Category: Homily

Homily from a Mass or Word Communion Service

The DNA of God among us – a homily for the 20th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

In the Fall of 1980, I had the great opportunity of taking an independent study on scriptural exegesis with Fr. Mike Joncas. Scriptural exegesis is a very involved and exact process of studying scripture to better understand what a scripture passage is saying. When he wasn’t composing hymns like “On Eagles Wings”, Mike is a professor of theology at the University of St. Thomas.

Mike had given me today’s Gospel as an assignment. After doing all the exegetical work on this Gospel, I handed Mike my paper on it. After reading the paper, he asked me two questions. Did Jesus initially refuse to heal the woman’s daughter because in being raised Jewish he had learned from his culture not to associate with people who were not Jewish? Or, did Jesus initially refuse to heal the woman’s daughter to test the woman’s faith? I told Mike, that Jesus was probably testing the woman’s faith.

Mike replied that many scripture scholars believe that because Jesus was raised in the Jewish culture of his time, and as a good practicing Jew, he was following the teachings of his religion to avoid people who were not Jewish. This is evident in the behavior of the apostles advising Jesus not to engage with this pagan woman. And, initially, Jesus ignores the pleas of the woman. The pagan woman’s faith challenged this bias that Jesus had learned from his religion. As he listened to her and discovered her deep faith, he realized that what he was taught by his religion was wrong and he cured the woman’s daughter. Jesus had to unlearn the cultural bias taught to him by his Jewish culture. From that moment onward Jesus began to widen his mission to include both Jewish and non-Jewish people.

In reflecting on what I heard from Mike Joncas that day, I began to examine my own prejudices and biases. I remembered a time when, as a college student riding the Snelling Bus to St. Thomas College, how uncomfortable and uneasy I became when at the intersection of University Ave and Snelling Ave the color of the bus changed from primarily white to primarily black. Where I had I learned this prejudice against people of color?

I was not taught this prejudice from my parents. My parents would not tolerate any religious or racial prejudice at home because they themselves had experienced religious prejudice as Catholics. My father was a mechanical engineer, but many United States businesses would not offer him a job precisely because he was Polish and Catholic. My grandfather told my dad to change his last name to something more Protestant sounding. So, my dad legally changed his last name from the Polish Catholic Wojnar to the more Protestant German sounding Wagner, and, was subsequently hired by Westinghouse Air Brake Company as a mechanical engineer. My mother, a highly degreed home economics teacher lost her job teaching poor children in the inner city Pittsburgh public schools for the reason of being Catholic.

Where I had learned to be racially prejudice? It was from my culture. In high school, it was made very clear that when a person drove in the Selby-Dale area of St. Paul, you rolled up your windows and locked the doors. Why? because that neighborhood was populated only by black people and was considered dangerous. It was a load of hogwash. It was just as dangerous to ride through German neighborhood on Rice Street in St. Paul, where Ruthie lived, as it was to drive through Selby-Dale. It took that uneasiness I experienced riding the Snelling bus for me to become self-aware of my own racism and to begin to “unlearn” the lies I had been taught at school.

Today’s Gospel forces us to examine the racial and religious prejudices we have been taught and have accepted. It forces us to engage, as Jesus did, with those we have been taught to fear and to hate by our culture and perhaps by our family. This Gospel forces us to acknowledge that to God there is no such thing as different races or cultures. God’s mercy and God’s love is extended to all people. Whether we are black, white, Asian, Native American, Latino; whether our names are Ole and Lena, George and Gracie, Emil and Ludmilla, Ezechial and Sophie, Maria y Jose, we are all made in the image and likeness of God. We all have God’s DNA in us. We belong to only one race and that is the human race.

To overcome our prejudices and biases we must, as Jesus did, listen and talk with one another. We will find that we all possess the same heartache, the same love, the same joys and the same sorrows. There was a time when Germans from Union Hill or Heidelberg would never marry a Czechs from New Prague. There was a time when the Irish from St. Patrick, St. Catherine or St. Thomas would never consider marrying a German or a Czech. Somewhere along time our grandparents discovered that national prejudices were false and ridiculous.

Unlike the movies, and many television mini-series that portray Jesus as a Northern European man with long brown hair, blue eyes, and a British accent, Jesus was a brown skinned, dark haired, brown eyed Palestinian Jewish man who spoke Aramaic. Jesus mission as St. Paul vividly points out in the second reading was not just to the Jewish people but to all people. Jesus’ death and resurrection brought salvation to not just a select few, but to all people of the world, who are sons and daughters of God. May we, who possess the DNA of God, who are the Body of Christ made flesh in our world, continue his salvific mission by serving the image and the likeness of God in all people.

The wisdom of being childlike – a homily for the 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

At that time Jesus said in reply, “I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike. Yes, Father, such has been your gracious will. (Matthew 11:25-26)

As human beings, we like to think of ourselves as being smart, knowing all the angles so as to keep from being fooled by others. We like to think that our base of knowledge is complete, that we have all the answers to every situation we encounter and every problem that comes our way. We like to think of ourselves as completely self-reliant. And, so believing our own myth of being all wise and all knowing, the sin of pride oozes and drips from our own egos. We suffer so from our own blindness.

This past week the G-20 is meeting in Hamburg, Germany. One of the most highly anticipated events of the G-20 thus far is the meeting between Putin and trump. Putin schemes, plots, and sows discord to consolidate more power for Russia and for himself, as dictator of Russia. And there is, trump, a prisoner of his own narcissism, controlled by his oversize ego, instant gratification in all areas of his life, and an inability to think about anyone but himself. Both of these men believe themselves to be the better and the smarter of the two (Admittedly, Putin has the better brain, the political savvy, and the ability to manipulate and play with trump, as a cat does with a mouse it is about to kill.). They like to think of themselves as all knowing, filled with wisdom, and have hired people to tell them that they are. In spite of the vast wealth and the political power both wield, they equally fail to grasp that which is most important in the world. They are so afflicted with blindness.

In his second letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul writes, “We look not to what is seen but to what is unseen; for what is seen is transitory, but what is unseen is eternal.”

