God is always on our side

Homily: 4^th Sunday in Lent – Cycle B

          We are now a little more than halfway through Lent and we come to this Sunday, named Laetare, which calls us to “rejoice”.  Perhaps you are having your best Lent ever so far and so this invitation to “rejoice” is quite a welcome one.  If so, good for you!  Keep up that awesome work!  If you are anything like me, however, your Lent has been a mixed-bag so far: either some steps forward mixed with some steps back or even a struggle to get it off the ground all together.  If so, then it might be a little annoying that the Church tells us to “rejoice” at this point.

          No, if you’re anything like me, you’ve experienced a situation like I have sometime during your Lent.  My story goes something like this: I commit to giving up that favorite sin of mine (you know, the sin that I am not happy about committing, but for which make excuses whenever I do it… that’s right, the one that I am annoyed that I have to confess almost every time I go to confession), but then Satan throws me an unexpected curveball and, before I know it, I’m right back into that sin.  Frustrated, I wonder if I will ever overcome it.

          Recently, this story played out again.  When it did, I was really upset with myself.  I had trouble sleeping the whole night because I felt so bothered by my failure to respond to grace and my prideful inclinations that made me think that I could “play” with Satan’s temptations and get away without falling into sin (don’t play with Satan’s temptations, people!).  The next day I woke up earlier than normal, still bothered by my failure.  Then this phrase from Saint Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians came to my mind: “What I do is discipline my body.”  It was a cold winter morning with a biting wind and I knew it.  But I was convinced that I needed to discipline my body so I decided to get up and go for a run outside.  I’ve done this before, but that day it was particularly miserable.  About halfway through the run, however, as I was thinking about how miserable it was, another insight came into my mind: God put that thought there this morning because he wants me to discipline my body, not to punish me, but so that I can win the battle today.  He’s not happy with my failure yesterday, but he’s still on my side and he wants me to win today.  Now, while that didn’t change how physically miserable the run was, I did begin to feel a sense of hope that pulled me out from the wallowing in my guilt that I had been doing.

          Friends, I think that this is the story of the Scriptures this weekend: that God allows us to suffer for our sins, but always with his eye towards the restoration that he wants to make in our lives.  Just look at the reading from the book of Chronicles.  It describes the great infidelities that the Israelite people had committed against God; and how time and again God had sent his prophets to call them to repentance and warn them of the suffering that would come to them if they continued in their ways.  It describes how the Israelites ignored the prophets, even mocking and mistreating them, until there was nothing further God could do; and so he took back his hand of protection from them and allowed their enemies from the north, the Babylonian empire, to come and destroy Jerusalem, along with the Temple within it, who then took the Israelites into exile.  He did this to “discipline their bodies”, so to speak, so that, when the fullness of their discipline had been fulfilled, he could raise up Cyrus, king of Persia, over the Babylonian empire, who would show benevolence to the Israelites and allow them to return to Judah and rebuild the Temple so that they could worship God once again.  God allowed the Israelites to suffer for their sins, but remained “on their side”: knowing that, through their suffering, they were being made stronger so as to win the next battle with the forces of the evil one.

          The ultimate rendition of this story comes in the Gospel reading, of course.  While Chronicles documents how God worked for this particular people, whom he had chosen to be his light to the nations, the Gospel reading reveals the fullness of that plan.  In one of the most famous passages in the Gospels, we read that “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.”  As beautiful and powerful as that verse is, the one that follows it adds emphasis that applies to our reflection here today: “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.”  In other words, although God may have allowed us to suffer on account of our sins, he remained on our side, waiting until our “bodies” had been “disciplined” fully so that he could send his Son: not to “finish us off”, so to speak, but rather to save us and restore us to his friendship.

          Friends, when we look at our failures this way—and when we look at the suffering that has come along with them in this way (even if that suffering has only been a bit of mental anguish over failing to live up to our values)—then we truly do have reason to “rejoice”: because God, who never fails to acknowledge our sins (and the punishments due to us because of them) is, nonetheless, “rich in mercy” and desires not to condemn us, but rather that we would be restored so as to win the next battle against Satan and his wiles.

