The Feast of the Holy Family: Jesus, Mary & Joseph (Year A)

YOU’RE NOT GOD. 

THIS AIN’T HEAVEN. 

DON’T ACT LIKE A JERK. 

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

We all know that THE Holy Family consisted of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. But what about our own families, yours and mine, the ones we grew up in . . . the ones we’re members of now: Is your family a holy family? 

Before you jump to a quick answer to that question, let’s take a moment to consider what makes a family holy. And to do that, we have to reach some agreement on what we mean by “holy.” 

Many people believe that “holy” means “perfect.” Well, God is holy and God IS perfect but outside the Trinity of Father, Son and Holy Spirit, perfection is pretty hard to find. But I don’t need to be perfect to be holy. To be holy is to strive faithfully to be and to become more and more the person God made me to be. It’s not all that complicated. Spiritual writer Fr. James Martin put it this way: "Just remember three things: You're not God. This ain't heaven. Don't act like a jerk!" That’s holiness! In other words: God’s in charge. Life is hard. Love one another even when it hurts. 

Actually, to be HOLY is to recognize honestly that I’m NOT perfect. A big part of being holy is being honest about the times when I’m un-holy, when I need to ask for God’s forgiveness and help to keep me from making the same mistake again. And if I fall, if I fail again, then I need to depend more and more on God’s mercy and strength to help me be more faithfully the person God made me to be, to help the sinner I am to be a little more – holy. 

It’s a waste of time to judge my holiness by comparing it with someone else’s. But people do this all the time. God isn’t going to judge me by how I measure up to St. Therese of Lisieux or St. Francis of Assisi. I’ll only be judged on how faithfully I became the person He created me to be. Saint Theresa might be a great model for me, but I’m not called to be her – I’m called to be me, and you’re called to be you – as God made you. 

In the Second Reading today, St. Paul writes to the Colossians and calls them “holy and beloved” but still sees the need to remind them to put on: compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience; to bear with one another and to forgive the grievances they have against one another; to put on love and to let Christ’s peace rule their hearts. This is the advice he gives to those he thinks are HOLY! In other words, he’s saying: Remember this: You're not God. This ain't heaven. Don't act like jerks! Be holy. Strive to be the persons God made you to be. And when you fail, and you will, ask for mercy and try again. 

Families are called to be holy, too, since families are made up of human beings. A family is called to strive faithfully to be a community of persons who love and care for one another. 

While it’s true that Jesus in his divine nature knows all about love because He is Love, we cannot simply whitewash the fact that because Jesus was also 100% human (remember, He’s true God and true man), He had to learn about human love from somewhere and someone. That somewhere was during the silent time in his home in Nazareth, hidden away from the public eye. And those someone(s) were Mary and Joseph – one sinless, and one a sinner with incredible virtue. 

It was in the home of Joseph and Mary that Jesus learned the meaning of love. From the moment of his divine conception, he was received as a gift. Jesus would grow up seeing how Joseph treated Mary, how he interacted with others, how committed he was to taking care of his family. Jesus watched Mary, the most-pure of all women, the one that had been selected from all eternity, interact with her husband. Through their love, He witnessed how their marriage and family life quietly impacted the lives of those around him. 

Although our family may not be like the Holy Family, God calls every family to be a holy family - to strive, faithfully, to grow together in and through its own circumstances, with all the gifts and graces, all the beauty and the brokenness, the generosity and the greed, the sacrifice and the selfishness, the hopes and the hurts that mark every family. He doesn’t judge a family by its brokenness but rather by how a family seeks to heal and reconcile with one another in the brokenness. And when they do this, they too become a holy family. 

When it comes to our own personal holiness or a family’s holiness, we might be tempted to think that “one size should fit all.” I hope our own experience of ourselves, of others, of other families might show us what I’m sure God knows, that every family has its own size and fit when it comes to holiness. THE Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph certainly didn’t fit the customary pattern: a virgin mother, a foster father, a 12-year-old son who runs away, convinced that he must preach God’s word in the temple in Jerusalem. And THEY are the HOLIEST of all holy families! Each of these three strove, faithfully, to be what God's love asked of them. 

Not because we're all that holy, but because we seek to walk the holy path to God, the Lord invites us, our church family, to his table this morning. And we come here, as a parish, with all the gifts and graces, the beauty and brokenness, the generosity and greed, the sacrifice and selfishness, the hopes and the hurts that mark every family. And as HIS holy family, our Lord calls us to look past faults, to forgive, to see the good in each other, to appreciate each other’s talents and gifts, to not judge each other by the standard set by those who previously stood at this pulpit or who sat in those pews, but to strive to be the holy parish family He calls us to be.

May the sacrament we receive here renew our desire in the New Year ahead to walk that path that leads each of us, our families and all of us who make up the St. Therese Parish Family to the holiness of God.

A Christmas Message of Hope 

The following was composed by Richard N. Hughes, a former executive at WPIX Channel 11 in New York and was broadcast every year prior to the Yule Log from 1974 to 1989. It’s message is just as beautiful, meaningful and relevant today as was then . . . perhaps even more so. 

Christmas is many things. It is a time for giving ... a time for receiving ... a time for putting away, for a little while, the cares and worries of the world, and rejoicing in the promise which is embodied in the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. 

While this day is most sacred and the promise most meaningful to the Christian world, there is a message in it for all mankind. It is a message which the world never quite remembers but has never quite forgotten. 

For the message of Christmas is the message of God's Love. And God's Love involves hope and promise for an improving future. 

If you were to compare our times with the time when Jesus was born, you would find great similarity. Like our time, it was a period of great unrest. It was a time when many prophets spoke with many tongues. It was a time when the problems seemed overwhelming. 

But into that time, Hope was born, in the person of the Child who was to become, for a great part of the world, the embodiment of the salvation of the humankind. 

There is important meaning for Christian and non-Christian in His brief lifetime, because this Man taught that love is the one sure source of healing for the human condition. He taught the Fatherhood of God and the Brotherhood of man. He taught that this earthly life is not the end for the human spirit. He taught that each man is accountable for his actions, but most of all, He taught the doctrine of Hope. Hope for the future in the promise that the result of goodness is Godliness. And, more than any other person in history, Jesus taught us to respect the Godliness in ourselves, and to give it expression by doing God's work in the world. 

The gifts which we give this Christmas Season, as symbols of God's great gift to the world, will pass and be forgotten. But the gift of Hope, as embodied in the Christ, will live eternally. 

For Hope is the life which springs eternal in mankind. 

At this Christmas Season, we wish you the best of the season ... and the best is the sure knowledge that there is cause to hope, if we will but accept the responsibility for bridging the gaps and healing the wounds in our society, and if, whatever our religious beliefs, we will, in Jesus' words, "Be of good cheer"

Footprints in the Snow

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW

A Christmas Parable

An oversized hand pushed back the panel of a lace window curtain and two eyes peered out from inside. The eyes bore the marks of age. Wrinkles were their bookends. But there was something else about those eyes. They were childlike, eyes that were beacons of innocence, goodness, awe and wonder. 

“A white Christmas!” he exclaimed in a tone that conveyed both giddiness and resignation. “I guess I won’t be making it to Midnight Mass this year; I doubt anyone will,” he said to no one but himself. It would be the first Midnight Mass he would miss since the years when “visions of sugarplums danced in his head.” But it had been snowing since early morning and it would be a fool’s mission to be out on the roads that night. 

