A complete reversal

Homily: 6^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          Friends, in these (what I’m calling) “intervening weeks” between the end of the Christmas season and the beginning of Lent this coming week, we have been presented with an image of Christ who is doing something new.  In the third Sunday in Ordinary Time, we heard Jesus proclaim that the “time of fulfillment” was at hand, meaning that the third Christian age, in which the promise that God made to our first parents after their first sin would finally be realized, had now begun.  Then, in the fourth Sunday, we heard Jesus teaching in the synagogue with his own authority and how he demonstrated his authority when he drove the unclean spirit out of the man in the synagogue.  The people were amazed at this “new teaching with authority” and perhaps began to see in Jesus the one of whom Moses spoke: “A prophet like me will God raise up for you…”  Then last week, the fifth Sunday, we heard how Jesus entered the home of Simon Peter and healed Simon Peter’s mother-in-law (and, subsequently, hundreds of others from that town).  Although the next morning all came looking for him, Jesus refused to become a spectacle (like many “wonder-workers” of the day) and chose, instead, to leave that place to preach in other towns.  He was truly a “new prophet” and could not be contained to any one place.

          This week, we read a story of reversal.  In our first reading, we listened to the words of the Book of Leviticus, detailing what someone with an ailment of the skin must do.  Here we see a microcosm, if you will, of the Fall.  In the Garden of Eden, our first parents sin and so are marked with death.  God, however, is life and death cannot dwell in the presence of God.  Therefore, Adam and Eve are driven from the Garden and cannot reenter until they have been cleansed from this “stain” of death.  Leprosy (which, in the Old Testament, was a “blanket” term for those with various skin ailments that included, but was not limited to, what we now call “Hansen’s disease”), to the people of ancient times, was an outward sign that death was touching a person.  Anyone marked in such a way could not enter the temple—the place of encounter with God—to offer worship.  Thus, the person also became a threat to anyone who wasn’t so marked and wanted to enter the temple to worship.  Thus, the leper had to stay separated and declare himself “unclean”, lest others be "infected" with death, too.  And, just like with Adam and Eve, who couldn’t cleanse themselves of the sin that caused death to touch them, so too the leper didn’t have any way to cleanse the skin ailment on his own.  He simply had to pray that it would clear up so that he could be restored to the worshiping community.  For a first century Jew, this was just the way the world worked.

          In the Gospel, we then hear the story of reversal.  First, the man approaches Jesus (a bold move for one who was supposed to keep himself at a distance!).  He pleads with Jesus and Jesus does the unthinkable: he touches him!  But, instead of the uncleanness coming out of the leper and going into Jesus, what happens?  Cleanness goes out from Jesus and into the leper: a complete reversal!  And how do we know?  Because, as the scripture says, “the leprosy left the man immediately, and he was made clean”.  After, Jesus tells the man not to make a big deal out of it—in other words, that he no longer has to “shout out” about himself—but what does the man do?  He immediately goes and tells everyone he meets.  No one went around shouting “I am clean”, because it wasn’t necessary.  But this man does so voluntarily, reversing his obligation to declare himself unclean.  Finally, while the man can now reenter the town and join the worshiping community, we see that Jesus cannot!  But is he really excluded?  No!  Because, instead of everyone staying away from the ones outside of town, they all come out to him!  The presence of Jesus causes each of them to recognize that they are "unclean", in some way, and that they have been unable to become "clean" through their own efforts.  Thus, they "separate" themselves from the town (and, thus, the worshiping community) so as to meet Jesus and to be made clean.  And so we see that Jesus takes our helpless story and he reverses it: proving once again that the “time of fulfillment” has, indeed, come.

          If we stop and pay attention for just a moment, we see that this is us!  So much hullabaloo is being made about "identity politics" and ending oppression of "marginalized groups" (based, for example, on race, gender (actual or otherwise), sexual attraction, socioeconomic status, etc.).  The fact of the matter is that we're all oppressed in some way: that is, we all have some kind of leprosy that alienates us in some way.  Take a hard look!  We're all messed up in a lot of ways!  And none of us is capable on our own making ourselves clean.  Thus, the good news that we hear today.  Look at what Jesus did to the leper!  He completely reversed everything that pushed him away.  And how?  By his own divine power, of course.  But what actuated that power?  The man embracing his leprosy and taking a bold step to overcome it.  This man saw his “oppressed” state, but refused to remain a victim and approached Jesus.  And through Jesus, his “oppression” was overcome.

