jews—by using divine power to save himself from the crucifixion.  I can only imagine what Jesus felt.  He knew that he was the king, but reviling him these men were calling him a phony, a poseur, because the real king would save himself from this disgrace.

          Jesus also knew that he had the power to save himself.  Recall what happened when, in the synagogue at Nazareth, the townspeople tried to throw Jesus over the brow of the hill on which the town was built for what he had said, but that Jesus “passed through the midst of them” and escaped.  But Jesus didn’t do that this time, did he?  And why?  Well, because he knew that he had already said “yes” to do the Father’s will, which was to be sacrificed for the redemption of all mankind.  And because of this, he could say “no” to the distractions surrounding him: the temptations to use his divine power to save himself from this incredible suffering.

          Yet, there was one voice that refused to revile Jesus: the voice of the other criminal crucified with him. He, it seems could see something… let’s say… incongruent about Jesus’ crucifixion.  This criminal could see that Jesus was innocent of any capital crime and hadn’t really been any threat to the power of the Roman occupiers, and so perhaps he thought Jesus really was who he said he was: a king who has yet to come into his kingdom.  And so, in his own suffering and nearness to death, this criminal makes an incredible act of faith in Jesus—he decides to say “yes” to Jesus by acknowledging him as King—and for that “yes” he received his eternal reward.

          And so the question, of course, comes back to us.  Have we said “yes” to Jesus?  In many ways, this is what the Year of Faith, which ends today, has been all about.  It’s been about re-discovering and renewing our faith—our yes—in Jesus.  And whether or not we spent this year well, today we are called to acknowledge the kingship of Jesus—that he truly does rule over us—and to renew (or, perhaps, to speak for the first time) our “yes” to follow Jesus, so that a new flourishing of faith can blossom as we begin a new liturgical year.

          You know, as Catholics, we don’t do the whole “Have you accepted Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior” thing, but the idea of it is what we are constantly being called to.  In baptism, we receive the grace of salvation: the grace won for us by Jesus’ death and resurrection.  Yet, at some point in our lives, we all have to say “yes” to Jesus and to acknowledge him as Lord and ruler of our lives.  In other words, we have to let Jesus be our king.

          But this is dangerous, is it not?  I mean, if we say “yes” to Jesus, then we’ll have to say “no” to so many other things, won’t we?  So how, then, can we say “yes” to him?  I mean, where can we find the courage to allow him to be Lord and ruler of our lives?  This courage, my brothers and sisters, comes only through an encounter with him.  And where do we encounter him?  In prayer (especially before the Blessed Sacrament here in the Church) and in communal worship (especially here in the Eucharist), in the Scriptures (especially when we meditate on them and allow them to speak to us and to our lives), and in our suffering (i.e. when we are able, in our suffering, to turn, like the “good thief” in today’s Gospel, and see Jesus, crucified there with us).

          My brothers and sisters, when we encounter Jesus we can see the hopelessness of our striving in contrast with the hope contained in Jesus’ resurrection from the dead, and in this light we can find the courage to say “yes” to him (and, thus, “no” to so much else).  In this Eucharistic encounter with Jesus, let us not fear to say “yes” to him and acknowledge him as our King; and let us not fear all that we’ll have to say “no” to because of this: because paradise—that is, eternal happiness—awaits us.

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

Have you been hurt? There's mercy for that...

My first Octave of Easter as a priest!  What a joy to celebrate with my new family in Logansport.  What a great grace is God's mercy!  I hope that you all can see and experience God's mercy in your life.  Please enjoy my homily and I hope that it can bring you closer to God and his great mercy.  Peace!

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Homily: 2nd Sunday of Easter – Cycle C

Over the years as I have been striving to live this Christian life well I’ve found that I’ve come to appreciate more and more those persons that I’ve met or read about who have provided a “lived example” not only of achieving holiness in their lives but also of the struggle to arrive at faith and to maintain that faith throughout one’s life.  This is why I’m enjoying Pope Francis so much already.  He has been providing us with a different perspective on the Christian life.  While Pope Benedict XVI invited us to know Christ in prayer, especially with the Scriptures, Pope Francis is inviting us to go out and find Christ in the poor, the marginalized, and the suffering.  With both of their lived examples, we are getting a fuller, more rounded, perspective of how to live the Christian life.

This is why I also enjoy encountering persons like Saint Thomas in the Scriptures.  I think that it is easy for us to step back and say “Oh yeah, there’s that ‘Doubting Thomas’ again” and fall into the trap made by the Pharisee elsewhere in the Gospel who said: “I’m glad that I’m not like him, doubting the Lord’s Resurrection and all.”  It’s certainly easy for me to stand here and say, “Now don’t be ‘Doubting Thomases, but believe!” (and, if that’s all that I had to say, then I might as well just sit down, because you’ve heard all of that before).  I have a great sympathy, for Thomas, however, because there seems to be something going on with him that is deeper than just a stubborn resistance to believing that the Lord had risen.  I think that Thomas was really struggling with something deeper.