He fell into the comfort of his armchair, a chair that knew every curve of his body and he surveyed the room. It was a large living room in a large house which now possessed more memories than contents. And those memories all came rushing forth out of their usual hiding places that Christmas Eve. He smiled as his eyes became heavy and his head nodded as his memories became more real to him than the stark reality of being all alone. 

His brief sleep was startled, however, by the sound of tires spinning nowhere on the street outside his house. And sure enough, as his hand once again pulled back the curtain of the living room window, he made out, between the falling snowflakes, the image of a man kneeling almost in prayer beneath the street light as his hands dug into the cold snow to dig his car out of the snowdrift it had skidded into. 

“Damn Fool!” he mumbled as he let go of the curtain and moved as quickly as a man his age could toward his front door. “Hey! Hey you! You’re stuck! Come here! You’re never gonna to be able to dig yourself out until a plow comes and God knows when that will be. You might as well come in and wait.” And so, the man abandoned his car, and the snow, and the cold, and accepted the invitation. 

“Look at you! Not even a coat on! You’re going to catch your death of cold! Take your shoes off and let them the dry out a bit,” he said as he opened the door for his unexpected guest to enter. “The name’s Sam.” “Oh. Heard by God,” his guest smiled in response as he kicked off one shoe. “What? What’s that?” Sam squinted back. “Your name. Samuel. It means Heard by God.” “Oh . . . didn’t know that. Well if God’s heard me, all he’s heard lately is a lot of cussing and complaining,” Sam chuckled. “I’m Manny,” said his guest as he kicked off the second shoe. ‘Well, pleased to meet you Manny. Come on into the living room.” 

“Let me turn off the radio,” which had been playing Christmas carols nonstop all day. “No, please!” Manny protested. “I like it. I could listen to Christmas carols the whole year through.” “Well I bet you’re hungry and could use a nice hot cup of coffee. And I just made something that I think you’re gonna like – tomato soup cake – an old family recipe, treasured and passed down from generation to generation. . . from the back label of a Campbell’s Tomato Soup can,” chuckled Sam. “Sit here and let the fire warm you. I’ll be right back.” 

But when he emerged from the kitchen several minutes later, rather than sitting and warming himself, he found Manny standing at the mantle of the fireplace examining the photographs that were carefully arranged there. “That’s my family,” Sam offered. “This is my wife Kathleen, the prettiest and sweetest thing ever to come across the sea from Ireland. That one there is my daughter Sophia. And this . . . this is my son, Micah. Sophia lives in California now. She’s very successful. A lawyer! So, there’s really not much time for visits. And Micah . . . Micah was killed in the war. And picking up the picture of his wife and holding it to his chest as if to hug her, he said, “Kathleen was never the same after that. The doctors say she died of a heart attack. I say she died of a broken heart.” 

And as if not to give into the melancholy of the moment, he directed Manny’s attention to another picture on the mantle. “And this one . . . this is my favorite! It’s of Kathleen and Micah and Sophia out in the front yard after the blizzard of ’74. Just look at the smiles on their faces. And look at the tracks they left, the snow angels and footprints in the snow! You know, all winter long I would look out and would see those footprints with such happiness, because even though my children or my wife might have been in school or shopping, the footprints were the telltale signs that they had been there. Those footprints, although vacant, to me were still filled with life and love and laughter. That’s why I cherish this picture. Because, although those footprints have been covered over with many seasons’ worth of grass and leaves and more snow, in this picture those footprints are preserved and frozen for all time.” 

“You know, Sam, not everyone who visits us leaves footprints in the snow.” “What? What’s that,” asked the uncomprehending Sam? “Angels leave no footprints. And neither does God. Yet without a doubt, they visit us, walk with us, stay with us. Some are unconvinced or despair when they don’t see the footprints. They believe God has abandoned them or worse – that he doesn’t exist at all. But the pure of heart don’t need to see footprints to know that God has been around, that God has visited them, that God is present and loves them.” Sam’s eyes widened, he scratched his head and then finally nodded at the truth of which Manny spoke, a truth Sam never thought about before but now understood. 

They spoke of many things that night. Of family and faith . . . of memories and hopes . . . of life and love. The hours past as if only minutes. Suddenly a pause came in their conversation and Sam glanced at his small Christmas tree which stood where grander trees stood tall in years past. “Oh! I have something for you! A Christmas present,” Sam exclaimed! “Every year I buy myself a present and wrap it, put it under the tree and open it on Christmas morning, trying to convince myself that I don’t know what’s inside. I want you to have it. Here . . .” Sam handed the crudely wrapped box to Manny who opened it and smiled. It was a grey cardigan sweater. “Sam, I can’t,” protested Manny. “Ah I’ve got a dozen of them. Try it on,” instructed Sam. And Manny obliged. “Well, it’s a little big but you’ll grown into it,” Sam said with a wink and a smile. “But take it off now so you feel the good of it outside later.” 

And just as Manny did, the sound of steel gliding across asphalt interrupted the beauty of the Christmas music on the radio and a stark reality suddenly hit Sam. “The plow,” he said without expression. He knew his Christmas guest would be leaving. 

“Yeah I guess I better go out and clear the snow off my car and hit the road,” responded Manny with a tone of somber reluctance. “Let me walk you to the door . . . Now don’t forget your shoes,” Sam joked and was amazed when he saw that they had left no puddle on the floor. Sam then gathered the courage to ask the question which had puzzled him with greater intensity all night long. “Say, do I know you. Have we ever met before? Your face seems awfully familiar to me.” “Maybe we’ve met before,” said Manny. “Or maybe I just have one of those faces that looks like everyone else,” he said. And Sam continued to stare intently, hoping to recall a time or a place of a previous encounter. “Well . . . Merry Christmas, Manny.” “Merry Christmas Sam.” And as his hand reached for the door knob, he looked back and looked deeply into Sam’s eyes. “Sam, today salvation has come to this house. You are not far from the kingdom of God.” And with that, he turned, opened the door, and was gone. 

And as the door closed, Sam returned to the living room to the comfort of his armchair and tried to make sense of Manny’s words and of that whole Christmas Eve night. Suddenly his eyes caught sight of the sweater that Manny had left draped on the arm of the chair where he had been sitting. “Hey! Wait a minute! You forgot! You forgot your sweater! Sam raced to the door and, as he opened it, his radio suddenly began to blare at an almost deafening volume with the most beautiful sounding choir he had ever heard: 

Hark! the herald angels sing, 

"Glory to the new-born King! 

Peace on earth, and mercy mild, 

God and sinners reconciled. 

And above the sound of the choir was Manny’s voice, seemingly coming from both nowhere and everywhere: 

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me.” 

Sam squinted his eyes to see past the falling snow. But beneath the street lamp, he saw no plow. He saw no car. He saw no Manny. And then, suddenly, Sam gasped. Tears brimmed from those eyes which sometimes beamed with childlike innocence. And the cascading tears warmed his frozen cheeks as he looked down at the pathway to his door. For he realized . . . there were no footprints in the snow. 

Two thousand years ago, a babe was born in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes, serenaded by angels, visited by shepherds and wisemen. He grew, and walked the dusty roads of Galilee and Judea, walked up a hill called Calvary, and walked out of a tomb that held his body for three days. And today, he walks whatever road life takes us. He is Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. He is Immanuel “GOD WITH US.” Blessed are the pure of heart who need no footprints in the snow to know that God has been in their midst. 

