Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph (Cycle A)

Making Our Families Holy

Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14; Colossians 3:12-21; Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23

One Sunday, on the Feast of the Holy Family, a priest gave his homily presenting Jesus, Mary and Joseph as the ideal family. As he was talking he noticed a man muttering to himself. Like all priests, he tried to ignore the man, but the man’s upsetment grew as the homily went on. Finally, the exasperated priest asked, “What seems to be the problem, Sir?”

“This is all a waste of time,” the man said. “You talk about Jesus, Mary and Joseph as being the ideal family, but Mary was a virgin, Joseph never opened his mouth, and Jesus was the Son of God. How can any family consider realistically modeling themselves on the Holy Family?”

That’s a good question, and perhaps one that has come to your minds. I think it would help if we consider what the word, “Holy” means. To be holy means to be separate for the Lord. Our families can be separate for the Lord, our families can be holy. How? Here are three suggestions for our families to be holy. Actually they are just three words.

The first word is JOY. Families need to play together, goof around, laugh together and not take each member too seriously. Families need to find ways to laugh together, whether it’s the beach, a board game, or a pillow fight. Joy is not a part time business for a Holy Family. The famous author C. S. Lewis put it this way: “Joy is the serious business of heaven.” A joyful family is a sign that the one who brought joy to the world is present in our homes.

The second word is TIME. If a little child could spell love, he or she would spell it this way: t-i-m-e. Jesus only spent the last three of his thirty-three years serving people. The first thirty were focused entirely on his family. Based on their culture, Mary and Joseph started sharing scripture with Jesus when he was five, the Mishna or oral tradition at age ten, and the commandments and law at age thirteen, Joseph would have taught Jesus his trade, that of a carpenter. Jesus would have had to learn how to use an axe, hammer, chisel and saw. Joseph also taught him the difference between various woods, cedar, cypress, olive, pine, and sycamore. This all took time. Mary and Joseph would have spent time with their child out of love for him.

Our families need to do this to be holy families. We have to stop crowding our day with tasks that take us outside of the home. We have to limit the number of activities we let the our children be involved in. The greatest need a child has is to spend time with his or her parents.

The third word is PRAYER. The ancient Jewish family would recite the prayer of Eighteen Benedictions three times each day. The lesson was that the family must always look to the God the Father, praising Him. Our families need to be families of prayer. It is not just a cliché; the family that prays together, stays together. Grace before meals and bed-time prayers are a minimum. Even better than the bed-time prayers are prayers together as a family every evening.

None of our families are ideal families, but all of our families can be Holy Families.

The readings for this Sunday present some aspects of a Christian home. The first reading from Sirach says that children need to respect their parents. At first it refers to young children as it notes that mothers and fathers have their authority from God. Then it refers to older children when it says that children should take care of their parents when they get older. Little children learn respect for their parents from the respect they see their parents giving their grandparents. The way you treat your parents will be the way your children will treat you. If your relations with your parents are motivated by respect and love, and are evident in your kindness to them, your children will have learned this aspect of Christianity and will treat you the same way as your years mount.

The second reading deals with the interrelationships of the family. Paul tells the Colossians and us to deal with each other out of kindness, to be patient with each other, to forgive each other continually, not to let out pride determine what we say and do to each other. If we strive to live this way, than as a family we can pray together not just in Church, but in every aspect of our lives. "Whatever you do, whether in speech or in action, do it in the name of the Lord." Paul goes on to mention the roles of a family in his epoch. At that time the equality of women was not recognized. In the Roman empire women were seen as property that needed to be protected by their fathers and their husbands. It would be rare that a woman would be given the respect due to every individual. That's why we have the phrase, wives be submissive to your husbands. Closely followed by husbands love your wives. In our society, with the recognition that most roles in a family have nothing to do with gender, the real meaning of this part of Colossians is that husbands and wives must respect each other. This same line of thought continues with children being told to respect their parents, and parents being told not to nag, to continually find fault, with their children.

It used to be fashionable for the American media to claim that the family is no longer a viable unit. Now, it claims, there has been a resurgence of the family and family values. This is all a bunch of rhetoric. The family has and will remain strong as long as there are people of faith, people like you people here, who are doing their best to make the love of God real in their homes.

Today we pray for all our families. May your home be a little church, displaying your reverence for the presence of the Lord in your homes by the way you care for each other. May your families be Holy Families.

The Fourth Week of Advent (Cycle A)

The Greatest Gift

Isaiah 7:10-14; Romans 1: 1-7; Matthew 1: 18-24 

Christmas is a time for stories. It’s a time for re-reading the story of that “squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner” named Ebenezer Scrooge in Charles Dickens' A CHRISTMAS CAROL. It’s a time when children are lifted upon parents’ or grandparents’ laps to hear A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS (“The Night Before Christmas”) by Clement C. Moore. In that spirit, this evening I’d like to tell you a story.

It’s the story of a man by the name of Barnaby. He was a juggler who lived from day to day on the small donations he received. He went from town to town and he would take knives and balls and rings and juggle them. But that is all that he could do. He was embarrassed over his lack of talent and felt totally useless. People in the towns in which he juggled would be involved in their business work. Some ran small shops. Some were doctors, others teachers. And Barnaby would see all these people working, using their talents, making a difference, and he became more and more discouraged with each passing day.

One day on his travels, he was passing a huge monastery and he started to think and pray, “Maybe, if they let me enter this monastery I can do the most menial tasks, do something positive and save my soul and have more meaning and happiness in my life.”

And so he knocked on the monastery door and was greeted by the Brother who was in charge of all the monastic duties. Barnaby told him he would perform the most menial tasks for just a place to sleep and a little something to eat. He was admitted and was given a small room in which to live and told what time the Brothers ate their meals. He did his menial chores for months and seemed to find more meaning and happiness to his life. But then his sense of meaning and happiness started to diminish. He knew that all the Brothers of the monastery were preparing for Christmas. One Brother was writing a new musical score for the midnight Mass. Another Brother was making special bread to be given to the poor on Christmas Day. Another Brother was making a beautiful Christmas crib for the Christ Child to lay. Barnaby, in seeing what was done by others so talented, felt more and more inadequate. His sense of his own inferiority became more painful than ever. Christmas was coming closer, and what was he doing, but the most menial jobs in the monastery. He went to bed each night heartbroken.

Early on Christmas Morn, his despair reached its lowest point, and feeling he had nothing worthwhile to give, Barnaby decided to leave the monastery. Without even a goodbye to his fellow monks, he packed his tattered, well-worn travelling bag with his knives, his balls, his rings and visited the chapel for one last prayer. There, before the statue of our Blessed Mother, he saw the gifts of the other brothers. He saw the musical score that had magnificently praised God just a few hours before at Midnight Mass; he saw the loaves of delicious bread that would feed the poor later that morning; he saw the exquisite hand carved crib in which the Baby Jesus rested. And Barnaby cried.

But suddenly, as he stood in front of the statue of Our Blessed Mother, he decided to give her the only thing he had, the art of his juggling. At that moment, as balls and knives and rings flew in the air with the greatest of precision, something extraordinary happened. The statue of our Blessed Mother seemed to come alive with a radiance that Barnaby had never seen before. The Brothers of the monastery, seeing how the chapel was becoming filled with this new light, rushed in thinking that something tragic had taken place. And as they came into the chapel, they saw Barnaby, standing in front of the statue, juggling with joy and happiness. They all thought that Barnaby has gone mad. The Abbot screamed, “Sacrilege!” And they all rush at Barnaby to forcibly remove him from the chapel. But suddenly, the Blessed Virgin’s image came to life. She descended from her shrine, and with her mantle she wiped the sweat off the juggler’s forehead! The Abbot fell to his knees, and bowed his head to the floor. The other Brothers knelt behind him making the sign of the cross. And the Abbot quietly and prayerfully proclaimed: “Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God;” to which all the Brothers behind him respond in unison, “Amen.” For in the name of her Son, Mary accepted the gift of the juggler, who in his humility, thought he had nothing of worth to give, but who gave everything he had, everything he was, his entire self, and it turned out to be the greatest gift of all.

Today in our gospel, we hear another story about another man who was pure of heart; another man who, like Barnaby, gave the greatest Christmas gift to the Child Jesus . . . his entire self – everything he had, everything he was. His name is Joseph, the humble carpenter of Nazareth.

Matthew’s Gospel, describes Joseph as “just,” which can means pious, quiet, kind, not given to quarreling, and that sort of thing. But he is also called “righteous.” The term “righteous” means being in a right relationship with God. As God carefully selected the woman who would be the mother of his Son, he must have been equally careful in his selection of the foster-father. For genes are not the only thing parents impart to their children. Jesus, in his humanity, had to grow in wisdom, age, and grace. And Joseph must have been responsible for a good deal of this growth. It was Joseph who was Jesus’ male role model. From Joseph Jesus learned the trade that he himself would practice for some twenty years.

