Remember... just let go

Happy First Sunday of Lent!  I hope that everybody's Lent has gotten off to a good start.  This last week felt weird to me, but probably because of all the chaos (in my mind) of getting ready for Ash Wednesday and the start of this holy season.

Saturday night, I was able to participate in the Destination Jesus retreat (our diocesan youth retreat) and finally was able to hear some of the incredible ways that God works on the hearts of these young people during this retreat as I heard confessions.  We need to pray for and support our youth!  What a great blessing to be a small part of that experience.

This coming week, I'm heading back "home" to Saint Meinrad for their 'baby-priest' workshop.  Basically, it's an opportunity to review how the first months of priesthood have gone and to get coaching for how to recognize problems now and head them off before they become problems for us in the future.  For me, it will be a welcome opportunity to return to the Hill and catch up with some of my classmates and other friends from the seminary.  I hope that it will also be a good opportunity to take some of these ideas that have been floating around in my head and plan for making them happen.  Stay tuned!

Enjoy the homily.  It's sunny out and I'm going for a walk outside :)

Peace.

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Homily: 1st Sunday of Lent – Cycle C

Back almost ten years ago now, when I was in the throes of my ‘reversion’ to the Catholic faith, I remember feeling very guilty.  For the first time in my life, I recognized that religion wasn’t just something that you ‘do’, but that it was about a relationship… that it was about the relationship between God and his creation: most especially, with us.  I felt guilty because I recognized that I had been ignoring that relationship.
As a result, during those first months I threw myself into prayer, fervently asking God what it was that he wanted me to do with my life.  When those prayers eventually led to the consideration of a vocation to the priesthood, I found myself at an impasse.  I had never considered the priesthood and so I didn’t know what to think about it.  “But,” I thought, “this is so radically different from anything that I’ve considered before; so, if I did it, I’m sure that I would be doing what God wanted and not what I wanted.”  I clearly remember making this prayer: “God, I’ve been living my life my own way for twenty-five years, why shouldn’t I do this for you?”
Soon, however, I learned that feeling like you owe God something is a poor reason to enter the seminary.  Thus, I put the discernment away for a while.  A few years later, when I was blindsided by the notion that I wasn’t yet doing what God wanted me to do with my life, I once again threw myself into prayer.  This time, however, I felt more fearful of damaging the relationship that I had built than guilty for having ignored it.  And so I turned to fasting in an attempt to disinterest myself from anything that could distract me from knowing God’s will.  Eventually, I heard again the call to the priesthood and this time I was sure that it was love, not guilt that motivated me, so I responded and entered the seminary.
I continued many of my habits of fasting after entering the seminary.  What I found there, however, was that my fasting was becoming a barrier: first to my relationships with my fellow seminarians, and eventually to my relationship with God.  Right fasting is the kind that turns our focus away from ourselves and back towards God and others.  I had become focused on myself and my need to maintain these fasts; and so to turn my focus back towards God and others, I actually had to learn how to “fast from fasting.”  I needed to remember the relationship, and not just the relation.  In order to do so, I needed to detach myself from trying to control it through fasting.
Remembrance and detachment are two themes that we find in our Scripture readings today.  In our first reading from the book of Deuteronomy, Moses is instructing the people about making the annual offering of the first fruits of the harvest to God.  What we hear is not the details about the offering itself (for example, how much is to be offered and when), but rather we hear what the Israelites are instructed to say after they’ve made their offering.  It is a statement meant to remind them of why they have brought their offering to the altar.
First, it’s a remembrance of where they came from.  Jacob was a small tribe of only seventy-odd persons when they went down to Egypt.  Yet God made them grow and prosper during that time.  Second, it is a remembrance of how God heard their calls for help when Pharaoh oppressed them with slavery, delivering them from Egypt with mighty signs and wonders.  Third, it is a remembrance of how God led them through the desert and into the fruitful land in which they live, the first fruits from which they have come to offer him.  In other words, it’s a remembrance that it was God who was in control the whole time and that he took care of them, and so their offering is one of thanksgiving for his grace and mercy that continues to care for them today.
In the Gospel, Jesus’ forty days in the desert produces in him a deep sense of detachment.  In the greatest understatement of all time, the Gospel tells us that, after forty days of not eating, Jesus emerged from the desert and that “he was hungry.”  Duh!  Actually, what the author might have been emphasizing was that he was “weak with hunger.”  The devil seeing this probably thought to himself, “Now is my chance!” and so he tempts him.  Jesus, having detached himself not only from his desires for food and drink, but also from his instincts for survival, and having placed all his trust for survival in his Father, was not fazed by the devil’s temptations.  Jesus knew that his Father was in control, because he had just experienced it for forty days; thus, he could not be moved to betray him now, even though he was physically weak from lack of nourishment.  His fasting produced detachment and thus solidified his relationship with his Father, who cared for him.
“Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”  This, my brothers and sisters, is our task during Lent: to remember our right relationship with God and with others.  We do this primarily through the three Lenten disciplines of fasting, prayer, and almsgiving.  Fasting, I would argue, is primary: for when we fast, we remind ourselves of the punishment due to us because of our sins and thus acknowledge that God is God and we are not.  Fasting also has the effect of detaching ourselves from our disordered desires for the things of this world: desires that place a barrier between us and God, as well as those around us.  A natural result of this detachment is that we are more available for prayer and have more resources to share with others who are in need, thus facilitating our prayer and almsgiving.  Finally, fasting helps us to remember to place our trust in the fact that God is in control and that he cares for us and so will provide to us whatever it is that we truly need.
And so, my brothers and sisters, on this first Sunday of Lent, let’s take a look at what we are doing this Lent in order to see where our disciplines are pointing us and let’s ask ourselves these questions: Are our disciplines motivated by guilt and the hope that God will pleased with them and so not ask too much of us?  Or are our disciplines about conversion: that is, about letting go of our control and turning back to God, remembering that his care alone is enough for us?
If you find yourself (as I often do) more in the first group than in the second group, don’t worry.  We still have about 36 days left to work it all out (which is plenty of time!).  And what a good work that it is.  I promise you that if you do it well, on Easter Sunday you will have forgotten that you are hungry, because you will have remembered God’s love and mercy as you celebrate his glory.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February, 17th, 2013

