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
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.