First Sunday of Advent (Year A)

Waiting for the One Who is Already Here

Isaiah 2: 1-5; Romans 13: 11-14; Matthew 24:36-44

Today is the First Sunday of Advent and “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!” On Thursday, people excused themselves from their Thanksgiving tables to hit the malls to be among the first to take advantage of the “Black Friday” sales. Were you there? Sirius Satellite Radio has been playing Christmas music nonstop since November 1st. Have you been listening? The Hallmark Channel has been running their marathon of Christmas movies since . . . well, did they ever stop? Have you started watching? And some people have already decorated the outside of their houses with lights and put up their tree. Have you? Yes, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!”

After the leaves have all fallen and the world has become more desolate and cold; after life has taken on a dreary cast and we, too, feel somewhat dreary after struggling through another year - suddenly there is this season that is full of hope for a new beginning, for new life. A promise that life can be different, that there are new possibilities for life and for living. A whole new world comes into being at Christmas - a magical world full of flying reindeer, elves, snowmen and Santa Claus. A world full of new possibilities; a place where it seems like the impossible could almost happen. Because two thousand years ago, the impossible DID happen: God took on human flesh in the person of a tiny baby born in a stable in the city of Bethlehem. 

And Advent, the season we begin today, is the signpost, pointing the way to Bethlehem. This is a time of preparation and anticipation. Shopping, candy ribbons, Advent calendars, the lighting of the Advent wreath - all help us to prepare; all point us toward Christmas. But we need to be sure that the incidentals don't crowd him out. The shopping, the baking, the carols - all of those things can be great ways of celebrating the miracle - but they're just the window-dressing on the season. If they become the focus, we will get to the end of the season and wonder what happened? What happened to the Child of Christmas? 

That’s why our Advent readings open with this warning: "Watch! Be ready!” The signs of his coming are already all around us. Not in the tinsel and glitter and merrymaking. Not in the lovely carols or beautifully decorated houses. But Jesus tells us that it will be as in the days of Noah. He says when things are "business as usual," where some are partying and having a good time in the midst of those who are poor, hungry, desperate - when you see that happen - then you know the kingdom is near. When you see cruelty, disruption, discord, hatred and strife. When the world seems out of control - then you can be sure it’s time for Emmanuel, “God with us.” It's time for his kingdom to come. It's time for the promise to be given birth. 

And it’s not just to the tragedies and upheaval of the world that he comes. But in the times and in places when we feel alone, disconnected from the world, alienated from others (and maybe even from ourselves). In times of personal loss, moments of disappointment, occasions of failure, loneliness and personal need. It’s here and it’s then that Christ comes . . . Emmanuel . . . God-with-US. It’s then that, if we’ve been watching; it’s there that, if we’ve been waiting; it’s now that, if we have prepared, that Christmas becomes, not just a day, but a person. 

The promise of Christmas comes when it’s most needed. And the irony of Advent is that we watch, we wait and we prepare for the One who is already here. That’s why every moment of life is a moment of hope and possibility. Any moment he may come to us, if we’re open like Mary and Joseph and the shepherds, to receiving him. The kingdom is waiting to break into your world. The signs of it are everywhere. Watch! Wait! Be ready! Not just when the carols are playing. Not just when you feel Christmasy. But also, and especially, when the world seems dark to you and you feel far from God's kingdom of love, peace, joy and justice. 

The “holiday season” all around us, the “commercial season” tapping our bank accounts, the “social season” of decorations, gifts and parties – none of these are particularly beneficial in helping us welcome Jesus into our hearts. But the “Advent season” is: 

• For this is the season to find some quiet time to sit with our Lord in prayer and share with him the joys and the worries, the triumphs and the hurts, the successes and the disappoints in our hearts right now. 
• This is the season, not for buying, consuming and filling up on everything - but rather – for emptying ourselves out to make room for Jesus to come into our hearts and make himself at home there. 
• This is the season to focus, not so much on things whose shelf-life is so short, but on those realities that can and do last forever. 
• This is the season to appreciate that the greatest Christmas gift ever given or received is God’s gift of love to us in his Son, Jesus: in his gospel, in his death and resurrection, and in the Sacrament of his presence at the altar. 

Yes, “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.” Jesus is coming. To a world that often is ignorant of him the rest of the year, he will be born anew in minds and in hearts on Christmas, if only for a single day. And yes, he will come on the clouds of angels at the end of the world to take us home, as he foretold in today’s gospel. But he is already present now as well, and his kingdom is near to you. Every day is an Advent because Emmanuel – “God with us” desires to once again be born – in YOU. Every day is an Advent for you to wait for him. Every day is an Advent for you to search for him. May your hearts be open and prepared to receive him this season of Advent.

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

FINDING THE GOOD IN THE GOOD NEWS 

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

Good News! Glad Tidings! That’s what the word gospel literally means. And Matthew, Mark, Luke and John certainly provide us a lot of that. Good News! “God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Good News! “Come to me all you who are weary and heavy burdened, and I will give you rest." Good News! Our God is like a Good Shepherd who searches for us when we’re lost or have strayed from him. And, like a lamb, he lovingly places us on his shoulders and carries us back to green pastures and to the safety of his love. Good News! Jesus said, “No one has greater love than this, than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” And that’s exactly the love he showed for us on the cross. Good News! 

But where is the “good” in the Good News that we heard proclaimed in our gospel tonight? Stones thrown down; votive offerings overturned; nation rising up against nation; earthquakes, famine and plagues . . . I’m sure that’s not the message you came to church tonight expecting to hear. Good News? No . . . words like chaotic, frightening and depressing seem more like it. But just maybe there’s more to tonight’s gospel than what there seems to be on face value (as there usually is). 

Tonight’s gospel begins with the disciples marveling at the glory of the Temple in Jerusalem. The Temple they looked at was one of the wonders of the world. It was made of carved blocks of greenish white marble, 67.5 feet long, 7.5 feet high and 9 feet thick. It was an impressive structure whose Eastern side was completely gold plated and precious gems were imbedded in the interior walls. It took over 40 years to build and its magnificence was hardly without equal. It was truly the house of God! No one could imagine anything damaging this building. It spoke of a strong God and a strong people. 

But forty years later, what Jesus warned would happen actually came to pass. In 70 A.D. not only the temple, but the whole city of Jerusalem was destroyed by the Roman army. 

And nine years after that, Mount Vesuvius erupted in Italy, and the whole city of Pompeii was destroyed. The eruption created dreadful signs in the sky with huge clouds of dust and noxious fumes. Fiery ash dropped from heaven on the people below. Within days of the eruption there was widespread pestilence and famine. 

And as if all of this wasn’t bad enough, the time of Christian persecution had now begun. People were under great threat merely for being Christians. They were arrested, tortured and put to death because of their unwavering faith in Jesus. 

And so, for the people of that time, they now walked among the rubble of a world and of a life that had once given them joy, and security, and a sense of identity. The world had changed and their lives would never be the same again. 

What about us? We may not like it – we may resist it, but the reality is, things do change. Sometimes changes are welcome. But there are days when change brings loss or the fear of loss. There are days when our life is forever changed, the world is different, and nothing is like it used to be. 

You and I know those days. We could each tell stories about those days. They’re stories about the death of a loved one; they’re stories of a dire health diagnosis; they’re stories about our parent’s divorce; they’re stories of the day you didn’t make the team; they’re the stories about the day you realized the person you trusted wasn’t the person you thought they were; they’re stories about the day a relationship ended. 