But there are even more important things that Jesus learned from Joseph. For Joseph was a just man, an honest man, a courageous man, a man of integrity. His betrothed was pregnant but not by him. Imagine the shame, the hurt, and the anger that he must have experienced assuming what anyone would assume in such a situation. His integrity would not allow him to marry an adulteress and pretend the child was his. But neither would he expose the woman he loved to shame and punishment. He didn’t procrastinate or waffle. He made the difficult decision to divorce Mary quietly.

But then God's messenger, an angel, visited Joseph in a dream. This was Joseph's Annunciation. He was disposed not only to the encounter, but to the invitation it presented, to pour himself out in love and for Love. He heard the message and, without hesitation, did what the Lord commanded and took Mary into his home. This was Joseph's Fiat, his YES. He exercised his freedom by saying Yes to God's invitation. His response was his song, his Magnificat.

Mary’s great claim to fame is her faith. When told the unbelievable, she believed. Joseph’s claim to fame is also his faith. He too was told the unbelievable and dared to believe. His response of faith entailed taking action – he change his plans, received Mary into his home, and accepted responsibility for this special child. Through his response of faith, he would receive the greatest gift promised for all men and women, and held in His arms the One that Kings and Patriarchs and Prophets had only longed to see.

Joseph’s importance can hardly be overstated. He saves Jesus and Mary from a life of shame and exclusion from the community. He gives Jesus his social identity, by naming him and including him in his own descent from King David. He’s indeed a righteous man, with a generous nature that goes far beyond the letter of the law. He listens, he loves, and he chooses the right path, no matter what people might say. His openness to God’s guidance makes the whole story of Jesus possible. Joseph emptied himself in order to be filled with the love and life of God. He gave himself fully as gift to God through accepting his unique and specific vocation as guardian of the Redeemer. Before angels give their gift of song, before kings present their gold, frankincense and myrrh, before shepherds kneel and offer their praise, there in the solitude of the stable, Joseph the Humble Carpenter offers the first gift, the greatest gift: the gift of himself.

What about us? This Christmas, as we come to the stable and bow our head and bend our knee, what gift will we offer? On Jesus’ Christmas list is no latest toy or fashion, no iphone, no flat screen TV. But what’s on his Christmas list actually is more costly and infinitely more valuable. On his list is US . . . Our hearts, our wills, our devotion, our praise, our service, our total dedication to him and to his gospel . . . the gift of ourselves. Total and complete; no wrapping necessary. It is the only one that is truly worth giving. Because, after all, that is the gift He gave to us.

Thanksgiving

~ On This Thanksgiving Day ~

Lord, how quickly the pages of the calendar have turned and another Thanksgiving Day is upon us. And so, as I pause and reflect, a mind full of memories rush to find expression as a heart full of gratitude wells up within me.

Thank you, Lord, for the splendor of your creation; for the beauty of the world around me, for green pastures and still waters and for tall trees that bow their heads prayerfully in the wind. I thank you for the colors with which you paint the seasons and for the passing of those seasons that has brought us to this day: for the snow glistened winter and the dogwood spring, for the watermelon summer and the russet and gold autumn.

Thank you, Lord, for this great land, for its bounty and its liberty, for the privilege of democracy and the gift of peace. Thank you for the goodness of our people and for the spirit of justice that fills this nation. I thank you today for the brave people of our land who are more interested in being right than in being popular, and for those who are willing to support a good cause publicly even though they know that the cause may not succeed.

I offer you my thanks today for the gift of family - for all those who will gather around my Thanksgiving table, and for those who break bread at other tables this year. I thank you too for those who share with you in the heavenly banquet, those who you have called home and into your embrace. Thank you for relieving their pain and suffering and thank you for all the memories that keep them alive in my mind and in my heart.

I’m grateful, Lord, for friends who continue to be friends even after they have known me well. For those whose nods, winks, and smiles celebrated my joys and triumphs, and whose broad shoulders bore my burdens and lifted me with their compassion. Thank you for all those who have come into my life this year, for older people who have shared with me the wisdom of their yesterdays, and for the young whose enthusiasm and zest for life give me hope for tomorrow.

I’m thankful for the talents of others and for those who share them so generously with us, and for advances in technology and medicine that promise us a better day in the future. And I thank you for work which challenges the talents with which I have been blessed, and for weekends and holidays and holy days which refresh my spirit. For days of pomp and pageantry and parade, and for moments of quiet solitude, I thank you.

I give thanks to you today for the wonder of life, the mystery of love, and the gift of faith. For the sound of music that fills my soul, for the sound of laughter that lifts my spirit, and for the sound of crying that moves my heart with compassion.

I thank you for cloudy days which help me appreciate the sunshine; for tears, which help me appreciate laughter; for pain which helps me appreciate health; for weakness through which I’ve discovered my strength; for sorrow, hurt, and loss through which I have discovered the depth of my own heart; and for failure which has led me to discover my dependence on you.

I thank you for the Church, for its teaching which informs me, and for its saints that inspire me. For the priests, deacons, brothers and sisters who proclaim the gospel, not merely by word but through their tireless dedication to you and your people. For my fellow parishioners who fold their hands in prayer on Sunday morning and who extend their hands in service and generosity throughout the week.

But most of all Lord, I thank you for you! I thank you for simply being God and for loving me with a Father’s love. For sending your Son to us - for the example of his life and for the redemption that his death and resurrection has won. And for the gift of your Spirit, who guides me along the path which I pray someday will lead me home to you.

For all of this Lord I offer my thanks to you on this Thanksgiving Day.

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

When Temples Fall

Malachi 3:19-20a; 2 Thessalonians 3:7-12; Luke 21:5-19

As you probably know, the word gospel comes from the Old English word godspell, which means "good news." Stones thrown down . . . votive offerings overturned . . . nation rising up against nation . . . earthquakes . . . famine . . . plagues? "THE GOSPEL OF THE LORD!" Well what's so good about the "good news" this morning? What's so good about wars and insurrections, earthquakes, famines, plagues and personal persecution, maybe even death? This is the Gospel of the Lord, the "good news" that we're presented with today, just a week after nature wreaked havoc on the Philippines and brought such horrific destruction and death in its path? Are you trying to tell us something, God? . . . Yes, or God is always trying to tell us something. But perhaps something different than what appears on the surface.

Today’s gospel begins with the disciples marveling at the glory of the Temple in Jerusalem. It must have been something to see. The Temple they looked at was one of the wonders of the world. It was brand, spanking new. The original Temple, the Temple that Solomon built, was destroyed by the Babylonians at the beginning of the captivity in 588 BC. When the Israelites returned to Jerusalem around 528, the people had all to do to build shelters for themselves. So, it took about fifteen years for them to begin to build a new Temple. This was a modest undertaking, merely adequate, but the best the people at the time could do. As the centuries progressed, this temple was enlarged and refurbished, but it never approached the magnificence of the Temple that Solomon built. In the year 26 B.C. Herod decided to restore the Temple to the glory of Solomon’s day. It was made of carved blocks of greenish white marble, some of them sixty feet long. The eastern front of the temple and part of the side walls, were covered with gold plate, flashing in the sun, and the inside of the Temple was filled with beautiful ornaments. It took Herod's workmen fifty years to build it, and in fact, was only completed in Jesus’ lifetime.

So we can understand the disciples awe as they pointed out its wonders. And we can understand their shock and horror when Jesus said that all of this magnificence would come to ruin. And, in fact, within forty years, the Romans would put down the Jewish Barsabbus revolt, and to break the spirit of the zealot rebels, would completely destroy the temple leaving nothing but part of the retaining wall (what we now call the Wailing Wall) still standing.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that Jesus prophesied that the Temple would fall, he then goes on to say that the whole world will be destroyed. He says that natural disasters, earthquakes, hurricanes, and political turmoil demonstrate that the world is coming to an end. Jesus says that there will be many claiming that the end is at hand, and in fact, in our own time, every few years someone pops up with proof that the world is going to end on a specific date, like last year when the Mayan calendar expired. But remember what Jesus said: "Ignore them." In the same way we should ignore the Jim Joneses, Charles Mansons, Reverend Sun Myung Moons, and other assorted wackos who have the audacity to claim to be Jesus, incarnate again.

Jesus is adamant that we Christians are not to get flustered, distraught, or full of anxiety. These feelings are reserved for those who refuse to commit their lives to the Kingdom of God. What we need to do is to give witness to Christ, particularly in the face of persecution. Jesus wasn't just addressing the early Christians when he said that you will be delivered up to those who will murder you for being faithful. He was also talking to Archbishop Oscar Romero, Jane Donovan and the Maryknoll sisters and the six Jesuits who were all murdered in El Salvador for demanding that the poor be treated with respect. He was talking to Maximilian Kolbe and all those put to death by the Nazis, Communists and Fascists during the blood stained 20th century. He was talking to all those throughout the ages who were persecuted for living their faith. And he was talking to every one of us who is mocked for hanging on to what the media presents as a dated morality. He was talking to all of us who fight for traditional family values and who fight against the forces that deify self-gratification. All of these people, from the martyrs of the past to those living in your house, may be put to death, or at least commit social suicide for their Christian witness, but patient endurance will save their lives.