St. Paul in this simple statement sums up the blindness that afflicts most of humanity. Our own physical senses create an illusion that reality is only that which we can see, hear, touch, smell and taste. Our philosophy of life, the way we order our world, the way we judge happiness is all based only on physical stimuli. St. Paul tells us that all which are senses consider to be real is not real, but is merely temporary and will fade away like mist. Our perceived reality is based on nothing but empty air.

St. Paul’s statement is not just an isolated sentiment in the Christian Testament. Throughout the gospels, Jesus repeatedly tells us that are lives must not be built on the unreliable sources of this earth, but on that of God. For instance, Jesus explains that no one builds their homes on a foundation of sand. Only those homes built on solid rock, that is the word of God, will survive the storms of life. (Matthew 7: 24-29)

In the first letter of Peter, it is written,” Now if you invoke as Father him who judges impartially according to each one’s works, conduct yourselves with reverence during the time of your sojourning, realizing that you were ransomed from your futile conduct, handed on by your ancestors, not with perishable things like silver or gold but with the precious blood of Christ as of a spotless unblemished lamb.”

St. James writes, “Come now, you rich, weep and wail over your impending miseries. Your wealth has rotted away, your clothes have become moth-eaten, your gold and silver have corroded, and that corrosion will be a testimony against you; it will devour your flesh like a fire.”

It is easy for us to make out Putin and trump as quintessential examples of lives built on narcissism and blindness and yet, live in ignorance of our own blindness and our own stupidity. It is not easy to confront our own blindness, and acknowledge our own enslavement to the transitory unreality in which we live. St. Paul observes that it is only in being close to death that we finally see that which is really real. Can we not begin earlier in life to see that which lays just beyond the barrier of our physical senses? Jesus tells us yes, that this is within our capabilities in this life.

We must begin to see the world around us with the eyes of a child. Our eyesight must not be limited to just the physical things that we see, but we must look beyond the physical object to the wonder that lays beyond that object. It is similar to looking at a religious icon. A religious icon is a flat, two-dimensional picture, generally not all that captivating to the eye. Its two-dimensional unattractive state is painted so as to draw our mind’s eye to the multi-dimensional reality of God that lies beyond it.

How do we develop that kind of eyesight to see the multi-dimensions that exist beyond our physical world? Jesus tell us that we must begin to see the world through the lens of a child, the lens of humility. The new born child is well aware that life is dependent on others. The child suckles on the breast of his/her mother to draw not only nourishment from breast milk, but also to draw in the love of his/her mother. The child innately realizes that the ability to live is not based on his/her self-reliance but in relying on the love of his/her mother and father for food, clothing, and protection. The child discovers the world and how to navigate through the world by looking through the eyes of his/her mother and father.

Jesus tells us that true sight, true wisdom and true knowledge is gained by humbling acknowledging that our lives are totally dependent on our God who is Mother and Father to us. We draw upon the breast of God for spiritual nourishment. We draw upon the mind of God for knowledge. We draw upon the love of God for life. It is in doing this that we begin to see with eyes that which is truly real. It is doing this that the barrier of our physical senses create fades away like a mist to reveal that which is truly real and lasts for eternity.

All that which Putin and trump believe important, is, in the end, very transitory and unimportant. Upon that which they base their reality and happiness is nothing more than just empty air. It is important that world nations address the immense evils that pollution, poverty, hunger, and the inequitable distribution of wealth cause the people of our world. It is important that the world nations use the tools which God has entrusted to humanity to address these evils. But, as Jesus points us, we must humbly acknowledge that the only correct way to use the tools given to us is by allowing God to work these tools through us.

St. Peter concludes his second letter with these words.  “According to his promise we await new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells. Therefore, beloved, since you await these things, be eager to be found without spot or blemish before him, at peace. And consider the patience of our Lord as salvation, as our beloved brother Paul, according to the wisdom given to him, also wrote to you, speaking of these things as he does in all his letters. In them there are some things hard to understand that the ignorant and unstable distort to their own destruction, just as they do the other scriptures. Therefore, beloved, since you are forewarned, be on your guard not to be led into the error of the unprincipled and to fall from your own stability. But grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and savior Jesus Christ. To him be glory now and to the day of eternity.” (2 Peter 3:13-18)

Encountering God’s hospitality in giving and receiving – a homily for the 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

HOMILY FOR THE 13TH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME, YEAR A

In today’s gospel, Jesus addresses two important aspects of being a Christian disciple. It involves the act of giving and the act of receiving. First, as Christian disciples, we must give the presence of Christ to others. Secondly, as Christian disciples, we must welcome and receive the presence of Christ given to us by others.

For the last 15 years of my sister’s life, she had at least two major surgeries a year. Ruthie and I were generally at the hospital during those surgeries. One very cold January day back in the 1980’s, Ruthie and I got to St. Joseph Hospital in St. Paul early in the morning as my sister was being prepped for another surgery. It ended up being a very long day of sitting and waiting in the surgery waiting room with my parents. My sister was in surgery for about 7 hours, and another hour and a half in post-op. Like many of her surgeries, it was very touch and go, but, somehow, miraculously, she survived once more. Once she got up to her hospital room, Ruthie and I wearily made it back to our Aerostar parked in the hospital parking lot.

As we drove home, right around the small town of Lydia, my power steering went out. With some difficulty, I steered the car home and as Ruth went into the house to be with our kids, I opened the hood expecting to pull out a broken power steering belt. Instead, I pulled out a tail and then heard a pitiful meow coming from the engine. A cat had crawled on top of the motor in the hospital parking lot to get warm and tragically on the way home got caught in the engines’ pulleys. My nerves were raw from the emotional toll of my sister’s surgery and now there was a poor, suffering, partially dismembered cat in my car’s engine.

I rushed into the house. My son, Andy asked me how Aunt Mary was doing, and I cried out, “Don’t ask me about your Aunt Mary, I’ve got a cat pulled apart in my car engine!” Not quite the answer Andy was anticipating. I called the police and pretty much shouted into the phone what had happened to the hapless dispatcher. She said to me, “Okay, first, you get a garbage bag and then you get a baseball bat. You then pull the cat out of your engine. Next you hit the cat on the head with the baseball bat. Then you throw the cat into the garbage bag.” I could not believe my ears, and, I angrily hung up on the dispatcher. I was desperate. I was beyond distraught. What was I to do? I called up my good friend, Fr. Denny Dempsey, who was the associate pastor at St Wenceslaus.