In the language of our tonight’s Gospel, the things we look to for stability can be referred to as our “temples”. Sometimes our temples are people, places, values, beliefs, or institutions. And, in that sense, temples are the things that we think give structure and order to our lives, give meaning and identity, provide security. At least we think they do, until they don’t anymore. And where does that leave us? What do we do when our temple falls, when our world crumbles and it seems there’s nothing for us to hold on to, and the only thing around us is the rubble of the life we loved and felt secure in? 

To just these situations in our lives, Jesus has four things to say, four gems embedded in this gospel as were those precious stones in the walls of the temple. 

He says: 

Don’t be deceived… 

Don’t be afraid… 

I’ll give you a wisdom…. 

By your perseverance you will secure your lives… 

In whatever confusion or conflict, whatever depression or disaster we find ourselves, Jesus says, “Don’t be deceived! Many will come promising what only I can give. And you’ll be tempted to think I’ve abandoned you, forgotten you. You’ll wonder what you did to deserve such suffering. But don’t be deceived. I am never the source of your suffering. I come to you only with healing and strength and mercy; I come to be with you, to take your hand, and to lead you through the darkest of your days.” 

And to us in our fears, Jesus says, “Don’t be terrified! Don’t be afraid! There’s nothing you can’t face if you stand with me, and I’ll stand by you in everything that comes your way. I’ll be your courage when you are frightened. I’ll be your strength when yours is exhausted. I’ll be your guide when you’re lost, your guard when you’re alone.” 

And in our confusion Jesus tells us, “I’ll give you wisdom . . . I’ll help you understand. When you are conflicted, I’ll give you my counsel. When you don’t know what to do, I’ll lead you to the truth. When nothing makes sense, when everything’s too complex, come to me and in the simplicity of my heart’s love and mercy and peace, find a place to rest.” 

And in our hopelessness, Jesus says, “By your perseverance, you will secure your lives . . . You’re never alone, I’m always at your side. When you’ve run out of hope for tomorrow, trust in me for today. When the future seems impossible, trust that it’s in my hands. Hold fast my hand in yours and, together, we’ll walk on, one day at a time, one hour at a time. Stay with me and I will stay with you: by your perseverance, you will secure your life.” 

And isn’t THAT the good in the Good News tonight . . . that God is always with us – in the changes and chaos of life; in the pain, loss, and disappointment; in the destruction of our temples. Stone by stone He rebuilds our life. Stone by stone God restores the beauty of our life and world. Stone by stone a new temple arises from the rubble. 

So whatever burdens you came to Mass with tonight, now is the time to lay them down at the foot of the Cross and at the table of the Lord, where he gives us, in the sacrifice, in the sacrament of the Eucharist the building blocks for a new temple - the companionship, the courage, the wisdom and the hope to live, one day at a time, in his mercy, in his peace and in his love 

And that REALLY is GOOD NEWS!

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

JESUS MEEK & HUMBLE OF HEART, 

MAKE MY HEART LIKE UNTO THINE 

Sirach 35: 12-14, 16-18; 2 Timothy 4: 6-8, 16-18; Luke 18: 9-14 

Oh Lord it’s hard to be humble when you’re perfect in every way. 

I can’t wait to look in the mirror `cause I get better looking each day. 

To know me is to love me; I must be a hell of a man. 

Oh Lord it’s hard to be humble but I’m doing the best that I can. 

Singer and songwriter Mac Davis wrote those words in 1980 when he tried to figure out why he was constantly waking up alone in the “star suite” of the hotels in the various cities where he was performing when he and all his fans thought he was perfect “in every way”. 

“Oh Lord, it’s hard to be humble.” We might laugh, but it’s true: it IS hard to be humble. Maybe it has always been so, but it is especially today. Through social media flatforms like Facebook, we become instant celebrities. Every moment and movement in our lives is chronicled. Even something as mundane as the food we’re about to put in our mouths we somehow feel is somehow newsworthy enough that we need to take a picture of it. And would the day be complete without taking a few selfies and posting them on Instagram? "I can’t wait to look in the mirror ‘cause I get better looking each day.” 

But in our Gospel today, Jesus says, “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” And it is the prayer of the sinful, yet humble, tax collector that is heard and the prayer of the righteous, yet arrogant, pharisee that is ignored. 

The virtue of humility is certainly something we hear a lot about in Scripture, as a matter of fact, 96 times, to be exact. We’re told that, as God’s Chosen People, holy and dearly loved, we should clothe ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. (Colossians 3: 12); that we should be completely humble and gentle; patient and bearing with one another in love (Ephesians 4: 2); that God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble (James 4: 6); and that if we humble ourselves before the Lord, he will lift us up. (James 4: 10). And Jesus himself said, “Whoever humbles himself like a child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 18: 4).  Jesus very life is an example of humility: born in a stable not a palace, clothed in swaddling clothes not silk, a Messiah who came to serve, not be served; a Master who stooped to wash the dirty, smelly feet of his disciples at the Last Supper. 

Most people believe that being humble means being weak or passive, groveling in front of others, thinking others are superior to themselves. But that’s not what biblical humility is. St. Augustine said in one of his letters, “The way to Christ is first through humility, second through humility, third through humility” (Letters 118:22). St. Thomas Aquinas defined it this way: “Humility means seeing ourselves as God sees us: knowing every good we have comes from Him as pure gift” (Summa Q161). Humility is recognizing that you need God’s help, knowing you can’t truly succeed by your own strength. It’s thanking God for your talents and gifts and giving him credit for your accomplishments. 

There are three ingredients of humility: Self-awareness, self-honesty and self-acceptance. Contemporary Catholic author, Fr. Richard Rohr wrote that “To be humble is to fully know yourself, to joyfully accept your limitations,” and to acknowledge your dependence on the strength of God. When you’re humble, you’re free from pride and arrogance, and comfortable with who you are in Christ and therefore you don’t feel threatened by putting others first, by building them up, not yourself. You can’t be humble until you learn to love yourself, be yourself, give yourself. 

Humility is tough. I think to be humble is the most difficult of all human traits. Why? Because, humility isn’t a normal human feeling. Humility doesn’t exist in the natural world, a world where pride, greed and power come more naturally. The power of humility is subtle, non-boisterous and non-aggressive. Compared to being humble, it’s easier to be aggressive, mean, opinionated and arrogant. 

Humility is tough. Why? Because, to be humble is to be more like Jesus Christ. It’s impossible to embrace biblical humility unless Jesus is fully entrenched in your heart and in your soul. Humbleness means to be like Jesus. That’s it. There’s no other way to be humble than to let go as a human being and to accept the almightiness of God. It might seem strange to us, but there is actual power in humility - power in letting go to God and putting Him in control. 

And so, we need to look to Jesus, to his heart, if we really desire to become humble in the eyes of God. We need to strive . . . 

• To have a worshipping heart: All that Jesus did glorified his Heavenly Father. We need to do the same. The motivations behind our accomplishments shouldn’t be to put the spotlight on ourselves, to win the praise of other or to pat ourselves on the back, but to give God glory through the talents and abilities He has given us and the opportunities He has placed in our lives. 
• To have a grateful heart: A grateful heart changes the atmosphere around us. It carries a heavenly fragrance, the fragrance of appreciation and thanksgiving. It moves our eyes off of our self and esteems God. 
• To have a surrendering heart: Jesus was totally dependent on the Holy Spirit and completely surrendered himself to His Father’s will. We need to do the same and empty ourselves – our successes, our needs, all that we have and all that we are into the hands of God. 
• To have an obedient heart: Jesus was obedient even to death on a cross. His prayer should be our prayer: Not my will, Father, but yours – Thy will be done. 
• To have a servant’s heart: Jesus desired no glory for himself but instead embraced the lowliness of a servant. Similarly, we should desire to make our greatest accomplishment in life be the good we can do for others.
• And we need to have a considerate heart: Jesus wasn’t self-absorbed or self-preoccupied but focused totally on the good of others. That should be our example – to consider the needs of others before our own in thought, in action, and in prayer. 