Today's gospel is indeed frightening. But it isn't frightening for the reason some fundamentalists would give: the fear of the end. It's frightening because Jesus demands that we give witness - in a sense, become martyrs - if we want to be saved.

It's frightening because Jesus demands that we stand up for him, his kingdom, his values, his call to love, to turn the other cheek, to live the Christian way of life in a materialistic, self-centered world.

It's frightening because it demands that we accept ridicule and rejection from those who mock us.

It’s frightening because it proclaims that only by patient endurance can we be saved.

And so, what do you do when your temple falls? What do you do when the security and stability of your world are gone? What do you do when everything nailed down comes loose, and the institutions, and the laws, and the people you once put your trust in all fail you? What do you do? . . . You find your strength and your security in the one thing that is rock solid, permanent, and indestructible - the Mighty Fortress that is our God.

Life can be bad. Evil is very real. But God's promise is also just as real: "Not a hair on your head will perish . . . you will gain your lives." Jesus wraps us up in a promise of safety in the only way that really matters. God holds you. He will never let go of you. That doesn’t mean that you won't go through bad times. It doesn’t mean that bad things won't happen to good people. But it does mean that God's kingdom will come nonetheless, and his will shall be done - both here and now, on earth, as well as finally, in heaven. He holds us in a grasp that will never let us go, that will never allow evil to have the final say over us.

And so, in a week and a half, when you sit with your family around the Thanksgiving dinner table, say a little silent prayer of thanks that God has allowed you the stability you need to keep on going. And give thanks for God's steadiness and dependability, that when everything else is gone, when your personal temples have fallen, God is still beside you.

And give thanks that God is a God of change, and new beginnings, and new options, and new possibilities, and new challenges, and new opportunities, and new life.

And give thanks that the day will come when we will no longer need to hide inside our temples, but can leave them behind, and walk forward, hand in hand with our Lord - head erect, eyes searching for new horizons, brave and confident - into God's glorious future!

The Solemnity of All Saints

Saints Among Us

Revelation 7:2-4, 9-14; 1 John 3:1-3; Matthew 5:1-12a 

He was born in 1985 and his smile was contagious from the moment he first gave one. A typical kid, with typical interests. He loved professional sports and was a diehard Yankees, Giants and Bulls fan. In elementary school he joined the basketball team and played trumpet in the school band. And it was in fourth grade, when he became an altar server, that his love for God, his love for the church, and his dedication to a life of service began to grow. When he was fifteen years old, he needed a kidney transplant. He never complained, never felt sorry for himself, and used that experience to come to a deeper appreciation for life. He was an average student, but what wasn’t average about him was his goodness, his gentleness, his faith, his love of God, and his commitment to serve God’s people. In his senior year of high school, he became a Eucharistic Minister and spent a week that summer serving the Navajo Nation in Arizona. But during his second year in college, his body began to fail him and he spent five months in various hospitals. The will of God proved stronger than the prayers of his family and friends, and God brought him home to Himself. He had discerned that God was calling him to be a priest. And perhaps we can question the wisdom of God: why would God take such an inspirational and faith-filled individual at a time when the Church needs priests? But if a priest is one who dedicates his life to God through service and sacrifice, in reality, although he never was ordained, he already was a priest. His name is Patrick Nilsen. He was my student, and today is his feast day.

She was born in Brooklyn, NY in 1925, the youngest of seven children. Her father passed away when she was five and there were days when there was little on the family dinner table, and years that they couldn’t even afford a Christmas tree, much less Christmas presents. She attended her parish elementary school and would love to sneak into the church during lunchtime to light a candle and say a prayer in front of the statues of the Sacred Heart, the Blessed Mother, St. Joseph, and her patron saint, St. Therese. In her life, she never accomplished anything that the world would consider great, except to those who see greatness in being a loving and devoted wife to her husband of 51 years, a dedicated mother to her three sons, and a dear friend to all. She attended mass everyday, volunteered to feed the hungry every Thanksgiving, and was a member of a sewing group in her parish that provided clothing for the poor. She was someone who mastered her patron saint’s spiritual philosophy, known as “the little way” to sanctity, by doing the mundane things of everyday life and infusing them with tremendous love. When she was diagnosed with cancer in 1997, she lost her hair, she lost weight, and ultimately lost her life, but she never lost her faith. During her illness, she never admitted to being in the tremendous pain that wracked her body, but only spoke of it as “discomfort,” and refused pain medication that would cause her to be “out of it,” and chose instead to take only Extra-strength Tylenol so she could appreciate the time that she had left with her family. As her life was an example in Christian living, her death became an example in Christian death. And as she lay in her hospital bed a few days before she died, as she finished praying with her family, her face beamed with the most beautiful and serene smile as she announced to her family (while she stared at seemingly nothing at the foot of her bed), “He looks so beautiful.” Her name is Theresa Olsen, my mother, and today is her feast day.

Today, we celebrate the Feast of All Saints. And today is not about those who have been officially canonized. They already have their own particular feast days on the Church calendar. "All Saints" speaks of those who were not famous, but those nonetheless whose lives and deeds and love have endured beyond their death . . . my mother, your father, his brother, her husband, their child; our grandparents, our relatives, our friends . . . all those who have died and are now in the eternal embrace of God in heaven.

What is a saint? Saints are normal people, normal everyday people, who differ from most others in this world, not necessarily because of the degree of their moral perfection, but because of their faith. A saint is someone whose life is dedicated to the love of God and the doing of God's will in their lives. A saint is someone who inspires in us the desire to know and to follow Christ. And so, the feast of All Saints is an opportunity for us to offer a hymn to the ordinary people of the world who are extraordinary in their holiness, their love, their compassion, their dedication, and in their prayerfulness.

What makes a saint? Extravagance: excessive love, flagrant mercy, radical affection, exorbitant charity, immoderate faith, intemperate hope - none of which is an achievement, a badge to be earned or a trophy to be sought, but are secondary by-products of the one thing that truly makes a saint: their love for God.

Saints are those who hear the self-absorbed, success-orientated values that mainstream society has to offer and rejects them; values that shout out to us that: “Happy are those with strong personal ambition - they will get everything they ever dreamed of possessing!” And, “Happy are those who fulfill the expectations of the present age - the world is at their feet!”

But despite the promised happiness that the world offers, saints are those who embrace the values that Jesus proclaims in the Beatitudes, that:

• Blessed are the poor… not the penniless but those whose hearts are free. Theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
• Blessed are those who mourn… not those who whimper but those who raise their voices to weep with those who weep, and rejoice with those that rejoice. They will be comforted.
• Blessed are the meek… not the soft but those who are patient and tolerant. They will inherit the earth.
• Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice… not those who whine but those who struggle. They will be filled.
• Blessed are the merciful… not those who forget but those who forgive. They will be shown mercy.
• Blessed are the pure in heart… not those who act like angels but those whose life is transparent. They will see God
• Blessed are the peacemakers… not those who shun conflict but those who face it squarely. They will be called sons of God
• Blessed are those who are persecuted for justice… not because they suffer but because they love. Theirs is the kingdom of heaven

We can choose to accept our society’s blessing. If we do, I’m sure we will be gifted with what the world knows and understands as blessings. But if we do accept that definition, we also reject our Lord’s voice. For in the world’s blessing there’s very little room for the poor in spirit, the mourning, the merciful, or the meek.

Or we can reject the modern view of blessing and stand in the company of God’s saints. God’s saints are those who know their identity and security are found only in God. God’s saints are those who give only God their total devotion. God’s saints are those who morn because other members of God’s family suffer. God’s saints are those who renounce the violent ways of the world causing that suffering. God’s saints are those who actively strive to do God’s will, and in their merciful actions reflect God’s mercy, and bring God’s peace. God’s saints are those whose actions, and whose very selves, may be rejected by the world, but they rejoice because they know they do their Lord’s work and follow their Lord’s path.

Today we are invited to walk the path of the saints, the way of the Beatitudes. The way is narrow and hard. We need faith and courage to walk it. Today we look to the example of the saints and call upon their prayers to encourage us and strengthen us. We’re told that St Augustine found it hard to live the Beatitudes, but when he read the lives of the saints he said, "What these ordinary women and men have done, why not me?"

Why not us?

Thirtieth Sunday of Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

The Pharisee and the Tax Collector

Sirach 35: 12-14,16-18; 2 Timothy 4: 6-8,16-18; Luke 18: 1-14

Evidently, going to church can be a tricky business!

One person can enter this sanctuary thinking: "I feel good here. I’m doing okay God. Thank you that I have not fallen in temptation like some others I know. Bless me that I may keep up the good work."

Another person can slip into this place thinking: "I’ve got no right to be here, God. I really have screwed up and made a mess of life. If you can, have pity on me."