Las cosas que nunca se dicen católicos

Time to break out your translating skills!  I preached in English this morning, but I didn't have anything written down.  That wasn't going to fly so much for Spanish, so I wrote it out.  Thus, all you get is my homily in Spanish for el miercoles de las cenizas.  Disfruta!

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Homilía: Miércoles de las Cenizas – Ciclo C

¡Gracias a Dios que está Cuaresma! ¡Ahora tengo una excusa para no comer dulces!  (El Domingo de Pascua) ¡Ojalá que la Cuaresma podría ser de dos semanas más!  ¡Me gustaría que pudiéramos recibir las cenizas cada día para que la gente se fijara en mí más!  Estas son declaraciones que planeo en incluir en mi primero libro titulado "Las cosas que nunca se dicen católicos".

Aquí estamos de nuevo en el comienzo de otra temporada de Cuaresma. Si eres un buen católico, ya ha comprometido a renunciar a algo. Si eres un muy buen católico, te has comprometido a renunciar a algo que sea difícil para dejar. Pero, si tú ya has pensado a sí mismo "No puedo esperar hasta la Pascua para que pueda tener esa cosa de nuevo", ya has fracasado en lograr el objetivo de la Cuaresma.

Esto es porque la Cuaresma no se trata de torturar a nosotros mismos durante cuarenta días para ver si podemos aguantar a pesar de todo sólo para volver a ser lo mismo una vez que llega Pascua.  Ciertamente, esto podría hacer que nos sintamos bien con nosotros mismos, pero se pierde el punto.  En ese caso, todo lo que estamos tratando de hacer es para impresionar a Dios con nuestros sacrificios; y déjeme decirles que nuestros sacrificios no le impresionan mucho.  El único que alguna vez le impresionó fue el sacrificio de su Hijo en la cruz.  Esto es decir que el no necesita nuestros sacrificios; sino que somos nosotros los que necesitamos para hacerlos.