I said, “Denny, I’ve got a cat pulled apart in my car engine and I don’t know what to do!” Denny was a frequent and welcomed guest at our home, eating with us at least once a week, and, on those nights when he did not have Mass early in the morning, would watch movies on our VCR to the wee hours of the morning. Denny was a welcomed dinner guest at many of the homes of St. Wenceslaus parishioners, so much so, that I think he seldom ate at the rectory. As my friend, Jack McHugh, once observed, when Denny comes to supper, he gets his own loaf of bread. Anyway, Denny calmly listened to me and told me, “I will be right over. This sounds more interesting than the report I am doing for the Archbishop.” He concluded, “Oh, I need you to get a garbage bag, and a baseball bat.” “Okay,” I answered meekly, and went to get a baseball bat and a garbage bag.

Denny pulled up in front of my car, his headlights shining onto the front of my car. He got out of his car, and said to me, “Has your engine lost its purr? Do you no longer have a tiger in your tank?” Still very upset, I just said, “Oh, shut up!” He opened the hood of the car and reached in and pulled out the poor cat. The cat had died. He gently placed the cat in the garbage bag. Then he came inside the house, listened to my day, and helped to calm me down.

Denny Dempsey brought the real presence of Jesus to me that cold January night. It had nothing to do with him being a priest. It was more about Denny being a very concerned friend. He came to my aid when I needed him most desperately. He brought Christ’s calming, healing presence to a situation that was for me chaotically out of control.

Jesus tells his disciples in the gospel, “Whoever receives you receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me.” Today’s gospel is about God’s presence and hospitality to others, and welcoming and receiving God’s presence from others.

Our world today can be best described in the words of Norm Peterson, from the old TV comedy, “Cheers.” “It is a dog eat dog world, and I’m wearing Milkbone underwear.” Our world is as chaotically out of control as was my life that cold January night. These two aspects of being a Christian are vitally important in a world in which personal gain and personal revenge is lived out on the lowest level of human life to the very high levels of government; and, in a world in which humanity is more inclined to shoot one another rather than welcome one another.

In the gospel, Jesus is sending his Apostles out on a mission to bring his healing presence to others. We are the living Apostles whom Jesus sends out on mission to our world today. This mission, as the gospel states, transcends nations, ideologies, career, and, even family. We are to give Christ’s healing presence to others, and to welcome and receive Christ’s healing presence to others. When we give Christ’s healing presence to others, most often we will find that in their receiving us, they, in turn, will give Christ’s living presence to us. In giving Christ abundantly to others, we will, in return, receive Christ in abundance from them.

 

 

The Holy Trinity – An opportunity to become one with Mystery

The Old Testament Trinity. Russian icon by Andrej Rublev.

In the movie, The Princess Bride, there is a scene in which Inigo Montoya, a Spanish swordsman, is having a sword fight with a mysterious man, dressed in black and whose identity is concealed by a black mask. Throughout their duel, each compliments the other about their skill with a sword. Inigo Montoya finally asks the man in black, “Who are you?” The man in black replies, “No one of great consequence.” Monotya responds, “I must know!” To which the man in black says, “Get use to disappointment!”

Mystery is no stranger in our lives. As human beings, we struggle with mystery. We often say about those things we don’t understand as “It’s a mystery.” We hate this kind of mystery. We are always disappointed with this kind of mystery because we want to know. We have to know. The only way we have control over someone or something is to know and understand that person or thing. We like the events and people in our lives to be predictable and controllable. When mystery wrests control from us we feel vulnerable and helpless. This is why we find mystery so frustrating and disappointing.

God is the greatest mystery of all, and, so today we encounter the mystery of the Holy Trinity. For centuries upon centuries, prophets and theologians have asked God the same question. “Who are you?” Moses encountered the Burning Bush, and when Moses asked the bush who it was, God answered in a riddle. God is an enigma, a mystery we cannot comprehend. The closest we have come to knowing who God is, is in the person of Jesus Christ, who is, in essence, the human translation of who God is. However, just because the Holy Trinity is a mystery, does not mean  our feelings  are limited to frustration and disappointment.

In my marriage preparation with couples I will tell them, there are two mysteries I will never fully comprehend. The first mystery is the Holy Trinity. The second mystery is my beloved Ruth, to whom I have been married for close to 42 ½ years. I will readily admit that I will never fully uncover the mystery that is my bride. She is always revealing something new and splendid to me. She is not predictable, nor while I would never try to exert control over her, she would never allow it. Because she will always remain a mystery to me, I find that the time I look forward to the most is in being with her. For she continues to fill me with feelings of joy and wonder.

And so it is with God. The Holy Trinity will remain an utter mystery to all of us. We will never fully comprehend who God is and that is just fine. In the first letter of John, John writes very simply, “God is love.”  God is love. The love that exists between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is so perfect and so complete that we will never fully understand it. Nor need we ever have to understand it.

To know God’s love requires us to spend time with God. The more time we spend with God, the deeper we will experience God’s love. And, the deeper we experience God’s love, the more God will draw us into that love that is expressed between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The more we are drawn into the love that is expressed between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, the more we will be drawn into the mystery, splendor and beauty that is God. And, the more we will be filled with joy and wonder.

Homily for the Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year A, 2017

HOMILY FOR THE 6TH SUNDAY OF EASTER, YEAR A

The summer of 1969. I had just gotten my driver’s license. Every Friday or Saturday night saw Ruthie and I going out on a date to a movie theater in downtown St. Paul. Her older sister, Annie, working the ticket booth at the Riviera Theater on Wabasha, would let us see a free movie from time to time. One movie we saw a number of times was “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” Butch, Sundance and their gang robbed trains and did so with the ease of someone picking fruit off a tree. (For our high school and college graduates present today, I must add that robbing trains, anyone, or anything is a very poor career choice.) The railroad, tired of having their payroll robbed, hires a special posse to kill them. In a series of scenes, unable to escape the posse that is tracking them, Butch keeps on asking Sundance the question, “Who are these guys? Just who are these guys?” Butch and Sundance to escape being shot by the posse jump off a high cliff into a river far below. Sundance complains just before he jumps that he can’t swim, and Butch shouts, “You crazy? The fall will probably kill ya!”