According to Jesus the first person may leave this church at odds with God, while the second one may leave very much okay with God.

This is just so typical of Jesus, isn’t it?. He keeps on upsetting our complacency, our self satisfaction, and how we justify ourselves before God. Like so many of Jesus’ stories, today’s parable unsettles us, maybe even confuses us a little. It hooks us into looking at someone else, only to discover, in the end, that we are examining our own life before God.

The Pharisee in today’s parable is presented as telling the truth. He does follow the commandments and has avoided the serious sins he list. He also goes beyond the Jewish requirements and customs for fasting. He said he fast twice a week, when fasting is only mandated for the Day of Atonement; not only does he follow the Scriptural command to tithe, he tithes on all his possessions, not merely on his earnings.

He is, by one measure, as good as he thinks he is. The Pharisees were thought of as very good people. They sought to instill a renewed and deep piety in the Jewish people.

Tax collectors, on the other hand, were despised because they were part of the economic system put in place by the Romans. They were not paid by their employers, so they added fees to the taxes collected. There was no standard scale governing this added charge, and so the tax collectors often exacted exorbitant amounts.

There was hardly anyone in Jewish society viewed as being lower than a tax collector. That Jesus would have told a story of a tax collector seeking mercy would have been shocking. The general attitude would have been that tax collectors were unworthy of mercy.

The Gospel of Luke is noted for what is called "divine reversal." Jesus’ listeners and Luke’s readers would have expected praise for the Pharisee who was as good as he said he was, and condemnation for the tax collector who was as low as he said he was. In fact, his prayer for mercy seems to be an admission of his guilt. His demeanor is radically different from that of the Pharisee. 

But it is the Pharisee with whom Jesus finds fault and the Tax Collector who wins God’s favor. He does not find fault with the Pharisee’s actions. After all, he is truly devout, he obeys the religious laws and is faithful and generous. But what he does find fault with is that the Pharisee’s prayer is not so much a prayer as it is a speech. His fault is that his knowledge of his goodness has caused him to become a judge of his fellow man. His problem lies in his point of reference. He is complacent, self-satisfied, and justifies himself before God by comparing himself with the attitudes and actions of others. However, Jesus has said, “Do not judge lest you yourself be judged. The starting point for the man’s comparison should not have been with the tax collector, but with God himself, for Jesus taught: “Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect. He’s looking for recognition of his goodness, but instead of measuring his goodness against God Himself, he measures himself against another human who is in the mind of the Jews a true sinner. 

And to the utter surprise of everyone, is the tax collector who found favor with God. At least he knew he needed God. His prayer was a cry for mercy, not a request for recognition of a job well done. He, in his lowliness, stood humble before God.

Do we consider ourselves lowly? That is what Sirach in the first reading is asking of us. He wants to teach us that the prayer of a lowly person pierces the heavens in a way that the prayer of someone else cannot. And so often we confuse true lowliness with poor self-image. But lowliness is not poor self-image. It is a simple recognition of who I really am before God.

When we become lowly, we recognize that we cannot live by our own strength, but that we must rely totally on a power greater than ourselves. It is not that we cannot act, but that our actions truly become effective when we are living from this other power and not from our own.

Today’s parable is not about who is good and who is bad, or even who is better and who is worse. It is about who is open to God's love, grace and forgiveness and who allows that grace to transform them. The real question for the Pharisee, the Tax Collector and for us is this: are we humble enough to be open to God's grace? Are we able to see God's love for us and for others, and are we able to accept and share that love? God does not ask us to live better than someone else, but to live as best as we can according to our own faith, our own gifts, and our own sense of God's call.

And so, as we continue with our liturgy and prepare to offer at our altar, not only gifts of bread and wine, but ourselves: all that we are, all that we have and all that we do, let our prayer echo that of the great Jesuit theologian, Walter Burkhardt, who once wrote:

"O God, I thank you that I am like the rest of humankind. I thank you that, like everyone else, I too have been shaped in your image, with a mind to know and a heart to love, and that, like everyone else, I too was embraced by the crucified arms of your Son. I thank you that, for all our thousand differences, I am so remarkably like the people all around me and that you judge me, like everyone else, not by my brains or beauty, my skin tone or muscle power, my clothes, the size of my house or the roar of my car, but by the love that is your gift to me.

I thank you for letting me see that there is a little of the Pharisee in me, that I too have this very human yearning for something that sets me apart from the rest. If I am to thank you for making me different, let it be because, through your mercy, I am different from what I would have been without you. Thank you, Lord, for making me so splendidly the same as everyone else, because it means I am that much closer to your Son, who became what all of us are: wonderfully and fearfully human. Keep me that way, Lord, and always be merciful to me, sinner that I am."

Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

Pray, Constantly and Always

Readings: Exodus 17:8-13; 2 Timothy 3:14-4:2; Luke 11: 1-13

Well, we don't have to look very hard to find the theme of today's gospel, do we? Luke emphatically blurts it out at the very beginning of today’s gospel passage. It’s the only time, at least that I can recall, that any of the four evangelists explains a parable even before the parable is given. Apparently, the message of the parable was something Luke didn’t want his readers to miss. And so, he tells us: "Jesus told his disciples a parable on the necessity of praying always without becoming weary." Prayer is one of Luke’s favorite gospel themes. Luke, more than other gospel writers, emphasizes the importance of prayer. He portrays Jesus as a man of prayer and underscores the necessity of prayer for those who would choose to follow Jesus

Prayer is asking, prayer is wondering, prayer is bringing to God all of the feelings from the depths of our souls, so that we might lay them before his throne. So that we might cry out from the very inner longings of our soul all the concerns, all the problems, all the things that make us who we are, and what we are.

Prayer is a struggle, a tug of war between parts of our self, between our self and God, between our self and others.

But not only do we struggle to bring from the depths of our souls, our longings, our searchings, our inner feelings to God, not only do we struggle to lay bear before the throne of God our very self, but in prayer, we come in contact with God. Prayer is indeed an encounter with God, and encounter between our spirit and the spirit of God. God's spirit comes to us and mingles with our spirit so that we might be encouraged, so that we might be enabled, so that we might be strengthen to bring from the depth of our souls all those needs, doubts, struggles, joys, thanksgivings, celebrations, all those events of life into the realm of God.

But as wonderful as all that sounds, prayer is a problem for many people. If it wasn't a problem, then why are there so few people who seem to take prayer seriously? If it isn't a problem for us then why do we find it so hard to set time aside everyday to spend with God in prayer? If we took prayer seriously then we wouldn't hesitate to be persistent and consistent in the time we spend in conversation with God. And if you think that this is a particularly new problem, think again. Why would Jesus have told this parable and quite a number of others about prayer to his disciples? Why would he have given us the Lord's Prayer as a model prayer if everybody back then had perfect prayer lives? Prayer is a problem for anyone who desires a relationship with the all-present, yet unseen God.

But if we really believed in the power of prayer, if we really believed that prayer can effect world peace, if we were truly convinced that prayer changes things, changes us, heals broken lives and restores severed relationships, then we would be praying constantly. You couldn't keep us from praying. So what stops us? More often than not, we simply lose heart.

Yet clearly, the example of the widow in this morning’s gospel teaches us that what God requires is faithful perseverance, even when things seem hopeless. Luke tells us to pray persistently like the widow who nagged the dishonest judge "who neither feared God nor respected any human being." Persistence to get the just decision she wanted was her only strategy. Knowing she would not relent, the judge finally gave in.

We don’t know why life is cruel, but it is. We don’t know why some of our prayers seem to be answered so dramatically while others seem to fall on silent ears. But one thing is true. In today’s gospel, Jesus teaches us to pray constantly and always, and never give up offering our prayers to our Heavenly Father. Because when we pray, something happens - not only to what we want done in the prayer, but more importantly, something happens to us! Prayer is not so much getting God to do what we want done as it is drawing closer to God. As we pray constantly and always, we move closer to God, and something of God’s heart becomes ours.

Pray constantly and always! That’s sound advice. Even when things go wrong, even when we don’t seem to get any results, even when our world falls down upon us, pray, Jesus says, constantly and always. Because when we pray like that, our thoughts, our minds, our hearts are drawn closer to God. In prayer, we pour out our hearts to a loving God, to the God of all compassion and justice. In the gospel, Jesus contrasts God with the hard-hearted, unscrupulous, uncaring judge. If God were like that judge, who’d bother to pray at all? Who’d want to worship a tyrant like that? Rather, Jesus says, pray trusting in the goodness of God.

I don't know what you’ve been praying for. It might have been something as big or something small. It might have been world peace or peace in your family. It might have been food for the hungry or the health to eat what you have. It might have been for whole nations to find Christ or for one person to be saved. Whatever it is; keep praying, constantly and always. Don’t give up. Pray with faith that your prayers are heard. Pray with trust that God is loving. And let your prayers draw you closer to God. For often that nearness to God is the answer we seek and the blessing God has for us.

Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

Jesus, Master, Have Pity on Us

2 Kings 5:1-3, 9-17; 2 Timothy 2:8-13; Luke 17:11-19 

Who knows how long they had suffered or the pain they had endured? Who knows the sweetness they left behind or the shattered dreams that marked their sleep?

They had been cursed by God; visited by a plague that didn’t kill, yet, never seemed to end. Their leprosy lingered for years, as limbs became twisted and deformed, skin became scarred, and memories of happier times began to fade. They were both pitied and feared; lamented and shunned. They were the lost ones — people whose families mourned them as dead, though their bodies lived on. The lepers who met Jesus on the road to Jerusalem lived out their lives as ghosts wandering in the shadows of the hills and along the brambly edges of the path. In the eyes of the world, they were fearful and unclean.

Where did they get the courage to raise their voices? What gave them the nerve to shout, “Jesus, Master! Have pity on us!” Had they heard of this healer? Did they know his reputation? Had they huddled together on edge of a crowd, straining to hear him preach? Did they dare to believe in life, even when the world saw them as dead?

Whatever drove them or inspired them, these ten lepers got it all. A new start, a clean bill of health, a chance to reclaim their lives. And in their joy, they ran out to embrace it. But one of them returned to give thanks. One of them saw beyond the gift to the giver.

It’s interesting that Luke, the author of today’s gospel and a physician by trade, presents the cure so matter-of-factly, almost in passing. There’s no discussion, no dramatics, no nothing. And so maybe in the very way he tells the story, Luke is trying to convey to us that what’s important isn’t that they were restored to health, but that the change in their bodies gave them an invitation, an opportunity to be changed in their minds and their hearts - an opportunity to see in Christ not just a healer, but a savior; to see in their cure not just their own good fortune, but rather the saving presence of God at work among His people.

The Samaritan-leper in today’s gospel returned to Jesus because he saw more than healed flesh; he saw new realities in his life. God had touched his life in an act of profound mercy, and life would never be the same for him again. Jesus had come to him, had touched him, had told him that he mattered to God, that he had a Father in heaven who cared for him. And, in that touch, this Samaritan, this outsider, now understood what it was like to come home and be embraced by his Father. So he turned, and he came back to the source of that greater healing which he - and he alone among the ten who were healed - received. He, who thought of himself as nothing more than a beggar before his God's throne, found a God who listened to him, who cared for him as a dear son!

It would be so easy to neutralize this powerful message by emphasizing the theme of the need to be polite or the value of saying, “Thanks.” It might be tempting to re-cast this dynamic encounter as little more than a morality tale designed to instill good manners and fine behavior. But that would be a mistake. This passage isn’t about courtesy, or civility, or the importance of being nice. There’s so much more that’s going on in this passage than a lesson in gracious living. In this passage, in the changes that come over one grateful leper, Luke gives us an insight into our own spiritual development. You see, besides being a loathsome and deadly physical disease, the Bible often uses leprosy as a symbol of emotional, psychological, social and spiritual dis-ease, a lack of wholeness, that keeps us alienated from God, from others, and even from ourselves. For like leprosy, these things are highly contagious and destructive. They can disfigure us, deteriorate us, distance us, and if not addressed, can ultimately lead to a different but equally costly death.

Let me look around here. No, I don’t see any lepers with us this morning. No ulcerating skin, no nodules with foul discharges, some loss of hair, but I’ll write that off as natural. Physically, we all look to be leprosy-free. But of course looks can be deceiving. What looks on the outside like a normal, healthy person could be someone suffering from emotional or spiritual leprosy.

What about you? Is there something that makes you feel like a leper? Something that alienates you from others? Something that you feel you have to keep hidden, fearful that if others became aware of it they would see you differently, treat you differently? Or are you cut off from others because of past history, false allegations, rumors, gossip, innuendo?

What are the oozing sores that you bare - physical, emotional, psychological, social, spiritual - that perhaps cause you to see yourself as different or unattractive, if not to others then to yourself? Or maybe you still bear the scars of a failed relationship or the wound of the loss of someone you love.

What are the areas in your life where you need healing? Physical pain, disease, chronic illness; problems with an addiction; anxieties about school or the job; concerns about others – their health or the choices they’ve made; confusion about who you are or what the future holds for you; hurt feelings over what someone you care about said or did; depression because no matter what you do, it never seems to turn out the way you want. Or maybe a deep sense of guilt fills you because of things you’ve done, and you don’t know how in heaven God will forgive you, or how on earth anyone else can forgive you, because you can’t even forgive yourself.

The truth is, to one extent or another, we all suffer from leprosy. We all have those discolored patches, the ones that emit a foulness that seeps into and infects the rest of our lives. There’s something in our life that keeps us from being whole before God. There’s someplace where we’re incomplete.

But part of being human is admitting that we’re less than perfect and that we need healing. And that’s what we’ve been offered. Through his death and resurrection, through the gift of bread and cup, through the gathering of his body that’s called the Church, Christ has reached out his hand to us and offered a healing touch. When Christ’s divinity meets our humanity, healing begins again. All it takes is for us to echo the words of the leper in today’s gospel and cry out, “Jesus, Master! Have pity on me!” And when we do, regardless of the afflictions and the seriousness of the symptoms, each week we’re told over and over again, “Go in peace; your faith has saved you.”

So go ahead. Say those words in prayer, “Jesus, Master! Have pity on me.” Say them at Communion time. Say those words directly to our Lord, conscious of your need for healing – spiritual healing, along the lines perhaps of forgiveness and reconciliation; or healing of a broken spirit, spiritual healing needed to overcome discouragement, confusion, disappointment, sadness. Your spiritual leprosy may stand in need of the healing of hope, the healing that only hope can bring, and the hope that can bring that healing can be found only in the Lord. Here you are, face-to-face with him in prayer today. Seize the moment as best you can.

Got a problem? Call out to Jesus. Oppressed with a concern? Take it to God in prayer. Our gospel today shows us that God cares for us. God hears our prayers and responds, not because we’ve earned that respect nor done anything to deserve it. But just because that’s who God is. And a sincere, humble and contrite heart God will not spurn.

The Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

Jesus First. Jesus Only. Jesus Forever

Readings: Wisdom 9:13-18b; Philemon 9-10:12-17; Luke 14:25-33

For more than 10 weeks now we’ve been walking with Jesus as He makes His way to Jerusalem, where He will ultimately lay down His life for the salvation of the world. Each Sunday, as we’ve heard the continuous proclamation of the Gospel of St. Luke, we’ve been invited to join Jesus and His disciples in their pilgrimage. And it is in the course of that journey, through parables and direct teachings, Jesus tells His disciples – and us – the meaning of authentic discipleship, the qualities and expectations of being one of His disciples.

For example, just this summer, in our gospel readings, we’ve heard Jesus say things like:

• “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God.” And when He said that, He taught that a disciple must make a firm and irrevocable decision to be with Him.
• We also heard on another Sunday this summer Jesus instruct his disciples to “carry no money bag, no sack, no sandals.” Through this, he tried to get across that a disciple must rely totally on God.
• A few weeks ago, when we heard Jesus say, “Ask and you will receive; seek and you will find.” He meant that a disciple is a person of faithful and persevering prayer.
• Still another week, we heard the Parable of the Good Samaritan in which Jesus emphasized that a disciple must practice charity toward his neighbor.
• And to Martha, who complained that she was left with all the work to do while her sister, Mary, sat at Jesus feet listening to Him teach, we heard Jesus say that “Mary has chosen the better part”, that a disciple is one who listens attentively to the voice of God.

Then we come to today’s gospel. To his disciples and the great crowd that gathered with them, Jesus now reveals the cost of true discipleship: “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple . . . Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple . . . anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple.”

Difficult and startling words! But the fact of the matter is that Jesus is calling us to be more than just his followers; He calls us to be His disciples. It’s easy to be a follower. It doesn’t really involve any serious accountability. Followers may easily change their allegiance to the leader if his message isn’t what they expect. Followers are opportunists. Their attitude is "What's in it for me?" But on the other hand, being a true disciple involves a serious commitment, a total dedication to the message, as well as to the messenger. A disciple is faithful and loyal. A disciple has a profound sense of obedience. A disciple has a desire to learn as much as he can from his teacher.

Is it possible to be just a follower of Jesus without really being his disciple? Sure. They’re the ones who may claim to be Catholics because they’ve been baptized from birth, but in reality, they have no commitment to Jesus, nor his Church. Others may go to Church occasionally whenever it feels good. But that’s called convenience not commitment. Still others boast about being followers of Jesus, yet they have nothing to do with him when his teachings or the teachings of the Church contradict the way they live their lives. The problem is this: one cannot be a part-time or sometimes disciple. We cannot follow Jesus only when it’s convenient and doesn’t demand very much from us.