En la lectura del profeta Joel, Dios nos llama a "rasgar nuestros corazones y no las vestiduras". Lo que quiere decir que no debemos hacer un espectáculo de nuestra contrición. Y en el Evangelio, Jesús nos dice que "cuando ayunamos, no debe parecer que estás ayunando, sino como si estamos sanos y bien alimentados", y que "cuando damos limosna la mano derecha no debe saber lo que la mano izquierda está haciendo", y que "cuando oramos, debemos ir a un lugar privado", ya que sólo el Padre quien debe saber lo que estamos haciendo.  Lo que esto significa para nosotros es que la Cuaresma no se trata de quién puede hacer estas cosas (la oración, el ayuno y la limosna) mejor que nadie, o sobre lo que podemos demostrar a Dios por nuestras acciones extremas, pero es más bien acerca de la eliminación de obstáculos entre nosotros y Dios.

Ya ves, nuestros pecados nos han vinculado al mundo, poniendo una barrera entre nosotros y Dios. Cuaresma, por lo tanto, es un momento especial que nos llama a arrepentirnos de nuestros pecados y desvincularnos de las cosas de este mundo por medio del ayuno, oración y limosna.  Por lo tanto, comenzamos por renunciar a algo que ponemos demasiado valor en, algo que se interpone entre nosotros y Dios.  Entonces comenzamos a orar más profundamente, porque empezamos a ver a Dios con más claridad.  Por último, nos sentimos impulsados a compartir con los demás, porque hemos aprendido que no necesitamos todo lo que tenemos para ser felices: que nuestra comunión con Dios y con los demás es suficiente.

Por lo tanto, nuestro objetivo para la Cuaresma no es tanto la "perseverancia" en nuestras disciplinas de Cuaresma como es "desprendimiento" de las cosas que nos separan de Dios. Si lo hacemos bien, no vamos tanto “respirar un suspiro de alivio” el domingo de Pascua que nuestro tiempo de penitencia ha terminado como vamos a gritar de alegría en la celebración de lo que Cristo ha hecho por nosotros.

Dado en la parroquia Todos los Santos: Logansport, IN

23º de febrero, 2013 – Miércoles de las Cenizas

A dangerous proposition...

It has been a pretty busy weekend with a lot of wonderful things!  I didn't have nearly the time I would have liked to refine my homily to really punch home the point, but I think it did ok.  Take a look below and let me know if you've had an experience like I described (especially if it involved God!).

Lent starts this week!  If you haven't started planning your Lent yet then get on it!  Nobody starts a training program without first having a plan.  Remember, it's about taking your relationship with God to the next level.  Put yourself out there and God will not disappoint!

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Homily: 5th Sunday of Ordinary Time – Cycle C

