Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity

Reflections of the Mystery

Exodus 34:4b-6, 8-9; 2 Corinthians 13:11-13; John 3:16-18 

Have you ever been at a loss for words? Has an experience ever left you speechless? Or has an emotion run so deep that words cannot express its meaning? As much as words communicate, so much more is left within the heart. As we go through life we all at some time come to the realization of just how limiting words can be. There are just some realities, some experiences, some emotions that words cannot do justice to. The words are too limiting, too confining to adequately express what we want to convey. This is one of the key mysteries of life. To this mystery, add the revelation of God.

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Trinity. The Catechism of the Catholic Church calls the mystery of the Holy Trinity the central mystery of Christian faith and life. It is the mystery of God in Himself. It is the truth into which we were all baptized, the belief we affirm every time we make the sign of the cross at the beginning of prayer, and the doctrine of faith that we will declare once again in a few minutes when we proclaim our creed. Theologian Hans Kung relates the story of a Bavarian priest who announced to his congregation on the Feast of the Holy Trinity that this was so great a mystery, of which he understood nothing, that therefore there would be no sermon that Sunday. Well my friends, you’re not going to get off that easy with me this morning! As another priest once told his congregation, “The problem with the Trinity is that if you don’t believe it, you risk losing your soul. But if you try to explain it, you risk losing your mind!” Well, according to Fr. Marc, I lost my mind years ago! So then I guess it’s fairly safe for me to proceed.

I suppose there is no truth of the faith more aptly described as mystery, than is that on which the liturgy asks us to reflect this morning. Three Persons in One God, One Divine Nature . . . Father, Son and Holy Spirit. St. Patrick used the shamrock to explain the Trinity. St. Ignatius Loyola used the example of a musical chord, three notes played simultaneously to produce one sound. But no matter what image we use, it will always be lacking and ultimately will leave us unsatisfied because God cannot be pinned down, investigated, dissected, or analyzed. We shall never be able to capture God; to put God in a neat package of our own making. We believe in a God who is beyond naming or defining, a God who shall always remain more than our words and doctrines. He will always be “more” and “other” than our images of him. There is a mystery about God which is so tremendous, awesome and overwhelming, we are unable to grasp it.

But a mystery is not something that cannot be known. Rather it is something that cannot be known just by the mind, just by reason. It requires a willingness to listen, a willingness to trust what is heard, and a readiness to use what is heard as a motive for acting. Bind all these together with perseverance, and that reality is what we call faith. We can understand only some fragments, some grains of truth. But faith collects in itself all of the fragments of the mystery which surpass our understanding, and thus, it is this very same faith which allows us to catch a glimpse of the truth which surpasses us.

And it is through our faith that we have come to know a Trinity of three persons, each of whom is a partial reflection of the “Fullness of God.” And so, Father is the Creative Reflection of God. In the Father, God perfectly manifests the qualities of power, of life-giving creativity, of majesty and transcendence.

And in the Son, we see the Redemptive Reflection of God, who wrapped himself in flesh and blood to become one of us and walk where we walk, and live as we live. And in the person of Jesus, we see reflected the One who is perfect and sinless, who not only took on human flesh, but also clothed himself in our sin and died so to redeem us.

And the Holy Spirit is the Sustaining Reflection of God. The Spirit sustains and strengthens us in difficult times and reminds us of our calling. It reminds us of who we are and Whose we are. The presence of God’s Holy Spirit is simply God with us every day, in every way.

Having explained that, we could all utter a loud collective, “So what?” What difference does all this theologizing make. Well it should and does and must make a difference. Why? Because, just like the Trinity, WE ARE CALLED to be reflections of God.

I’m sure that many of you have seen the movie “The Lion King.” It is the story of a young lion who ran away from home, permanently, after he had been tricked into believing that he had killed his father, who was the king of the jungle. The one who tricked him was his evil, conniving uncle, who seized the throne for himself. The movie deals with this young lion’s struggle to remember his heritage as the king of the jungle and then enter into a struggle with his evil uncle to claim that heritage as the rightful king.

The most poignant scene of the movie occurred when the young lion, now grown to adulthood, was bidden to look at his reflection in a pool of water. He had been longing for his father’s wisdom and wished to have a bit of that wisdom as he struggled with the decision to return home and seize the throne. He looked into the pool and saw the face of his father. To his astonishment, he had grown into the very image of his father. Not only did he have his father’s physical features, but he discovered that he carried his father’s wisdom and regal bearing within himself. He would go and seize the throne because he was his father’s son and he chose to be the king he was destined to be.