For years, Thomas had been following Jesus closely.  He had gotten to know him and certainly he had bonded with him.  No one can be that close to Jesus—God… love incarnate—and not feel a sense of intimacy with him.  Thus, Thomas had made himself vulnerable both to him and for him: “Ok, Jesus, I believe that you are the Christ and so I am willing to proclaim this to others, even if that means that I will be ostracized and persecuted by family, friends and the people of my nation.”  Thomas was convinced that Jesus was the one whom he had been waiting for and he put all of this trust in him.  And so when Jesus appeared to be defeated—when all seemed to be lost because Jesus had been put to death—that hurt Thomas deeply.  He loved Jesus—which was perhaps something difficult for him to admit—and Jesus seemingly let him down.  It wasn’t that he was resistant to believing, but rather that the wound was still fresh and demanded a personal encounter before it could begin to be healed.

You know, I think that this is an experience that we see both in ourselves and in one another.  Not just the experience of being disappointed or let down by someone we’ve come to love and trust (though that experience is common enough), but also the experience of being disappointed and feeling let down by Jesus (or, at least, by his Church).  A few years ago, I shared a table at a wedding reception with a woman who had a lot of negative opinions of the Church.  Being a seminarian at the time, the woman felt free to express her thoughts and we had a lively, but respectful discussion.  I of course gave her (as best I could) all of the reasoned arguments about why the Church teaches this and why it can’t change that, but she didn’t seem to be buying much of it.  Finally, I realized that there was something else going on with her—that this wasn’t just a philosophical struggle with principles—and so I stopped and gently asked her: “You’ve been hurt by the Church, haven’t you?”  “Yes”, she replied.  She, like Thomas, wasn’t necessarily doubting Jesus, but she needed more than intellectual arguments and the testimony of witnesses to resolve the hurt that she was feeling inside of her.  She needed, rather, an encounter with the one who had hurt her, who had let her down, so as to reconcile that hurt before she could move forward.

I would guess that many of us know somebody in a similar situation: somebody who has left the Church for reasons unbeknownst to us and who has strong feelings about why he or she refuses to return.  And I would guess that most of these persons have some sort of hurt or disappointment that they have experienced with the Church and that only a personal encounter with the one that has hurt them can resolve.

In the Gospel today, Thomas receives that encounter.  Notice, however, that it wasn’t immediate.  Thomas had this news for a whole week before Christ would return to reveal himself to him.  And what a blessing it was that Christ gave him this chance to have that personal encounter that he needed to reconcile this hurt within him.  And what mercy Jesus showed him.  For he could have easily chided Thomas for his unbelief, but instead he tried to remove all barriers to his believing—to his reconciling himself to him: “Peace be with you… Come, touch my hands and put your finger into my side… do not be unbelieving, but believe.”

My brothers and sisters, this is exactly the mercy that we commemorate today on Divine Mercy Sunday.  This is the eighth day of the Lord’s resurrection: the day when he mercifully appeared to Thomas so as to reconcile him to himself.  And so today we too are reminded that Christ offers us the same opportunity to encounter him and to reconcile our hurts with him.  He comes to us, immolated for us on this altar so as to say “Come, see my hands, touch my wounds—the wounds that I received for you—and do not be unbelieving, but believe.”  “Come,” in other words, “and be enfolded in my mercy.  I know that you’ve been hurt and I want you to be healed.  And so, whatever it is, just come: come and see my sorrow for your pain and let my mercy wash over you to bring you healing and peace.”

And so my brothers and sisters, how good it is that we are here to celebrate this great mercy.  May our hearts be open to his heart today so that we, too, may believe and, thus, may have life in his name: the life of the Resurrection… the life of mercy.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – April 7th, 2013

The Sunday of Divine Mercy

Let's take back what is ours...

Ok, so I've been away in Guatemala for three weeks and I didn't have any homilies to post! (I did preach at Mass some, but nothing that I have recorded.)  Thus, this is the first from my first weekend back.  

The trip was great, by the way, (and frustrating, beautiful... many things).  I hope to post some things about it after I get settled back in.

Thanks for all of your prayers and support!  Happy reading!

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Homily: 4th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle C