Butch Cassidy asked a very fundamental question, “Who are these guys?” The most fundamental question that all of us ask ourselves is the question, “Who am I?” “Who am I, really?” Like the posse that chased Butch and Sundance this  important question relentlessly chases us throughout our lives. It is a question that cannot be answered by what we do for an occupation, whether we be a student, a graduate, a farmer, a business professional, a homemaker. The question, “Who am I?” is not about what we do, but with whom we are in a relationship. I can answer the question with “I am the husband of Ruth. I am the father of Andy, Luke, Meg, and Beth.” While all of this is true, my answer is incomplete. It still does not answer the question, “Who am I?” With whom was I  in relationship before I was even born? I was in relationship with God. From the moment God thought me into existence, I have been in relationship with God. This is true for all of us. First and foremost, we were children of God. The gospel tells us today that we are not just children of God. We are more. We are the Christ!

Jesus tells his disciples today, “In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me, because I live and you will live. On that day you will realize that I am in my Father and you are in me and I in you.” If the world can no longer see Jesus because he has ascended to the Father, how is Jesus going to be revealed to the world?

There is only one way. You and I are the living presence of Jesus to our world. The only way our world will come to see and know Jesus is through you and I.

How can this be? I am a very flawed person. How can I be Christ to the world? Jesus tells us, “Whoever has my commandments and observes them is the one who loves me. Whoever loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and reveal myself to him.” The world will know that we are truly the revelation of Jesus by the way we live his commandments.

So what are these commandments? In his first letter, St. John is quite specific. He writes, “Love is of God; everyone who loves is begotten by God and knows God. Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love. In this way the love of God was revealed to us: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might have life through him. In this is love: not that we have loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as expiation for our sins.” St. John concludes, “Beloved, if God so loved us, we also must love one another. No one has ever seen God. Yet, if we love one another, God remains in us, and his love is brought to perfection in us.” Jesus is revealed to the world in the way we love as God loves.

You may have already heard this story from me, yet, for me, it remains one of the most profound acts of God’s love being lived out. It was my first Christmas Eve at St. Stephen Catholic Church in South Minneapolis. The parish of St. Stephen’s at that time was made up of many people who were broken by life. Some were homeless. Others were ex-priests, ex-nuns, gay and lesbian, developmentally disabled, ex-offenders, and so on. Many self-righteous Catholics of the Archdiocese pretty much wrote off the parishioners there as already being damned by God. The parish ran and to this day continues to run a homeless shelter that sleeps 45 homeless men every night.

On my first Christmas Eve at St Stephen’s, a homeless man, intoxicated and dressed in a purple suit, sat in the front pew of the church. He wept throughout the Christmas Eve Mass. At the conclusion of Mass, he had no place to go to sleep that night. Because he was intoxicated, the parish homeless shelter could not take him. With 45 men sleeping in close proximity to one another, the parish homeless shelter had to have strict rules about the use of alcohol and drugs. I struggled greatly as to what to do for this homeless man. Not dressed for the weather, he would have frozen to death were he to sleep outside that night. I appealed for help to one on my parishioners, a gay man, who with his partner and their children, were at Mass that night. The gay man reassured me and then sat next to the homeless man speaking quietly to him. The homeless man turned toward him, put his arms around him, and wept in great heaving sobs on the gay man’s shoulder. It was as if all the burdens of his life were emptied in the tears he shed on that man’s shoulder. The gay man comforted the homeless man, till the homeless man’s sobs ceased. Then the gay man, his partner, and their children drove the homeless man to another homeless shelter, a safe, warm place that accepted and housed intoxicated people until they sobered up.

St Peter in his first letter today writes, “Sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts. Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope, but do it with gentleness and reverence.” With gentleness and reverence , the Christ sanctified in the hearts of that family was revealed to the homeless man and to me on that cold, Christmas Eve night. That family on that Christmas Eve, gave up all the family activities and fun they had planned, so that the homeless man had a safe, warm place to spend the night. They loved as God loves.

Today, we sit in this church and are faced with the question “Who am I?” It is the same question that all Christian communities have pondered since the time St. Peter wrote the letter we heard today. Who am I? Whether we be graduating from school and going on to further education, or graduating from school and looking to work in a career. Whether we leave church today and go home to the life of our family. Whether we leave church today and go off to work or go some place for recreation, the answer remains the same. Who am I? In so much we love as God loves, we are and must be Jesus Christ revealed to the world today. Let us sanctify Christ as Lord in our hearts. Let us always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks us for a reason for our hope, and do so with gentleness and reverence.

 

 

Peace Be With You – a homily on the 2nd Sunday of Easter

HOMILY FOR THE 2ND SUNDAY IN EASTER

 There is a saying that goes, “He is as nervous as a cat in a thunderstorm.” Cats feel an enormous amount of anxiety in thunderstorms. It is an anxiety fueled by paralyzing fear, helplessness, and a lack of power to stop the storm raging outside. The same amount of anxiety, paralyzing fear, and helplessness fills the upper room in which the apostles cower, following the death of Jesus.

 They have all right to fear. The Romans had just brutally and publicly executed their leader. In the Gospel of John, they have been very well known associates of Jesus for over three years. They fear that at any moment, they will hear the heavy trod of soldiers’ feet outside the flimsy door behind which they are hiding, and they will be brutally arrested, whipped mercilessly, and crucified just like their leader, their bodies left hanging on crosses to be picked clean by the birds.

 We all know the anxiety the apostles are feeling. Anxiety and fear can fill our lives to the point of being paralyzed by it. Just like the apostles, we cower and we hide in our own upper rooms, behind barriers as flimsy as the door that separates the apostles from the world outside.