God wants me. And God wants you. And he doesn't just want a bit of us. He wants all of us. Jesus lays it on the line for us: Living the Gospel means total and absolute surrender to God. He calls forth from His disciples the same love, the same obedience, the same single-hearted dedication that He has for His Father. And His words, "Unless you turn your back on father or mother, wife or children, brother or sister, and your very selves you cannot be my follower" shouldn’t really shock us because we all know that love demands a total claim upon the Beloved.

Those of you who are married are so aware of this. You know that you can’t expect your marriage to grow if you hold back part of yourselves from each other. When you first considered how serious of a relationship you could establish with that girl or guy you felt so attracted to, you asked yourself, "Is this someone whom I can give myself to? Will he or she accept me as I am? Can I accept him or her totally as she or he is? Indeed the success of the marriage is directly proportional to the capability of the couple to enter into intimacy, to their ability to give and to share with each other. Love claims the Beloved, totally.

And as true as this is in every relationship of love, this truth reaches its perfection in the relationship with the One who is Love Incarnate, with our Lord Jesus Christ. He has given himself totally to us. And for our relationship with Him to flourish, we have to accept his gift of himself and give ourselves totally to him. This relationship with the Lord must supersede all other relationships: family, friends, and even ourselves. The relationship with Jesus demands living His life and even following Him in sacrifice by denying ourselves and taking up life’s crosses.

We are in a love relationship with Jesus. Sometimes we forget this. We treat religion as an obligation rather than as an action of love. But like all relationships, we have to work hard for the relationship to succeed. We have to make time for our Loved One. We have to seek his presence in the community where we receive his intimacy in the sacraments. We have to seek his presence in our homes where we unite his presence to the intimacy of our family. And, as in all valued relationships, we have to protect the relationship from anything that would diminish its intensity. That's why we have to avoid sin and the occasion of sin. Our Christian morality isn’t a way of life to keep God happy. He doesn't need that. He's perfectly happy. Our Christian morality is a way of life to keep ourselves happy. We grow in the intensity of His love when we fight off anything that destroys or diminishes this love.

The Eucharist that we are privileged to celebrate today nourishes and strengthens us for our “journey to Jerusalem”. It is here, through Word and Sacrament that we are empowered by Christ Himself to give up everything, take up our crosses and follow him. Participating in this holy meal means that we are of one mind and one heart with Him, and that we submit our will to God's will in all things. That is the cost of becoming and remaining a disciple of Jesus.

Jesus first. Jesus only. Jesus forever.

Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

Good News – Bad News

Isaiah 66:18-21; Hebrews 12:5-7; 11-13; Luke 13:22-30 

As I was preparing for my homily, I recalled a story I once heard about a priest who was greeting his parishioners one evening after the 5:00 mass. He noticed a man approaching him whom he didn't recognize. As the man drew closer, the priest noticed the man’s slow gait, his eyes cast to the ground . . . his shoulders slumped as if he carried the world upon them. The priest, sensing that the man was troubled, asked if there was a problem and if there was any way he could be of assistance. The man’s eyes, brimming with tears, made contact with those of the priest. “Well Father,” the man said, “I have some good news and some bad news. Let me share with you the bad news first. I’ve just come from the doctor and he informed me that I only have an hour to live.” As you might imagine, the priest put his arm around the man to console him and expressed his sorrow for his fate. “Oh I’m so sorry” said the priest. “What horrible news! But you mentioned that you also had some good news?” “Yes,” the man said. “After sitting through your homily tonight, that hour seemed like an ETERNITY!” . . . Hopefully you won’t have the same reaction after I finish my homily this morning.

“Good news” . . . “Bad news.” That’s seems to be the dichotomy we’re presented with as we contrast our first reading and our Gospel. In the first reading, Isaiah presents us with an epic scene. People once scattered in exile are being brought back together from all corners of the world. People from every nation; foreigners and immigrants. And it is God who is bringing them together and they are given a sign of His glory. Jerusalem once devastated; once rendered to ruin and ashes is restored and rebuilt. What was once thought impossible is accomplished by God. And they who were witnesses to what God had done bring the good news of what they had seen; they bring God’s fame and glory to others. And the new converts all come processing into Jerusalem to God’s holy mountain to worship in the great Temple—the slaves and the free; the warriors and the weak; the wealthy and the slaves, “on horses and in chariots, in carts, upon mules and dromedaries.” “The new Jerusalem will include people from all nations.” God’s covenant; God’s promise to love, protect, and save is not just for a few but for all.

As we come processing today in our own ways to God’s holy place, we, too, come from all walks of life – from diverse ethnicities, backgrounds, and educations. Many of us come from all corners of our country and some from outside our country. As we gather to worship, we bring all those things that make us one—our one faith and our love for the Lord and the Eucharist.

We also bring those things which make us different—our opposing views on such matters as birth control, divorce and remarriage, and homosexuality; our conflicting ideologies and even our differences in beliefs. And we bring our personal conflicts—“disagreements among family members, troubled marriages, challenges in our jobs, unhappiness and personal battles with depression, despair and self-destructive habits. Even our children carry with them fears of their own, moving beyond fears of the dark and of monsters under the bed,” to fears of bullying and not measuring-up, of parents who argue and homes that are filled with tension. Yet we continue to come to this holy place, to the new Jerusalem, to offer worship to God, who has extended His salvation to all of us.

But the tone of our readings significantly takes a downward plunge when we hear the Gospel. Once

again, we’re taken back by the bad mood that Jesus has seemed to be over the past few weeks.

“Lord, will only a few people be saved?” Why ask such a question? Why? Was his question one straight from Trivial Pursuit, one that is just something that would be interesting to know. Perhaps it was meant as a subtle criticism of Jesus, “Lord, exactly how many do you really think are going to take serious your message and expectations?” Maybe he thought that heaven was “small” with a few insiders and lots of outsiders, and he didn’t want to be left on the outside looking in. Or perhaps, like all of us, he was worried about the strife and the conflict, and he wanted to make sure that he was on the right track; that he was doing the right things. Possibly, he wanted a checklist of things to do to get to heaven—“Do these things; all of these things and don’t leave any out, and you’ll get to heaven.”

We don’t know what his motivation was. But what we do know is that he didn’t get the answer that he was looking for. If he was expecting a precise answer—a tenth of you, 50% of you—he had to be disappointed with Jesus’ answer. As sincere as he might have been, and whatever his motives were, Jesus sounds downright stern, and his answer is almost in the form of a rebuke. Jesus makes it personal and tells him that salvation requires effort—strenuous, intensive, and maybe even painful effort. That it will be like squeezing through a narrow door and the door won’t always remain open. And that there is urgency and we should never get overconfident, because he may be surprised who gets in and who doesn’t.

And for those who claim a special relationship with Jesus, those who ate and drank with him? Well, Jesus had only one thing to say to them and it’s an admonishment: “I do not know where you are from.”

“Lord, will only a few people be saved?” It’s a question to which we are all seeking an answer. The answer we hope to hear from Jesus is: “No, not just a few of you; but all of you. You Catholics who go to Mass every weekend and receive the sacraments. You who strive to live good lives. You decent people, who do your best; you who get involved, serve others, and share what you can afford. You!” But it’s not the answer we receive . . . is it? Salvation is not as simple as having membership in the Catholic Church. We don’t work our way to or earn our entrance through the door to heaven by some kind of spiritual workout routine—human capability and effort are just not enough.

“Lord, will only a few people be saved?” It’s so hard for us to understand this mystery of salvation, a salvation that is not limited by law, ritual, or our own expectations on who will be saved and who won’t.

We all seek assurance of our place in the next world. And we all want to be the insiders, but Jesus seems to be cautioning us about how misguided our expectations can be. All roads do not lead to heaven—only one road, one path, through one narrow gate. And that gate is him. If this sounds like a dire warning that Jesus is issuing, it is. We can’t be complacent and think that our eternities are secure. We can’t be smug and think that we’re living the lives of disciples that guarantee us an “in” position. It’s not enough that we listen to his Word proclaimed and receive his body and blood without being changed. And like those in Isaiah’s vision who were chosen to bring the message of what they had seen to others, we too are chosen to witness to what we have heard and received to others—those in our families, our friends and others in this parish who were once here with us on Sundays and are no longer. To bring them the good news and bring them back.

“Lord, will only a few people be saved?” Perhaps Jesus’ response to the disciple in today’s Gospel was really meant to say, “You know what, that’s none of your business and it’s not even the right question. The real question you should be concerned with is, “Lord, will I be saved?” And my response to that is, “What are you doing this day to make that happen?”