As you all know, I spent the last three weeks in Guatemala doing some intensive work on improving my ability to speak Spanish.  Now, I had been to Guatemala once before to study Spanish back in 2009 while I was still a seminarian.  Much like I do just about anywhere I go, I fell in love with the people there and hoped one day to return.  Thus, it was a blessing to spend the past three weeks there and to have a chance to connect with some of the wonderful people I had met during my first visit.
One of the new experiences of this trip, however, was the ability to travel to the town of San Sebastian, where a good number of our Guatemalan brothers and sisters here in Logansport originally came from.  It’s a small town up in the mountains of the north-east part of Guatemala where more people speak the native dialect than Spanish.
One of the things that most impressed me about San Sebastian was the new church that they are building there.  About six years ago, the original Catholic church building was destroyed when days of heavy rain eventually unsettled its foundation, causing it to collapse.  About three years ago, however, they began building a new church.  So far they have completed much of the exterior framework (the walls, the roof, the dome, the façade, etc.) and I can tell you that it should prove to be a beautiful building when it is completed.
One of the things that shocked me, however, was the size of the Evangelical church building just down the street from the Catholic church.  I didn’t have a chance to step in to take a better look, but looking in from the street it seemed to me like it could easily hold just as many people as this church building can; and on Sunday, it appeared to be pretty full during their worship service.  I was shocked because I simply assumed that in such a small town as San Sebastian, in which they are building such a large new church, that there wouldn’t be room for another Christian community of comparable size.
At first I thought, “Well, perhaps Catholics were slow to evangelize in this area and so when the Evangelicals came, they basically evangelized those whom the Catholics hadn’t evangelized yet.”  “If so,” I thought, “then that’s a good thing, because at least these people are hearing the Gospel message.”  After talking with a couple of people, however, it seems as if it is the same situation that is happening all over Central America: that Evangelicals are going throughout these countries specifically targeting Catholics and seeking to lure them away from the practice of the Roman Catholic religion.  The fact that they are finding success is, to me, a big problem.
But this is just a microcosm of what has been happening around the world and even here in Cass County.  How many of us here have watched as our children, grandchildren, godchildren, brothers and sisters have slipped away from the Catholic Church: either to stop practicing the Catholic faith altogether or who have been lured to an Evangelical community?  A good number of us, I’m sure.  Oh, and I do mean “lured,” by the way.  Perhaps not so much here in Cass County, but it many parts of the world Evangelicals are on a mission to “convert” Catholics because they believe that what we preach is a false religion.  When Jesus was accused of casting out demons by the power of Satan, he said to them, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”  My brothers and sisters, some Protestants and Evangelicals are striving to do just that: to divide God’s house and in many ways we are letting it happen.
I think that, as the Catholic Church, we’ve allowed ourselves to become a little complacent.  We’ve allowed ourselves to think, “The world’s been evangelized, so I can sit back, relax and just hang out here in the Church until Christ comes back and everything should be fine.”  We’ve forgotten that the very nature of the Church is to be evangelical.  Thus, one of the things that is luring people away from the Catholic Church is that these other communities are doing what the Catholic Church has been failing to do: they are evangelizing!  Now I hope that this will not come as a shock to any of you, but we are all called to be evangelists.
Our first reading today from the prophet Jeremiah reminds us that we are all called to proclaim God’s words to his people.  Sure, the words we heard were God’s words to the prophet Jeremiah at a specific place and time.  Nonetheless, they have been preserved up to this day because they are inspired by God and helpful in instructing us in following our own calls today.  And so, what does God say?  “Try to be holy and just show up to Mass and you’ll be fine”?  No!  He says “Gird up your loins; stand up and tell them what I command you”!
What God is saying to us, then, is that it is not enough for us to give a minimal effort at holiness and to fulfill the basic requirements, like showing up on Sundays.  What God is saying to us, rather, is that we must also speak his words to others, especially those closest to us, challenging them in positive ways to seek God more deeply and then to support them as they do.
Perhaps, however, we are worried that we’ll push our loved ones away or that they will turn against us.  To that, the readings for today also have an answer.  God promised Jeremiah (and, therefore, he promised us) that he “would not leave us crushed before them,” but rather that he “would make us a fortified city….”
Jesus himself did not fear the reproaches of his family or his neighbors in Nazareth.  As we heard today in the Gospel reading, Jesus preached the truth to them and they boiled over with rage against him.  God did not leave him to their rage, however.  Rather, when he was about to be thrown over the edge of the cliff, Jesus “passed through the midst of them and went away.”
Thus, we need not fear the reproaches of our families or neighbors.  If our words inspire them to rage, then so be it.  God will not leave us to be “crushed before them.”  Hopefully, however, and if we speak the truth to them with love (as Saint Paul admonishes us to do today), our words will inspire in them a fervor to seek Christ where he may most fully be found: here in this church and in the Eucharist.
If we still have fear, however, then it probably means that we ourselves need to be ignited with fervor for the faith.  If so, don’t worry, because this is the work of the Year of Faith that we have been celebrating: to become ignited ourselves so as to ignite others.  Our tasks then are the following: fervent celebration of the Eucharist every Sunday, consistent daily prayer and reading of the Scriptures, adoration of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament as often as possible, faith sharing in small groups and frequent confession.  Close attention to these tasks will ignite our fervor for the faith.  Witness, invitation and service of others, then, become the acts that will ignite that same fervor in others.
My brothers and sisters, we’ve procrastinated long enough.  Today is the day to act.  Let us respond to the Holy Father’s call and reclaim for our Church the name which has always been ours: Evangelical.  And let us be that shining light for Christ that leads our brothers and sisters—our families and our neighbors—to that communion with God that their hearts so deeply desire: the communion that we share here at this table.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February 2nd & 3rd, 2013