 The anxiety and fear that permeates the entire world today is so thick one can reach out and touch it. I remember the fear during the Cuban Missile crisis of the early sixties when paranoia drove people to create fallout shelters in their own backyards. I remember the same fear following 911 when some people were literally driven insane because they feared terrorists hiding behind every rock and every tree. Today, we turn our homes into armed fortresses in vain hope that we can fend off all threats to ourselves. Ironically, the more we arm ourselves, our fear and anxiety does not decrease, it only increases.

 We want peace as much do the apostles! But the peace we seek is fleeting. Everything we try to do on our own initiative to create peace fails. We cannot find peace outside of ourselves. Peace is something that comes only from within. Today’s gospel shows us that there is only way we will find peace in this very violent, anxiety-ridden world, and that is in Jesus Christ.

 The apostles learned this lesson in today’s gospel. Into the apostles’ fear-filled upper room, Jesus appears. What is the first thing he says to the apostles? He says, “Peace be with you.” In an instance, the paralyzing fear that has gripped the apostles falls away. It is as when Jesus uttered the word, peace, they breathed it into their whole being.  Amidst the violence and chaos that rages outside the door of that upper room, they suddenly not only feel peace, but they become the peace of which Jesus speaks.

 Then Jesus breathes upon them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” In receiving the Holy Spirit, they suddenly know in their minds and their hearts, the peace of which Jesus speaks. From that moment on, they become fearless. They will go forth from that upper room to fearlessly proclaim the risen Lord to all people. They no longer fear the violence that the world can throw at them, for they know that the peace of Christ has forever conquered all fear, all anxiety, and eventually will overthrow all violence and hate.

 Into our fear-filled upper rooms, Jesus appears and says to us, “Peace be with you.” To experience and to know the peace of Christ, we must first believe. Jesus says to Thomas, “Blessed are those who have not seen but believed” We must believe that once we believe in the Risen Christ and the peace he offers us, nothing will separate us from that peace. St. Paul expresses this in his letter to the Romans. “What can separate us from the love of Christ?” St. Paul writes. “Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword?” St. Paul concludes, “No, in all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us.”

 When the peace of Christ fills our hearts and our minds, then, like the apostles, we will no longer be conquered by fear. We will become as fearless as the apostles, which leads us to one more task to accomplish. We must share that peace of Christ with all people. There is a beautiful prayer written by Jon Vandelier, a pastor from South Africa, a pastor who has known and experienced the horror and violence of apartheid. His prayer expresses wonderfully how we go about sharing Christ’s peace as we leave this church today.

 Around the well of your grace, O God,

Are those who thirst for friendship and love;

Help us to offer them the living water of community and connectedness.

 

Around the well of your life, O God,

Are those who thirst for joy and safety;

Help us to offer them the water of playfulness and protection.

 

Around the well of your mercy, O God,

Are those who thirst for wholeness and peace;

Help us to offer them the living water of comfort, healing and welcome.

 

Around the well of your presence, O God,

Are those who thirst for meaning and connection;

Help us to offer them the living water of service and worship.

 

May the life we have found in you,

Be the gift we share with all who hunger and thirst,

With all who are outcast and rejected,

With all who have too little or too much,

with all who are wounded or ashamed.

And, through us, may this corner of the world

Overflow with you, living water.”

 We pray this through Christ, our Risen Lord. “Amen.”

BLINDSIDED BY HOLY WEEK? HARDLY!

Blindsided is an interesting word. We usually use the word to describe a situation in which a person is caught unaware. For instance, “the quarterback was blindsided by the tackle.” Or, “the politician was   blindsided by the exposé on him in the newspaper.” In neither of the gospel passages below are the participants caught blindsided.

Some of the Pharisees who were with him heard this
and said to him, “Surely we are not also blind, are we?”
Jesus said to them,
“If you were blind, you would have no sin;
but now you are saying, ‘We see,’ so your sin remains. (John’s account of the man born blind)

Then after this he (Jesus) said to his disciples,
“Let us go back to Judea.”
The disciples said to him,
“Rabbi, the Jews were just trying to stone you,
and you want to go back there?”
Jesus answered,
“Are there not twelve hours in a day?
If one walks during the day, he does not stumble,
because he sees the light of this world.
But if one walks at night, he stumbles,
because the light is not in him.” (John’s account of the raising of Lazarus from the dead)

In the story of the man born blind, Jesus pointedly informs the Pharisees that they are well aware of their sin. They are not blindsided by it. Their defiance of Jesus is an acknowledgement of this fact. In the story of the raising of Lazarus from the dead, Jesus is not blind to the danger into which he is taking by reentering Judea. He knows full well that when he enters Judea, he is walking into a trap that will eventually end his life. As we enter Holy Week this liturgical year how well aware are we of the journey we are taking? Are we vulnerable to being blindsided?

Lent is a time of introspection, a time of self-examination. It is a time in which all excuses of being blindsided fall away. The 40 days of Lent compels us to dig through all that which muddles our lives. To use a graphic metaphor, it is roto rooter time, in which we stand waist deep in the crap that blocks and clogs our spiritual life, and examine the true status of our lives. If we choose to remain mired in sin, we will only sink deeper and deeper into sin, eventually losing ourselves, disappearing under its weight. This is precisely what the Pharisees choose to do in the story of the man born blind. Unlike the Pharisees,  if we choose to be free from the mire in which we find ourselves, we must make a commitment to clear away and wash ourselves clean of the sin that putrefies our lives. There are consequences to both choices.

It is easy to get really comfortable in sin. It is easy to give in to all the allurements, all the pleasures, all the false promises that sin offers.  It can be really nice. The paradox is that we know it is happening, we know we are losing who we really are, as sin continues to pile lies upon lies on ourselves. What is absolutely astounding is that we give it our full and open assent!

If we are to live up to the full potential God meant for us when we were created, we must face our sin and acknowledge it. As the comedian W.C. Fields once said, “There comes a time in a young man’s life when he must take the bull by the tail and face the situation.”