          And so, if you are feeling a bit down about your failure to live up to your ideals this Lent (regardless of how specific or vague they might have been), do not despair!  God has not given up on you!  Rather, he wants you to repent, to confess your sins and to receive his forgiveness in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, and to allow your body to be disciplined by him so as to make you stronger against the attacks of the evil one so that you can win the next battle.  Christ has already won the war.  In him, with bodies made pure through discipline, we can win each battle.  This Eucharist that we celebrate is both our reminder of God’s care and our strength for the fight; and so let us rejoice in it.  May our rejoicing carry us through the remaining discipline of Lent; so that, with minds and hearts made pure, we may truly celebrate the victory of Christ’s Resurrection.

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

Volcar las mesas de lo familiar

Homilía: 3º Domingo en la Cuaresma – Ciclo B

          La familiaridad engendra desprecio... al menos eso es lo que dice el proverbio moderno. Lo que este dicho es diciendo es que, a medida que conocemos a alguien más profundamente, nos damos cuenta de lo mucho que realmente no nos gusta esa persona; es decir, que con familiaridad viene el conocimiento no solo de los rasgos atractivos de la persona, sino también de los más feos (y todos nosotros los tenemos algunos, ¿no?). Creo que, en cierto sentido, todos podemos ver algo de la verdad en este dicho. Pero hay otro aspecto de este dicho que también lleva algo de verdad: es decir, que familiaridad también engendra complacencia.

          Podemos ver esto en nuestras rutinas diarias. La mayoría de ustedes ha vivido en Logansport o sus alrededores por mucho tiempo; y los puntos de referencia que solía observar a medida que realizaba sus tareas cotidianas—como llevar a los niños a la escuela o salir a la tienda para comprar, o incluso salir para el trabajo—después de un tiempo, estos puntos de referencia simplemente se desvanecían en el paisaje ¿no? Después de años de vivir en este lugar, a menudo descubre que las características de su vecindario ya no se registren en su conciencia.

          Esto también puede suceder con las personas. Nuestros compañeros de trabajo, compañeros en la escuela, amigos cercanos, hermanos y hermanas, e incluso nuestros cónyuges llegan a ser tan familiar para nosotros y parte de nuestra rutina diaria, que la apreciación de lo especiales que son para nuestra vida no es algo que entra en nuestra conciencia diaria. Y así, aunque esta familiaridad no engendra desprecio necesariamente, a menudo engendra complacencia.

          En la primera lectura de hoy, escuchamos el recuento de los Diez Mandamientos. Para muchos de nosotros, sospecho que escuchar estos que se leen es como hacer nuestro viaje diario al trabajo o a la escuela: estábamos conscientes de que comenzamos el viaje, pero cuando llegamos a nuestro destino no estábamos muy seguros de cómo llegamos allí. En otras palabras, los Diez Mandamientos quizás son tan familiares para nosotros que se han convertido en "parte del paisaje" y ya no afectan nuestra conciencia diaria.

          Y esto no es nada nuevo. Los antiguos judíos también cayeron en esta trampa. Tenían la Ley por muchos años y la mayoría de la gente estaba muy familiarizada con ella y sus demandas. Por lo tanto, seguir los preceptos de la Ley se había convertido para ellos como nuestra rutina diaria: nada más que parte del paisaje diario a través del cual tenían que navegar. Y esto en la medida en que convirtieron lo que se llama el "Culto del Templo"—es decir, los sacrificios ofrecidos en el Templo tanto en homenaje a Dios como en expiación por los pecados—en un negocio con fines de lucro.

          Ahí es cuando Jesús irrumpe en la escena e interrumpe lo familiar. Vio la forma en que Satanás había distorsionado la verdad que representaba la Ley—es decir, que era una forma de que el pueblo elegido de Dios permaneciera en "relación correcta" con Él—y la convirtió en una Ley de demandas frías y transacciones comerciales. Jesús vio que esto se había vuelto tan familiar para las personas que simplemente lo aceptaron como las condiciones para vivir como Pueblo de Dios. Al volcar las mesas de lo familiar, Jesús esperaba despertar en ellos una conciencia de la verdadera relación a la que Dios los había llamado.