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

Setting the World on Fire

Jeremiah 38:4-6, 8-10; Hebrews 12:1-4; Luke 12:49-53 

The Revised Standard Version, or RSV, is recognized by biblical scholars as the most accurate, the most precise, English translation of the Bible from the original Hebrew and Greek. In 1982, Reader's Digest published an edition of the RSV that was billed as a “condensed edition” of the text. It was designed for the sporadic bible reader or for one who might be intimidated by its length. The typical edition of the RSV averages at 1096 pages; the Reader’s Digest edition, 799 – a difference of 297 pages. That’s a heck of a lot of editing! In fact, in the Reader’s Digest version, 55% of the Old Testament and 25% of the New Testament were cut. To be honest, I’ve never seen it, but I think it’s a safe bet that today’s Gospel is probably one of the passages that has been edited out. “I have come to set the earth on fire and how I wish it were already blazing! . . . Do you think I have come to establish peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.” A Gospel very difficult to hear. And from my perspective, one that is very difficult to preach.

So, strengthened by the confidence that Fr. Marc has in me to explain the deepest mysteries of our faith and the greatest perplexities of the Gospel, let’s look at this morning’s difficult passage.

And let’s begin by setting our minds at ease. Jesus was NOT an arsonist. He had no scorched earth policy. He did not want to destroy the earth by fire. But he surely did want to “fire us up” with enthusiasm for his Gospel, to “ignite” our zeal for the spread of his Gospel and the salvation of our brothers and sisters in the human community. He wanted to spread a fire of love and concern for the poor in our world. He was something of a firebrand for justice and he surely wanted his followers to be enthusiasts for justice too. He may have also thought of the faith that was his gift to us as something like a bed of embers that required fanning from time to time, fanning that raised the flame of faith to a higher intensity in prayer.

I think that this morning’s Gospel should cause all of us to reflect on the fire-like enthusiasm Jesus had for the spread of the Gospel and to consider where that enthusiasm is in each of our lives and in our world. Indeed, the words of Jesus today challenge us all to think about the degree of intensity of our own personal enthusiasm for the cause of Christianity in our world, for the spread of the word and way of life that Christ brought to our world. He chose to establish a Church for the vehicle of his mission. What is your enthusiasm for the Church today? What is mine? And, I think it’s fair to ask, what is our Church’s enthusiasm for the cause of Christ? This may sound strange, but we have to wonder if maybe we’re getting too comfortable, too detached from the urgent problems of hunger, poverty, and human need that were real concerns to the heart of Christ.

How fired-up are you and the Church today to continue the work Jesus began – preaching the good news to the poor, healing the sick, saving sinners, sanctifying all? Is the fire going out in Catholic education, Catholic health care, Catholic social services? Are there seats on governing boards of Catholic hospitals, schools, colleges, and service agencies waiting to be filled by people with your skills and resources, if only you were sufficiently enthusiastic to want to serve in this capacity? Are volunteer service opportunities failing to attract Catholic hands and hearts because Catholic ears no longer hear Jesus saying, “I have come to set the world on fire?”

Where is that fire today? Where are the Catholics who want to be priests for the parishes, nuns and brothers for the schools, nurses for Catholic hospitals and assisted living communities, trained professionals for the Catholic social service agencies. Has the “American Dream” of getting ahead, and the quest for personal wealth and status displaced Jesus’ dream of the Kingdom of God, where the first is the one who serves?

This theme seems to be a passion of Pope Francis. Listen to these six statements that he has made, at different times and in different circumstances, just in the short five months that he has been our pope:

• “True wealth is the love of God, shared with one’s brothers, that love that comes from God and makes us share among ourselves, and makes us help one another. He who experiences this . . . receives peace of heart.” 
• “In the history of the Church there have been two classes of Christians: Christians of words – those “Lord, Lord, Lord” – and Christians of action, in truth.” 
• “We need to avoid (becoming) a church that is wrapped up in its own world: when a church becomes like this, it grows sick.” 
• “Jesus teaches us another way: Go out. Go out and share your testimony, go out and interact with your brothers, go out and share, go out and ask. Become the Word in body as well as spirit.”
• “We cannot be part-time Christians. We should seek to live our faith at every moment of every day.” 
• “Are we ready to be Christians full-time, showing our commitment by word and deed?” 

Fortunately, we can see that the fire of which Jesus speaks in today’s Gospel is ablaze at St. Therese in people like the twenty-nine teenagers and adults who responded to the need of the children in Dunlow, West Virginia, and sacrificed a week of their summer vacation witnessing to the Gospel by constructing a library for the elementary school there.

We see it in the outreach of our parish to those in need in Roxbury through our support of our monthly food collections that support Roxbury Social Services, in the holiday meals we provide at Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter, as well as our Christmas Giving Tree and Easter Baskets.

It’s seen in the nutritious breakfasts that the children in our sister parish of St. Cecelia in Kenya are able to benefit from because of our financial support.

It’s seen in each and every item placed in our Baskets of Hope that help those in need in Haiti and parishes and Church-sponsored institutions right here in New Jersey.

But, as I’ve told my students hundreds of times, Christianity isn’t just something we do on Sunday morning. Christianity is a way of life. And so Jesus’ words today force us to internalize and take stock on whether our response to the fire which he wants to set upon the earth is an incessant blaze or a flash in the pan.

Beyond being challenging, Jesus’ sharp and startling words shake us out of our easy chairs and force us to reexamine our own personal response to who Jesus is, what Jesus said, and how Jesus lived. His words are difficult. Not so much difficult to understand, but difficult because the demands they make on us are only too clear.

He went on to say, “Do you think I have come to establish peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.” Jesus was in many ways an idealist, but he also was a realist. He was well aware that his ministry would bring discord. If we go back to the beginning, to the second chapter of the Gospel of Luke, we find the wise old man Simeon prophesying to Mary, when she brought the infant Jesus into the Temple, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted.”

Jesus was and still is a sign of contradiction. He is the Prince of Peace, yet nonetheless, his teachings were, are, and probably always will be a source of division. That shouldn’t scandalize us. Neither should it prevent us from standing up and speaking out for all things Catholic, while dedicating our time, talent, and treasure to the advancement of our Catholic faith and our Catholic institutions. We simply cannot permit the fire to go out!

This is our faith! This is our Church, ignited by the flame of Jesus Christ, the Light of the World!

Fired up?
Or merely lukewarm?

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

Pray SIMPLY, Pray PERSISTENTLY, 

Pray EXPECTANTLY

Genesis 18: 20-32; Colossians 2:12-14; Luke 11: 1-13

“I’ll pray for you . . . Keep me in your prayers.” So often those phrases are tossed out during a casual goodbye or especially when trouble is on the loose or some worry hovers in the air. But for all our good intentions, for some reason, we neglect this rich source of strength and power for our daily lives and don’t pray. Sometimes we don’t have the time (or make the time) in our busy schedules. Sometimes we forget. Sometimes we may even doubt the value of prayer; we may lack the confidence that it really does anything.

Our Gospel is divided into three sections and in them, Jesus teaches us three very important things about our prayer. First, that we should Pray SIMPLY, knowing that God reads our hearts as well as understands our words. Second, that we should Pray PERSISTENTLY, knowing that our gracious God wants to respond with what is best for us. And third, that we should Pray EXPECTANTLY, trusting that God will pour out gifts far beyond our dreams.

Today’s Gospel begins, as it often does in Luke’s Gospel with Jesus himself praying. The disciples of our Lord saw their Master in prayer and they were so struck by this that they asked him to teach them to pray. And in response, Jesus provides the model of prayer that has come to be known as the “Lord’s Prayer” . . . the “Our Father.”

The Lord’s Prayer is something that most of us rhyme off very glibly, often thinking of other things while we are saying it. But, in praying it, we are saying the most powerful prayer known to humankind, next to the Mass itself. That prayer has been prayed continuously since the days of the early Church. People all around the world have prayed that same prayer day and night for two thousand years. And when we pray it, we connect ourselves to all believers everywhere in all time. It is considered by many to be the perfect prayer model, not just because our Lord taught it himself, but because it contains all the simple aspects of prayer which are important for maintaining the relationship we have with our Father. Through it, Jesus taught that:

• We should pray that our Father’s name be holy upon our lips and within our lives, that our lives be filled with prayer, and praise, and thanksgiving in His name.
• We should pray that His kingdom will come among us and that His will be done. Both make the point that in all our prayers our goal should be the fulfillment of God’s will, not our will. 
• We should pray for our daily bread. Asking God to provide the things we need to live is important because it acknowledges the fact that we depend on God.
• We should pray for the forgiveness of our sins and the ability to forgive those who sin against us.
• And we should pray for protection against every temptation to sin that would cause us to stumble and fall from our faith.

It’s interesting to note that Jesus doesn’t teach the disciples any special skills. He doesn’t say if you fold your hands or hold them palms up toward heaven, or rest them on the particular person you’re praying for, or kneel or stand or sit, or use a special style of language, you are more likely to have your prayers answered. Prayer doesn’t involve having special skills and saying the right words so that we can reach God’s ear. It's not the length of the prayer or it's eloquence that God hears. Praying is simply being in presence of our heavenly Father who is ready at any moment to listen to our words, our whispers, our groans and sighs, and answer with his love.