Oh Lord it’s hard to be humble when you’re perfect in every way. 

But . . . I’m not perfect . . . in any way. 

Jesus, Meek and Humble of Heart, make my heart like unto Thine.

On the First Day of School

ON THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL 

An Open Letter to School Administrators, Teachers and Students 

September 3, 2019 

I felt the air of excitement, dressed in a new shirt and freshly ironed slacks this morning. It was an air of excitement that I've felt many, many times in the beginning of September. It's an air of excitement and anticipation, mixed with just a touch of nervousness. But it's a fresh air that fills my lungs and it energizes and youthens me. But this air of excitement exhaled with a rush when I realized that my car wasn't taking me to a school this morning, but rather, along the same mundane, ordinary paths it travels everyday. 

Teachers, cherish the role you play in helping to form minds and bodies and hearts and spirits and souls. Cherish those who will sit in front of you for the next 180 days, whether they be intelligent or don't get it the first time (or maybe even the second or third time), shy or off the wall, cooperative or challenging, whether their feet hardly reach the floor while sitting in their desks, or whether your neck aches at the end of the day from straining to look up at them. Cherish who you are and who they are - all God's children - loved and gifted for some special purpose that right now is God's secret. 

And students, let the same excitement and newness you feel today stay with you everyday throughout the school year. Remember, you are not just learning facts, equations and concepts to pass a test. You are learning lessons that no book can contain, that no teacher can explain, that no PowerPoint can make clearer. You are learning lessons for a lifetime . . . no - so much more than that - lessons that reach far beyond this lifetime and into eternity. 

So administrators, teachers and students, realize how lucky . . . no - how blessed you are. Perhaps through the fatigue, disappointment, hard work, challenges, successes and failures you might face this year you won't appreciate it all, but someday you will. Like I do. You're SO lucky and I am SO envious.

The Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year C)

THE NARROW GATE 

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

This past week, as I was preparing my homily, a memory came to mind of when I was seven years old and in First Grade at St. Raphael School in East Meadow, NY.  My teacher was an elderly nun named Sister Irenese, a member of the School Sisters of Notre Dame. Now many have horror stories about the experiences they had at the hands of the nuns who taught them while they were students in Catholic schools, but I have to tell you that I have nothing but high praise and fond memories of the School Sisters of Notre Dame. To me, they were saintly and devoted educators, and their discipline was firm but gentle.  For instance, when Sister Irenese had reason to reprimand a disruptive student, she generally would pinch his cheek, with the reproach, “You’re a bold little boy!” . . .  which of course NEVER was ME.

One day, she instructed my class to stand in the back of the classroom.  And there, Sister Irenese stood in front of each of us and asked us, one by one, to recount a line from Scripture.  “Let there be light,” the first child said, and Sister nodded and moved to the next child.  “I am the Good Shepherd,” said the next student, winning Sister’s approving smile. “Adam and Eve were naked and yet felt no shame,” another student proudly blurted out . . . and Sister Irenese shook her head, frowned and moved on to the next student.  This went on with all fifty of us, and in the midst of the familiar “God is love,” “Thou shalt not steal” and “Jesus wept,” a “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” and “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country” also somehow slipped in.

All the while, as I stood near the end of the line, I kept nervous hope that no one would give the quote that I planned. Finally, it was my turn and Sister Irenese stood in front of me, visibly weary and frustrated at hearing many of the same biblical quotes and misquotes repeated over and over again.  “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do,” I proclaimed. Sister’s eyes widened in amazement and her clenched jaw dropped.  “That’s beautiful!  Say it again,” she commanded, “loudly so the whole class can hear.” “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” A tiny smile forced the corners of the lips on her wrinkled face upward. Behind her wire rimmed glasses, Sister’s approving eyes met mine, and brimmed with both tears and wonder, now convinced that they were gazing upon someone who was one day destined to become a priest, or a bishop, or maybe even pope!

Boy have I turned out to be a big disappoint!  . . . Sorry, Sister Irenese!

But I can guarantee you, that of all the quotes given that day so many years ago by my First Grade classmates, not one of them came from the Scripture passage that we just heard.  “Enter through the narrow gate?” . . .  “I do not know where you are from?” . . . “Depart from me, you evil doers?” . . .  “There will be wailing and grinding of teeth?” . . . “Some are last who will be first and some are first will who will be last?” - Certainly not on anyone’s list of memorable quotes.  As a matter of fact, most people would like to forget that Jesus even said them. 

And the whole topic of today’s gospel - the afterlife . . . eternity . . . salvation . . . heaven . . .  where it is . . . what it’s like . . . who’s there . . . how may are there – seems to be irrelevant to many in society today.  Why?  Because most people today feel that no matter what, no matter how they’ve lived their life, heaven will be their ultimate destination.  We live at a time where there is an increasing sense of entitlement in society. People believe they are entitled to food, housing, public education from pre-Kindergarten through college, health care, prescription drugs, a job, family leave, retirement income, unemployment benefits, disability payments, legal representation, phone service, connection to the Internet, and more. If individuals cannot provide those things for themselves, then they expect the government to supply them.

This sense of entitlement carries over into religion.  Many Christians simply feel they are entitled to salvation and a place in the kingdom of heaven. They do not have to do anything. If God loves us, if God is all good, if God is merciful, then God will not condemn anyone. What a person does or does not do ultimately makes little difference. How convenient!  Jesus did all the work and we don’t have to do any.  But this attitude is certainly contrary to what Jesus tells us in today’s gospel. Jesus tells the disciple who asks, “Lord, will only a few be saved?” that the path to salvation is only accomplished by entering through the “narrow gate.” 

What does it mean to enter through the narrow gate?

Yesterday I saw a post on Facebook from a religious site that contained this quote:

Just be a good person,

Love who you can,

Help where you can,

Give what you can.

Sounds nice, right?  Beautiful?  Inspirational?  Motivational? NO!!! Jesus certainly calls us to do more than this:

He calls us to not just be a good person, but to "be perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect."

He commands us to not just love who we can, but to "love one another as I have loved you" . . . your neighbor as yourself . . . even your enemies.

He calls us to do more than just help where we can, but he washed his disciples feet at the Last Supper as a model for us to follow . . . to serve tirelessly as he served . . . to minister to the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, the prisoner, the least of our brothers.

And he challenged us to give more than what we can, but to "sell everything you have and then come follow me."

THIS is what Jesus means by entering through the narrow gate!  Not to live life in a safe, convenient, easy, wishy-washy way.  But to live our lives in a radical way – HIS way . . . a way in which we pick up our cross daily; in which we forgive seventy times seven times; in which we become the greatest in HIS Kingdom because we diminish ourselves to being the least in THIS kingdom by rendering ourselves servants to all.

HIS way – in which HE becomes the top priority in our lives because we love him with all our heart, with all our mind, with all our soul, with our entire being; in which we love one another as he has loved us . . . totally and unconditionally.  

HIS way, through the narrow gate, because he said, “whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it.”