          El celo con que Jesús deseaba que el Templo—la casa de su Padre—estuviera libre de impureza es el mismo celo que tiene por nuestros corazones. Quiere volcar las mesas de lo familiar en nuestros corazones y expulsar cualquier imagen distorsionada de uno mismo, de los demás, de Dios y de lo que Dios nos pide para que podamos ver una vez más la belleza de la relación a la que él se nos ha llamado: tanto colectivamente como el Pueblo de Dios e individualmente como hijos e hijas adoptados. ///

          Sin embargo, a diferencia del Templo, Cristo no puede irrumpir en nuestros corazones y comenzar a volcar las mesas. Dios nos creó para la libertad y, para él, hacerlo violaría esa dignidad. Y así esta Cuaresma—como lo hace a lo largo del año, pero particularmente en este tiempo sagrado—Jesús nos llama una vez más para abrir nuestros corazones a él y para darle permiso de arrojar luz sobre cualquier cosa que no sea santa, lo que es falso, y así expulsarlos, para purificar sus "templos del Espíritu Santo".

          Mis hermanos y hermanas, si todo lo que hemos hecho esta Cuaresma es retomar nuestras viejas prácticas familiares de oración, ayuno y limosna, entonces tenemos poco más que esperar cuando lleguemos al Domingo de Pascua que una sensación de alivio por no tener que mantener estas disciplinas por más tiempo. El desafío que tenemos ante nosotros hoy es hacer que esta Cuaresma sea diferente al "abrir de par en par las puertas a Cristo", que fue el toque de clarín del Santo Papa Juan Pablo II. Hacemos esto al desviar nuestra mirada de nosotros mismos y hacia los demás.

          En la oración, le pedimos a Dios que nos muestre formas en que podemos vencer nuestros hábitos pecaminosos volteándonos hacia nuestro prójimo y ofreciendo una palabra de aliento, una corrección suave cuando lo necesiten, una ayuda en sus dificultades y un humilde reconocimiento de cómo les hemos herido en el pasado que está acompañado por un sincero deseo de perdón. Luego volvemos a Dios, ofreciéndole nuestros éxitos y nuestros fracasos y pidiendo nuevamente la gracia para reconocer nuestras debilidades y confiar en su ayuda para superarlas.

          Este trabajo, por supuesto, es incómodo. Es incómodo porque tenemos que ceder nuestro control a Cristo y hacernos vulnerables a él y a los demás. Pero está bien, porque, como dice nuestro Santo Padre jubilado, el Papa emérito Benedicto XVI, "el mundo te ofrece comodidad, pero no fuiste hecho para la comodidad; sino que fuiste hecho para la grandeza ".

          Mis hermanos y hermanas, esta Cuaresma no puede ser solo "sobresalir" hasta el final, sino que debe tratarse de lograr la grandeza para la que fuimos hechos. Y entonces, que Cristo—el Cristo que encontramos aquí en el sacrificio que ofrecemos y en la comida que compartimos—vuelque lo familiar en sus corazones. Si lo haces, entonces estará realmente preparado para encontrar de nuevo la alegría de la Pascua.

Dado en la parroquia Todos los Santos: Logansport, IN

4 de marzo, 2018

Turning over the tables of the familiar

Homily: 3^rd Sunday of Lent – Cycle B

          Familiarity breeds contempt… at least that’s what the modern proverb says.  What this saying is, well, saying is that, as we come to know someone more deeply, we realize just how much we actually don’t like that person; that is, that with familiarity comes knowledge not just of the person’s attractive traits, but also of their uglier ones (and we all have them, don’t we?).  I think, in a certain sense, we can all see some truth in this saying.  But there’s another aspect of this saying that also carries some truth: that is, that familiarity also breeds complacency.

          We can see this in our daily routines.  Most of you have lived in Logansport or the surrounding area for some time; and the landmarks that you used to notice as you went about your daily tasks—such as taking the kids to school, or making a run to the grocery store, or even just driving to work—after a while just kind of fade into the landscape, don’t they?  After years of living in this one place, you often find that the features of your neighborhood no longer seem to register in your consciousness.