But Jesus wasn’t finished teaching his disciples when he gave them this model. He also wanted to teach them that when they prayed, they should pray persistently. And to do this, He went on to tell them a brief story about a man going to a friend at midnight to ask for some bread to feed a surprise visitor. Jesus concludes the story by stating that even though the man might have to ask several times, the friend will give the bread if for no other reason than the man’s persistence.

In an age of instant gratification, we often forget the importance of perseverance. Fast food gives us meals in an instant. Credit cards buy us goods whenever and wherever we want. Cell phones, texting and Skype allow us to communicate instantly. Entertainment is available at the flick of a switch. God does indeed listen to our prayers, but it’s only logical that He wants to see how committed we are to what we are praying for. God wants us to be persistent in our requests. Only then do we demonstrate both the sincerity of our prayer and our ultimate trust in His ability to answer it.

And then, at the end of today’s Gospel, Jesus goes on to make some pretty incredible promises to those who pray: “Ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened for you”. Wow! What Jesus is saying is that when something is important enough that we continually ask, we should expect to receive. When something is important enough that we continually seek, we should expect to find it. And when something is important enough that we continually knock on God’s door, we should expect Him to open the door for us to know how to obtain it. Prayer is not an idle exercise. “Ask and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened to you” is Jesus’ three-fold promise to those who pray. Clearly, Jesus is telling us to ask LOUDLY, seek TIRELESSLY and knock SHAMELESSLY. And so . . .

• ASK: Tell Him what you want. Don’t tell Him how or when to give it to you. That’s His business. Yours is simply to ask, trusting that it will be given to you, in your Father’s time and in your Father’s way.
• Seek: Actively search out how God is answering your prayer. 
• Knock: Be bold. Don’t wait for the doors of heaven to swing open like those automatic doors at the grocery store. Bang on them. Storm the gates of heaven with your prayers. They will open to you. 

But each of us, I’m sure, can name at least one time when it seemed God didn’t get the message we had sent in fervent prayer. There are clearly times that we have sought, but didn’t find exactly what we were looking for; asked, but didn’t received what we had asked; knocked but found the that door seemed to remain closed. Yes, there are times in our lives that it appears to us that God didn’t answer our prayers. But he did answer it, and the answer was “No.” But you see, sometimes we suffer from tunnel vision, and God, well, He has peripheral vision, and because He is a loving Father, replies to our prayer, “No, I won’t give you what you asked for, but I will give you what you really need in the big picture of things.”

When my mom was alive, she would frequently give me holy cards or prayer cards. Sometimes they would be in honor of a saint, sometimes for a particular intention. But of all the ones she gave me, there is one that is my favorite. I say it every day as I begin to pray. I think it most succinctly and most beautifully reminds me of what Jesus taught about prayer and what my attitude towards it should be:

I know not by what methods rare

but this I know, God answers prayer.

I know not when he sends the word

that tells us fervent prayer is heard.

I know it comes soon or late,

therefore I need to pray and wait.

I know not if the blessing sought

will come in just the way I thought.

I leave my prayer with Him alone

whose will is wiser than my own.

In his First Letter to the Thessalonians, St. Paul tells us to “Pray unceasingly.” Good advice. Because, you know what? If we truly took Jesus at his word, I don’t think we’d ever be off our knees.

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

A Time to Do; A Time to Listen; A Time to Pray

Genesis 18:1-10A; Colossians 1:24-28; Luke 10:38-42 

The story of Jesus’ visit to Mary and Martha’s place and what happened in the lead up to mealtime was so easy to understand when we first heard it as children attending Catholic elementary school or a parish religious education class. Its message was simple and to the point – Martha was too busy in the kitchen to have time to listen to Jesus. Mary did the right thing. The lesson ended reminding us that we should always make time to spend with Jesus.

There’s nothing wrong with that kind of a conclusion, but now from an adult’s perspective, the story isn't as straight forward as it seems. Life is much more complicated as an adult. We can appreciate Martha’s point of view because our lives are packed with so many demands. We understand well what Martha was going through and how she felt. Actually, to tell you the truth, I give Martha credit because I don’t think many of us would have handled it as tactfully and directly she did. I remember several Thanksgivings growing up, as my father, brothers and I would be in the den, comfortably bonding in front of the television watching a football game, we would suddenly hear the harsh bang of a pot on the stove or an abrupt slam of a kitchen cabinet door as a not so subtle reminder that mom was alone in the kitchen preparing the feast and just might appreciate a little help or maybe just a little bit of company.

In Jesus’ time, custom required that when you welcomed a guest, you must do certain things or you would be insulting the guest. A few chapters before today's gospel, we hear that Simon the Pharisee invited Jesus to dinner and failed to busy himself doing the things that were considered common hospitality when a visitor came for a meal. Simon had failed to greet his guest and wash his feet, and Jesus was quick to point out Simon’s errors as a host. Likewise here, Martha is busy doing what was expected. Mary wasn't.

What's more important - being busy serving the Lord or sitting quietly and listening and learning? Who was right Martha or Mary?

Well, according to Jesus’ response to Martha’s complaint about Mary not pitching in and helping in the kitchen, Mary had chosen the right thing. Mary was following Jesus’ own advice, "People do not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God".

But I’m confused, because as we heard last Sunday, immediately before this incident, Jesus tells the story about the Good Samaritan. A man asks what he must do to receive eternal life.  And Jesus answers, "Love God and love your neighbor." He goes on to explain how to do this with the story of a Samaritan who, unlike previous passers-by who did nothing, got busy helping the man lying wounded on the side of the road. Jesus’ final words are "Go and do likewise," meaning, "Go and get busy showing love to others whenever the opportunity arises and then you will have eternal life".

So, it would appear clear from this that being a follower of Jesus involves a lot more than sitting and listening. But today we hear Martha being taken to task because she was busy showing her love for Jesus by cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

And then, to add to the confusion, if we look ahead to next Sunday’s gospel, Jesus teaches us how critical it is that praying with persistence be a significant part of our lives as he tells us that if we ask, we will receive; if we seek, we will find; if we knock, the door will be opened for us; and then gives us the Lord’s Prayer as a model of how we should pray.

The problem is that often, hearing the gospels in small doses as we do each Sunday morning, we often look at the gospel with tunnel vision rather than with peripheral vision. We get part of the picture but not the whole picture. Each week we get one piece of the puzzle, but often times we neglect to put those individual pieces together a consolidated whole. We fail to see the connectivity between the stories.

And so, if we did, we would see that this trilogy of readings actually presents us with the three cornerstones of what should make up a healthy and balanced Christian life: service, listening and learning, and prayer. A healthy spiritual life doesn't become fixed and satisfied with one, or prioritize one over the others. It embraces and incorporates all three. In today's society, people like to boast at how well they are at multitasking. Jesus calls all of his followers to be multitasters as well, and to make service, listening and learning, and prayer part of our lives.

Last week, you heard Fr. Marc, Fr. William, or Fr. Andres talk about “the doing.” Next week, you’ll hear them speak about “the praying.” So, I guess my task this week is to say something about “the listening and learning.”

And I think it comes down to this: I think that Jesus is trying to tell us that there’s more to life than serving dinner on time. There’s more to life than getting your point across. There’s more to life than trying to prove yourself or improve your financial status. There’s more to life than trying to please a guest . . . even if that guest happens to be the Lord.

The point of the story about Martha and Mary is that Jesus desires that we be his guests: enjoying his presence . . . feasting on his words . . . basking in his love.

That sounds nice, but as Martha or any person in this church could tell you, it’s not easy. It’s not easy to ignore self-imposed expectations, nor those that aging parents or dependent children place on us. It’s not easy to ignore the pressures of high school term papers, college exams, raising a family, paying down debt, being the bread winner and putting food on the table (or any combination of the above).

But there’s another type of Food we need in order to survive. And the hunger for that Food is the reason we’re here in church today. Here, at least for a little while, the pressure to get ahead, to get caught up and be-on-time is tempered.

Today, through the gospel, Jesus reminds us it’s the Sabbath. It’s time to rest. Christ himself pulls out a chair, bids us to sit down, then proceeds to wait on us himself! Seated at the table of God, the world looks very different indeed. Seated at the table of the Lord, hanging on his every word, listening and learning what he and the Church teaches, being nourished by the meal he serves us, both inspires us to a deeper relationship with him through prayer, and sensitizes and strengthens us to be Good Samaritans and minister to the needs of our “neighbors,” to all those who are in need.

Today, through the gospel, Jesus conveys his desire that we become life-long listeners and life-long learners. He encourages us break away from the hectic pace of our lives and to sit at his feet and listen to him through spiritual reading and through parish programs like RCIA and Bible Study. And to our young people, Jesus stresses his desire that you be conscientious in learning about him in your Religious Education classes or in the Confirmation program.

With the recent changes in the Roman Missal, one of the options that I’m privileged to be able to dismiss our gathering together with each week is: “Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life.” As you strive to do that this week, may God bless you and help you both in your listening to his word and in your doing of it.