          This, therefore, is the message for our day: stop acting like a victim and try to do something to make it better.  (This isn't a good bumper sticker slogan, I know, but it's darn practical!)  Recognize that you're a mess, yes.  Recognize that you're a mess because life is hard and full of suffering, yes; but also because you've given in to the victim mentality and haven't made good choices.  Then recognize that there is something that you can do about it and start to do it.  Come to Jesus and submit yourself to his will, like the leper from the Gospel reading: "If you will, you can make me clean".  Then ACT!  If there is anything disordered in your life (of which you are the cause), start to put it in order.  Most of us have a God-ordered path for our lives (marriage, parenthood, etc.).  If you don't, you're probably not here.  If you don't and you are here, then your first job is to get yourself on a God-ordered path.  But if you are on your God-ordered path, then look at what disrupts your journey on that path and start to get it out of your life.  For example: almost anything produced by Hollywood, social media (the source of gossip and narcissism!), 24-hour news programming, etc.  You won't fix everything—there's still suffering that just happens in the world—but at least you'll have mitigated a lot of the self-inflicted suffering, right?

          And why all of this?  Because there are real victims out there—that is, those whose suffering is severe and not self-inflicted—and they need real help.  But we help no one when we sit around wallowing in our own victimhood, saying "well, I can't because of x, y, and z."  Well, yes, maybe "x, y, and z", but you can do something.  Whatever that is, you need to do it.  Even if that's just to shout out about it.

          Friends, in Jesus, our long exile has been reversed.  Everything that kept us separate from God is flipped on its head and redeemed.  But if we don't act, we'll never fully realize it.  The first act is to believe: to believe in the power of Christ to flip it over.  And so today, as you approach the Eucharist (whether or not you are able to receive it), pray, before you receive it (or before you present yourself before it); "Jesus, if you will, you can make me clean"; because, I assure you, he does will it.  Receive, then, his healing; and go forth telling everyone how Jesus made you clean and put your life back in order so as to make life's sufferings a little more bearable for you and, thus, for those around you.  Then we will begin to see more clearly the truth that Jesus proclaimed: that this truly is the time of fulfillment.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February 10^th & 11^th, 2018

The power of a human touch

          Sometimes the healing we need is not just physical, but emotional as well.  Only the loving touch of a fellow person can bring healing of the emotional pain that sometimes afflicts us.  As Lent approaches, may we allow Jesus' touch to bring us healing for all the ways that sin has hurt us.

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Homily: 6^th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle B

          One of the most indispensible parts, it seems, of any intimate relationship is touch.  Parents touch their children regularly in order to show them their care and affection.  A husband and wife will hug and kiss each other when they are coming and going or when they get up in the morning or go to bed at night, and various other times in between.  Children who are best friends will walk side by side each other with an arm around the other’s shoulder (“they’re ‘joined at the hip’” is the common expression).  Grown men, sometimes less comfortable with more sensitive expressions of intimacy, will often slap their friends on the shoulder as a sign of camaraderie.  And for young couples, holding hands is often the first expression of a growing affection.  From the opposite standpoint, turning away from touch is often an indicator that intimacy has been broken or damaged, such as when a husband or a wife gives their spouse the “cold shoulder.”

          As a matter of fact, in the Catholic Church we know this very well.  We ritualize the intimacy of human touch in the sacraments, most poignantly in the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick.  February 11, the feast of Our Lady of Lourdes, is designated in the Church as the “World Day for the Sick,” in which we remind ourselves of the special place that care for the sick and dying holds in the life of the Church.  And in the Church’s sacrament for the sick, which is meant to be a spiritual strengthening for “one who has begun to be in danger of death due to sickness or old age,” human touch plays a prominent role, in the laying on of hands and the anointing with oil.  And so again we see that, for humans, touch is important.

          In the first reading today, we heard the instructions given to Moses and Aaron regarding how to handle a person afflicted with leprosy inside of the community. The ancient Hebrews, like any closely knit community, were deeply concerned with maintaining the purity and health of their community.  And so, whenever someone in the community became afflicted with an exteriorly visible sickness—such as the sores that appear on the skin when one is afflicted with leprosy—this person was obligated to separate themselves from the community so as to avoid spreading the disease (because they didn’t understand how this person became afflicted with it and, thus, how it might be spread to another) and so maintain the purity of the community.  Thus, the segregation of lepers was intended to ensure that the rest of the community was kept safe from defilement through contact with them.  As a result, the physical suffering of the leprous person was compounded by an emotional suffering as he or she was literally cut off from all human touch, and, thus, intimacy, for fear of making others sick and “unclean”.

          One only needs to look at the crisis of the Ebola epidemic in western Africa to see a modern example of this.  In this case, we are all well aware of the highly communicable nature of the Ebola virus and thus impose strict segregation on those afflicted with it.  We can all perhaps imagine how depressing it would be not only to be afflicted with a life-threatening illness, but then to endure weeks in which your only human contact is through doctors and medical staff covered head to toe in protective garments for fear of making “flesh-to-flesh” contact with your body.  If you can imagine that, then you will have a sense of what it was like to be afflicted with leprosy among the ancient Hebrews.

          In today’s reading from the Gospel of Mark, we find a leper who was so moved by faith in Christ’s power to heal him that he completely disregarded the rules regarding the segregation of lepers and approached Jesus in order to beg him for healing.  Jesus knew well the purity laws and what he would have to go through if he touched this man (just think of the reports of what health care workers had to go through if they came into direct contact with an Ebola patient).  He also knew that he would not have to touch this man in order to heal him of his leprosy.  He knew that a simple word would affect the cure.  Yet, he saw more than a physical ailment in this man.  He saw the emotional suffering of shame and humiliation that comes from being cut off from one’s community and he knew that more than just a word was needed to make him whole again.  Thus, the Gospel tells us that Jesus was “moved with pity” and that he first touched the man before he pronounced his words of healing.  No, it wasn’t the touch that healed the man of his leprosy, Christ’s word alone was sufficient.  It was the touch, however, that made him feel human, connected again with the community that was his life.

          Of course it’s easy to see modern day examples of leprosy in our own society.  I’ve already mentioned the situation of those afflicted with Ebola and it doesn’t end there.  We simply need to look around at those who have been marginalized and pushed “outside the camp” of our daily living so as not to defile our efforts to live a “pure” life.  It also would be easy to remind ourselves of our duty to respond to these individuals as Jesus did by reaching out to them, touching them, helping them to find healing, and inviting them to join the community once again.  What is not so easy for us is to look inwardly, at ourselves, in order to discover the spiritual leprosy of sin that afflicts each of us.

          St. Bede, in commenting on this passage, has said: “This man prostrated himself on the ground, as a sign of humility and shame, to teach each of us to be ashamed of the stains of his [or her own] life.  But shame should not prevent us from confessing: the leper showed his wound and begged for healing.”  St. Terese of Liseux has said that shame for our sins should never prevent us from reaching out to Jesus.  In fact, she has said, our increasing awareness of and shame for our sins should make us reach out all the more desperately to him, because the more that we acknowledge our sinfulness, the more that we openly show our wounds to Jesus, the more, in a sense, attractive we are to him, to his mercy, and thus he is more moved to touch us and to heal us.

          My brothers and sisters, the trick to living the Christian life is not just in reaching out to the marginalized in our society, the modern-day lepers with “outward” afflictions, which we must do.  Rather, the trick is being able to first recognize our own afflictions, our own leprosy, and having the courage—or rather the faith—to throw ourselves down before God, before Jesus, and beg for his mercy.

          As his Body, the Church, Jesus wants us to be his hands in this world, bringing his healing touch to those who need it.  He wants his hands to be pure, however.  And so, as we seek to extend Christ’s ministry of mercy to those around us, let us acknowledge also our need for healing and thus seek out the sacrament of reconciliation, so that we might be truly open to share each other’s burdens.  And finally, my brothers and sisters, let us give thanks, as we do here today, for Christ’s saving mercy, so that we may go forth from this place making known the good things he has done for us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February 15, 2015

The importance of a touch

Here's my homily from this past weekend. Obviously, St. Terese has been working on my heart this week. There's a lot more that could be said about this, but I'll let the Holy Spirit fill all of that in for you.

By the way, I love it when you comment. Any feedback is always appreciated. May your week be blessed!

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~ Given at Sacred Heart and Saint Augustine Parishes, Jeffersonville, IN: February 11-12, 2012

One of the most indispensible parts, it seems, of any intimate relationship is touch. Parents touch their children regularly in order to show them their care and affection. A husband and wife will hug and kiss each other when they are coming and going or when they get up in the morning or go to bed at night, and various other times in between. Children who are best friends will walk side by side each with an arm around the other’s shoulder (“they’re ‘joined at the hip’” is the common expression). Grown men, sometimes less comfortable with more sensitive expressions of intimacy, will often slap their friends on the shoulder as a sign of camaraderie. And for young couples, holding hands is often the first expression of a growing affection. From the opposite standpoint, turning away from touch is often an indicator that intimacy has been broken or damaged, such as when a husband or a wife gives their spouse the “cold shoulder.”

As a matter of fact, in the Catholic Church we know this very well. We ritualize the intimacy of human touch in the sacraments, most poignantly in the sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick. February 11, the feast of Our Lady of Lourdes, is designated in the Church as the “World Day for the Sick,” in which we remind ourselves of the special place that care for the sick and dying holds in the life of the Church. And in the Church’s sacrament for the sick, which is meant to be a spiritual strengthening for “one who has begun to be in danger due to sickness or old age,” human touch plays a prominent role, in the laying on of hands and the anointing with oil. And so again we see that, for humans, touch is important.

In the first reading today, we heard the instructions given to Moses and Aaron regarding how to handle a person afflicted with leprosy inside of the community. The ancient Hebrews were deeply concerned with maintaining a status of “ritual purity” before God because they believed that to present an offering to God when one was “impure” would taint also one’s offering and thus render it displeasing to God. Thus, the segregation of lepers (who were considered to have been afflicted because of some impurity) was intended to ensure that the rest of the community was kept safe from defilement through contact with them. As a result, the physical suffering of the leprous person was compounded by an emotional suffering as he or she was literally cut off from all human touch, and, thus, intimacy, for fear of making others unclean.

In today’s reading from the Gospel of Mark, we find a leper who was so moved by faith in Christ’s power to heal him that he completely disregarded the rules regarding the segregation of lepers and approached Jesus in order to beg him for healing. Jesus knew well the purity laws and what he would have to go through if he touched this man. He also knew that he would not have to touch this man in order to heal him of his leprosy. He knew that a simple word would effect the cure. Yet, he saw more than a physical ailment in this man. He saw the emotional suffering of shame and humiliation that comes from being cut off from one’s community and knew that more than just a word was needed to make him whole again. Thus, the Gospel tells us that Jesus was“moved with pity” and that he first touched the man before he pronounced his words of healing. No, it wasn’t the touch that healed the man of his leprosy, Christ’s word alone was sufficient. It was the touch, however, that made him feel human, connected again with the community that was his life.

Of course it’s easy to see modern day examples of leprosy in our own society. We simply need to look at those who have been marginalized and pushed“outside the camp” of our daily living so as not to defile our efforts to live a pure life. It would also be easy to remind ourselves of our duty to respond to these individuals as Jesus did by reaching out to them, touching them, helping them to find healing and inviting them to join the community once again. What is not so easy for us is to look inwardly, at ourselves, in order to discover the spiritual leprosy of sin that afflicts each of us.

St. Bede, in commenting on this passage, has said: “This man prostrated himself on the ground, as a sign of humility and shame, to teach each of us to be ashamed of the stains of his [or her own] life. But shame should not prevent us from confessing: the leper showed his wound and begged for healing.” St. Terese of Liseux has said that shame for our sins should never prevent us from reaching out to Jesus. In fact, she has said, our increasing awareness of and shame for our sins should make us reach out all the more desperately to him, because the more we acknowledge our sinfulness, the more we openly show our wounds to Jesus, the more, in a sense, attractive we are to him, to his mercy, and thus he is more moved to touch us and to heal us.

My brothers and sisters, the trick to living the Christian life is not just in reaching out to the marginalized in our society, the modern-day lepers with “outward” afflictions. Rather, the trick is being able to first recognize our own afflictions, our own leprosy, and having the courage—or rather the faith—to throw ourselves down before God, before Jesus, and beg for his mercy.

As his Body, the Church, Jesus wants us to be his hands in this world, bringing his healing touch to those who need it. He wants his hands to be pure, however. And so, as we seek to extend Christ’s ministry of mercy to those around us, let us acknowledge also our need for healing, let us seek out the sacrament of reconciliation and open ourselves to each other so that we may share each other’s burdens. And let us give thanks, as we do here today, for Christ’s saving mercy, so that we may go forth from this place making known the good things he has done for us.

+Pax+