In the Creation Account in the Book of Genesis, we are told that we have been created in the image and likeness of God. And so, my friends, we are called to be daily reflections of the One who created us, redeemed us and sustains us. We are like mirrors designed to reflect the very face and heart of God in our daily lives. The Christian life is about making and remaking ourselves until we are perfect reflections of our God.

And how do we reflect God?

First, we are reflections of God when we honor creation. God created everything and called it good. We too must respect what God has created. In the Garden of Eden, God made us not only masters over what he had created, but caretakers of it as well. In our respect for our environment and all living things, we reflect the pride that the Creator himself shows in his handiwork.

Second, we must recognize and utilize our intelligence and the many gifts and talents that God has bestowed upon us. Through the development and positive use of our creativity, the work of our intellect and of our hands reflects the Creator of all that is good.

Third, we reflect the Trinity when we live life as Jesus himself lived it. We must be faithful, unhesitatingly forgiving . . . we too must persevere as servants of one another, without exception or compromise, because that is the example that God the Redeemer gave us. We must strive to ground and polish the imperfections from ourselves and overcome our tendency toward sin and evil. And when we do, we reflect our perfect and sinless Redeemer.

And finally, we reflect God when we are people of love. Because God is Love. And when we abide in the spirit of His love and reflect his care for all people, we are never more like God Himself.

The mystery of the Blessed Trinity . . . the central mystery of the Christian faith. A God that is One, yet a God that is Three. A God that is here, yet a God that is everywhere. A God who is mighty, yet a God that is tender. A God who is just, yet a God who shows mercy. A God who is Spirit, yet a God that takes on flesh. A God who is in Christ, and yet a Christ who is in us. A God who is Spirit and blows where it wills; yet a Spirit who abides in our hearts. But along with this great mystery of faith stands perhaps a greater mystery. And that mystery is how we could ever turn away from such a God as our God by choosing sin over Him, how we could possibly reject his love and how we could possibly turn down the invitation to be a reflection of this great and awesome Trinity!

Pentecost Sunday

Come Holy Spirit

Acts 2: 1-11; Corinthians 12: 3b-7, 12-13; John 20: 19-23 

Have you ever asked yourself the question, “What is God like?” If you have, and have seriously reflected upon it, you ultimately come up with the answer that “God is love.” That answer is clearly evident in his incarnation – his becoming Man and living among us and as one of us. It is seen in his miracles, in his compassion for our needs, in the blessings he sends our way, in the prayers he answers. It is seen in the passion, death and resurrection of his Son: suffering and dying in atonement for our sins, resurrection so that we may be one with him for all eternity in the Kingdom of Heaven. “God is Love” and that is what all the fuss is about on Pentecost. That is what we’re celebrating - the fact that God is love and that God’s love is poured into us, warms our hearts and fires us up to do good things in this world.

What a cast of characters they were, those disciples gathered in that upper room fifty days after Jesus had returned to them after his Resurrection, ten days after he left them again after his Ascension. They were variously described as weak, timid, shallow, and lacking in conviction and courage - hardly the ideal choice for the foundation of a new church and a new religion. But he had chosen each of them and their lives had changed in ways that they could never have imagined. They had left their homes and families and witnessed him do incredible things. They had spent days and nights with Jesus watching, listening, and seeing the unbelievable happen over and over. But all of that had cruelly changed and he had left them for the first time and their hopes and aspirations had died with him. But he did what he had promised; he had returned, risen and they were restored in hope. But now, he had left them again. But he left them with another promise: to send them his Holy Spirit.

Something amazing happened to those disciples that first day of the week. They were sitting around, behind locked doors, feeling alone and sorry for themselves, saying, “Ain’t it awful. How are we going to get along without him? How are we possibly going to do what he asked us to do?!” And then suddenly, they were all swept up in a “holy hurricane” that sent sparks flying around the room like a 4th of July fireworks display until tongues of flame came to rest over the heads of each of them. There was nothing understated about what happened. In an instant they were radically changed as the Holy Spirit filled them. It surged through their beings warming, energizing, and purging them; and they were given “courage, insight, and eloquence.” And just as God had made His presence felt in history through wind and fire, the Holy Spirit came rushing in and through the disciples as a gale force wind and fire. The mighty wind cleansed the disciples hearts and the fire burnt-up their unregenerate desires like they were straw. And Jesus who had never given up on them despite their own failings, doubts and darkness, kept his promise once again.