If you’ve ever had the experience of being “blindsided”, then you’ll know that it’s an experience that you’re never likely to forget.  Now I’m not talking about being physically blindsided, like in your car or something (though I don’t doubt that such an experience would be just as hard to forget); rather, I’m talking about the experience of being blindsided in life.
Many of us, perhaps, have had the experience where we’ve been “cruising” along in life and everything seems to be going pretty well.  Then one day someone or something breaks into our lives and drops the proverbial “bomb” on us that, seemingly in an instant, changes everything.
I had such an experience about seven years ago, which led to my entering into the seminary.  I had spent a couple of years discerning on and off (mostly off, I should admit) about entering the seminary when I met a really great young woman named Bridget and we started dating.  Aside from one little glitch in the first few weeks of our relationship things were going really well between us and I was feeling happy and as if this was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Bridget’s mom didn’t live in Indiana and so it wasn’t until about five months into our relationship that I actually had the opportunity to meet her.  That really didn’t go so well for me.  Bridget’s mom (and this is to say nothing negative about her, but rather just to report the facts) saw some things that she didn’t like about me and, like any good mom would, she passed those observations onto her daughter.  These things blindsided Bridget to the point that it made her start to re-think our relationship, which, of course, then blindsided me.  In the end, after much prayer and discernment, Bridget and I realized that we were both missing something; that, in fact, I was missing something… and something big: God’s call to the priesthood.
Being “blindsided” by something in life always functions as kind of a wake-up call.  While it is almost never a pleasant experience, it almost always opens our eyes to something that we’ve been missing.  Sometimes that thing is clear right away—like when a friend tells you that the way you treated them last week really hurt them, even though in all honesty you were oblivious to the fact.  As soon as you hear this from your friend, you see right away what you had been missing.  Other times, however (like in my story above), it takes a little while to see clearly what exactly it is that we have been missing.  In either case, it is always a sobering and humbling experience that often times demands some course of action from us.
In our readings today, we see multiple examples of this.  Isaiah, the humble prophet from Israel, has a vision in which he was standing before the throne of God.  When the Seraphim cried “Holy” and the house shook, Isaiah suddenly realized how unworthy he was to be in God’s presence: that he was unclean in the sight of perfect purity.  When the Seraphim brought the coal and purified him by touching it to his lips, Isaiah realized that he had been missing something.  The vision had “blindsided” him and he now knew that he was being called by God for something.  Thus, when God called out for a messenger Isaiah responded without hesitation: “Here I am, send me!”
Saint Paul thought that he was acting righteously the more that he zealously persecuted Christians.  Of course we all know the story of how God “knocked him off of his horse” (which is a great image for us, even though the accounts in Scriptures never mention that Paul was riding a horse).  God blindsided him so hard that it literally made Saint Paul blind.  After he made his way to Damascus and met with Ananias his eyes were opened and he could see exactly what he was missing.  As a result (and as we heard today), he turned back and began to preach the very things that he had been persecuting Christians for preaching: that Christ died for our sins, that he was buried, and that he rose again, all in accord with the Scriptures.
Finally, Saint Peter’s experience is probably the most relatable of all.  As the Gospel recounts it, Peter was just going about his daily business when this teacher shows up and asks if he would take him out off of the shore a little bit so as to teach the people better.  When this teacher then suggested he cast out his nets into the deep waters, Peter found something he wasn’t expecting.  As he pulled in the super-abundant catch, his eyes were opened and he saw what he was missing about this teacher.  Like Isaiah, he immediately recognized his unworthiness.  Also like Isaiah, he was immediately purified and given his mission.
Perhaps more than a few of us have had the experience of being blindsided by God.  My guess is that even though they were probably distressing, disorientating, and frustrating experiences that in the end they turned out to very positive experiences, leading those of you who have had them to a deeper and more fulfilling experience of life.
My brothers and sisters, if you’ve never had the experience of being “blindsided” by God; or if you’ve never seriously consulted God about decisions you’ve made or directions you’ve taken in your lives, then I guarantee you that you are missing out on something in your life that is part of God’s plan for your happiness and it’s high time for you to give God a chance to show you what it is.
Therefore, I’m going to ask you all to do something a little bit dangerous.  Actually, this is great because Lent is right around the corner and this would be a perfect addition to your prayer routine for that season.  What I want you to do is, during your regular prayer time (and if you don’t have a regular prayer time, I want you to make a regular prayer time), ask God to show you what it is that you are missing about his will for your life.  Then (and this is the dangerous part), I want you to promise him that whatever it is you’ll do it.
My brothers and sisters, if you do these two things—coupled with a healthy dose of fasting and abstinence so as to build your fortitude to actually carry out what God reveals to you—I promise you that on Easter your life will look different and in a very good way.  And so as we come here today to give thanks to God for all of his gifts, let us show him our thanks by placing our trust in him, as Christ placed his trust in the Father in the garden of Gethsemane, so that we, too, might receive the same gift of glory that Christ received, the glory that he now shares with us in this holy meal.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February 10th, 2013

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

The obedience of the star...

Here's my Epiphany homily.  I wish I would have read this quote before writing it, but I think that my homily goes along with it anyway:

"The obedience of the star calls us to imitate its humble service: to be servants, as best we can, of the grace that invites all men to find Christ."

~ Saint Leo the Great, pope

(from the Office of Readings for the Solemnity of the Epiphany)

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Homily: Solemnity of the Epiphany – Cycle C

You all know Fr. Mike, right?  Now, I know that you all will think that I am taking advantage of his not being here this week, but we’re going to talk about Fr. Mike a little.  One of the things that impressed me about Fr. Mike (well, I should say that it shocked me at first, but then I was impressed) was his lack of inhibition with talking to strangers about their religious lives.  During my first weeks here, Fr. Mike took me around to different places in order to get me orientated to business related stuff in the parish (you know, like putting my signature on file at banks and things like that).  At almost every stop, he would inquire into the religious life of the person who was helping us.