The gate to heaven is narrow because it is precisely in the shape of Jesus himself. It looks like him, it’s shaped like him, it is precisely the size of him because Jesus himself IS the gate you get into heaven through. Jesus is the way - the way to the Father, the way to Life, the way to salvation. Jesus lived on earth to show us the way. To follow him on this way means that we are to walk as he walked, to follow in his footsteps, to live as he lived. A way indicates progression. When we follow him, we come to where he is now.

“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?” 

And so, as for me, maybe I ought to lose some weight. Maybe I need to shed the pounds of sin, of harbored grudges, of stinginess, of selfishness, and of self-obsession. Maybe I need to stick with an exercise program of daily walks, where I walk in the way of Jesus. I need to trim the excess in my life, because apparently, the Pearly Gates are a tight squeeze.

The Seventeenth Sunday of Ordinary Time

FATHER-GOD 

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

Do you watch much television? I’ll admit to you that I don’t . . . well except from April to September when most nights you’ll find me in my recliner watching the Mets. And, to make it clear, I only watch the Mets because it helps my spiritual life. It’s true! Watching the Mets teaches me to be patient, to be humble, to not lose my temper, and has given me more suffering than any soul would ever experience in Purgatory! 

But besides the Mets, most of the time when I do watch TV, I like to watch the reruns of the classic game shows, police dramas and situation comedies like, for example, The King of Queens. There’s one episode that I particularly enjoy watching over and over again entitled “Holy Mackerel,” about Doug and Carrie’s major misconceptions about prayer. In the episode, begrudgingly, one Saturday evening, Carrie accompanies Doug to Mass. During the Prayer of the Faithful, the priest encourages the congregation to pray in silence for their own intentions. And after initially not knowing what to pray for, a smile comes across Carrie’s face as she lifts her head and prays for a raise. No sooner than the "Amen" concludes her prayer, she receives a text from her boss telling her that she will be getting an additional $100 more in her weekly paycheck. Bolstered by this initial success, Carrie prays for some of the other REALLY important things, like that a pair of designer shoes will go on sale . . . which they do. Doug gets sucked into the success of God’s seeming generosity and on the following Sunday afternoon prays that the Jets somehow can pull off a victory in the last seconds of a game he’s bet on. And guess what . . . the Jets’ quarterback throws a "Hail Mary" and they win the game. However, after finding out that their parish priest contracted food poisoning after they prayed that he wouldn’t buy the last two pieces of mahi-mahi that they wanted and he chose another fish instead, Doug tells Carrie, “We should leave prayer to the professionals, we don’t know what we’re doing. We’re like the Bonnie and Clyde of prayer; we’re on a praying spree taking down everyone in our path!” 

Like Doug and Carrie, sometimes we can have misconceptions about what prayer is. If I asked you to define prayer, I imagine most of you would say that prayer is talking to God. Well, it is, but it’s so much more: 

Prayer is a relationship with God himself. Prayer is a personal contact with God. Prayer is a matter of continuous intercourse with God. Prayer is a constant dialogue with the Spirit of God in our hearts. 

It is our spirit and God's spirit working together, as St. Paul says to, “cry Abba Father.” It is a relationship between two beings who want to get to know each other better. As I engage in prayer, I come to know God better and he comes to know me as I am with my failures, my hurts, my joys, my excitement, all that is me. 

Prayer is trusting that God will deal with me as He has come to reveal himself through his son Jesus Christ. It is my communicating to God about my personal self, and then letting his mercy, his love, his compassion act upon my life, So prayer then becomes a dialogue between two friends, a dialogue between two beings who care for each other, an exchange between two individuals who trust in each other to respond in a caring, loving compassionate way. 

Today’s Gospel is so rich. It begins with a simple request from Jesus’ disciples for him to teach them to pray as John the Baptist had taught his disciples to pray. Jesus does that by giving them a glance into his own prayer life – his dependency on his Father for everything, and his complete and utter surrender of everything he is and everything he has into his Father’s hands. Through the words he gives them, the words of the Lord’s Prayer, he tells them that God is their Father and he deserves to be praised and thanked simply because he is God . . . just for who He is, probably more than what He does. He instructs them that they should pray that God’s will should be sought above their own and that God’s rule, God’s justice and God’s mercy may transform the world. Their prayer should acknowledge that God is the giver of all good things and they are totally dependent upon Him. To pray for mercy, but only to the extent that they themselves are willing to forgive. And they should pray for the strength to keep out of harm’s way by avoiding the near-occasion of sin so to always walk in the path of righteousness. 

But Jesus doesn’t just stop there. He gives them a glimpse into the nature of the relationship that is prayer, a glimpse into the heart of God and a glimpse into what should be in their own heart when they pray. 

He gives them (and us) an infallible guarantee that God is a God who answers when we ask, who gently leads when we seek, who answers when we knock. He is not a “Trickster-God” but a “Father-God,” a Father-God who gives good things to his children - not a stone instead of a piece of bread, not a snake instead of a fish, not a scorpion instead of an egg. Rather he gives what is good, beneficial and loving, not what is bad, useless or harmful. He is a Father-God who can be trusted. 

So much can He be trusted that Jesus, in the Parable of the Neighbor at Midnight, says that we ought to approach our Father-God with relentless persistence. We should ask and ask and ask until it is given. We should seek and seek and seek until it is found. And we should knock, pound, kick on his door until it opens. And likewise, when we ask, seek and knock, we should do so with confidence, optimism and expectation. He is a Father-God who CAN deliver and WILL deliver, for He is a Father-God who will not be outdone in generosity. 

In doing research for today’s homily I found out something that I didn’t know: That much of the sayings that Jesus spoke in Aramaic seem to be a two-four beat of rhythm and rhyming. This was a device of good oratory that assisted listeners in remembering what was said. Also, because of its poetic nature, the Aramaic Language has (like the Hebrew and Arabic) different levels of meaning. The words are organized and defined by a poetical system where different meanings of every word are possible. So, every line of the Lord’s Prayer could be translated into English in many different versions. Here’s one version that I found from the original Aramaic that I think it beautiful. I don’t offer it as a substitution for the traditional version that we have come to accept and recite. Nor am I saying it’s a more beautiful or a more accurate translation. I simply offer it to you today as an opportunity for you to hear the Lord’s Prayer with new ears and to react to it the way the disciples must have on that day, so long ago, when our Lord first responded to their plea to teach them to pray. 

Oh Thou, from whom the breath of life comes, 

Who fills all realms of sound, light and vibration. 

May Your light be experienced in its utmost holiest. 

Your Heavenly Domain approaches. 

Let Your will come true - in the universe just as on earth. 

Give us wisdom, understanding and assistance for our daily need, 

Detach the fetters of faults that bind us, 

Like we let go the guilt of others. 

Let us not be lost in superficial things: materialism and common temptations, 

But let us be freed from that what keeps us off from our true purpose. 

Sealed in trust, faith and love, I confirm all of this with my entire being.

The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body & Blood of Christ

BELIEVE WHAT YOU SEE, SEE WHAT YOU BELIEVE, BECOME WHAT YOU ARE 

The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body & Blood of Christ 

Genesis 14: 18-20; 1 Corinthians 11: 23-26; Luke 9: 11B-17 

Scripture never ceases to amaze me. You can read the same story 100 times, and on the 101st time, you notice something you never did before. It shifts your attention, gives you deeper insight into the passage, and a more profound appreciation and love for our Lord. Case in point, Luke’s retelling of the “Feeding of the Five Thousand”, the “Multiplication of the Loaves and Fish” that we just heard. 