God is love and we celebrate God’s gift of love to us on this Pentecost Sunday. Today we celebrate a promise fulfilled. A promise to never leave us alone; a promise to be with us always, even until the end of time; a promise to send us his abiding Spirit, the Paraclete, the Advocate, who would teach us and remind us of all that he taught us. He is with us now. His being with us means joy and love, wind in our sails, fire in our bellies, warmth in our hearts. It means commitment and conviction poured into the very depths of our being. Christ’s being with us means forgiveness of our sins and our stupidity. Christ’s being with us means that each of us has at hand a generous supply of the confirmation gifts he offered his original disciples, the gift of the Holy Spirit who, in turn, brings gifts of wisdom, understanding, knowledge, counsel (or right judgment), fortitude (which is the courage all of us need), piety (understood as a mature and proper reverence), and fear of the Lord (a sense of wonder and awe). These are the gifts of Pentecost, confirmation gifts bestowed on the confirmandi, these are the gifts we celebrate today. These gifts enable us to work along with God in our own day for the salvation of our world. These gifts are the outpouring of God’s love.

The Holy Spirit is the mystery of God’s love in our world. Of all the persons of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit is the most abstract—God the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and Jesus Christ, the only Son of God. The Holy Spirit is more difficult to describe—who proceeds from the Father and the Son and with the Father and Son is worshiped and glorified. Yet on that day, that first Pentecost, the Spirit’s impact was undeniable. The disciples became different people in a new kind of community with gifts and capabilities they never had—barriers were broken, fear vanquished, and new beginnings started. The once weak, timid, and shallow were transformed into the bold and wise and all were proclaiming Jesus while all around them exclaimed, “Who are these people?” They became a different people. And so must we.

Today we are gathered in one place, as diverse a group as the disciples in that upper room, bringing with us our own challenges, fears and joys. Many of us are panting and even gasping to find our breath, struggling to cope with all that is happening—excited and worried as our children move on from grade school to high school to college, to new careers and lives; afraid about unresolved health issues that grow more complicated with each passing day; and a host of countless other anxieties and depressions about growing older while grieving the things we once did with ease and now can no longer do. And for one hour we acknowledge our needs, let down our guards, and with outstretched arms we wait for Holy Spirit to descend upon us because we know we can’t do it on our own. But most of us are skeptics and we sell the Holy Spirit short unsure and unconvinced that the Spirit still acts in that same dramatic and profound way as he did on that first Pentecost morning. We want to feel the Spirit blowing through our lives; we want to be infused with new faith and conviction with tongues of fire hanging over our heads; we want our own Pentecost experience. But we wonder and we doubt and convince ourselves that it may be easier to just remain behind locked doors.

The Holy Spirit still breathes upon us. The Holy Spirit is here revamping and rearranging our lives, just as Jesus promised, inspiring us to do what we cannot do on our own—taking risks we thought we did not have the courage to take; speaking up when we could not find the right words to say; stepping forward to minister and help convinced our gifts were inadequate and our capabilities insufficient; reaching out to help when it would be so much easier just to take care of our own problems; trusting that if we turn it over to the Holy Spirit that we’ll get what we need and what we’re asking for.

In John’s gospel account, after giving them the Spirit and expressing his wish that peace be with them, Jesus said to his disciples, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Consider yourselves sent – sent out with a smile, with fire in your heart, with the wind of God’s love at your back – consider yourself sent to bring the Spirit of Pentecost to the world beneath your feet, to a world in need of hope and help, peace and reconciliation, joy and love. The Holy Spirit is like a wind . . . like a flame. Like a strong wind or a gentle breeze, the Spirit can be present to you. Like fire, the Spirit can bring you light and warmth. Each one of you today, all of us together, can be filled with the Holy Spirit. We can be fired up and ready to renew the face of the earth. Or at least we can be fired up to renew our small portion of the earth with love. And so we pray . . .

Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit and we shall be re-created. And You shall renew the face of the earth.