We all have one sin that is an Achilles Heel for us. To discard and walk away from the sin that plagues us is to die to a former way of living that was once so attractive and comfortable. We walk away and hope we can continue to walk away into a new and healthier way of living. Do we have the strength not to get lured back?  It’s not easy. Again as W.C. Fields once observed, “Don’t tell me you can’t quit drinking! I have done it a thousand times!!” The sad fact about W.C. Fields, is that even though he was fully aware that he was addicted to alcohol and it was destroying his liver, he was unable to break free from his addiction. He remarked on his death bed that his one wish was that he could have gotten through life without alcohol.

Unlike the Synoptic Gospels of Mark, Matthew and Luke, in John’s Gospel, the active ministry of Jesus lasts three years. Most of that time, Jesus is a fugitive from the religious and civil authorities in Judea. He  makes occasional excursions into Jerusalem, stirs things up for the religious and civil authorities, then “gets out of town” so to speak, into Galilee, where they are unable to touch him. One could say that Galilee was Jesus’ “Hole in the Wall,” to use a Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid reference.

In the story of the raising of Lazarus from the dead, Jesus enters Judea full knowing that this would be his last journey. He was well aware that one of his disciples had conspired with the Jewish religious authorities to plan his death. Nonetheless, Jesus fully commits himself to the completion of his earthly mission. “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a grain of wheat, but if it dies, it produces great fruit”(John 12:24) Jesus teaches just prior to his death. Jesus knows he must die first in order to bring about a new order in a world stunted and twisted by sin.

When we make a commitment to free ourselves from sin, we commit ourselves to experiencing a death to our old selves. This does not happen by accident. Like Jesus, fully aware, we commit ourselves to die to an old way of life, an old way we ordered our world so that we will be able to live a new order by which our lives will be more fruitful. This is not the one time “born again” (as our Evangelical brothers and sisters like to say) commitment of conversion. It is a daily commitment to conversion. We have to make this commitment of conversion every day of our lives from that moment forward.  It is not enough to say, “I have accepted Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior,” and then lapse back into the way we once lived. When we choose Jesus as “the way, the truth and the life”, our living must utterly change to match our words.

Beginning from the first Mass of Palm/Passion Sunday we enter into the world of Jesus walking fully aware into a world of darkness, chaos, treachery, cowardice, and brutal execution. Jesus was not blindsided by what he experienced. He knew what he was getting himself into. But he also knew that in entering this very dark place, he would emerge victorious three days later. As we walk through these days of darkness with Jesus, may we shed the darkness that clings to our own lives, die to ourselves, and emerge with Jesus victorious on Easter Sunday.

THE WOMAN AT THE WELL, AND OUR OWN JOURNEY THROUGH OUR STAGES OF FAITH

THE WOMAN AT THE WELL , AND OUR OWN JOURNEY THROUGH THE STAGES OF FAITH

There is so much that can be written and has already been written about this remarkable encounter that Jesus had with the Samaritan woman at the well.  The part of the story that stood out for me the most upon hearing and proclaiming it this past weekend is the conclusion of the story.

‘Many of the Samaritans of that town began to believe in him. When the Samaritans came to him, they invited him to stay with them; and he stayed there two days. Many more began to believe in him because of his word, and they said to the woman, “We no longer believe because of your word; for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the savior of the world.”’ (New American Bible)

It is this final statement of the Samaritan villagers to the Samaritan woman that is so very profound. In their statement they are saying to her, we no longer believe because you tell us to believe, we have come to believe through our own initiative. The Samaritan villagers arrived at a very advanced level of faith development. To develop this a little more I first need to address first the stages of faith development.

When I was in graduate school at the St. Paul Seminary, part of my study consisted on the stages of faith. The one I remember the most is the 6 stages of faith development proposed by James Fowler. These stages of faith are: 1) Intuitive-Projective; 2) Mythic-Literal; 3) Synthetic-Conventional; 4) Individuative-Reflective; 5) Conjunctive Faith;  and, 6) Universalizing Faith.

 I know that all the fancy terms used for faith development sound like a bunch of psychological babble. However, allow me to break it all down in understandable terms.

 Stage 1: The Intuitive-Projective stage is one in which pre-school children receive most of their ideas of God from their parents and society. It is a magical time in which fantasy and reality get mixed up. Children will believe that Superman is real and can actually fly. Fire breathing dragons are real, and witches and wizards can actually cast spells. All of this pertains to the mythical stories of the Bible as well.

 Stage 2: The Mythic-Literal stage is that time in which children reach school age. The magic begins to disappear and they interpret reality more logically. There is no actual Superman who can fly faster than a speeding bullet, but is understood to be a character in a story. They will accept the stories told them by their parents and their religious faith community but understand them in literal terms. For example, God actually created the universe in six 24 hour earth days, and rested on the seventh day. Or, Moses and the Israelites actually passed on dry land through the immensity of the Red Sea. Noah actually got 1 female and 1 male of every species on the Ark (though why on earth would he insisted on saving wood ticks or mosquitoes is still beyond me).

 Stage 3: The Synthetic-Conventional stage occurs around the age of 12 and 13 years, when the adolescent begins to think abstractly. It is the time when we seek to discover who we are in light of those we know. We seek to belong. We look for God in our interpersonal relationships. We want a God who knows us and values us. It is at this stage we begin to adopt the belief system of a faith community and may look at all others outside our system of belief as flawed. We will get upset when someone questions our beliefs. There are many adults who will never venture beyond this stage of faith development.

 Stage 4: The Individuative-Reflective stage begins to occur around 19, 20, 21 years of age. We begin to question the beliefs we have been taught. Is what we have been taught really true? Fowler says that Stage 3 is like a fish in water, who doesn’t question the water. Stage 4 is the fish out of the water reflecting on the water. We wonder about the authenticity of our beliefs. Needless to say, this is a very traumatic and uneasy time in life. We don’t believe because someone outside of ourselves tells us to believe. We have got to see it for ourselves. Fowler says that this is the period in life when people become non-religious. Some people will remain at this stage the rest of their lives.

 Stage 5: The Conjunctive Faith stage is when people believe not because some religious authority or faith community has told them to believe. Rather, people, after questioning their faith through Stage 4 accept and make a serious personal decision to own their faith on their own terms. Fowler says that this is when one’s faith is open to paradox. It is when we become comfortable with God as mystery, strange, and unavailable at the same time we are equally aware of God’s closeness and clarity. We advance beyond the myths and taboos we were taught and are ready to embrace truths outside our narrow understanding of truth.