          This can happen with people, too.  Our co-workers, classmates, close friends, brothers and sisters, and even our spouses become so familiar to us and part of our daily routine, that the appreciation of how special they are to our lives is not something that enters our daily consciousness.  And so, while this familiarity doesn’t necessarily breed contempt, it does often breed complacency.

          In the first reading today, we heard the recounting of the Ten Commandments.  For many of us, I suspect that listening to these being read is kind of like making our daily drive to work or school: we were conscious that we began the trip, but when we got to our destination we weren’t quite sure how we got there.  In other words, the Ten Commandments are perhaps so familiar to us that they’ve become “part of the landscape” and no longer impact our daily consciousness.

          And this is nothing new.  The ancient Jews also fell into this trap.  They had the Law for many years and most people were very familiar with it and its demands.  Thus, following the precepts of the Law had become for them like our daily routine: nothing more than part of the daily landscape through which they had to navigate.  And this to the extent that they turned what is called the “Temple Cult”—that is, the sacrifices offered in the Temple both in homage of God and as an atonement for sins—into a business for profit.

          That’s when Jesus breaks into the scene and disrupts the familiar.  He saw the way that Satan had distorted the truth that the Law represented—that is, that it was a way for God’s chosen people to remain in “right relationship” with Him—and turned it into a Law of cold demands and business transactions.  Jesus saw that this had become so familiar to the people that they simply accepted it as the conditions for living as the People of God. By turning over the tables of the familiar, Jesus was hoping to reawaken in them an awareness of the true relationship to which God had called them.

          The zeal with which Jesus desired that the Temple—his Father’s house—be free from defilement is the same zeal that he has for our hearts.  He wants to turn over the tables of the familiar in our hearts and drive out any distorted images of self, of others, of God, and of what God asks of us so that we can once again see the beauty of the relationship to which he has called us: both collectively as the People of God and individually as adopted sons and daughters. ///

          Yet, unlike the Temple, Christ cannot just burst into our hearts and start turning things over.  God created us for freedom and for him to do so would violate that dignity.  And so this Lent—as he does throughout the year, but particularly in this holy season—Jesus calls us once again to open our hearts to him and to give him permission to shed light on anything in them that is unholy, that is untrue, and thus to drive them out, so as to purify his “temples of the Holy Spirit.”

          My brothers and sisters, if all we have done this Lent is take up our old familiar practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, then we have little more to hope for when we arrive at Easter Sunday than a feeling of relief for not having to maintain these disciplines any longer.  The challenge we have before us today is to make this Lent different by “opening wide the doors to Christ,” which was the clarion call of Saint Pope John Paul II.  We do this by turning our gaze away from ourselves and towards others.

          In prayer, we ask God to show us ways that we can overcome our sinful habits by turning towards our neighbor and offering a word of encouragement, a gentle correction when they need it, a helping hand in their difficulties, and a humble acknowledgement of how we’ve hurt them in the past that is accompanied by a sincere desire for forgiveness.  Then we return to God, offering him our successes and our failures and asking again for the grace to recognize our weaknesses and to trust in his help to overcome them.

          This work, of course, is uncomfortable.  It is uncomfortable because we have to give up our control to Christ and make ourselves vulnerable to him and to others.  But that’s ok, because, as our retired Holy Father, Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI says, “the world offers you comfort, but you were not made for comfort; rather you were made for greatness.”

          My brothers and sisters, this Lent cannot be just about “sticking it out” to the end, but rather it must be about achieving the greatness for which we were made.  And so, let Christ—the Christ we encounter here in the sacrifice we offer and in the meal we share—turn over the familiar in your hearts.  If you do so, then you will be truly ready to encounter anew the joy of Easter.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – March 4^th, 2018

Saying "yes" to God's voice

Homily: 2^nd Sunday in Lent – Cycle B

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

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

          Our scriptures today lead us to think about how God’s voice gets into the middle of people’s lives.  In our first reading, Abraham hears God’s voice, who commands him to do something horrific: to take his son Isaac (that is, the son that God had promised to him as the first of the innumerable descendants that Abraham would have) and how Abraham followed what God had asked him to do.  This, of course, was not the first time that Abraham had said “yes” to God.  In fact, it was many years before, when Abraham was still “Abram”, that God first called Abraham and directed him to leave the land of his fathers to travel to a land which he would show him.  That was when Abraham first said his “yes” to God.  In the many years that followed, Abraham maintained that “yes” to God; and so, when God asked Abraham to give his son Isaac back to him, Abraham could say “yes” once again. /// Because he was clear about to what he had said “yes”, Abraham could say “no” to everything else.