Seventh Sunday of Easter (Cycle C)

Jesus' Dream

Acts 7:55-60; Rev. 22: 12-14, 16-17, 20; John 17: 20-26

I'd like to wish all of you who are mothers a very happy Mother's Day! I guess it's only natural that this past week, as the days drew closer to today's celebration, so many beautiful memories of my own mother rushed to remembrance. As I refected on today's gospel and began preparing my homily, a certain memory of her came to mind:

It’s Sunday morning, and Mom and I walk into the church of my childhood. I was only about six or seven at the time, but I was old enough to know what awaited me. Namely, an hour of staring, squirming, and daydreaming, and just waiting for that hour to pass in order for freedom to return. And so the question naturally sprung into mind. "Mom," I asked, "why do we have to come here?" Without batting an eye she responded, "Because God lives here." (Moms have built-in catechisms that are made for situations like this.) Her response didn’t exactly thrill me, but it did make me content - after all, it’s hard to argue about coming to see God. So we enter the side-door of the church, where I begin another hour-long session of staring, squirming, and daydreaming. Perhaps your experience was the same as mine when you were a child. Maybe you still stare and squirm and daydream!

Turns out, though, we’re not the only ones who daydream in church. God’s pretty good at it too! There in that Upper Room, that first church where the Eucharist was celebrated; there with his first congregation - the Apostles, Jesus dreams. And what a beautiful dream it is. And the best part about it is, it’s about us!

His dream finds expression, as sometimes our dreams do, expressed in a prayer. First Jesus prays for those who will come to believe through the preaching of the apostles and their successors. That means us. We are those who inherit the faith of the apostles, the fruits of their preaching. He is praying for us.

Then Jesus says the most remarkable thing: "Father may they be one in us, as you are in me and I am in you" Could the dream get any better than that? Jesus is praying that the very love which the Father shares with the Son may be part of the life of Christian people. We are swept up into that loving relationship which is at the heart of eternity. Indeed, Jesus goes on to pray "that the love with which you loved me may be in them".

But, as we look at the history of Christianity, it is pretty clear that we have failed to live out that dream that Jesus has for us. “That they may all be one?” In the United States alone, there are more than one thousand Christian denominations. In the two thousand years of Church history, Christians have argued about everything from the authority of the Pope, indulgences, the role of Mary, to how to baptize (to immerse or just pour water over someone). Even within the Catholic Church itself, we often divide people into categories: conservative, liberal, orthodox, traditional, progressive. Somehow I don’t think this was part of Jesus’ dream.

In one of my favorite Peanuts cartoons, Lucy demands that Linus change TV channels and then threatens him with her fist if he doesn't. “What makes you think you can walk right in here and take over?” asks Linus. “These five fingers,” says Lucy. “Individually they're nothing, but when I curl them together like this into a single unit, they form a weapon that is terrible to behold.'' Which channel do you want?' asks Linus. Turning away, he looks at his fingers and says, “Why can't you guys get organized like that?”

And I think Jesus might say the same thing to us. “Why can’t you guys get organized like that?” Because, like Lucy observed, individually we are nothing, but just like there is power in a hand that curls its fingers together in a fist, there is power when people join together and put aside their arguments and petty differences, and come together in Christ’s name. It is nothing less than the power to transform the world: to build the Kingdom of God. To change hatred into love, and war and violence into peace. It is the power of forgiveness. It is the power of compassion. It is the power to feed the hungry and give drink to the thirsty. The power to clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, and minister to the sick.

God’s dream is no eight-hour snooze. It’s a living reality. As a people of faith, we are called to do our daydreaming wide-awake. It’s the dream God shares with us, and for good reason. We need this dream. We see headlines about war and terror, about sickness and scandal. We wonder if we’re living more in a nightmare than a daydream. But God is faithful to us, and he has given us everything we need to fulfill this dream.

Next week, we celebrate the Feast of Pentecost, the “birthday of the Church,” the day on which, in that very upper room where Jesus dreamed his dream, he gives his disciples the means of accomplishing that dream – the Holy Spirit. And it is through the gifts of the Holy Spirit that we receive at Confirmation (the gift of Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Fortitude, Knowledge, Piety, and Fear of the Lord) that we can create a world in which the fruits of the Spirit are evident: love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, friendliness, gentleness, and self-control. In essence, through the Holy Spirit, we have the power to transform our world into a holy place, a sanctuary, a church without walls.

And so, we await the fulfillment of the dream. We yearn for the day when church capacity will match city capacity, and today’s headlines will melt into tomorrow’s footnotes. And someday, when a little boy asks, “Why do we have to go to church?” we will say that we don’t. One day we won’t have to go to church. We’ll already be there.

If only my Mom could have told me that!

In Memory of Doug Smith

Doug Smith

July 1, 1955 - May 7, 2013

Hey, old friend

Are you okay, old friend?