 Stage 6: The Universalizing Faith stage is reached only by a very few people. People at this stage advance beyond themselves realizing that they are already living in the Reign of God. The self is no longer the center of the universe. Fowler states that they find their center in the participation of God. Their lives are far simpler and, as Fowler observes, more intensely liberating, subversively so. Examples of people whom Fowler believes would be at this Stage would be Mahatma Ghandi, Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Teresa, Thomas Merton, Dag Hammerskjold, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

 ‘Jesus said to her, “Believe me, woman, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You people worship what you do not understand; we worship what we understand, because salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when true worshipers will worship the Father in Spirit and truth; and indeed the Father seeks such people to worship him. God is Spirit, and those who worship him must worship in Spirit and truth.”’ (NAB)

 In the Gospel, the woman at the well is well into developing her stages of faith. She is seeking to deepen her relationship to and understanding of God. Jesus acknowledges this in his conversation with her. He also points out to her that she and all of us clearly have a long way to go before we reach that elusive stage 6.

 The Samaritans in the Gospel believed in Jesus at first because of what the Samaritan woman told them. They questioned Jesus and their belief in him during the few days he stayed with them. It was then that they told the Samaritan woman that they now owned their belief in Jesus not because of what she had said, but by what they heard for themselves.

Throughout my life, I have found my faith journey in all five of these stages. I questioned my faith long before my 19th birthday, actually 12 years of age, when in looking at a consecrated host I asked myself, “Is what they say really true? Is this really the Body and Blood of Christ?” I didn’t leave my faith all the while I was questioning it, but continued to ask the questions about the validity of my faith.

There have been two instances in my life that awakened me to that which was beyond myself. My journey beyond Stage 4 occurred at the birth of my first son, Andy, when I encountered God in that delivery room. The second occurred when I encountered my mortality at the age of 25 years during the first of many tacycardias. To feel my heart suddenly racing along at 240 beats a minute, I realized how fragile life truly is. When the 18 mg of Adenosine that was administered to me in the E.R. hit my heart slowing it immediately from 240 beats a minute to 70 beats a minute, I wondered if my life was about ready to end, and wondered what lay beyond death. (Fortunately 20 years after the first episode my problem was resolved by the then experimental procedure in the 1990’s known as Radio Ablation.)

These two instances, when I was very young broke the stagnation that had become my faith life. At first, I migrated back to Stage 3 to rediscover the teaching and myths of the Catholic Church. Then, I began to reenter Stage 4 and then quickly moved into Stage 5 as I entered the Masters in Pastoral Arts degree program at the Seminary. Since that time, I continue to move between Stage 4 and Stage 5. I find myself in the present at Stage 5 of my faith development. I am comfortable with knowing God as an unknown Transcendent Mystery who is immanently present to me, or, as Benedictine Sister Joan Chittester defines God, “Changing Changelessness.”

Where do we find ourselves in our faith development? Are we stuck at Stage 3 in which we believe in Jesus because others tell us to believe? Do we find ourselves in Stage 4 in which we find ourselves skeptical of what others have told us, and question everything the Church has proclaimed about Jesus? Or, do we find ourselves like the Samaritans in the village at Stage 5, where we have come to believe not because we are forced to believe, but believe because we have chosen to believe and make the story of who Jesus is part of our own story?

I believe in God not because the Church has told me to believe in God, though the Church has been the fertile ground into which my belief in God has grown. It is the very fallibility of the Church, with all its goodness and faults as a human institution, that has led me beyond the structure of the Church to the God who knew me before my parents conceived me. This is not to mean that somehow I am over and above the rest of our Church. On the contrary, I am in communion as a very fallible human being with all the rest of my very fallible human brothers and sisters in search of eternal communion with the God who created us.

This is so very well expressed in Marty Haugen’s hymn masterpiece, “Eye Has Not Seen.”* While all the verses are very movingly composed, it is the fourth verse that is so utterly stunning. Marty writes in that verse, “We sing a mystery from the past, in halls that saints have trod, yet ever new the music rings to Jesus, Living Song of God.” It is a comfort to know that perhaps at the time of our death we will finally reach that ever elusive Stage 6 of Universalizing Faith and become one with the One who is the center of all life.

 

*”Eye Has Not Seen”, music and text by Marty Haugen. © 1982, G.I.A. Publications, Inc.

Right relationships and the law – a preemptive homily for the 6th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

My granddaughter, Alyssa and our Great Pyr, Henri, being in right relationship. (photo by Deacon Bob Wagner)

With executive orders flying out of the White House willy nilly, and accusations of “so-called” judges blocking these orders because they violate the Constitution of the United States, the readings for this coming Sunday on the law and the intent of the law is very timely. Were I to give a homily for this weekend, this is how I would approach it.

HOMILY FOR THE 6TH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME, YEAR A, 2017

When we look at a symbol what do we see? A symbol is more than just what is seen on the surface. Take the American flag as an example. On the surface, the American flag is a rectangular piece of cloth. Imprinted in the upper left corner of the flag is a blue field upon which 50 white stars are placed. The remainder of the flag has 13 bars of alternating red and white color running horizontally across the flag. On its surface value, the American flag is a very colorful collage of red, white and blue colors and shapes.

However, symbols cannot be taken just on their surface value. Each symbol possesses a depth of emotional and intellectual meaning for the one seeing it. The American flag will instill in the viewer a feeling of pride, a feeling of sacrifice, and a feeling of reverence. A Nazi Germany flag with a red field, with an interior white circle upon which is imprinted a black Swastika, instills in the viewer an emotion of dread and anger, and the knowledge of the atrocities committed by its followers.

The same approach we take to symbols must also be taken for laws. On the surface, laws are rules that citizens are required to follow. We have laws governing business and corporation transactions. We have laws governing human behavior. We have laws governing the protection of the environment. We have laws governing how goods are produced. We have laws governing the growing, selling, and preparation of the food we eat. On the surface, a law tells us what to do and we, as citizens, are required to follow it.