Being a newly ordained priest, I wasn’t yet used to the fact that walking around with a collar on basically gives you a free pass to talk to people about religion and so I was a little bit shocked when Fr. Mike would ask these strangers if they went to church and if so what church they went to.  Almost just as shocking, however, was that fact that multiple times the answer was “no, I’ve never gone to church.”  Did you hear that?  It wasn’t “oh, I was going to this church, but I stopped,” rather, it was “I’ve never gone to church.”  Talking about this later with Fr. Mike, he assured me that this was a rather typical response from people: that many people here in Cass County have been growing up completely “unchurched.”

The three wise men—a.k.a. the Magi—were also “unchurched,” (at least in the Judeo-Christian sense of the term).  These kings from the east were astronomers and probably practiced some sort of pagan religion (if they practiced any religion at all).  Thus, they knew little to nothing about a God who purportedly had chosen a specific people, living in the land of Canaan, to be his own people and that this God had promised to send them a Messiah, a king who would rule on the throne of one of their great forefathers.  What they did know, however, was that the appearance of a great star in the sky was an indication that a great king had been born.

Thus, when these three kings from the orient saw the great star appear in the west, they knew what it meant.  And even though they were pagans, they were good men and, thus, they knew that it would be right to make a journey to find this newborn king and to pay him homage, bringing him kingly gifts to honor him.

Here a couple of thousand years later, we find ourselves at a bit of a disadvantage to those kings.  We live in an age when rulers—that is, those who govern societies—are chosen from among the people whom they will rule.  In other words, we elect our government officials (like we did, for better or for worse, this past November).  This is what we are used to.  Back in the time of the Magi, however, great rulers were born—that is, destined from infancy to be royalty—and great natural signs were often cited as accompanying their births as a signal that the child’s destiny had been ordained by God.  We, as a people, however, have decided that it would be better if we relied more on our reason; choosing our government leaders based on what we perceive to be their merits, rather than on the interpretation of some natural sign.

As a result, we have generations of people who have stopped looking for signs.  In other words, we have generations of people who have stopped believing in God’s providential presence among us and have come to rely completely on themselves to make decisions in their lives.  Thus, there are many people—including many who live around us here in Cass County—who are fumbling in the dark, trying to make sense of life without the providential guidance of God, which is readily available to them!  The only thing that keeps them fumbling in the dark is that they haven’t seen a light bright enough to break into the darkness and lead them out of it.

In the first reading today, we heard the prophet Isaiah proclaim to the people, “See, darkness covers the earth, and thick clouds cover the peoples; but upon you the Lord shines, and over you appears his glory.  Nations shall walk by your light, and kings by your shining radiance.”  My brothers and sisters, this message applies to us today just as much as it did to the Israelites over two-thousand years ago.  We, the Church, are the New Jerusalem; the city on which God’s light shines.  Thus, we are called to be a light to the nations, to those stumbling in darkness around us.  Yet, for the most part, it seems, we are content to cover up that light as we walk out of this place so that those walking in darkness never see it.  We refuse to engage friends and neighbors—and often even our own family members—about faith, about what we believe, and about how what we believe makes a positive difference in our lives.  We refuse to pray in public, even if it is just a small prayer of blessing over a meal in a restaurant.  No, even though we receive life itself when we receive the Body and Blood of Jesus from this altar, we are content to let those walking in darkness to remain in darkness because we worry that they would be offended if we talked to them about it (or, worse yet, that they would start asking us about our faith).

My brothers and sisters, the world desperately needs another star, like the one those wise men saw nearly two-thousand years ago.  The world needs a new Epiphany!  Our task as those who profess Christ as Lord is to be that epiphany.   In other words, we are called to be that star, shining brighter than any other star, that catches the attention of those dwelling in darkness and leads them to an encounter with Christ: an encounter that will manifest the light of salvation for them so that they may live in the joy that comes from knowing him.