What do you say, old friend

Are we or are we unique?

Time goes by, everything else keeps changing

You and I we get continued next week.

Most friends fade

Or they don't make the grade

New ones are quickly made

And in a pinch, sure, they'll do

But us old friend what's to discuss old friend?

Here's to us,

Who's like us?

Damn few.

Those lyrics were written by Steven Sondheim for a musical called, "Merrily We Roll Along." Somehow, I've always felt that they were the theme song of Doug's and my friendship.

There are no pictures of Doug and I from our days at Pius. Times were different then. There were no cell phones with cameras to chronicle our lives. But you know what? We didn't need them. I have a million beautiful images in my mind of our friendship: painting scenery with Schwang, sitting together in chapel everyday for mass, Fiddler and Dolly, our mutual love for Martin & Lewis, strange words like "Whooha" that we made up and how we would laugh hysterically when either one of us said them, how Doug wrote down every "diddle deedle diddle do" in "If I Were a Rich Man" from the cast album of "Fiddler on the Roof" just so I would get it right. Pictures? Who needs them? I've got memories! I know that many years went by between high school and when Doug and I reconnected on Facebook. But I think we were always in each others hearts, at least Doug was in mine, so those years really just seemed like days instead. Doug was my best friend and my brother. With Doug's passing, I feel that something inside of me has died. I will never forget you, my brother. Pictures can fade but those beautiful images of you will live in my heart forever!

So, old friend

Fill me in slow, old friend

Start from hello, old friend,

I want the when, where and how.

Old friends do

Tend to become old habit 

Never knew

How much I missed you till now.

Most friends fade

Or they don't make the grade.

New ones are quickly made,

Some of them worth something, too.

But us, old friend 

What's to discuss, old friend?

Here's to us,

Who's like us?

Damn few.

Ordination Homily

Today is the twelfth anniversary of my ordination to the permanent diaconate. Rather than posting a homily for the Sixth Sunday of Easter, I thought I'd share with you my homily for my first mass. In reading over my own words, I only hope and pray that I've lived up to the great privilege and responsibility that God called me to. I still struggle to hear his whispers. And I still delight in discerning another clause in the incomplete sentences of his will for my life. 

Whispers and Incomplete Sentences 

A Homily for My First Mass 

May 6, 2001 

1 Samuel 3:1-10; 2 Corinthians 4:1-2, 5-7; John 13:1-15 

I’d like to begin my homily today by telling you a story about our pastor. For those of you who are not parishioners of St. Therese, a little bit of explanation on the history of our parish might be in order. As you walked into our church this morning, you might have noticed that, as the cornerstone of our church indicates, it was built in 1985. In 1986, Fr. Davis became pastor. And in 1987 . . . the roof of the church collapsed! Now, if there is any connection between those events, I’ll leave that for you to decide!

Of course, when the roof collapsed, Fr. Davis not only oversaw the necessary repairs to the church, but also made sure that the entire structure was safe and secure so that the same thing wouldn’t happen again. And so, scaffolding was erected all over the church to install crossbeams to brace the existing beams that support the roof of our church. Now, Fr. Davis, wanted to make sure the job was done and done correctly. So frequently, after the workers had finished for the day, he would climb up the scaffolds to inspect their work.

One day while he was up there, he heard the church door open, and into the church walked one of our parishioners, Anna DePasquale, a short, rather rotund, elderly Italian woman. Fr. Davis heard the clicking of her heals as she made her way down the center aisle of the church, clutching her over-sized handbag in one hand and a shopping bag in the other, completely oblivious to Fr. Davis being up on the scaffolding. As she reached her favorite pew here in the front of the church, Anna knelt down, took out her rosaries and started to pray. Well, Fr Davis couldn’t resist the temptation to have some fun with his parishioner, so he laid face down on the scaffolding, cupped his hands around his mouth and quietly said, “Anna DePasquale, this is Jesus!” But, much to his chagrin, Anna gave no reaction. And even though perched high above her, he could see her still mouthing the words to the “Hail Mary” and the beads of her rosary slipping through her fingers.

Thinking that perhaps Anna didn’t hear him, Fr. Davis tried it again, only this time a bit louder: “Anna Depasquale, this is Jesus!” But, once again, no reaction. And like the first time, he looked down, and saw Anna intensely mouthing “Hail Mary, Mother of God” fingering the beads as she did.