          In the Gospel, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John on a hike up to a high place.  Knowing that Jesus often did this to have a quiet place where he could teach or pray, I’m guessing that the three were anticipating a quiet afternoon.  But then, the Transfiguration…  Moses and Elijah…  And, to top it all off, the voice of God booms out from the thick cloud that had descended upon them.  They had already said “yes” to Jesus when they responded to his call to leave their nets and follow him.  Now their “yes” had to go deeper (like Abraham’s had to go deeper).  In commanding these three to “listen to him”, the Father was, in essence, saying, “Obey him completely”.  And how soon would this be tested?  As soon as they started down from the high place: The Gospel says that “…[Jesus] charged them not to relate what they had seen to anyone, except when the Son of Man had risen from the dead.” /// Because they had seen the full glory of that to which they had said “yes”, Peter, James, and John could then say “no” to everything else.

          And so, the question comes to us: “To whom (or to what) have I said ‘yes’?”  To answer this question, we need to take a look at to whose voice we listen and to whose we don’t.  This is an examination of conscience.  Is it God’s voice to which you listen?  Or is it to one (or more) of the many other voices that fill your day?  The ones, perhaps, who are closest to you and whose opinions and good graces you value highly?  If the voice to which you listen—that is, the voice to which you have said “yes”—isn’t God’s, then Lent is the time to “re-orient your hearing”, so to speak.

          In our second reading, Saint Paul reminds us powerfully that we should be listening—that is, giving our “yes”—to God.  In it, Paul is asking: "Who has done more for us besides God?"  God, who has given up his only son for us (and, in this context, we can add even when he didn't make Abraham do so).  If he has given us that much, Paul continues, how will he not give us everything else we need in this world, which is clearly much less valuable?  Then he asks, "If God has done this for us, then who should we fear in this world?"  For no one has more power than God and He has proven that he is "for" us (that is, “on our side”).  Thus, who (or what) have we to fear?  If it is God who ultimately decides our fate, then we must fear (that is, listen to) him alone.

          Okay, so how do I hear God’s voice and, thus, demonstrate my "yes" to God?  Well, first and foremost, follow his commandments.  Maybe you’re not hearing the voice of God speaking into your ear like Abraham did, but Abraham didn’t have the commandments: we do.  The commandments (and the moral teachings of Holy Mother Church which stem from them) are the voice of God for each of us.  If we are not following those, then we are certainly not giving our full “yes” to God.  Examine your conscience, then, and see if you are following his commandments.  If not, repent.  Seek forgiveness through the sacrament of Reconciliation and resolve to follow them from this point forward.

          Second, fulfill your vocation.  Whatever calling God has given to you (marriage, parenthood, the single life…), learn what it looks like to live this virtuously and then live it.  The Church Fathers tell us that every creature gives great glory to God by simply being fully what it is that God made it to be.  The same goes for us.  If you are a husband or wife, be the best husband or wife you can be.  If you are a parent, be the best parent you can be.  If you are single, be the best servant of others that you can be.  (Each of which are measured by the Christian law of charity, of course.)  If we’re falling short, then, again, we need to repent and resolve to become the best, according to our abilities.  And why these?  Because then you'll be on the same wavelength as God and you will be able to hear other, specific ways in which he wants you to act.

          My friends, Lent is about restoring our "yes" to God and to his voice.  Our Lenten practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving ought to have as their goal helping us to restore it.  And this, so that, through obedience, we would receive the blessings promised to Abraham, because of his obedience.  And, still further, so that God's kingdom—which is nothing short than seeing the Glorious Face of Jesus—would be made known among us.  May our Blessed Mother Mary, whose “yes” brought Christ our Savior to us, be for us a model; and may her prayers lead us to this glory that each of our hearts seeks.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February 24^th & 25^th, 2018

Un invierno espiritual

Homilía: 1º Domingo de la Cuaresma – Ciclo B

          Aquí en Indiana, somos testigos de la renovación anual de invierno de las plantas. Los árboles, en particular, demuestran esta renovación más dramáticamente. A medida que se acerca el invierno, celebran una especie de "carnaval", ya que sus hojas cambian en colores llamativos inmediatamente antes de ponerse marrones y caerse. Luego, los árboles permanecen inactivos hasta que llega la primavera, cuando florecen en flores de colores brillantes antes de brotar nuevas hojas para absorber los rayos nutritivos del sol. Sin embargo, esto no es meramente una "recuperación de lo viejo". Más bien, la floración de primavera de los árboles es verdaderamente una renovación. Bueno, no he hecho ninguna investigación para saber si esto es cierto, pero creo que esta renovación anual en realidad los hace a los arboles más fuertes y capaces de dar más fruto.

          Como criaturas corporales que viven en el tiempo, también necesitamos un tiempo de renovación anual. A medida que el tiempo avanza día tras día y mes tras mes, nuestros cuerpos y espíritus se sienten abrumados por la vida cotidiana de nuestras vidas. Tal vez hay hábitos pecaminosos que hemos desarrollado durante el año pasado o tal vez nuestras vidas de oración se han estancado e infructuoso. Y entonces la Iglesia nos da este tiempo de Cuaresma como un "invierno espiritual" para ayudarnos a desprendernos de las cosas que nos agobian—como los árboles se desprenden de sus hojas secas—y renovarnos en nuestras promesas bautismales de vivir la vida cristiana.

          En este primer domingo de Cuaresma, las lecturas nos ayudan a entender cómo podemos abordar este momento de renovación. Hoy nos dieron una idea de dónde nos llevará este viaje de la Cuaresma y también de cómo llegaremos allí. En la primera lectura, Noé salió después de cuarenta días en el arca. Él representó a la humanidad purificada del pecado y vemos que Dios hizo una alianza con esta humanidad renovada para nunca más destruirla. En esto vemos el objetivo de nuestra renovación Cuaresmal. Nuestra meta es emerger de este ayuno de cuarenta días limpiado del pecado para recibir nuevamente la promesa de Dios que recibimos en nuestro bautismo.

          Luego, en la lectura del Evangelio, escuchamos cómo Jesús pasó cuarenta días en el desierto, tentado por Satanás, antes de comenzar su ministerio para llamar a las personas al arrepentimiento. En esto vemos el camino que debemos seguir para alcanzar nuestra meta. Como Jesús pasó cuarenta días en el desierto, en el que se apartó de las comodidades de su vida diaria para estar preparado para comenzar a cumplir la misión por la cual vino, así también nosotros estamos llamados a pasar cuarenta días en los cuales nos alejamos de algunas de las comodidades de nuestra vida cotidiana (por ejemplo, nuestra comida o bebida favorita o refrescos en general, o TV o Facebook o YouTube o Netflix o la red en general) para que también podamos alejarnos de aquellos cosas que nos separan de Dios y de los demás (por ejemplo, de los celos, la ira, el resentimiento, los chismes, etc.).

          Bueno, cuando nos alejamos de algo, necesariamente nos volvemos hacia otra cosa y, por lo tanto, es importante que, mientras nos alejamos de algunas de las comodidades de nuestra vida cotidiana, prestemos cuidadosa atención a aquello a lo que nos hemos dirigido. La renovación de la alianza de Dios con la humanidad que sucedió después de que Noé salió del arca nos invita a mirar hacia el final de estos cuarenta días y preguntarnos: "¿Quién quiero ser al final de este tiempo?" En otras palabras, "¿Cómo deseo ser renovado esta Cuaresma?" O, mejor aún, "¿Cómo quiere Dios renovarme esta Cuaresma?" Esta es una pregunta muy importante. Porque podemos tomar todo tipo de prácticas penitenciales durante esta Cuaresma (¡algunas de ellas heroicas, incluso!)—y, si las hacemos bien con un espíritu de humildad, de alguna manera, seremos renovadas—pero si no tenemos un objetivo en mente (un objetivo hacia el cual la renovación apunta a lograr), entonces las posibilidades de que nuestra renovación dé fruto para Dios y su reino son escasas.

