The weeds among the wheat

Homily: 16^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          Friends, we have been considering over these past weeks certain parables given by Jesus which he used to give his disciples a vision of what the kingdom of heaven would be like.  These he gives so that all of us—even the most simple among us—might have an idea of how this mysterious kingdom that Jesus often proclaimed would look.  Even the fact that Jesus uses the word “kingdom” to describe it is a metaphor in itself, which separates it from other forms of political organization and government.  In other words, it would be much different if Jesus said “the republic of heaven is like…” or “the empire of heaven is like…”  In describing heaven as a kingdom, he sets it apart and defines its basic structure.

          Perhaps, then, people were confused when Jesus proclaimed to them “the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”  At first, they might have thought, “Great!  We’ve been waiting for Yahweh to send us the Messiah, the great King, who would establish God’s lasting kingdom and subdue all of our enemies.”  Looking around, however, they quickly found that none of those things were happening and so, perhaps, began to become perplexed.  Thus, Jesus began to teach them in parables what the kingdom—which, he proposed, was at hand—looks like.  One of these—the parable of the wheat and the weeds—was meant to dispel any confusion about why all of God’s enemies—that is, those who do evil in the world—had not yet been subdued.

          In the parable, Yahweh is shown as the wise farm owner who, not knowing that his enemy had sown weeds among his wheat, allows the weeds to grow alongside the wheat until the time of the harvest, so as not to uproot any of the wheat along with it.  He knows that his wheat—that is, the children of his kingdom—are strong and can withstand the presence of weeds among them and still produce fruit.  Thus, he leaves the weeds among the wheat knowing that, ultimately, the plans of the enemy will be squashed as the wheat is gathered into his barn (that is, into heaven) and the weeds will be thrown into the fire to be burnt (that is, in to the depths of hell).  For the children of Israel who were looking for a kingdom of heaven in which all of their enemies would be subdued and purged from their midst, this parable provided an explanation that demonstrated the wisdom of leaving evil doers and sinners among them.

Still, there’s a problem with the parable, right?  In last week’s parable, Jesus taught that the wheat sowed among weeds was choked and so produced no fruit.  This week, however, he shows the wheat growing up with the weeds, but, instead of being choked, they produce fruit anyway.  So, how do we reconcile what seems to be a contradiction?  Well, by remembering that these are metaphors and that metaphors are always limited: they are meant to highlight certain aspects of things.  In doing so, however, they often give an incomplete picture.

In the parable of the sower who sows indiscriminately, Jesus was teaching his disciples not to allow themselves to get intertwined with those who do evil, for the evil doers will choke out the divine life within them so that they produce no fruit.  In the parable of the weeds sowed among the wheat, however, he was teaching his disciples that it is possible to coexist with those who do evil and still produce fruit.  In the first, Jesus is warning his disciples not to give themselves over to the ways of those who do evil, because even their good intentions to be righteous will fail because of the constant influence of evil around them.  In the second, Jesus is saying that the mere presence of those who do evil is not enough to keep the righteous ones from producing fruit, because they have not given themselves over to evil ways.  Both are true, in spite of what seems to be a contradiction, and so contribute to create the rich image of the kingdom of heaven which Jesus is trying to construct.

Still, there is one other troubling thing in this parable.  In it, Jesus indicates that there are “children of the kingdom” and “children of the evil one”.  In doing so, he seems to say that there are some who are destined for heaven and some who are destined for hell.  We believe, however, that God creates all men good and destines them for heaven; and so why does Jesus say that there are “children of the evil one”?

Contrary to what was commonly believed at the time, Jesus was teaching that the kingdom of heaven would be open to all, not restricted to one ethnic race, predestined by election beforehand by God.  This is why he proposed the parable of the mustard seed.  In it he showed that the small seed of the kingdom would blossom into a large bush in which all the birds of the air (an image for the many nations and ethnicities of the world) would come and make their nest.  Being a member of either kingdom, therefore, is a matter of choice, not predestination.  Thus, the “children of the kingdom” are those who have turned to the way of righteousness—in other words, those who have chosen to become children of the kingdom—and the “children of the evil one” are those who have refused the way of righteousness, thus choosing to become children of the evil one.

Now, because each of these has chosen their way (instead of having been predestined to a certain way), each of these can still choose the opposite way: the children of the kingdom to become children of the evil one and the children of the evil one to become children of the kingdom.  Thus, Jesus proposes the parable of the yeast, saying that the kingdom is like a little yeast that is mixed in with dough.  Having been mixed in, it causes the whole batch of dough to rise.  With this parable, Jesus is indicating that the children of the kingdom, mixed in with the children of the evil one, can lead them to convert and choose the way of righteousness and so cause the greater growth and expansion of the kingdom throughout the world.

My brothers and sisters, these parables are reasons for us to have great hope while living this world.  It is obvious that God, through his divine grace dispensed to us in the Church, has raised up children of the kingdom throughout the world.  It is also obvious that the evil one, who is the devil, has stolen from the children God has raised up men and women who have given themselves over to evil, thus becoming children of the evil one.  All of us, I suspect, would be glad to see this evil banished from our midst.  As we can see, however, it is not God’s plan to act in an outwardly powerful way to accomplish this.  Rather, he leaves the children of the evil one among us; and this for two reasons: 1) because uprooting those who do evil could cause some of the weaker ones among the righteous to be uprooted, too; and 2) because he longs to see the children of the evil one converted to become children of the kingdom.

Therefore, we, who consider ourselves to be children of the kingdom, have some work to do.  We are called to be yeast in the midst of the world: glorifying God in our prayer and in our work so that those who have given themselves over to be children of the evil one would be converted and the kingdom of heaven would grow and expand throughout the world.  This is the task given to us as disciples and there is no more worthy work than this in the world.  In this Eucharist, therefore, let us give thanks for the grace to be children of the kingdom of heaven; and, strengthened by it, let us take courage and embrace this work so that our king, Jesus Christ, may truly reign among us.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – July 22^nd & 23^rd, 2017

El yugo que te libera

Mi primer post en pocas semanas... Tengo que admitir que estaba un poco oxidado!

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Homilía: 14º Domingo en el Tiempo Ordinario – Ciclo A

          Mis hermanos y hermanas, sabemos que, para un cristiano, la fuerza se encuentra en la debilidad. Esto se debe a que nuestro maestro es Jesucristo y, como acabamos de escuchar en el Evangelio de hoy, quiere que aprendamos de Él a ser mansos y humildes de corazón. Mientras el mundo puede cepillar los simples a un lado y llamarlos ignorantes, la oración de Jesús a su Padre nos enseña a valorar la grandeza de los sencillos entre nosotros porque Dios mismo los escogió para ser predicadores de la Sabiduría Divina. Reflexionemos un poco más sobre este importante principio de nuestra fe cristiana.

          A riesgo de exagerar lo obvio, me recuerda que fue la humillación de Cristo la que produjo la salvación del hombre. El pueblo de Israel tenía diferentes expectativas para el Mesías. Muchos de ellos pensaron que sería un gran rey mundano que haría que la nación de Israel se destacara sobre todas las demás naciones del mundo. Muchos otros pensaron que sería un poderoso guerrero que derrocaría los reinos del mundo y así uniría a todos los pueblos bajo un solo rey, el Mesías. Pero Jesús confundió estas nociones con su manera de hacer las cosas. Cuando llegó, se presentó como un rey humilde, un rey manso. De hecho, cuando hace su entrada triunfal en Jerusalén el Domingo de Ramos, lo hace con mansedumbre, montado en un burro; y al hacerlo, cumple la profecía dada cientos de años antes por el profeta Zacarías.

          Como si ser divino y asumir una naturaleza humana no fuera suficiente, Jesús se despojó de cualquier aura de grandeza cuando vino a nosotros. En otras palabras, se hizo sencillo y vivió entre los olvidados, entre los que están ocultos a los ojos del mundo, y los escogió para ser guardianes del mensaje de salvación. Esto se demuestra más perfectamente por el hecho de que la más noble de todas las enseñanzas jamás conocidas—las cosas que los sabios y los entendidos buscaban constantemente—se extendió por todo el mundo por un puñado de pescadores simples. Estos discípulos, que de otro modo hubieran sido olvidados por estar entre los ocultos en el mundo, comenzaron la transformación social más trascendente en toda la historia humana; y esto porque Cristo se había humillado tan completamente.

          Anteriormente en el Evangelio de Mateo, al comienzo del Sermón de la Montaña, Jesús enseña las Bienaventuranzas, sus enseñanzas sobre el significado y el camino hacia la verdadera felicidad. En ellos, Jesús declara: bienaventurados los pobres, los humildes, los encarcelados, los enfermos, los que sufren y los que lloran... en otras palabras, los sencillos, es decir, todos los que están fatigados y agobiados por la carga. A lo largo de los siglos las verdades de estas enseñanzas han sido demostradas en las vidas de un número de santos, muchos de los cuales han cambiado la historia con sus proyectos simples.  Por ejemplo, para nombrar algunos: Francisco de Asís, que se llamó el "poverello"—o el pobrecito—que devolvió a la conciencia de la Iglesia el valor de la pobreza y el celo evangélico; Teresa de Lisieux, la "Pequeña Flor", que propuso "el pequeño camino" de santidad que ha sido adoptado tan ampliamente que ha sido declarada Doctora de la Iglesia; La Madre Teresa de Calcuta, conocida como "el ángel de los leprosos" por su cuidado de los marginados y olvidados, despertó una vez más el espíritu de caridad en la Iglesia.

          Por supuesto, sería negligente si no mencionara el alma más puramente simple que jamás haya existido: la Santísima Virgen María. Dios eligió a esta mujer tan sencilla—la más humilde y la más pura—para llevar a cabo su misión más sublime: llevar a su Hijo único al mundo. María, por su parte, adoptó estas virtudes de humildad y sencillez y las convirtió en la medida absoluta de todas sus acciones. Así, cuando el ángel Gabriel se le apareció para revelar el plan de Dios de que ella se convirtiera en la madre de su Hijo, fue en la simplicidad que ella pudo decirle "sí". Una vez hecho esto, ella se convirtió en la llave de la historia de la salvación. Mis amigos, la verdadera libertad, la verdadera alegría y la verdadera belleza se encuentran en el misterio de las almas sencillas. Sólo por tratar de imitarlos y al hacernos sencillos podemos llamarnos discípulos de Cristo, que era "manso y humilde de corazón".

          Mis hermanos y hermanas, los ejemplos de estos santos nos demuestran la verdad de que el hombre se transforma cuando se acerca a Cristo con un espíritu humillado. Esto es lo que nos está llamando a aprender de él, llevándonos su yugo. Con demasiada frecuencia, sin embargo, nos contentamos con llevar nuestros propios yugos, por nosotros mismos. En otras palabras, pensamos que, si vamos a ser santos, tenemos que hacerlo por nosotros mismos. Cristo sabe que es una carga pesada para nosotros y que es una que no podemos soportar para siempre. Así nos llama "Vengan a mí, todos los que están fatigados y agobiados por la carga, y yo les daré alivio". Es una promesa muy hermosa: una, estoy segura, que todos y cada uno de nosotros anhela conocer. Pero son las condiciones para realizar la promesa que impide que la mayoría de la gente la alcance: Vengan a mí...

          Mis amigos, si realmente vamos a darnos cuenta del alivio perfecto que Cristo nos promete, entonces debemos estar dispuestos a venir a él y abandonarnos a él tomando su yugo sobre nuestros hombros para que nos enseñe el camino de la sencillez: cómo ser manso y humilde de corazón. Una manera práctica de hacerlo es leyendo los Evangelios y esforzándonos por imitar la sencillez de nuestro Señor en nuestra vida cotidiana. Otra forma sería venir a la Adoración los martes por la noche y los primeros viernes. Al pasar tiempo con nuestro Señor en el Santísimo Sacramento, le permitimos transformar nuestros corazones en el suyo. Sobre todo, por supuesto, es su participación regular en la Misa en la que le llegamos más íntimamente cuando lo recibimos en la Sagrada Comunión.

          Por lo tanto, retomemos esta buena obra hoy para que crezcamos en sencillez y humildad según el modelo de nuestro Salvador; y que también nosotros podamos ser contados entre los sencillos que Dios envía para traer la Buena Nueva de la vida y la salvación a todos los que nos rodean.

Dado en la parroquia Todos los Santos: Logansport, IN

9 de julio, 2017

The yoke that frees you.

My first post in a few weeks... I have to admit, I was a little rusty!

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Homily: 14^th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

          My brothers and sisters, we know that, for a Christian, strength is found in weakness.  This is because our teacher is Jesus Christ, and, as we just heard in today’s Gospel, he wants us to learn from Him to be meek and humble of heart.  While the world may brush the simple aside and call them ignorant, Jesus’ prayer to his Father teaches us to value the greatness of the little ones among us because God himself chose them to be preachers of Divine Wisdom.  Let us, then, reflect a little more deeply on this important principle of our Christian faith.

          At the risk of overstating the obvious, I am reminded that it was the humiliation of Christ that brought about the salvation of man.  The people of Israel had different expectations for the Messiah.  Many of them thought that he would be a great worldly king that would make the nation of Israel stand out and above all other nations of the world.  Many others thought that he would be a mighty warrior who would overthrow the kingdoms of the world and thus unite all peoples under one king, the Messiah.  But Jesus confounded these notions by his way of doing things.  When he came, he presented himself as a humble king, a meek king. In fact, when he makes his triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, he does so meekly, riding a donkey; and in doing so, fulfills the prophecy given hundreds of years before by the prophet Zechariah.

          As if being divine and taking on a human nature wasn’t enough, Jesus stripped himself of any aura of greatness when he came to us.  In other words, he made himself small and lived among the forgotten, among those who are hidden from the eyes of the world, and he chose them to be guardians of the message of salvation.  This is most poignantly demonstrated by the fact that the most noble of all teachings ever known—things that the wise and the learned were constantly seeking—were spread throughout the world by a handful of simple fishermen. These disciples, who otherwise would have been forgotten because they were among the hidden ones in the world, began the most transcendent social transformation in all of human history; and this because Christ had humbled himself so completely.

          Earlier in the Gospel of Matthew, at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus teaches the Beatitudes—his teachings on the meaning and the way to true happiness.  In these, Jesus declares: blessed are the poor, the humble, the imprisoned, the sick, the suffering, and the weeping… in other words, the little ones, that is, all those who labor and are heavy burdened.  Throughout the centuries the truths of these teachings have played out in the lives of a number of Saints, many of whom have changed history with their simple projects.  For example, just to name a few: Francis of Assisi, who was called the “poverello”—or little poor one—who restored to the Church’s consciousness the value of poverty and evangelical zeal; Therese of Lisieux, the “Little Flower”, who proposed “the little way” of holiness that has been so widely adopted that she has been declared a Doctor of the Church; Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who was known as “the angel of the lepers” because of her care for the outcast and forgotten, awoke once again the spirit of charity in the Church.

          Of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the most purely simple soul that ever existed: the Blessed Virgin Mary.  God chose this most simple of women—the most humble and the most pure—to carry out his most sublime mission: to bear his only Son into the world.  Mary, for her part, adopted these virtues of humility and simplicity and made them the absolute measure of all her actions.  Thus, when the angel Gabriel appeared to her to reveal God’s plan that she become the mother of his Son, it was in simplicity that she could say “yes” to him.  Having done so, she then became the key to the story of salvation.  Friends, true freedom, true joy, and true beauty are found in the mystery of simple souls.  Only by striving to imitate them and by becoming simple ourselves can we call ourselves disciples of Christ, who was “meek and humble of heart.”

          My brothers and sisters, the examples of these saints demonstrates for us the truth that man is transformed when he draws near to Christ with a humbled spirit.  This is what he is calling us to learn from him by taking his yoke upon us.  Too often, however, we are content with bearing our own yokes, ourselves.  In other words, we think that, if we are going to become holy, we have to do it ourselves.  Christ knows what a heavy burden this is for us and that it is one that we cannot possibly bear forever.  Thus he calls out to us “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.”  It is a very beautiful promise: one, I’m sure, that each and every one of us longs to realize.  But it’s the conditions for realizing the promise that keep most people from realizing it: Come to me…

          Friends, if we are truly going to realize the perfect rest that Christ promises to us, then we must be willing to come to him and to abandon ourselves to him by taking his yoke upon our shoulders so that he might teach us the way of simplicity: how to be meek and humble of heart.  One practical way that we do this is by reading the Gospels and by striving to imitate our Lord’s simplicity in our daily lives.  Another way would be to come to Adoration on Tuesday nights and on First Fridays.  By spending time with our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament, we allow him to transform our hearts into his.  Above all, of course, is your regular participation in the Mass in which we come to him most intimately when we receive him in Holy Communion.

          Let us, therefore, take up this good work once again today so that we might grow in simplicity and humility after the model of our Savior; and that we, too, might be counted among the little ones whom God sends to bring the Good News of life and salvation to all those around us.

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

La Paternidad y la Eucharistia

Homilía: Solemnidad del Cuerpo y Sangre de Cristo – Ciclo A

          El Día del Padre, como el Día de la Madre, es un día fantástico porque es un día de recordar: de recordar para honrar. Si nos paremos por un momento y pensamos en ello, veremos que esto realmente es una cosa maravillosamente humana: que nos paramos a reconocer que hay algo honorable en ser un padre. Que la celebración de los padres de este año coincida con nuestra celebración del Santísimo Cuerpo y Sangre de Cristo nos brinda una oportunidad excelente para reflexionar sobre la paternidad y la Eucaristía.

          Cuando nos fijamos en las Sagradas Escrituras y la vida de Jesús detectamos muchos aspectos de lo que significa ser un padre. Un padre tiene un verdadero amor por sus hijos, no importa cómo pueden responder a él. El deseo más profundo de un padre es que sus hijos conozcan y experimenten su amor. Desea el bienestar de sus hijos y les enseña a amar a otros con su ejemplo. Un padre debe a veces corregir, amonestar y advertir a sus hijos por protección. Un padre siempre habla la verdad con amor, incluso cuando es difícil. Los padres cristianos, en particular, deben saber enseñar a sus hijos a recibir el amor de Dios en la oración y a gustar y ver a Dios en el trabajo en la vida cotidiana. En última instancia, reconocemos que la plenitud del amor paternal es la entrega total que un hombre hace de sí mismo por sus hijos.

          Reconocemos estas cualidades en la vida de Jesús en su predicación, en su enseñanza, en su ministerio de sanación y liberación, y especialmente en su amorosa relación con sus discípulos más cercanos, los apóstoles. Habla de su amor por sus apóstoles cuando dice: "Como el Padre me ha amado, así también yo les he amado, permanecen en mi amor". Los llama amigos. Los corrige cuando los escucha discutiendo sobre quién es el más grande. Con el fin de permanecer fieles a los caminos del Padre, Jesús refuta fuertemente a Pedro con las palabras: "Vuelve detrás de mí Satanás". Él ora por Pedro personalmente, así como por el bienestar de todos los apóstoles y los que creerán en él en el futuro. Jesús enseña a sus discípulos a orar, llamando a Dios "Padre", y les enseña, con su ejemplo, a orar en silencio. Jesús promete al Espíritu que instruirá a los apóstoles en todos los asuntos y los mantendrá en la verdad.

          Puesto que Cristo es la "imagen del Dios invisible", podemos ver en él y por su ejemplo, la plenitud del amor del Padre por nosotros. Verdaderamente, la entrega de su Hijo es la entrega más completa de sí mismo que Dios Padre podría hacer por nosotros. El hecho de que esta rendición siga ocurriendo cada día, cada hora, en innumerables altares en todo el mundo, es una prueba del amor incomprensible del Padre por nosotros. Así, al celebrar la presencia real y duradera de Jesús en el Santísimo Sacramento, lo que estamos celebrando es el amor verdadero y duradero del Padre derramado por nosotros.

          La paternidad, por lo tanto, se realiza plenamente cuando un padre se rinde completamente y continuamente por sus hijos. En otras palabras, así como el derramamiento del amor de Dios Padre por nosotros es real y duradero, de modo que el derramamiento del amor de un padre por sus hijos debe ser real y duradero. Mientras que podría nombrar para ustedes un número de santos que demostraron con heroísmo esta virtud paternal, quisiera presentarle a un gran ejemplo que todavía no ha sido nominado para ser santo. Es Karol Josef Wojtila, mayor: padre de San Juan Pablo II.

          Karol mayor era un soldado retirado del ejército polaco y un sastre. Estaba viudo cuando el joven Karol, su hijo, tenía nueve años de edad. Ya había perdido a una hija en la infancia y más tarde sufriría la pérdida de su hijo mayor, Edmund. Era un hombre recto y un hombre de profunda piedad. Como ejemplo, San Juan Pablo II recordaría que después de la muerte de su madre, su padre lo llevó a su iglesia parroquial y lo llevó a la imagen de María, Nuestra Señora del Perpetuo Socoro, y le dijo: “Ahora, Ella es tu Madre.”.

          Mientras que otros hombres pudieron haber perdido en su dolor y distanciarse de su familia, Karol mayor permaneció en las vidas de sus hijos. Hizo la ropa de sus hijos, hizo la cocina y la limpieza, y alentó a sus hijos en sus amistades, sus estudios y sus deportes. Sobre todo, y especialmente para Karol menor, Karol mayor formó la fe primara de su hijo. El Papa describe esto mejor. Él escribió: "Mi padre era un hombre profundamente religioso. Día tras día pude observar el modo austero en que vivía. Por profesión fue soldado y, después de la muerte de mi madre, su vida se convirtió en una oración constante. A veces me despertaba durante la noche y encontraba a mi padre de rodillas, como siempre lo vería arrodillado en la iglesia parroquial”. Esta efusión real y duradera de amor por sus hijos tuvo un impacto profundo y duradero en un hombre cuya efusión real y duradera del amor tendría un impacto profundo y duradero en el mundo.

          Mis hermanos y hermanas, el ejemplo de Karol Wojtyla mayor nos muestra que ser padre es generar la vida. Esta generación de vida no termina, sin embargo, después de la concepción de un niño. Más bien, debe continuar durante toda la vida del niño. En otras palabras, cada padre debe hacer una efusión real y duradera de su vida para que sus hijos puedan crecer en vida. La lógica nos dice, por supuesto, que uno no puede dar algo que uno no tiene y así surge la pregunta: "¿Cómo puede un padre estar continuamente lleno de vida para que pueda derramar continuamente su vida por sus hijos?" La respuesta está en nuestra lectura del Evangelio hoy. Aquí Jesús dice: "Como el Padre, que me ha enviado, posee la vida y yo vivo por él, así también el que me come vivirá por mí.” La respuesta, en otras palabras, es la Eucaristía. Por lo tanto, padres, conviene que se acerquen a este altar con frecuencia, incluso diariamente, si es posible, porque al recibir el Santísimo Cuerpo y la Sangre de Jesús en la Eucaristía reciben la Vida, y así están llenos de vida para que puedan derramar usted mismo para sus hijos.

          Y así, amigos míos, al celebrar este maravilloso don que nos ha sido dado, la presencia real y duradera de Jesús: Cuerpo, Sangre, Alma y Divinidad en la Eucaristía, y al reconocer y honrar a los padres entre nosotros, demos gracias a Dios Padre en el cielo por este asombroso don de su amor y rezamos por los padres entre nosotros que, fortalecidos por este Santo Sacramento, puedan generar continuamente la vida de sus hijos, como hizo Karol Wojtyla, y así producen una abundante cosecha de vida para el mundo. ¡San José, patrón de los padres, ruega por nosotros!

Dado en la parroquia Todos los Santos: Logansport, IN

18 de junio, 2017

Fatherhood and the Eucharist

Homily: the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ – Cycle A

          Father’s Day, like Mother’s Day, is a great day because it is a day of remembering: remembering so as to honor.  If we stop for just a moment and think about it, we’ll see that this truly is a beautifully human thing: that we pause to recognize that there is something honorable in parenting (and, specifically, this weekend, in fatherhood).  That this year’s celebration of fathers coincides with our celebration of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ provides us with an excellent opportunity to reflect on fatherhood and the Eucharist.

          When we look at the Sacred Scriptures and the life of Jesus we detect many aspects of what it means to be a father.  A father has a real love for his children no matter how they may respond to him.  A father’s deepest desire is for his children to know and experience his love.  He desires the well-being of his children and teaches them how to love others by his example.  A father must at times correct, admonish and warn his children for protection’s sake.  A father always speaks the truth with love, even when it is difficult.  Christian fathers, in particular, must know how to teach their children to receive God’s love in prayer and to taste and see God at work in everyday life. Ultimately, when examined closely, we acknowledge that the fullness of fatherly love is the complete surrender that a man makes of himself for his children.

          We recognize these qualities in the life of Jesus in his preaching, in his teaching, in his healing and deliverance ministry, and especially in his loving relationship with his closest disciples, the apostles.  He speaks of his love for his apostles when he says "As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you, abide in my love."  He calls them friends.  He corrects them when he overhears them arguing over who is the greatest.  In order to remain faithful to the Father’s ways, Jesus strongly rebukes Peter with the words, "Get behind me Satan."  He prays for Peter personally as well as for the well-being of all the apostles and those who will believe in him in the future.  Jesus teaches his disciples to pray, calling God “Father”, and teaches them by his example to go off in quiet prayer.  Jesus promises the Advocate who will instruct the apostles in all matters and keep them in the truth.

          Since Christ is the “image of the invisible God”, we can see in him and by his example, the fullness of the Father’s love for us.  Truly, the giving of his Son is the fullest surrender of himself that God the Father could make for us.  The fact that this surrender continues to happen each and every day—each and every hour—on countless altars throughout the world, is evidence of the Father's unfathomable love for us.  Thus, in celebrating the real and enduring presence of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, what we are celebrating is the real and enduring Love of the Father poured out for us.

          Fatherhood, therefore, is fully realized when a father surrenders himself fully and continually for his children.  In other words, just as the outpouring of God the Father’s love for us is real and enduring, so the outpouring of a father’s love for his children must be both real and enduring.  While I could name for you a number of saints who demonstrated this fatherly virtue heroically, I’d like to introduce you to a great example who has not yet been nominated for sainthood, instead.  He is Karol Josef Wojtila, senior: Saint John Paul II’s father.

          The elder Karol was a retired soldier from the Polish army and a tailor.  He was widowed when young Karol, his son, was the age of nine.  He had already lost one daughter in infancy and later would suffer the loss of his eldest son, Edmund.  He was an upright man and a man of deep piety.  As an example, Saint John Paul II would recall that, after the death of his mother, his father took him into his parish church and led him to the image of Mary, Our Lady of Perpetual Help, and said to him: “She is your mother now.”

          While other men may have gotten lost in their grief and become distant from their family, Karol senior remained engaged in the lives of his sons.  He made his young son’s clothes himself, he did the cooking and cleaning, and he encouraged his sons in their friendships, their studies and their sports.  Above all, and especially for Karol junior, Karol senior formed his son’s early faith.  The Pope, himself, describes this best.  He wrote: “My father [was] a deeply religious man.  Day after day I was able to observe the austere way in which he lived.  By profession he was a soldier and, after my mother's death, his life became one of constant prayer.  Sometimes I would wake up during the night and find my father on his knees, just as I would always see him kneeling in the parish church.”  This real and enduring outpouring of love for his children had a deep and enduring impact on a man whose real and enduring outpouring of love would have a deep and enduring impact on the world.

          My brothers and sisters, the example of Karol Wojtyla senior shows us that being a father is about generating life.  This generation of life doesn’t end, however, after the conception of a child.  Rather, it must continue throughout the child’s life.  In other words, every father must make a real and enduring outpouring of his life so that his children may grow into life.  Logic tells us, of course, that one cannot give something that one does not have and so the question arises: “How can a father be continually filled with life so that he can continually pour out his life for his children?”  The answer is in our Gospel reading today.  There Jesus says: “Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me.”  The answer, in other words, is the Eucharist.  Therefore, fathers, it behooves you to approach this altar frequently—even daily, if possible—because by receiving the Most Holy Body and Blood of Jesus in the Eucharist you receive Life, himself, and thus are filled with life so that you can pour yourself out for your children.

          And so, my friends, as we celebrate this wonderful gift that has been given to us—the real and enduring presence of Jesus: Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity in the Eucharist—and as we recognize and honor the fathers among us, let us give thanks to God the Father in heaven for this amazing gift of his love and let us pray for the fathers among us that, strengthened by this Holy Sacrament, they might continually generate life in their children, like Karol Wojtyla senior did, and thus produce an abundant harvest of life for the world.  Saint Joseph, patron of fathers, pray for us!

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – June 18^th, 2017

The reality of God is bigger than our perceptions

Homily: Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity – Cycle A

          I love science!  As a former engineer, my brain is wired for science.  What I mean by that is that it is wired in such a way that, when I see something that I don’t understand, I automatically begin to wonder about it and try to figure it out.  Quite frankly, most of us are wired for science in some way: usually in a very practical way.

          Here’s what I mean.  Say that you enter a room with which you are unfamiliar.  It’s a little bit warm in the room and you observe that there is a ceiling fan.  You know a thing or two about ceiling fans, but you’ve never turned on this particular fan, so you set yourself to figuring out how to turn it on.  You think, “Maybe the wall switch will turn it on”, and so you flip the wall switches.  If that doesn’t work you think, “Maybe I need to pull the chain on the fan to turn it on”, and so you reach up and pull the chain.  If that doesn’t work you think, “Maybe there’s a combination of the wall switches and the chain that need to be aligned to turn it on”, and so you begin to turn switches on and off, pulling the chain at each setting.  If that still doesn’t work, we think… what?  That it’s broken… of course!  We’ve observed, hypothesized, tested each hypothesis and observed some more, and when we’ve run out of hypotheses we draw a conclusion.  That, my friends, is science; and we do it almost every day.

          As much as I love science, because I love figuring out how to make things work, I have one big problem with it.  You see, the problem with science is that it equates perception with reality.  In other words, science makes conclusions about reality based solely on what it can perceive.  In my example above, we concluded that the fan was broken because no switches or combination of switches would start it spinning.  We made a conclusion about reality based solely on what we observed.  The reality, however, could be that the fan functions perfectly well, but that the switch may be broken or maybe electricity wasn’t flowing at all to the system.  In other words, there could be factors beyond our perception that could contribute to the reality.  Science does not admit these factors and so sometimes draws incorrect conclusions about reality.

          For people of faith there is no other proof of the limitations of science than when we think about God.  Imagine for a moment that you didn’t know much about God (and let’s assume that you at least give credence to the fact that there is a God: that is, an all-powerful, all-knowing creator of the universe).  What would you do to figure out more about him?  Well, you’d observe, I suppose: you’d listen to what people said or wrote about him.  Then you might hypothesize about what he’d be like, followed by observing to see if you’re hypothesis was correct.

          Doing that you’d find out that people say that God is loving, kind, and merciful; that he has the power to control everything that happens in the universe; that nothing happens without his knowing about it and either making it happen or, at least, permitting it to happen.  Then you’d say, “Well, if that’s the case, then things should be pretty good around me.  People ought to be living in harmony with one another and there should be peace, because a God of love and kindness, who can control what happens in the world, would surely desire there to be love and kindness throughout the world.”  Having formed your hypothesis, you then observe the world and what would you see?  Love and kindness in many places, for sure; but also hatred, violence, and discord in as many, if not more places.  Having observed this, your conclusion might be: “God is not who people say he is, because what I perceive does not conform to that proposed reality.”  This is the error that many people in our society make today: they perceive a world broken by sin and they conclude that if God was who people say that he is, he wouldn’t allow the world to be like this.  Since the world is this way, God must not be who people say that he is; rather, he might be nothing more than a mythical creature meant to make people feel better about living in this broken world.

          The problem with this, of course, is that there are factors outside of one’s perception that contribute to the reality.  In other words, reality is greater than our perception.  Thinking theoretically, we can somewhat easily come to the conclusion that there must be a God: an all-powerful being—the uncreated creator—who created all things.  In order to know that God is benevolent, however, we would have to do a lot more work.  To see that all creation works towards the propagation of life, instead of against it, and that this propagation is a good thing, could lead us to conclude that God is good and has the good of creation in mind.  But to know God as we know him, as loving, kind, and merciful—or, as we celebrate him today, as a communion of persons—is something that we can know only if he, himself, has revealed it to us.

          Thankfully, this is something that he has revealed to us; and it is not something that he has revealed by some sort of divine declaration (even though he has done that).  Rather, he has revealed this to us by his actions.  In the book of Exodus, we read that God declared himself before Moses to be “a merciful and gracious God, slow to anger and rich in kindness and fidelity” and he proved this as time and again he spared the Israelite people from destruction, even though they had repeatedly offended him.  So gracious and merciful is he—and so deeply in love of his creation—that, as we read in the Gospel, he “gave his only Son so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.”  In doing so, he not only proved, once again, that what he said about himself is true, but he also revealed that he is a communion of persons within himself.  And how do we know that Jesus truly is the Son of God and, thus, God himself?  Because of the works that he did: most prominently his resurrection from the dead.

          Thus, the celebration that we come to today: the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity.  Today we celebrate who God is in himself: not because we somehow perceive this with our senses, but rather because of the gift of Faith that has been placed in our hearts and because of the works that he has worked in the past (and continues to work today) that go beyond our ability to test scientifically.  In celebrating God as Trinity, we not only celebrate who he is, but also what that means for us.  We know that God is Love and so is a community of persons.  Because of this we know that, when God creates, he creates in love.  We know that, having created human beings to be persons, like himself, he created us solely so that we might share in his divine life, which is love.  Finally, we know that, when we turned away from him in sin, he did not shun us, but rather came close to us, becoming one of us in his Son who would make atonement for our sins and, thus, make it possible for us to share in the divine life once again.

          And so, my brothers and sisters, as we celebrate today who God is in himself, let us rejoice also in who we are in him: beloved sons and daughters destined to spend eternity with him; and let us commit ourselves, therefore, to follow the admonition of Saint Paul to the Corinthians and “mend our ways, encourage one another, agree with one another, and live in peace” so that “the God of love and peace will be with us” and all those scientific skeptics might begin to see the truth that we proclaim: that the reality of God is much bigger than their perceptions, but that he nonetheless cares about each and every one; and that he desires that each and every one dwell with him in eternal light, happiness, and peace: the very same light, happiness, and peace that we experience, under sacramental signs, here at this altar.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – June 10^th & 11^th, 2017

El Espíritu nos guía a través de los cambios de la vida

Homilía: La Solemnidad del Pentecostés – Ciclo A

          Ayer tuve la alegría de concelebrar la misa de ordenación para cuatro hombres de nuestra Diócesis que ahora son sacerdotes: uno de los cuales es el Diacono Miguel, el seminarista (bueno, ex seminarista) que estuvo con nosotros el verano pasado aquí en Logansport. Como sacerdote (y como imagino que sería para cualquiera de ustedes), es un gran estímulo a mi ver buenos hombres siendo ordenados al sacerdocio. Frecuentemente me da una pausa para pensar y orar, sin embargo, cuando recuerdo mi propia ordenación y como era pasar de seminarista a sacerdote y rezo por los recién ordenados que están pasando por esa misma transición.

          De vuelta al seminario, uno de los sacerdotes del personal del seminario llamado Padre Ron nos habló frecuentemente de cómo sería pasar del seminario al sacerdocio y la vida en la parroquia. Él citó repetidamente un obispo en particular que describió la transición de esta manera: dijo: "Salir del seminario y entrar en el sacerdocio y en la vida parroquial es algo así como salir del hospital y tener todo tus IV’s sacado a la vez." Lo que este obispo estaba insinuando era que hay muchos sistemas de apoyo que existe en la vida del seminario (por ejemplo: el horario estructurado de la oración, la comida ya cocinada, y un montón de mentores y guías) que simplemente no son parte integrante de la vida de un párroco. Y así salir del seminario es literalmente como desenchufar muchos estos sistemas de apoyo. Y si un nuevo sacerdote no está preparado para eso, puede dañarle en una manera muy seria.

          En mi propia transición del seminario a la vida parroquial, puedo atestiguar el hecho de que hay mucha verdad en la admonición de este obispo. Mi primera (y única) asignación como sacerdote hasta ahora ha estado aquí en Todos los Santos en Logansport, que era una ciudad que, en ese momento, quizás había atravesado una vez, pero en la que no conocía a nadie y que era al menos una hora por carro de cualquiera de mi familia o amigos cercanos. Ah, ¡y no olvidemos mencionar que tuve que empezar a hablar español casi desde el momento en que llegué! A pesar de que todo el mundo aquí fue (y sigue siendo) muy de bienvenido y asegurando, no podía cambiar el hecho de que me sentía como si estuviera muy solo como he hecho esta transición.

          Casi cinco años después de la ordenación, sin embargo, siento que puedo decir que he sobrevivido bastante bien (hasta ahora, por lo menos). Ha habido un montón de desafíos y experiencias nuevas y emocionantes, y muchos momentos cuando estaba a punto de entrar en una nueva situación con la sensación de que podría hacer un lío completo de todo, pero resultó ser muy hermoso. Al reflexionar sobre todas estas situaciones, me doy cuenta de que hay un aspecto muy real de lo que describimos como la "gracia de la ordenación" que me ha ayudado a través de todo esto: y esa es la promesa del Espíritu Santo.

          En nuestra lectura del Evangelio para hoy, el Jesús resucitado respira sobre sus discípulos y dice "Reciban el Espíritu Santo". Este es Jesús potenciando a sus discípulos, quienes serán sus primeros sacerdotes, con el don del Espíritu Santo. Él les había prometido este regalo antes de su resurrección cuando les dijo que "el Abogado, el Espíritu Santo que el Padre enviará en mi nombre, les enseñará todo y les recordará todo lo que les he dicho". Es la misma promesa que el seminario hace a cada hombre cuando los envía para ser ordenados, y es la promesa que cada obispo hace a ellos como él los ordena. Es como si estuvieran diciendo: "Hemos hecho todo lo posible para enseñarle todo, pero inevitablemente habrá cosas para las que no podríamos haberle preparado completamente. Pero no se preocupe porque el Abogado, el Espíritu Santo, le enseñará todo y le recordará todo lo que le hemos dicho. Después de casi cinco años de sacerdocio, puedo decir que esta promesa es verdadera.

          Esta promesa, sin embargo, no se limita a la transición a la vida parroquial del recién ordenado. Recuerde que el Evangelio nos dice que Jesús dijo estas cosas "a sus discípulos..." Por lo tanto, esta promesa es para todos nosotros; algo que es especialmente cierto cuando estamos experimentando una transición en nuestras propias vidas. Esto podría ser individual, ya que la transición de la vida soltera a ser casado y luego de la vida de casada a tener hijos. También podría ser cuando nos estamos moviendo de la high school en la universidad o para trabajar, o si estamos cambiando puestos de trabajo o incluso carreras. Así también, una vez cuando todos los niños salen de la casa y volvemos a la "vida matrimonial solitaria" o cuando pasamos de trabajar a la jubilación. Pero también podría ser una experiencia comunitaria, como la que estamos a punto de abrazar aquí en la transición de la salida del Padre David y la venida del Padre Stan. En todos estos casos, la promesa de Jesús permanece con nosotros: que el Espíritu Santo esté con nosotros para enseñarnos y recordarnos lo que nos dijo.

          El peligro en cada una de nuestras vocaciones, sin embargo, es sentirse demasiado cómodo en cómo lo estamos viviendo, porque cuando nos sentimos cómodos, empezamos a enfocarnos a nosotros mismos. Pensamos: "Todo está bien conmigo y por eso puedo cruzar desde aquí". Lo que esto hace, sin embargo, es dejarnos sordo a la voz del Espíritu y empezamos a quedarnos secos. Al cabo de un tiempo, esta sequedad puede conducir a la desilusión ya la apatía. ¿Cuántas personas sabemos que han dicho "Bueno, no hay mucho que puedo hacer al respecto ahora, así que supongo que estoy atascado aquí"? Pero es precisamente en estos momentos que el Espíritu Santo está más disponible para nosotros y cuando es más probable que él esté esperando para mostrarnos una nueva vía—o un nuevo aspecto de nuestras vocaciones—que nos está llamando a abrazar: algo, tal vez, que nos llevará fuera de nuestras zonas de confort y nos mueven hacia un lugar que nunca imaginamos ir.

          Mis hermanos y hermanas, los tiempos de transición pueden ser tiempos emocionantes; pero también puede ser tiempos de miedo. Más que nada, sin embargo, son oportunidades de librarse de las telarañas de nuestras vidas rutinarias y despertar para escuchar la voz del Espíritu Santo moviéndonos de nuevo: el Espíritu que Jesús prometió a sus discípulos hace casi 2000 años y que ha permanecido con la Iglesia desde entonces; guiándola a ella ya cada uno de sus miembros individuales hasta el día de hoy.

          Y así hoy damos gracias por el gran don de la presencia permanente del Espíritu Santo; y renovemos nuestra confianza en su presencia y guía en la vida de la Iglesia. Sin embargo, también renovemos nuestra confianza en su presencia y guía en cada una de nuestras vidas para abrazar con gozo todo lo que el Señor desea darnos. Mis hermanos y hermanas, el Espíritu Santo está vivito y coleando en la Iglesia y en esta parroquia. Tal vez es la hora de dejarlo suelto de nuevo.

Dado en la parroquia Todos los Santos: Logansport, IN

4 de junio, 2017