So, in the past when I read this passage or preached on it, my focus was on two aspects of the story. First, the compassion and sensitivity of Jesus. Sometimes, because we hear little chucks of the gospels each week, we lose an appreciation for what had transpired immediately before and so it’s difficult to connect the dots. And on hearing this story, we forget that this great miracle happens right after Jesus has received word of the death of John the Baptist. So, despite his own personal grief, Jesus is still moved with concern and compassion for the crowd who gathered that day, all day, to hear him preach. They’re hungry. He has fed their minds, hearts and souls with his word, now he takes care of their physical needs and fills their bellies. 

Second, when I’ve read this story in the past, of course my focus was on the magnitude of the miracle itself. Jesus takes the meager supply of five loaves of bread and two fish and multiplies them to feed a crowd of five thousand, not counting women and children. In John’s account of the event, we’re told that they were two small fish. Do you know what type of fish they could have been? Sardines! There are three kinds of fish that inhabit the waters of the Sea of Galilee: carp, tilapia and sardines. And only one of those three fits the description of being a small fish – sardines! It’s mindboggling to think of a crowd of five thousand plus being fed with only two fish; but just think how many SARDINES would have to be multiplied for each to not only have their fill, but for there to be twelve wicker baskets overflowing with the leftovers. A good lesson for us, that when we intercede to God, he never shortchanges us, he always blesses us with more than we have asked for. 

But earlier in the week, when I read today’s gospel as I started to prepare my homily, two things jumped off the page at me that I really never paid much attention to in the past. One was Jesus’ his instructions to the Apostles after they alert him to the need of the crowd: “Give them some food yourselves.” And the second was the description of Jesus’ gestures as he performed the miracle: “Taking the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, he said the blessing over them, broke them, and gave them to the disciples.” Does the latter sound familiar? It should, for they are the same four actions of Jesus at the Last Supper that we recall at every mass: he TOOK the bread, BLESSED it, BROKE it and GAVE it to his disciples. Hence the connection between the multiplication of the loaves and fish and the institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper is explicit. 

Listen to what St. Augustine said in a homily he preached sometime in the 4th or 5th century on the Eucharist: Here is “one of the deep truths of Christian faith: through our participation in the sacraments (particularly baptism and Eucharist), we are transformed into the Body of Christ, given for the world.” St. Augustine went on to say, "Believe what you see, see what you believe and become what you are: the Body of Christ." When we say "Amen", we are saying "Yes! I believe this is the Body and Blood of Christ and yes I will be the Body of Christ to others." 

And so, what did Jesus mean when he told his Apostles to “give them some food yourselves?" That we who have eaten must become what we have partaken of; we must BECOME Eucharist. And how do we do that? We do that when we allow ourselves to become bread; bread that has been chosen, blessed, broken and given. 

Jesus took the bread. At our baptism, we were taken, chosen, called by name. In the Old Testament, God, speaking through the prophet Jeremiah said, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart, a prophet to the nations I appointed you.” And at the Last Supper, Jesus reminded his Apostles, “It was not you who have chosen me; it is I who have chosen you.” The same is true for us. As Christ took the bread, we are taken by God. That means we are chosen and are precious in God’s eyes - Chosen by God and selected for a unique role to play in God's Kingdom. 

He took the bread and blessed it. We are blessed by God. We have all been blessed in some way or another, to some degree or another. Some have been blessed with great families and friends, good jobs, keen intelligence, incredibly good looks, good health, fantastic personalities. But beyond these, we have been blessed with generous hearts, personal warmth, intense compassion, merciful spirits, and deep faith. All of these blessings and more have been given not to be hoarded, but to be shared. 

Jesus took the bread, blessed and broke it. We are all broken people. We are broken in so many ways, in our bodies and in our hearts, in our homes and in our world. We might feel like our brokenness is a sign that we are cursed, but when we listen to the voice that calls us “beloved” it becomes possible to see our brokenness as an opportunity to grow and learn and to deepen the blessing that God has given us. In other words, as we begin to allow the blessing to touch our brokenness we realize that what was once intolerable is now a challenge, what was once rejection becomes a way to deeper communion, and what seemed like punishment is simply a gentle pruning. And by coping through our brokenness, we can become more sensitive, more compassionate, to the brokenness of others. 

Christ took bread, blessed it, broke it and gave it to his disciples. We are given. If we truly know and live our lives as people who are chosen by God, blessed, and broken, then we can give of ourselves. Jesus said, “I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit”. When we bear fruit, we are helping others bear fruit. Each of our lives is a gift to those close to us: family, friends, those we serve, as well as to people we will never know. God has given us—each one of us—as a sacred gift to the world. 

BELIEVE WHAT YOU SEE, SEE WHAT YOU BELIEVE, BECOME WHAT YOU ARE!!! In other words: Our deepest reality is Christ. Christ is our truest identity. You and Christ . . . One and the same . . . One holy communion. formed when you become Eucharist and have allowed yourself to be chosen, blessed, broken and given with Him and for Him, or as St. Augustine would say: when you put your life on the altar. 

I guess St. Teresa of Avila said it best when she wrote. “Christ has no body but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes with which he looks with compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.” 

Ever wonder why, after the five thousand were fed, there were twelve wicker baskets full of leftovers? Maybe for each of the twelve Apostles to take a basket and to do what Jesus commanded, “Give them some food yourselves.” And that basket has not become empty in two thousand years. 

The basket has now been passed to you. “Give them some food yourselves.”

Graduation Homily for the Class of 2019

DROPS THAT SPARKLE 

A Graduation Homily for the Class of 2019 

St. Therese School, Succasunna, NJ 

June 6, 2019 

Joshua 1: 7-9; 1 Corinthians 1: 4-9; Matthew 28: 16-20

Look what I found when I was cleaning out my basement a few weeks ago! It’s a sword that I bought in England when I was there in my Senior year of high school. I haven’t seen this sword in many years, but as soon as I did, it brought me back . . . back not just to more years than I like to admit, to when I was in high school, but it brought me back to the Age of Chivalry – to knights, and armor, to courtly manners, to a religious, moral and social code that included values like courage, honor, courtesy, justice, and a readiness to help the weak. But it also reminded me of something else . . . a few weeks ago, as part of your class trip, you went to see the Broadway musical KING KONG. When I saw this sword, another musical and another king came to my mind – CAMELOT and King Arthur. 

CAMELOT tells the story of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Written by Alan Jay Lerner and Fredrick Lowe, it opened on Broadway in 1960 and starred Richard Burton, Julie Andrews and Robert Goulet (I’m sure none of whom our graduates have ever heard of!) The movie version was produced by Warner Brothers in 1967 and starred the likes of Richard Harris, Venessa Redgrave and Franco Nero . . . also names that I’m sure our graduates have also never heard of. 

In the final scene of this classic musical, Arthur stands on a hilltop overlooking what once was his glorious kingdom of Camelot. The kingdom now stands in ruins. So too in ruins are his dreams, his vision, the very principles on which he built Camelot. 

As Arthur surveys what remains of his kingdom, he hears a sound and orders whoever is hiding to make himself seen. From the darkness steps a boy of about twelve years of age. His name is Tom of the province of Warwick, and he announces to King Arthur that he has run away from home to become a member of the Knights of the Round Table. Amused, Arthur asks him why he wants to be a knight. Is it because his village was protected by knights or did his father serve a knight? Tom replies, “No.” He simply wants to become a knight because of the stories people tell of the knights. He then recites what amounts to a litany of the principles for which the knights and Camelot itself have stood: truth, honor, justice, a new order of chivalry: not might is right, but might for right. 