However, laws are more than just mere words on paper that human beings are required to blindly follow. Laws possess a hidden depth of meaning. At a much deeper level, laws are about the inter-relationships that human beings have with one another, and with the environment. Laws are created to either respect or disrespect these relationships. A law that discriminates or demeans another human being for whatever reason is considered a bad, or immoral law. A law that supports and protects another human being is considered a good, or moral law. It is the depth of meaning to law that Jesus is addressing in today’s gospel.

Religious law is about the inter-relationship that human beings have with God, and how that relationship is lived out in relationship with other human beings, and with God’s creation, including all of nature. Jesus teaches that there is more to law than just merely going through the motions of following it. Anybody can do that.

The Pharisees and the Sadducees were good at obeying the letter of the law, so much so, that instead of worshiping God who created the law, they  worshiped the letter of the law, not God. They were guilty of the sin of idolatry by making the law their false idol. Blind obedience to the letter of the law prevented them from seeing the relationship that God intended when the law was first created.

To drive this point home, Jesus gave the people some very extreme examples of how they had to get beyond the letter of the law so that they could be in touch with the “right relationship” that God intended by the law.

It is not enough to refrain from killing another human being. One must first address the anger that drives another human being to murder. One must not just refrain from committing adultery. One must first address the lust that drives a husband or wife to commit adultery. One must not just refrain from bringing a gift to the altar when involved in a personal conflict with another human being. One must first address the conflict and resolve and heal the brokenness that conflict has created with the other person. Then, only then, can a gift be brought to the altar. Jesus emphasizes that one must always look beyond the letter of the law to see revealed the intent behind the law, to see the relationship that must be respected and protected behind the law.

To just follow the letter of the law is not enough for salvation. Mere lip service to the law is not enough.  To faithfully follow the law, we must allow the spirit of the law to penetrate our hearts, minds, and souls, allowing our right relationship with God to direct our thoughts, our words, and our actions.

Being the light on the mountaintop. A homily for the 5th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Syrian refugees on the Aegean Sea. (Photo: Filip Singer, European Pressphoto Agency)

HOMILY FOR THE 5TH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME, YEAR A, 2017

What does it mean when Jesus says, “Your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.”?

Isaiah the prophet spoke to us in the first reading today. “Thus says the LORD: Share your bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them, and do not turn your back on your own. Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your wound shall quickly be healed; your vindication shall go before you, and the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.”

There was a news story this past week about the Greek Fishermen from the Island of Lesbos who, from the year 2015 to the present, have rescued from the Aegean Sea over 800,000 refugees fleeing the war raging in Syria. Upward of 3000 Syrian people arrive on the shores of the island every day. One of the fishermen, Costas Pinteras said, “Up until this year, the sea for me meant fishing. This year, it has changed things. Now, it means fishing for people. The consequences have been a drop in my income because when I see someone in urgent need when I’m out fishing, I drop everything and go to help, because my work is not as important as saving human lives. The worst thing is the drowned people, drowned mothers, drowned children. The pictures I saw during those incidents which I was seeing almost on a daily basis would come back to me while I was trying to sleep in bed at night. I kept seeing repeated pictures of the same incidents as nightmares. I couldn’t sleep at all.”

Another person, Aphrodite Vatis, who runs a hotel on the island and is now busy looking after the refugees in a refugee camp on the Island said, “It’s (the refugees)  changed, first of all, my daily reality. I wake up now and the first thing I have to do is go to my family’s hotel and see, are there boats arriving? How can we help them? And this is in the morning. I have children, I have a husband. I have my own business. And so, the daily things that we take for granted, I was able to realize that I took a lot of things for granted very quickly, even just a moment of free time, a moment of spending with your own children. These are the things that I miss because there is no more free time. Also, moments of feeling carefree, they don’t exist any more because we see what is going on around us in other parts of the world. And, it has come to our doorstep.”

In the light of what Costas, Aphrodite and the prophet Isaiah have said, let us visit again the words of Jesus which we have just heard in the Gospel today. “You are the light of the world. A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket; it is set on a lamp stand, where it gives light to all in the house. Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.”

Jesus tells all of us who are baptized that we must be the light of God for the world. All good things, all light originates with God. It is only being in relationship with God that we can experience God’s light. If our relationship with God is true, it will compel us to go forth and produce good deeds so that those good deeds will shine a path of glory to God for all people to follow.

In the letter from St. James, he emphasizes more is required to be God’s light for the world than just prayer. Our prayer life with God must compel us to do good works.  St. James writes, “What good is it, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him?  If a brother or sister has nothing to wear and has no food for the day, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, keep warm, and eat well,” but you do not give them the necessities of the body, what good is it? So also faith of itself, if it does not have works, faith is dead. For just as a body without a spirit is dead, so also faith without works is dead.” In other words, when Jesus tell us to do good deeds, is not a suggestion. It is a command.

Costas and Aphrodite are ordinary people, and more than likely belong to the Greek Orthodox Church. Like all of us ordinary people, they do the things we all do. They go out and work and provide for the well-being of their families. These two very ordinary people have a faith and a relationship with Jesus that has compelled them to do incredible and extraordinary things from which so much good and light is produced. As Aphrodite says, “moments of feeling carefree, they don’t exist anymore because we see what is going on around us in other parts of the world. And, it has come to our doorstep.” Drawing from the deep well of their faith in God and their relationship with Jesus Christ, Costas and Aphrodite, and all those who live on the Island of Lesbos, have set their light on the mountain top for all to see. From this little island in the Aegean Sea, these simple, ordinary people have become the light of Christ to all the world.

How about you and me? How brightly does our light shine to all in the world? Does the light from our good works shine a path of glory to God for all to follow? Is it a bright light like that which shines from a Lighthouse? Or, is it our light like the dim light from a flashlight whose batteries are dying. In the Vigil Prayers from the Catholic Order of Christian Funerals, these words are prayed for the deceased. “Blessed are those who have died in the Lord; let them rest from their labors for their good deeds go with them.” The light from our good deeds not only lights a path for others to God. It lights our path to our God when we die. How bright a light will we produce?