          Por lo tanto, San Pedro nos recuerda en nuestra segunda lectura que nuestro bautismo no fue solo un lavado que quita la inmundicia de nuestros cuerpos, sino que fue un "compromiso de vivir con una buena conciencia ante Dios..." Con estas palabras podemos entonces expandir nuestro "pregunta importante" cuando comenzamos la Cuaresma y vemos que no solo tenemos que preguntarnos "¿Cómo quiere Dios renovarme esta Cuaresma?", sino también "¿y para qué me renuevan?" Si puede encontrar una respuesta a estas preguntas, y póngase en camino para realizarlas, entonces estará en camino de tener una Cuaresma mejor que nunca.

          En este punto, es importante recordar que, siempre cuando intentemos hacer algo bueno, inevitablemente encontraremos dificultades. Así como Jesús fue tentado en el desierto, también nosotros podemos esperar encontrar tentaciones que nos tentarán a darnos por vencidos antes de alcanzar nuestra meta. Aquí es donde entran en juego las herramientas de la oración, el ayuno y la limosna. Estas herramientas nos ayudan a vencer estas tentaciones y a estar abiertos a la gracia de Dios, para que podamos lograr nuestra meta. Y entonces vemos que la oración, el ayuno y la limosna no son fines en sí mismos—es decir, algo que hacemos simplemente porque es la Cuaresma (en otras palabras, para usar el ejemplo de San Pedro, el bautismo, solo para quitar la inmundicia de nuestros cuerpos)—sino más bien, que son útiles para lograr nuestro objetivo Cuaresmal, la renovación de nuestros espíritus. Por lo tanto, debemos elegir bien cómo vamos a orar, ayunar y dar limosnas: siempre con la mirada puesta en la renovación que Dios quiere para nosotros.

          Sin embargo, aunque hay muchas formas en que podemos acercarnos a nuestro tiempo en la Cuaresma, una cosa que no es una opción es no pasar por ello. Las lecturas de hoy nos muestran tanto. Noé tuvo que pasar los cuarenta días en el arca para recibir la promesa de Dios. Jesús tuvo que pasar cuarenta días en el desierto antes de poder comenzar su ministerio de anunciar la venida del Reino de Dios. Y entonces nosotros también debemos pasar estos cuarenta días de Cuaresma si realmente deseamos la renovación en las promesas de Dios que él mismo desea darnos.

          Mis hermanos y hermanas, Dios realmente desea que seamos renovados esta Cuaresma. Comprometámonos a este objetivo y recemos para que Dios nos muestre cómo lograrlo. Vamos a escucharlo en oración, a disciplinar a nuestros cuerpos y a nuestros espíritus por ayunar, y responder más rápidamente a nuestros vecinos necesitados por dar limosnas, para hacer realidad la renovación interior del espíritu que todos necesitamos. Cuando lo hagamos, verdaderamente estaremos listos para "florecer como los árboles" esta primavera y para celebrar con gran alegría la resurrección de nuestro Señor.

Dado en la parroquia Todos los Santos: Logansport, IN

18 de febrero, 2018

A Spiritual Winter

Homily: 1^st Sunday of Lent – Cycle B

          Here in Indiana, we witness the yearly winter renewal of plants.  Trees, in particular, demonstrate this renewal most dramatically.  As winter approaches, they celebrate a “carnival” of sorts as their leaves change into flashy colors just before turning brown and falling off.  Then, the trees seemingly lay dormant until spring arrives when they will bloom in bright colored flowers before sprouting new leaves in order to absorb the nutritious rays of the sun.  This is no mere “putting back on of the old”, however.  Rather the spring blooming of the trees is truly a renewal.  Now, I’ve not done any research to know whether or not this is true, but I believe that this yearly renewal actually makes them stronger and able to bear more fruit.

          As bodily creatures living in time, we too need a yearly time of renewal.  As time progresses day after day and month after month, our bodies and spirits get weighed down by the daily living of our lives.  Perhaps there are sinful habits we’ve developed over the past year or maybe our prayer lives have become stagnant and fruitless.  And so the Church gives us this season of Lent as a “spiritual winter” to help us slough off those things that are weighing us down—like the trees slough off their “seasoned” leaves—and to be renewed in our baptismal promises to live the Christian life.