Arthur, filled with emotion that these principles have made such an impression on the boy, tells Tom that, as his king, he orders him not to fight in the battle that evening, but to return to England, to grow up and grow old. But in so doing, Arthur gives the boy a mission. In song, he tells him: 

“Each evening, from December to December, 

Before you drift to sleep upon your cot, 

Think back on all the tales that you remember 

Of Camelot. 

Ask every person if he’s heard the story 

And tell it strong and clear if he has not, 

That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory 

Called Camelot. 

Where once it never rained till after sundown; 

By 8am the morning fog had flown. 

Don’t let it be forgot 

That once there was a spot 

For one brief shining moment 

That was known as Camelot!” 

Arthur tells Tom to kneel, and then with his sword Excalibur, he bestows knighthood on him. Arthur’s friend, King Pellinore, startled at the sight of Arthur bestowing knighthood on such a young boy, interrupts Arthur and asks, “What are you doing? You have a battle to fight!” Arthur, pointing to the boy, exclaims: “I’ve fought my battle! I’ve won my battle! Here is my victory! What we have done will be remembered!” He then turns to Tom and bids him to return home behind the lines to become the keeper of the dream, the teller of the story. As the boy runs off, Pellinore, still confused asks, “Who was that, Arthur?” And King Arthur replies, “One of what we all are, Pellie - less than a drop in the great blue motion of the sunlit sea. But it seems that some of the drops sparkle, Pellie! Some of them do sparkle!” 

This morning, in our Gospel from Matthew, Jesus, like King Arthur, stands on a hill (actually a mountain – Mount Olivet) near the city of Jerusalem. We’re not told in these readings whether or not Jesus surveyed the city, but we’re told elsewhere in the Gospels that at other times he did. So it’s not a stretch of the imagination that he might have done so this time as well. And if he did, as he looked down on Jerusalem, what did he see? A city that had rejected him . . . the message that he came to bring . . . the kingdom he came to establish . . . the principles that were to be its hallmark - things like: “love your enemies; pray for those who persecute you,” “forgive seventy times seven times,” “the greatest is the one who serves.” 

Like King Arthur, Jesus probably felt like a failure; he had been rejected and crucified by the very people he loved, the very ones he came to save. But also like Arthur, he is not alone on that mountain. With him are his Apostles. And in them he sees the future of the Church. In them he sees the drops that will sparkle on the sunlit sea. And as King Arthur bid Tom of Warwick to go and tell the story, so does Jesus. He entrusts his vision and dreams to them, and tells them, “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.” 

Like the Apostles, Jesus calls us up the mountain. And there, he sees in us the same thing that King Arthur saw in Tom, the same thing he saw in his Apostles: Hope. Energy. Passion. Commitment. It is us, like the Apostles that Jesus sends out: to remember . . . to tell his story . . . to live his story . . . to make a difference . . . to bring about change . . . to re-create the world in his image . . . to establish, not the kingdom of Camelot, but the Kingdom of God. 

And this is especially true of you, the Class of 2019 who today leave the mountain called “St. Therese’s” and begin their journey to the distant lands of Morris Catholic, Pope John XXIII, Oratory Prep, Roxbury and Morris Hills High Schools, and Morris County Vocational School. You are the drops that Jesus calls to sparkle on the sunlit sea of the future. You are the ones He commissions to “teach all nations” by your word and most especially by your example. You are the ones that He sends out to baptize others - with your love and compassion, with your mercy and generosity, with your hope and sincerity. 

Do you have what it takes? Fr. Marc, Mr. Dunnigan, your teachers, your parents and I think that you do. Over the course of your years at St. Therese, you have learned more lessons than what the diploma you will receive this evening represents. You have achieved more than what the honors and awards you will receive in a few minutes indicate. For somewhere along the line, whether in the school across the parking lot or in your homes there are values that you have accepted which distinguish you, sets you apart, from so many others in our world today. Those values are the values that Jesus says you are truly “blessed” if you possess them. They are the values of the Beatitudes. All of you have clearly demonstrated each of those eight values, but some truly shine in you and make you “drops that sparkle on the sunlit sea.” 

And so, David and Andrew, you are what Jesus called, "Poor in Spirit."  As I explained to you on the class retreat on Monday, that virtue is better understood as possessing the “spirit of being poor.” You have emptied yourselves of all that really doesn’t matter in life, and have made God you #1 priority. 

Sara and Lisa, you are blessed and have blessed all of us because you "mourn." Although we might at first be taken back when we hear Jesus say, “Blessed are they who mourn,” what he really meant is that YOU are blessed because you feel for others, you’re sensitive, you’re empathetic, you wear compassion like a garment and lose yourselves in another’s hurts and needs. 

Dominic, Kaitlyn and Kyle, you’re what our Lord call’s "meek." You focus more on others than on yourselves, you’re humble - you recognize, not just yourselves, but all people as God’s gifts to the world. You treat all with the dignity and respect that they deserve. 

And Brianna and Jillian, you “hunger and thirst for righteousness.” Righteousness is an attribute of God. It is pure goodness. You have your priorities in the right places, you place God’s values above the values of the world. You take into yourself goodness and positive attitudes. And you have become what you have made your steady diet. 

Madisyn A and Joseph, Jesus has said, “Blessed are the merciful,” and so the two of you are so blessed! Mercy, forgiveness, is a virtue that the world struggles with . . . you do not. You consistently demonstrate a willingness to forgive and thus demonstrate patience and compassion for the faults of others. You give of yourselves to others with no strings attached. 

Rishab, Madison T and Roman, you are “pure of heart.” They say that on a clear day you can see forever, because the fog and the smog don’t obstruct the view. You see God and are constantly aware of his presence in you, around you, and in other, because your heart is free and simple; you seek honesty and truth, and maintain a consistent positive attitude. 

Kira, Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for the will be called children of God.” And you, clearly, are a child of God. Why? Because peace is what God is. And since you are a peacemaker, you are just like your Heavenly Father. You build bridges that unite, you bring people together in reconciliation. You are so faith-filled. 

And Sean and Ben, you demonstrate both the willingness and the ability to be “persecuted for the sake of righteousness.” The two of you never just go with the flow. You stand on your own two feet for what is right and virtuous, even if that sets you apart from the crowd. You possess courage, strength and integrity, and live your faith out loud, no matter what the cost or pain. 

You all received your class cross at your retreat on Monday. I ask you to look at it now. As you can see, there’s no body of Jesus on the cross. Where the body would be is empty, with just his outline on the cross. Jesus’ body has been cut out of the cross. Graduates, don’t let Christ be cut out of your lives. Become the body of Christ, his image, to all those you will encounter in the high schools to which you are heading and to the world. When the see you, let them see Jesus. Christ has no body on earth now but YOURS! Let your eyes look his compassion on the world, your feet move to wherever and whomever there is the need to serve, your hands bless the world with love, kindness, sensitivity, warmth and gentleness. 

There’s one other thing that Jesus told his Apostles on that mountain. It was a promise: “Behold, I am with you always, even to the end of time.” That promise He also makes to all of you today. You never have to feel afraid. Never have to feel lonely. Never have to feel like you go it alone. Never have to feel that you’re not good enough. Never have to feel that you can’t get past your mistakes and failures. Because Jesus is here . . . With you . . . Always . . . Loving you . . . Guiding you . . . Forgiving you . . . Blessing you. Class of 2019, be his drops that sparkle on the sunlit sea!