Fr. Davis couldn’t understand why Anna still didn't respond, so he tried a third time. Only this time, he shouted: “ANNA DePASQUALE, THIS IS JESUS!” Well, this time Anna gave a sharp glance above her, shook the hand that held her rosary beads, and responded in her thick Italian accent: “Jesus, would you stop interrupting! Can’t you see I’m talking with your mother!”

Would that it was as easy as Anna DePasquale thought to hear the voice of our Lord calling out our name. Our first reading today from the First Book of Samuel, should be one that gives us great joy, because it speaks of a God who knows who we are, knows our name . . . speaks it, calls it out to us. At the heart of Christian revelation is the conviction that God speaks to His people, reveals Himself and His designs for our lives. A powerful notion! But how much more powerful is this revelation when God speaks, and He calls us by name; not as anonymous members of a multitude, but rather to each one of us, as individuals, individuals who are unique: uniquely known, uniquely loved. How awesome! In a society in which we are often de-personalized and de-humanized and become only a number on a driver’s license, a social security card,  credit card, library card, insurance card, the Creator of the Universe knows us by name and calls it out to us.

The Good News is that we are, each one of us, completely known to Christ. All the virtues, the strengths, the temptations resisted, the challenges met, the good deeds done that somehow seem to go unnoticed and un-respected by the people around us, are seen and named and known by Christ. And yes, the weaknesses too, all the things we try to keep hidden because we are afraid they will destroy our dignity, our loveableness. They too are known. But the great truth is that Christ calls by name weak and foolish and fearful people. Christ has no disdain, or contempt, or even impatience with our faults. He knows us all too well for that.

But the fact of the matter is, our God is a God who whispers. His voice must be discerned amidst the noise of a world which is hostile to his values, the noise we make out of our own self-importance and self-seeking, and worst of all, the indifference which can make us deaf to his call. He is also a God who speaks in incomplete sentences, reveals part of His will, only to move us to a point where we will be more receptive to His overall plan for our lives.

So how, or where, do we hear His voice calling us by name? We recognize Him in His own Word, the Bible, when we receive insights into the meaning of the texts and when we try to answer the questions posed by the Lord; questions like: “Who do people say that I am?” “What profit is there for one to gain the who world but lose his life in the process?” “Who by worrying can add a measure to his life?” We need to hear the constant urging of the psalmist: “Oh that today you would hear his voice: Harden not your hearts” (Ps 95[94]:7-8).

We also hear the voice of Jesus in the affirmation of others who are significant in our lives: a parent, spouse, child, colleague, close friend. Someone whom we love, admire or respect has the capability of uplifting us and helping us find self-worth. And sometimes even honest criticism is the voice of the Lord, helping us to discover our failings and shortcomings.

Finally, we hear the voice of Jesus in prayer when we receive the inspiration to make peace and reconcile ourselves with others whom we dislike, to begin some worthy project, to follow a good resolution or to turn away from sin.

Today, I stand among you as one who has heard my voice being called and has heard a whisper beckoning me to serve.

I stand in your presence as someone who is totally humbled that the God of the Universe knows my name and finds something of worth in me. But, as our Second Reading pointed out, it’s really not all about me, is it? It’s all about HIM, for I do not preach myself, but Christ Jesus as Lord. And despite my faults and my shortcomings, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”

I come before you this afternoon as one who has received a challenge to live in Christ’s example of service. As I frequently tell my students, one of the great things about Christ is that he never asks us to do anything more or anything other than what he himself did. Could that be any more clear than in today’s gospel: “You call me Master and Teacher and rightly so, for indeed I am. If I, therefore, the Master and Teacher have washed your feet, you ought to wash each other’s feet. I have given you an example to follow, that as I have done, so must you do.”

And finally, I stand in your midst as one who is overwhelmingly honored to have been chosen by God to do something that human pride and ego would normally find repulsive and reprehensible: to be used . . . to be utilized . . . to be a mere instrument through which He will act. And so, to you: my family, my fellow parishioners, my friends, my colleagues and my students, I say to you: I am His and I am yours. I am in your midst as one who serves. May I be His eyes that looks compassion on you, His heart that pulsates love for you, His arms stretched out in service to you, and His feet which guides you on your way toward Him.

And to the God who whispers and speaks in incomplete sentences, I humbly say: “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening . . . Here I am, Lord, I come to do your will.”


I chose this song as the meditation song for my first mass as a deacon. It beautifully said all that I wanted to be and all that I wanted to do. Hopefully I'm somewhere on the path to becoming that deacon.