          In this first Sunday of Lent, the readings help us to understand how we can approach this time of renewal.  Today we were given a glimpse both of where this journey of Lent will take us and also of how we will get there.  In the first reading, Noah emerged after forty days in the ark.  He represented humanity cleansed from sin and we see that God made a covenant with this renewed humanity never to destroy it again.  In this we see the goal of our Lenten renewal.  Our goal is to emerge from this forty day fast cleansed from sin so as to receive again the promise of God that we received in our baptism.  (Notice the “passive” tense of the verb—the cleansing being something to which we submit ourselves.)

          Then, in the Gospel reading, we heard how Jesus spent forty days in the desert, tempted by Satan, before he begins his ministry to call people to repentance.  In this we see the way we are to take to reach our goal.  As Jesus spent forty days in the desert, in which he turned away from the comforts of his daily life so as to be prepared to begin to fulfill the mission for which he came, so we, too, are called to spend forty days in which we turn away from some of the comforts of our daily lives (for example, our favorite food or drink or snacks in general, or TV or Facebook or YouTube or Netflix or the internet in general) in order that we also might turn away from those things that separate us from God and from each other (for example, from jealousy, anger, resentment, gossip, etc.).

          Now, when we turn away from something, we necessarily turn towards something else and so it is important that, as we turn away from some of the comforts of our daily lives, we pay careful attention to that to which we have turned.  The renewal of God’s covenant with humanity that happened after Noah emerged from the ark invites us to look towards the end of this forty days and to ask ourselves, “Who do I want to be at the end of this time?”  In other words, “How do I want to be renewed this Lent?”  Or, better yet, “How does God want to renew me this Lent?”  This is a really important question to answer.  Because we can take up all sorts of penitential practices this Lent (some of them heroic, even!)—and, if we do them well in a spirit of humility, we will, in some way, be renewed—but if we don’t have a goal in mind (an end toward which the renewal is aimed at achieving) then the chances that our renewal will bear fruit for God and his kingdom is slim.

          Thus, Saint Peter reminds us in our second reading that our baptism was not just a washing that removed dirt from our bodies, but rather that it was “an appeal to God for a clear conscience…”  With these words we can then expand our “important question” as we begin Lent and see that we not only have to ask ourselves “How does God want to renew me this Lent?” but also, “and for what am I being renewed?”  If you can come up with an answer to these questions, and set yourself towards realizing them, then you will be well on your way to having your best Lent ever.

          At this point, it’s important to remember that, whenever we attempt to do something good, we will inevitably encounter difficulty.  Just as Jesus was tempted in the desert, so we too can expect to encounter temptations that will tempt us to give up before we reach our goal.  This is where the tools of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving come into play.  These tools help us to overcome these temptations and to be open to God’s grace, so that we can achieve our goal.  And so we see that prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are not just ends in themselves—that is, something that we do just because it’s Lent (in other words, to use Saint Peter’s example, baptism, solely for the sake of washing away dirt)—but rather, that they are helps towards achieving our Lenten goal, the renewal of our spirits.  Thus we must select well how we will pray, fast, and give alms always with an eye towards the renewal that God wants for us.

          Nevertheless, although there are many ways that we can approach our time in Lent, one thing that is not an option is not to go through it.  The readings today show us this much.  Noah had to spend the forty days in the ark in order to receive God’s promise.  Jesus had to spend forty days in the desert before he could begin his ministry of announcing the coming of the Kingdom of God.  And so we too must go through these forty days of Lent if we truly desire the renewal in God’s promises that he himself desires to give us.

          My brothers and sisters, God truly desires that we be renewed this Lent.  Let us then commit ourselves to this goal and let us pray for God to show us how to achieve it.  Let us listen to him in prayer, discipline our bodies and our spirits by fasting, and respond more readily to our neighbors in need by giving alms, so as to make real the interior renewal of spirit that we each need.  When we do so, we will truly be ready to “bloom like the trees” this spring and to celebrate with great joy the resurrection of our Lord.

Given at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – February 18^th, 2018

A complete reversal

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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