My brothers and sisters, this is the new evangelization that the Pope has called for, but it won’t happen overnight.  In order to be that star for others, we first need to renew and deepen our own faith.  This Year of Faith is the perfect opportunity to do that.  Our parish is offering many different opportunities for you each to learn more about our faith (like the Catholicism series and Theology on Tap) and there are a multitude of other resources out there that you can take advantage of (such as videos, books, websites… in short, whatever works best for you to learn).  By this intentional effort to renew and deepen our faith, we will grow in confidence in the truth of our faith.  When that confidence grows, so too will grow a desire to share our faith with others; in other words, our desire to be that star for others will grow.

Friends, we need a sense of urgency about this.  You know, we almost had the end of the world last month!  Praise God that we didn’t because just think of all of the people that would have been lost!  I mean, seriously: think of all of the people we know who would have been lost to the fires of hell because we refused to share Christ’s light with them.  I can name three right off the bat: my cousin Joe, my friend Jake, and my sister’s husband Jason.  My guess is that most of us can at least think of one.  If so, please pray for that person.  Pray also for God’s wisdom to know how he may be calling you to share his light with that person.  Then pray for the courage to do it.  My friends, I promise you, God will not fail to answer these prayers.

First things first, however.  First, we need to come to Christ ourselves to honor him as our King and the good news is that he will be appearing before us soon, here on this altar.  O come let us adore him, Christ the Lord.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – January 6, 2013

Solemnity of the Epiphany

New Year's Resolutions with Mary, Mother of God

Ok, friends, I almost forgot to post my Solemnity homily from this past week.  Read fast, because there will be an Epiphany one coming soon!

I pray that the new year will bring you all abundant blessings!

P.S. Back to Guatemala in less than a week!

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Homily: Mary, Mother of God – Cycle C

Well, here we are!  It’s a new year and once again everything seems possible.  Now I suppose that perhaps more than a few of us have spent the last few weeks lamenting all that wasn’t accomplished in the past year: those resolutions we so fervently resolved which, for a multitude of legitimate reasons, perhaps never quite materialized as we had imagined they would.  Nevertheless, today everything is new and full of possibilities.  And it’s likely that many of us have made new resolutions, which, I suppose, means that we are confident that this year we will actually keep them.
You know, I like that about us.  I like the fact that even when we don’t always accomplish what we’ve set out to do, that we don’t let that keep us from starting again.  In other words, we don’t despair that there is something more to accomplish, in spite of the fact that we’ve fallen short.  I think this is a very Catholic attitude, by the way.  As Catholics, we routinely acknowledge when we’ve failed to live up to our expectations—in other words, when we’ve “missed the mark”—and, once we do, we decide to start anew, with a clean slate, and strive once again to achieve those good goals we set for ourselves.  Sounds a little bit like the Sacrament of Reconciliation, doesn’t it?  Putting all of that aside, however, and turning back to our resolutions for this new year, I’d like to consider for a moment what it is that Mary has to teach us about making resolutions.
Throughout these last eight days, the Gospel readings have often reminded us of how, in various situations, Mary encountered things that were distressing, confusing, and astounding; and that, after each of them, how she “held those things in her heart, reflecting on them.”  First was the message from the shepherds of what they had seen and heard from the angels.  Then was the words of Simeon in the Temple, in which he prophesied that a “sword would pierce her heart.”  Finally, there was the losing and finding of the child Jesus in the Temple, in which Jesus’ words confounded her.  After each of these situations, we are told that Mary “held these things in her heart and reflected on them.”  In other words, that she practiced silence.
I would venture to guess that most all of our resolutions involve something active, that is, something we’d like to accomplish: I’m going to exercise more, take that trip I’ve always wanted to take, learn how to golf, or play an instrument, or how to cook.  And these are all good things, of course.  However, they are all things bound to create “mental noise”: a nagging voice in the back of our minds constantly reminding us that we have yet to accomplish the goal that we set out for ourselves.  But what if one of our resolutions this year was to reflect on more things in our hearts?  In other words, what if we resolved to “practice silence” this year?
In his final homily of 2012, Pope Benedict XVI offered advice for how we can overcome the inevitable disappointments—both with ourselves and with the world—that we encounter in our daily lives.  He says “we must be able to remain in silence, in meditation, in calm and prolonged reflection; we must know how to stop and think.  In this way, our mind can find healing from the inevitable wounds of daily life, can go deeper into the events that occur in our lives and in the world, and come to the knowledge that allows us to evaluate things with new eyes.”  In other words, the Holy Father is encouraging us to ponder more deeply the events of our lives and thus to come to see more clearly how our faith shapes our response to them and our own ability to grow within them.
Thus, it seems that our Blessed Mother does have something to teach us about making resolutions.  In all of these events of her life, she did not turn to media outlets to hear what everybody else was saying about what had happened in order to try and make sense of it for herself.  Rather, she turned to silence.  In other words, Mary learned to pray with these events so as to see more clearly how her faith would shape her response to them and her ability to grow within them.
Just this past Sunday, we heard in the Gospel that after the incident in the Temple, “[Jesus] went down with [Mary and Joseph] and came to Nazareth and was obedient to them” and that he “advanced in wisdom and age and favor before God and man.”  I suspect that one of the things that he learned from his Mother—whom we venerate today precisely because she is his mother—was how to reflect on things in his heart: a skill that I suspect he perfected in the remaining “hidden years” in Nazareth before he began his public ministry.
My brothers and sisters, Mary is our mother, too.  Perhaps this year she could teach us how to ponder deeply in our hearts: that is, how to practice silence.  In doing so, perhaps we’ll find that, in doing less, we’ve actually accomplished a whole lot more.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – January 1, 2013

Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God

A Mensch, a Virgin, and a God...

Happy Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! ...and as we continue to celebrate the Octave of Christmas I shall say it again, MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!  My homily for the Feast is below.  I hope it moves you to think of the Holy Family in a new and deeper way.

I also hope that your time has been holy and joy-filled (and if you've been in Central or Southern Indiana, that you've had lots of hot coffee or hot chocolate to warm you up after your hours of shoveling snow over the past 5 days!).  I had a lovely visit with my folks in Illinois and returned to a pretty low-key Sunday at the parish.  No religious ed, no RCIA, no extra sacraments... I almost didn't know what to do with myself!

In a little over a week I leave for Guatemala (Jan. 9th), so preparations are well underway for that trip.

Blessings to you all!

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Homily: Feast of the Holy Family – Cycle C

            One of my weaknesses as a person is that I tend to be pretty nostalgic.  Perhaps some of you are thinking, “I didn’t know that could be a weakness, I thought nostalgia was a good thing…” and, true enough, it can be.  But what I often find that happens when I get nostalgic is that I tend to use it as a bit of escapism from dealing with whatever uncomfortable situation I may be facing.  And if you’ve ever heard yourself saying the words: “Ugh, why does everything have to be so complicated now?  It was so much simpler back then!” then perhaps you’ve unknowingly had an experience of the negative side of nostalgia.

            This is because nostalgia, in its best form, is a sort of ‘wistful’ longing for the past: for a time when things appeared to be more simple, a time perhaps best captured in Norman Rockwell paintings and reruns of Leave it to Beaver and My Three Sons (…and yes, I have seen these shows… even if only in reruns).  At worst, nostalgia creates an inability to live in the present as one clings to some ideal arrangement of life that happened in the past, which, by the way, is almost always seen through rose-colored glasses so as to gloss-over the fact that those events of the past had just as much drama and complication as the present we are trying to avoid.  I would guess that most of us, however, myself included, probably tend to teeter back and forth on that edge in-between the two and know how to pull ourselves back when we’ve gone a little too far over to the negative side.

            One of the things that we all tend to be a little too nostalgic about, I think, is the Holy Family.  And why not?  To us, they seem to be the ideal trio: you’ve got Jesus, the perfect Son of God who has taken on human nature, Mary, the Immaculate Virgin conceived without original sin, and Joseph, the one Scriptures hail as righteous (which, by the way, they don’t do for just anybody).  “With such holy people making up this clan,” perhaps we think, “what could possibly go wrong?”

            Well, I think that this is an example of where our nostalgia could get us into trouble.  I think that if we let ourselves get stuck on the image of the Holy Family given to us in the hymn Silent Night, then we miss the fact that the life of the Holy Family—that is, everything that happened after they left the cave in Bethlehem—was actually rather complicated.  Let’s just take a look for a second at what we know happened to the Holy Family since Christmas day up to and including the events we read about today:

            First, of course, is that distressing birth in a cave.  Yes, we should think everything holy and pious about the birth in the cave, but we should also be appalled by the fact that any human family should ever have to be reduced, because of poverty, to giving birth in a cave on a cold winter night.

            Next, there was that flight into Egypt.  It didn’t take long for Herod to figure out that had been duped by the Magi and so, in a jealous rage, he ordered all children under two years old in Bethlehem to be killed and if it wasn’t for the intervention of the angel, Jesus would have been caught up in it.  Instead, the Holy Family had to suffer greatly as they hastily went off into Egypt, where they stayed for seven years, living as poor immigrants in a foreign land.  If you don’t think that was distressing, then just talk to one of our Hispanic families and ask them what it was like for them, or their parents, when they first moved to Logansport.

            Finally, there is today’s incident.  We call it “the finding of the child Jesus in the Temple,” but really it is “the losing and finding of the child Jesus,” emphasis on the “losing.”  While in the other two situations, the distress happened to the Holy Family, in this incident, the distress was caused by the Holy Family.

            Just like on every other trip to Jerusalem, Jesus was expected to stick close to the family and relatives as they moved to and from.  Now that he was 12 years-old, however, perhaps Mary and Joseph had decided to allow Jesus a little leeway to exercise some responsibility.  He didn’t have to stay right next to mom and dad, in other words, as long as he stuck close to his cousins.  You could imagine the intense fear and anxiety when, after traveling a whole day’s distance, Mary and Joseph realized that Jesus had not done as they had expected and that he was not in the caravan.  Just as quickly (quicker, in fact) as Mary made haste to visit her cousin Elizabeth and Joseph moved to take his family into Egypt, Mary and Joseph now sprinted back to Jerusalem to find him.  For three days, the Scripture says… for three days they looked for him, with anxiety inducing tears and teetering on the threshold of despair, until they found him.  We can all imagine the relief—and, perhaps, the anger—when they found him not having been kidnapped or lost, but rather having willfully stayed behind to debate with the teachers of the Law.  Without doubt, Mary was justified in making her gruff rebuke of the child Jesus: “Why did you do this to us!?!?”  And, like any good 12 year-old is perfectly capable of, Jesus’ response is enigmatic: “What’s your problem, mom?  You totally should have known that I would be here.”  My brothers and sisters, if you have any nostalgia remaining about the Holy Family, that is, that they lived this pious life together without any conflicts or struggles, let these stories be the ones that bring you back to reality.

            Yet, we honor this family today as the “ideal” family.  And why?  Because they always lived in perfect harmony with one another?  No!  Rather, we honor them because they show us the ideal way to live in a world that never quite lives up to ideals.  They show us that mistakes happen to everyone, even the righteous and the sinless, but that the way to respond is always with patience, love, and prayer.  Mary and Joseph didn’t understand Jesus’ response, but instead of responding in anger at him, they returned home to ponder what all this could mean for them as a family; and Jesus, for his part, never challenged them in that way again: the Scriptures telling us that he returned to Nazareth with them and was “obedient to them.”

            My brothers and sisters, as the Holy Family has shown us, life as a family is bound to be messy (which, I’m sure is news to no one here).  What they also show us is that the ideal that we strive for as families is not that we never have conflicts, problems, or mistakes, but rather that we always strive to resolve them with patience, love, and prayer.

            Songwriter Rufus Wainwright does a good job dispelling our nostalgia about the Holy Family in his song “Spotlight on Christmas,” which always gets onto my “repeat” list during the Christmas season.  In it he sings:

          People love and people hate.

          People go and people wait.

          But don't forget Jesus, Mary and Joseph

          Once were a family poor but rich in hope, yeah.

          Don't forget Jesus, Mary and Joseph

          Running from the law, King Herod had imposeth.

          And they were each one quite odd:

          A mensch, a virgin and a God.

          But don't forget that what kept them afloat-

          Floating through the desert doesn't take a boat, no-

          Don't forget that what kept them above

          Is unconditional love.

            My brothers and sisters, may the unconditional love that we receive here from this altar lead us to live our lives as the Holy Family did: in patient endurance of the conflicts and struggles that we encounter and in unconditional love for those closest to us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – December 30, 2012

Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph