The Exultation Of The Cross

For God So Loved The World

Numbers 21:4b-9; Philippians 2:6-11; John 3:13-17

The words we just heard in the gospel contain what is probably the most quoted line in all of Scripture. As a matter of fact, whenever you turn on a football game, you’re sure to see someone in the stands holding up a sign for all to see book chapter and verse: John: 3:16. And on this Sunday, that the Church celebrates the Feast of the Exultation of the Cross (and sports fans across our country celebrate the second Sunday of the football season!) John 3:16 is once again held up for all to see, to hear to take notice of, to never forget: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.

But it’s funny, isn’t it, on a day that the Church focuses our attention on the cross that, other than a veiled reference to the Son of Man being “lifted up”, there is no specific reference to the cross in our gospel. No, it doesn't mention the cross. Not here. Not yet. Nothing about the cost. Nothing about the price of it all. Just the gift. Only that "God so loved the world, that he sent his only Son" so that we may have eternal life.

Being loved is always a surprise. The very fact that someone chooses to love us is exciting. It supports us in what we do. It gives us new insight into our value as a human. Even when we recognize our self worth, being loved is still a startling experience. "Are we worthy of such devotion?" we wonder. "Will it last?"

It is no wonder then, that being loved by God comes as a great surprise to us. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life." That is amazing love! The ultimate example of love! It is the pattern and model of the kind of love that we, as Christians, are called to show in our lives. And it is offered to every one of us.

This amazing love of God is not something we have earned. It is not something we deserve. It is a love totally unmerited by us! It is grace, freely given. Yet love offered is not necessarily love accepted. The suitor can be spurned. We can say yes or no. And yes, free though it may be, it is not without cost. Loving always comes at a cost to self. And opening ourselves to the gift of God’s love means that we cannot avoid the experience of the cross. Opening ourselves to the gift of God’s love means opening ourselves to the possibility of suffering, as well as to the probability of great joy.

The cross, for a a Christian, is a sign of contradiction. What was once a sign of infamy and disgrace becomes a sign of vulnerability and love. But it was only through sacrifice, through the sufferings of Jesus, that this contradiction was made possible. And so, the ideal is set before us: that as followers of Jesus, as people with a personal relationship with the Lord who loves each of us, we have to be willing to sacrifice everything we have to fill the world with the Father's love. Our daily turmoil, our problems, our pains all take on an infinite value when we trust them to Jesus, when we unite our cross to his cross.

We need to look upon the cross today and recognize its power to save. We need to explore the depths of John 3:16 and not just simply flaunt it on a banner at a football stadium! The more firmly we embrace the cross, the more self-emptying we accomplish, and God is able to fill us to our depths with a love we never dreamed possible.

For the love so freely given to us and so underserved by us, calls us in turn, to come into relationship, not only with that loving God, but also to reach out in love to our neighbor. Not the neighbor I choose to love, mind you. Not the one whose culture and race match mine, but the one God calls me to serve. My neighbor is the addicted, the perverted, the selfish, the corrupted. My neighbor is the one of another faith. My neighbor is the one person in the parish that I just cannot stand. Our great God who gave us such amazing love, now calls us to extend that love to others. Friends. Enemies. Neighbors. Strangers. Old. Young. Men. Women. Gay. Straight. Democrat. Republican. Christian, Jewish, Muslim. American. Iraqi. No exceptions. “For God so loved the world” and as those who have been filled with that love, we are called to do the same.

And so, on this day on which we celebrate the Exultation of the Cross, we acknowledge that the realization that we are truly and freely and totally and undeservedly loved by God is difficult for us to grasp. Yet the signs of God's love are all around us. And the humanity of Christ is God's fullest sign of love for us. That Christ should live and die as one of us is truly an amazing sign. For we have a God who has reached out to embrace us with outstretched arms from a cross of wood. If we believe that, then the symbol of the cross should support, thrill, excite, and re-create us. For we are truly loved.

Twenty-Second Sunday of Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

Take Up Your Cross and Follow Me

Jeremiah 20-7-9; Romans 12:1-2; Matthew 16:21-27

It was in last week’s Gospel that Jesus asked His disciples, “Who do you say that I am?”, and it was Peter who said, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” By the grace and knowledge of God, Peter was right. Before him stood Jesus, the Son of God in human flesh. Imagine the thoughts and reactions of the disciples: their Teacher has gotten off to a humble start, what with this walking from town-to-town and teaching. Nevertheless, He’s the long-awaited Christ. Things are going to get better…aren’t they? He’s only going to grow in popularity and power, and gather the love of the many…right? It’s only a matter of time until He sits on a throne and begins to rule…isn’t it? And how wonderful for the disciples, to be in this on the ground floor and going along for the ride. All of this must appeal greatly to the disciples’ human minds and thoughts.

Today’s gospel is a continuation of last week’s, but the mood changes dramatically. Matthew tells us that “From that time Jesus began to show to His disciples that He must go to Jerusalem, and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised the third day.” Jesus is going to Jerusalem to suffer and be killed? How can that be? How could the Son of God allow Himself to die? Why would He? This doesn’t fit in with the disciples’ preconceived notions. 

Ever the spokesman, it’s Peter who pulls Jesus aside. “God forbid, Lord; no such thing shall ever happen to You!” We can’t read the mind of Peter or know his emotions, though we guess at a mixture of shock and incredulity, fear and concern for his Lord. But no matter how sincere his motives, Jesus still turns to him and says, “Get behind Me, Satan! You are an offense to me, for you are not thinking as God does, but as human beings do.” 

Peter’s head must have been spinning! One moment Jesus calls him the “rock,” the one on which he will build his Church, and the very next moment he calls him “Satan,” one acting against God’s plan. Why? Because Peter’s got the Lord’s life all planned out, and crucifixion isn’t part of the plan. He knows exactly who he wants Jesus to be. But that’s the problem: rather than listen to Jesus and submit to His Word, Peter wants to make Him into something different. He tempts Jesus to be someone different than who he is and to do something less than he came into the world to accomplish. Peter is tempting Jesus to abandon the cross and our salvation in exchange for the popular notion at the time for the messiah to be a great and glorious warrior-king; one who would defeat Israel’s enemies and usher in an age of peace and prosperity.

Peter’s thinking the things of men: the Lord can’t go to the cross and die, because that’s just not right. This goes along well with Satan’s agenda: the last thing the devil wants is for Jesus to redeem the world from sin. But no matter who Peter wants Jesus to be, Jesus is Jesus. He is the Christ, the Son of the living God.

And then, to make things worse, Jesus defines for Peter, for the Apostles, and for us, exactly what it will mean to follow him, to be his disciple. If he is the type of messiah that will be rejected, will suffer greatly, and be put to death, then it necessarily follows that we must deny ourselves, take up our crosses, and surrender our lives.

What Jesus is saying here is so radical and different to our usual way of thinking and acting. We are so used to ‘looking out for number one’ and the attitude that ‘my needs are more important than anyone else’s’ that Jesus’ words fly in the face of the self-seeking and self-importance that is so common in our world. 

Jesus commands us to deny ourselves – that’s even radical for Christians because we know just how difficult this is. These are difficult words - "forget yourself, your needs, your ideas, your plans, your need to impress, your fears, your need to be highly regarded in the sight of others, your whatever, and be my disciple". 

Now we could do what we usually do with anything that is too hard - ignore it, or water it down, somehow make it a bit easier to swallow. Or we could do just as it says, that is, to follow his example of letting go of being so "me" focussed, and put God and his kingdom first. 

This means that nothing, no matter how sacred, is permitted to come between ourselves and God. We place ourselves at his disposal. His plans are our plans, his will is our will, his ways are our ways. In our lives we are committed to only one thing – focused on being Christ-like in our relationships with others, dedicated to being truly his disciples, committed to following God's way and not those of the world, faithful to God's will that love would be our guide in every circumstance. Make no mistake about it, Jesus is saying to his followers, ‘Becoming a disciple is a radical step and being a disciple demands your commitment to forget yourself, as crazy as this might seem to everyone else’.

And then, Jesus goes on to give the formula for the ultimate loser. ‘Take up your cross’, not his cross, but your own cross. 

The words, "Take up your cross" can rightly be understood in the narrower fashion. This includes the sense of accepting the "cross" of poor health, grief, loneliness, job loss and so on in the same way that Jesus was able to endure the suffering and pain of the cross with the knowledge that he had a loving heavenly Father who could be counted on. 

However, this phrase "take up your cross" seems to have the broader and even more positive meaning of sharing with Christ in the work of showing love and compassion. Jesus has placed the burden on all of our shoulders: to care as he cared, forgive as he forgave, heal as he healed, comfort as he comforted, encourage as he encouraged, accept others as he accepted others, follow God's ways as he did, suffer as he suffered, and give sacrificially as he gave sacrificially. Each of us must take up our cross and follow him. 

It doesn’t sound all that attractive does it? Noble…maybe. Valiant…perhaps. But attractive? Not when society tells us to take up the way of the world and follow after ambition, and wealth, and pleasure. And we’re told that if we follow after these things, the stories of our lives will end with success, with happiness, and with a sense of accomplishment. 

But following Jesus? Where will carrying our cross lead us? How will our stories end? In suffering? Rejection? Failure? Death? 

But I know how this story ends (pointing to the cross): 

Suffering is conquered by joy. 

Death is conquered by life. 

Darkness is conquered by light. 

Crucifixion is conquered by resurrection. 

Our faith tells us that despite our suffering and sacrifices our stories will all end the same way, if we but pick up our own crosses and follow Him.

Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

The Rock & Custodian of the Keys 

Isaiah 22:19-23; Romans 11:33-36; Matthew 16:13-20

Keys have power. They open doors, and beyond those doors are things that provide us with comfort, convenience, happiness and security. Without our house keys, we wouldn’t be able to get into our homes and see our families. Without our car keys, we wouldn’t get anywhere. Without the keys to our safe, we wouldn’t be able to get the important things we’ve kept hidden.

In literature, keys represent knowledge, mystery, initiation and curiosity. Mystery comes in the form of secrets hidden behind locked chests, or locked doors. Knowledge can be in the form of a secret learned, wisdom unlocked through discovery. Keys can also mean initiation into a new way of life. Teenagers are given car keys which represent the maturity and responsibility that go hand-in-hand with the rite of passage into adulthood.

More importantly, keys can be a symbol of power. When the mayor hands the keys to the city to a hero, it means that the hero has risen from a mere citizen to an influential and important part of the community. And keys to a prison represent an ultimate power over someone’s life, to lock them in or to lock them out of society.

In today's gospel passage, Jesus has asks the disciples who people say that he is - Jesus wants to know what people are saying about him. And they tell him, "Some say John the Baptist." Now, if you'll remember John the Baptist had recently been beheaded by Herod and people thought Jesus was John the Baptist come back to life - even Herod himself in Mark 6 was confused by Jesus' appearance and wondered if Jesus was John the Baptist raised from the dead. Some thought Jesus was Elijah or Jeremiah, prophets from the Old Testament, whom the Jews believed would appear before the Messiah came.

Then Jesus says to them, "But who do YOU say that I am?" And from the awkward silence that falls upon the Apostles, Peter blurts out, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." Here for a moment Peter gets it right - Jesus is more than a teacher, more than a prophet, more than a great moral leader, more than an example for us to follow. Jesus was not only the longed for Messiah, he was the Son of the Living God - the very mind and heart of God in the flesh! And because of Simon Peter's climactic confession, Jesus blesses him, changes his name from Simon to Peter, giving him a new identity as "the Rock," and then tosses him the keys to God's kingdom. It was an amazing gesture. You don't give powerful keys to just anyone!

At first glance, Peter seems an unlikely choice on which to bestow such a monumental responsibility. He stumbled, he fell, he denied and denied and denied. He struggled to understand. And even in his understanding, there was often some slight hesitation — some mistake, some fear

I’ll walk on water, Lord . . . Oops, help, I’m drowning!

I’ll never let them take you Lord, give me that Sword . . . Jesus? Never heard of him.

Lord, I’ll stand by you forever . . . Well, Jesus is dead, I’m going fishing.

It’s easy – maybe even a little comforting — to see ourselves as Peter. To identify with him. To see in his mis-steps, an echo of our own. After all, if Peter could finally “get it”, so can we. If Peter could stumble through his own difficult journey of faith maybe we can make it, too. Peter’s image of endearing cluelessness may be at times reassuring — encouraging — even heartwarming but I wonder if that image ultimately serves us well, or truly reflects the Rock, the Custodian of the Keys, on which Jesus so clearly relied.Peter may have stumbled at times, but he was also bold, daring, honest, filled with zeal and completely dedicated to our Lord:

• He put down his nets without hesitation to follow a man he didn’t know into a future he couldn’t see.
• He left everything he loved, trusting that his father, his wife, his children, his business, would be safe, even if he was not.
• He set out into the deep, knowing that whatever he needed would be taught to him. And if those lessons came at a terrible price, well, then, he would simply have to pay.
• When the crowds deserted Jesus after he told them he was the Bread of Life, and he asked the Twelve if they, too, wanted to leave him, Peter’s answer came immediately: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of everlasting life.”
• It was Peter who preached to the masses in Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost and then defended the inclusion of Gentiles into the Church at the Council in Jerusalem.
• Imprisoned, chained, abused and eventually martyred for his faith,Simon Peter lived up to his nickname, becoming a Rock for all who came behind him.

Yes, it’s easy, maybe even a little comforting to see ourselves in Peter. In fact, it’s hard not to, since his challenges and trials are like a mirror held up to our own lives. We grow hot and cold in our enthusiasm for God; we are often confused about our faith, about what it means to be a follower of Jesus; we continually stumble on our journey of life. But equally, his triumphs should echo in our lives as well. We may stumble with Peter, but we should also join him in boldness and zeal. We may occasionally deny Christ, but we should also stand firm in the face of persecution. We may sometimes misunderstand, but we should be willing to cast our nets into the deep, and take our chances on faith, even when the future seems unclear.

There are TWO great confessions of faith in today’s Gospel. One is Peter’s faith is Jesus: “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” The other is Jesus’ faith in Peter: “You are Rock and on this Rock I will build my church.” We are all here today because we, like Peter, profess our faith that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God. But also like Peter, Jesus professes his faith in us and tosses us our own set of keys. A different set than those he gave to Peter, but nonetheless, important ones: Keys that can unlock the mysteries of faith to our children, to nonbelievers, to those of questioning faith. Keys to unlock hearts, to love the unloved and the unlovable. Keys that unleash care and compassion on those who are in need. And keys that unlock doors of prejudice and exclusion to the outcasts and those who live on the margins of our lives and in our community.

Peter: the Apostle, the first pope, the martyr, the Rock, the Custodian of the Keys. His life shouldn’t confirm us in our weakness, but rather inspire us to seek greatness. If we are listening, Peter’s story can teach us to be loyal, to be brave, to be filled with the power of faith and hope.

Lord, grant us more Peters - more men and women who are willing to wear their heart on their sleeves, who are willing to make mistakes for the sake of love of Christ, who are willing to give up being safe, for the sake of following their Lord, people who follow their Lord with all their heart, and strength, and mind.

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

Women, Great Is Your Faith!

Isaiah 56:1, 6-7; Romans 11:13-15, 29-32; Matthew 15:21-28

What is going on in today’s Gospel? Is this the same Jesus who repeatedly throughout the gospels reaches out to welcome, teach, heal, and eat with the outcasts, the sinners, the women and all the others who were marginalized in his society? 

The Gospel reading for today gives us what, to my mind, is certainly one of the strangest images of Jesus in all of Scripture. He seems to be completely out of character. It is not the picture of the compassionate openness that usually radiates from the Scriptural image of Jesus. In fact, He even seems, at first, to be outright offensive. Jesus is approached by a woman whose daughter is ill. And she, as hundreds of others had done, asked Jesus for His help, to cure the girl. And usually, this kind of a request brought an immediate response from Jesus. But in this instance He totally ignores her. He says nothing at all. And when his silence is finally broken by the Apostles, all they have to say is, "Send this woman away. She is bothering us." And in fact that is what Jesus seems about to do, and callously so.

He says to the woman, "My concern is not with you. Only with the people of Israel." But the woman does not give up, she presses her plea. And then Jesus says something that seems very harsh. He says, "It would not be right for me to take something that belongs to God's chosen people, the Jews, the sons and daughters, and throw it to the dogs, to someone like you."

But the woman doesn't seem to be put off by that, she doesn't even seem to be particularly offended. It is almost as if she was used to that kind of treatment. And in fact, that may well have been the case. She had two things working against her, after all, two things that would make the Apostle's brush-off a pretty natural reaction. First, she was a woman. And in those days, that was a pretty hard role to have. Women were not taken very seriously. But Jesus had long since demonstrated that He did not accept that attitude, and the Gospels make quite a point of the fact that Jesus counted among His closest friends, Martha, and Mary and Mary Magdalene. 

And the second, and really the greater thing that this woman had against her was that she was a Canaanite, a member of one of the tribes that the Jews had conquered when they took over the Promised Land. You see, throughout their history, the Hebrews had a sense of being chosen by God, which gave them a sense of identity, a sense of purpose that was really unique in human history. They were a people who very much and very rightly saw themselves as set apart by God, as a nation really very different from the rest of the world. This sense of being chosen was so strong, in fact, that it often made the Hebrews a very narrow and intolerant people, a prejudiced people. And that ugliest of human emotions, outright prejudice, was the force at work in this Gospel scene. In the minds of the Apostles, the woman was not one of the chosen people, she was not "one of us", and as such she had no right to even make a request of God, let alone assume that he would do anything about it. And so Jesus' attitude, the role that He seems to be playing, was really much more directed toward the Apostles than it was toward the woman. By Himself being so much a man of His time and culture, by recognizing, even verbalizing the prejudicial attitude of His followers, Jesus sort of picks up this intolerance, and holds it up in front of their faces, and then, by His final loving acceptance of the woman, condemns it, contradicts it, and begins to turn it around. 

  

But despite everything the woman has going against her, she believes that Jesus can help her and she is persistent and she is humble in her belief. This woman doesn't plead for a special exception but simply asks Jesus to treat her with the grace and the love, the compassion and the healing power that she knows he has given to others. She doesn't come looking for proof of His messiahship or divinity, she doesn't speak to Jesus on behalf of her virtues, but simply appeals to his goodness and demands that he be who she knows him to be, the Loving Lord.

The woman holds onto her faith in Jesus in the face of obstinacy.

- She holds onto her faith even though she does not hear an answer from him right away.

- She holds onto her faith despite the barriers raised by others.

- She holds onto her faith even in the face of apparent insult and rejection from the one she believes in. 

And in the end she receives the reward of faith. Jesus blesses her, "Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish." 

Here lies the key to the whole story. It is her faith that makes the difference. "Great is your faith" -- compare this to the words we heard addressed to the apostle Peter in last week's Gospel: "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" Peter was a Jew, Jesus' friend, and one of the chosen twelve; yet this Canaanite woman had shown greater faith than Peter. And her faith is rewarded.

We’ve probably all had the experience of asking for something and hearing the words, "The answer is no, and don't ask me again!” But this is not how it is with God. Jesus teaches us through his encounter with the Canaanite woman that we should ask for whatever we need, and ask for it again, and ask for it again.

"It" may be a greater measure of faith, will-power, self-discipline.

"It" may be a sense of peace, in your workplace, in your home, in our world.

"It" may be justice for the oppressed.

"It" may be healing--of your body, mind, spirit, a relationship.

"It" may be an upswing in your finances, employment, success in your business.

"It" may be a dream, a goal, a desire you've always wanted but haven't realized yet.

“It” may be what ever else weighs heavy on your mind, in your heart, or upon your soul.

But often, we give up too easily. We are more afraid of seeming foolish than we are hungry to receive God's blessing. But great faith comes by throwing ourselves at his mercy, deciding that we have no hope anywhere else - great faith comes when we leap into his arms, trusting that they will hold us. For you see, risk is exactly what great faith requires. The Canaanite woman’s faith was nothing more than her firm confidence, until the contrary was proved, that Jesus could and would help her. And she held to that faith above all else, and was willing to press it to the limit. 

Great faith is the faith of the child who comes to the father, even when they know that they must be punished, because they see the tears in their father's eyes, and know that they still rest in his love. Great faith is the child that comes to the mother with a skinned knee, even though they know that she will put iodine on it and it will hurt, because they trust that she would not do anything to hurt them that did not need doing, for their own sake. Great faith is seeing God through the cross, and deciding that he is truly for me, that he loves me as he said he does, and then holding to that faith until all of the evidence is in, and it is proven wrong. That is precisely what makes that faith so great - because there isn't enough evidence in the whole world to prove that kind of faith wrong. On the contrary, the one with that kind of faith will find their faith proved out: again, and again, and again. It will be strengthened constantly.

"Woman, great is your faith." The Canaanite woman claims her place in the kingdom based on faith. In fact, the kingdom of God depends exactly on this kind of faith, rather than the particular family or ethnic group to which we belong or the socio-economic status we might have attained. "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David," was the cry of this pagan woman whose prayer was heard and whose faith was rewarded. And so, today and everyday, let us echo her prayer, whatever our needs might be: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of David, Son of the Living God, have mercy on us.

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

Snapshots of the Kingdom

1 Kings 3:5, 7-12; Romans 8:28-30; Matthew 13:44-52

You know, sometimes writing a homily is very easy. After reading the texts several times and meditating on them day-to-day for a week or more, all of a sudden the words come to me in a flash and the homily practically writes itself. I LOVE when that happens! But this week wasn't one of those times. I think that's mainly because today’s gospel is just so rich. There are so many possibilities to contemplate, it's hard to focus on what to emphasize and what to leave for another day. Well, I gave it my best shot, so here we go.

In today's gospel, we’re presented with a series of parables that continue from last week which invite us to see the holy in the human, the miraculous in the mundane, the extraordinary in the ordinary. In the past two weeks, Jesus talks about seeds and wheat, treasures and pearls. He takes his listeners to the kitchen and to the garden, to the wheat field and to the seashore. And there, in the most ordinary places of their lives, he shows them God. He invites them, and he invites us, to discover what the kingdom of heaven is like. 

What is the kingdom of heaven like? Well, Jesus seems to have a lot of different answers to that question. Last week, if you recall, he said it is like a mustard seed and wheat. Both describe how, from small, almost invisible beginnings, great things will come. And in today’s gospel, Jesus tells us it is like finding a treasure hidden in a field, something that brings about life-changing joy when it is discovered and when we are prepared to sell everything we own to obtain it. It’s like a pearl of great price, a thing of great beauty, for which the merchant will give up all other pearls so he or she may purchase it. And like a great net that catches all kinds of fish which are then sorted out according to their quality, with the good ones being kept safe for the use of the Master and the bad ones being tossed away. 

We might well ask, “Okay Lord, which is it?” But all of these descriptions are just metaphors because human language is inadequate to describe the kingdom of heaven, in the same way our various concepts of God can never really describe God. We think of God as a loving father, as a shepherd, as the Creator. All of those things are true, but they all, both individually and collectively, still fail to describe God. That’s because God is infinite, and we’re not. And if that’s true about God, then the same can be said about his Kingdom. 

So what does Jesus mean by the Kingdom of God? It’s obvious that he’s not referring to the place where we all hope to go after we die. One author I read described it this way: The kingdom of God is what the world would look like if God were in charge! To me, it is anywhere that Love triumphs, where Grace abounds, where Justice is done, where Peace is experienced, where the Well-being of all of humanity is seen and the Dignity of every man, woman and child is being respected and achieved. Anywhere that those things are happening, through the efforts and prayers of many people, we see the Kingdom of God. Here and there, and now and then, we see this new creation. As another theologian said, "The kingdom of God comes in inches, and we must learn to celebrate every small glimpse we can find."

So, according to this definition, then, the Kingdom of Heaven or the Kingdom of God is not a place, but a way of life, the way we ought to be living our lives in the here and now. God's rule or God's reign may not seem so obvious to us in a world terrorized by suicide bombers, filled with wars, and divided along racial and political lines, but it’s there. And today’s parables challenge us into a daily awareness of the kingdom of heaven breaking in all around us. We are called to live out our relationship with God and demonstrate that God rules in our life in all that we say and do. If we truly value God's reign above all else, it will have an impact on the way we live. It will affect the way we spend our time. It will influence what we do with our talents. It will show in how we spend our money. It will be reflected in the way we relate to people around us.

Jesus tells us that the reign of God is like a treasure hidden in a field. Some lucky fieldhand working that field finds it and goes and sells all that he has in order to obtain the field with its treasure. He just stumbled into a fortune. He wasn't looking for it. He didn't expect it. He just was in the right place at the right time.

He also says that the reign of God is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, and on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it. In contrast to the fieldhand who found the treasure in the field, this merchant has been pursuing the pearl of great price forever. He has been doing everything he could to obtain something this valuable.

I don’t know which experience is closer to what has happened in your life. But I want you to realize that it doesn’t matter how you find the treasure, it is that you lay hold of that treasure once you find it. It doesn’t matter whether you searched for the God or whether you just bumped into Him one day. It doesn’t matter if you had a dramatic conversion experience or whether you came gradually to faith. What matters is realizing that developing your relationship with God, living in His Kingdom, and possessing eternal life, is the greatest treasure you will ever find. 

God's rule and a relationship with God are like a found treasure and like a pearl of great price. God wants to be number one in our life. God wants our relationship with him to be so important that we would gladly, joyfully give up anything and everything we have for that relationship.

How much are you willing to give up for the sake of the kingdom of God? I have asked myself this question off and on most of my life, and I always end up with something like, “Well, I hope... that I would... if the chips were down... be willing to give up everything.” But when I think seriously about it and go through the list of things -- and that includes people, friends, relatives, my students, you -- I get a little shaken up. Am I willing to give up what God has blessed me so much with here for the sake of the kingdom? Would I be willing to give my home and all that I’ve worked so hard for all my life if God called for it?

These are important questions that we all need to spend some time reflecting on. But along with those, there are two more that that we must come to grips with: What do I have that I have not been given? Nothing. What am I that God has not made? Nothing. 

Our treasure, our pearl, our riches, can be found right here [gesture to Altar]. 

Here we receive the Bread of Eternal Life, Jesus Christ himself! 

Here we receive the Blood of the New and Everlasting Covenant, Jesus Christ himself! 

HE is the pearl of great price! 

HE is our treasure, his words, his instructions, his example.

HE is the treasure just waiting there for us!

Do you doubt that he is a loving King?

Do you doubt that he can give you a treasure beyond measure?

(Gesture to Crucifix) Just look - - there is the proof of His love for you! There is the sacrifice he made to redeem us, because WE are HIS pearls of great price!

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

The Wheat and the Weeds

Wisdom 12:13, 16-19; Romans 8:26-27; Matthew 13:24-43

This week, as I was preparing my homily, one of my high school teachers came to mind. His name is Fr. Arthur Anderson. Now although I went to high school on Long Island, Fr. Anderson grew up on a farm here in New Jersey, in Allamoooochy, as he liked to exaggerate it. Never could I imagine sitting in that classroom so many years ago that someday I would be living in Allamoooochy, in Panther Valley, part of which is actually located on some of the very land that was part of the Anderson Family farm. Fr. Anderson was my favorite teacher; he was everybody’s favorite teacher, for he taught with wisdom, yet humor . . . with passion, yet gentleness. He was indeed beloved, and I guess subconsciously, I tried to model my own teaching style after his. Of course some of his repertoire of antidotes came from his experience growing up on that farm in Allamoooochy. Like this one:

One day, a man purchased an old, run-down, abandoned farm adjacent to his with plans to turn it into a thriving enterprise. The fields were grown over with weeds, the farmhouse falling apart, and the fences collapsing all around.

During the first day of work, Fr. Anderson stopped by to bless the man’s work, saying, “May you and God work together to make this the farm of your dreams.”

A few months later, he stopped by again to call on the farmer. Low and behold! It’s like a completely different place – the farmhouse was completely rebuilt and in excellent condition, there was plenty of cattle and other livestock happily munching on the feed in well-fenced pens, and the fields were filled with crops planted in neat rows. “Amazing!” Fr. Anderson said. “Look what God and you have accomplished together!”

“Yes, Father,” replied the farmer, “but remember what the farm was like when God was working it alone? Glad I could help him out!”

Seems like we all sometimes want to help God out, don’t we, just like the farmhands wanted to help their master in the parable Jesus told about the wheat and the weeds. There Jesus tells about a man who plants wheat in his field. In the course of the night, an enemy sows weeds among the wheat. When the plants begin to grow and the weeds appear, the master's slaves are anxious to go and start tearing out the weeds. But the master orders his workers to let all the plants grow, good and bad alike. At the end of the growing season the master will separate the wheat from the weeds, and then the weeds will be destroyed. 

You know, I read somewhere that there are over sixty definitions of what a weed is. Here’s my favorite: A weed is a plant, not only in the wrong place, but intends to stay. That’s also a pretty good description of the evil in our world. We have the good and the evil side by side. God is like the master in that parable. He lets good and bad exist side by side in the world and even in the Church. It’s shocking to consider that God lets evil people damage our world and damage our Church. And what’s more, God seems to do nothing to stop the actions of murderers, rapists, robbers, abusers, liars, cheats, embezzlers, adulterers, racists, bigots and criminals of every sort. They often prosper and frequently avoid human punishment. God doesn’t purify the Church of its sinful members. Hypocrites, corrupt politicians, pro- choice legislators, child abusers, the divorced and remarried, unfaithful clergy and religious, the morally challenged, and those who make money, fame, pleasure and power the goals of their life, are numbered among the members of the Catholic Church. The names of good men and women and the names of notorious sinners appear next to one another in the baptismal registers of our Church.

To us there’s no room for the weeds; there’s no room for those whose sexual conduct is embarrassing or whose ethics are questionable; there’s no room for those who treat people unkindly or who have committed shameful sins. How often do people, like you and me, cry out when confronted with horrible situations and horrible people, "God why don't you do something?" But no matter how much we plead, the Master has a different idea and he doesn’t budge from his position. He tells us that this is not the time for such a radical response—he wants to wait until the harvest, and then, and only then, he, and only he, will do the separating. “But there are so many weeds in the world today, right here, right now—can’t we do anything; can’t we do something?” Today’s parable gives us our answer. God lets the good and the bad grow together. Despite all of our dedicated hard work, there won’t be a perfect yield—it will include both the good and the bad. But eventually, God will judge and punish . . . in His time, not ours; in His way, not ours. Until that judgment occurs, good and evil will exist side by side.

Today’s gospel addresses some of the harsh realities of life. It teaches us that we live in an imperfect world where evil is present as an unavoidable part of life. There are evil persons and evil situations which we cannot change. There is an evil force in the world which is beyond our power to fix. We might want our gardens, and our world and our Church to be free of weeds. But that has not been the case since the Garden of Paradise described in the Book of Genesis. It didn’t take long for the weeds to appear in that Garden and they have been appearing ever since. However, the parable also reassures us that unsolvable problems will be properly handled in the end by God who alone has the wisdom, the power, and the right to judge. The time will come when the sorting of the weeds from the wheat will be absolute and final, harsh and decisive. And make no mistake about it—we will all be judged. 

Should we take Jesus at his word, or is he just using scare tactics? We live in a world that justifies everything. We live in a world where many believe there are no moral absolutes and we have no right to impose our moral standards on anyone else. We live in a world that has diminished the person of Jesus to a one-dimensional easy-going surfer dude. We live in a world where no one takes responsibility for their own actions, that likes to point fingers and make excuses. Should we take Jesus seriously? Well, let me answer this way: The parable that we heard last week and the one we’re presented with today are the only ones that come with Jesus’ personal explanation. It seems to me that maybe he did this to make sure we got it right, so there’s no chance for misinterpretation. Those two parables are also the only ones that come with Jesus’ personal commentary: “Whoever has ears ought to hear.” In other words, Jesus is saying. “If it applies to you, take heed. You’ve been forewarned!”

But we also live in a world where we’re not used to waiting. We live in a world of fast food, instant communication, and immediate gratification. We want it now. And yes, we’re made in the image and likeness of God . . . but His ways are not our ways. And thank God for that. Jesus is telling us that if sinners are pulled-up and torn out now, we could easily destroy what is good. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell the difference between a good plant and a bad one, especially when it can act both ways. There will be a time for separation, judgment, and punishment, but that time is not now. Unlike God, we cannot know people’s hearts; where their lives might take them, or their potential for good. We are sinners living among sinners and we cannot judge too harshly and condemn too quickly. All the evidence isn’t in and the game is far from over. How many of us have left Yankee Stadium or CitiField in the 6th or 7th inning in frustration, convinced that the Yanks or Mets would lose, only to miss the walk-off home run, the game winner, in the bottom of the 9th?

That’s the good news for us in this Gospel; really good news. No strike of lightning is sent earthward the moment we sin. God’s response unfolds slowly. We want a God whose vengeance is swift. But aren’t we glad we have a God who is patient? Aren’t we grateful when we look back on our mistakes that we have the time to change and the time to make amends, that He gives us time to work things out and make things right? Most of us here today, to be sure, were weeds, and some of us are still weeds. We try to hide our secrets because we’re ashamed of what we’ve done; we sometimes struggle to trust another’s integrity because we’ve compromised our own; and we still play games with the truth and separate our words from our actions. And there are days when we still slip back into our weed-like behavior. Yeah, if you look carefully, you can still find the weeds in each of us.

In the final analysis, today's message to us is about trusting God to be God: a God of justice . . . but also a God who isn’t measured in retribution, but in mercy; a God who is eager to forgive, long after we’ve given up on it; and God who is willing to wait, until the very last moment, for us to turn things around and make things right. 

“Not so fast; all the evidence isn’t in yet. And the game is not over.” And thank God for that.

Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ (Cycle A)

Be Who You Receive . . . Receive Who You Are 

Deuteronomy 8:2-3, 14-16; 1 Corinthians 10:16-17; John 6:51-58

Is not the cup we bless a participation in the Blood of Christ? Is not the bread we break a participation in the Body of Christ? St. Paul puts it well. He “says it like it is.” This is what happens inside this church today. This is what happens at this Mass . . . at each and every Mass: a participation . . . a holy communion. Christ not only speaks to us, Christ becomes one with us.

Here, in this place and time. This country, this county; here, in this week, in this year; in the life that is yours, in the life that is mine and this world that is ours, in this act of worship that we render to the awesome God, we don’t just talk about a baby born in the humblest of conditions in a stable long ago; we don’t just talk about the body of a prophet hungry and weary and racked with temptation in the heat of the desert; we don’t just talk about teachings of a wise rabbi who preached to fisherman on the sea and to priests in the Temple; we don’t just talk about that moment when God so loved the world that the universe stopped! And in the spilled blood of an innocent man, the tight-grip of sin released; and the strangle-hold of death gave way in the cry of our Savior: “Into your hands, Father, I commend my spirit! Into your hands I hand over my life.” No. We don’t just talk about Christ when we gather for Mass, we become one with Christ. And how we become one with him is what we celebrate today: Corpus Christi; the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ; the Eucharist; Holy Communion.

In a few minutes, during the offertory, before I empty its contents into the chalice and communion cups, I will pour a few drops of water into the flagon of wine. The wine represents Jesus; the water us. As I do this, the words that I pray are, in my opinion, some of the most meaningful in the entire mass. But the thing is, you’ve probably never heard me say them because they're prayed quietly, in a whisper. In fact, this prayer is actually called the “Secret.” But it shouldn’t be a secret. The words are so beautiful and so meaningful they should be shouted so everyone can hear. The words I pray are these: By the mystery of this water and wine, may we come to share in the divinity of Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity. Unlike oil and water, water and wine mix completely. They become inseparable and indistinguishable. This is exactly what happens in the Eucharist. When we receive the Eucharist, we are receiving Jesus’ Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity, and we are joined in such a close association with God, a communion, that our human nature is comingled with the divine!

Realize it or not, this is what happens here at Mass: in the Eucharist we receive, Christ becomes one with us, and we become one with him. In the early centuries of the Church, St. Augustine attempted to explain something of the meaning of Holy Communion. He pointed to the Eucharistic Bread on the altar and said to his people: BE WHO YOU RECEIVE . . . RECEIVE WHO YOU ARE! In other words: Your deepest reality is Christ. Christ is your truest identity. You and Christ . . . One and the same . . . One holy communion

His hands washing the dust off the feet of his disciples? Those are your hands washing your child in the bath tub. His hands feeding the hungry? Those are your hands feeding your father in a nursing home. The Lord weeping over the City of Jerusalem? His tears, are your tears when love’s pain runs deep, so deep that eyes can’t help but weep. Like the day you found out that the diagnosis was cancer. Like the time you had the argument with your teenage son. Like the night your spouse told you he no longer loved you and was leaving. Like the morning you sat all alone in your car not knowing how you were going to break the news to your family that you had been laid off from your job. His body sacrificed on the cross? That’s your body when, despite the desires within and temptations without, you choose to live chastely. His blood spilled on the cross? Yes, that’s your blood donated in a blood drive for someone you don't even know. All of this is a holy communion, when you put your life on the line or, as St. Augustine would say: when you put your life on the altar.

In a little while, our Eucharistic Ministers will join Father and myself here in the sanctuary and then they will be sent back into your midst to present the true and sacramental presence of our Lord to you. But in a real sense, we are all Eucharistic Ministers. We all have as our mission to make Christ present to the world. And we do that by we ourselves becoming Eucharist; by we ourselves becoming his Body and Blood manifest physically to the world; by we ourselves making Christ present through our presence . . . through the sincerity of our voice, the compassion in our eyes, the healing of our touch, the charity in our deeds.

This truth is beautifully expressed in a poem, which made such an impression on me in the very first class I took in my diaconate studies that I kept it all these years. It goes like this:

He was old, tired and sweaty,

Pushing his homemade cart down the alley,

Stopping now and then to poke around in somebody’s garbage

I wanted to tell him about EUCHARIST

But the look in his eyes,

The despair on his face, 

The hopelessness of his life filling his cart, told me to forget it.

So I smiled and said “Hi!” and gave him EUCHARIST.

She lived alone, her husband dead, her family gone,

And she talked at you . . . not to you.

Words, endless words, spilled out,

So I listened . . . and gave her EUCHARIST.

She couldn't say she was sorry, she could only stand there,

Stubborn, stiff, and still angry.

I reached out my hand, I forgave her, and we shared EUCHARIST.

He was dying of AIDS, terrified, alone and in so much pain,

All alone in the world, misunderstood, condemned; no one seemed to care.

I held his hand, and prayed with him; he was EUCHARIST for me.

It was a silly fight. Who started it? What was it all about?

We hugged, we reconciled, and we laughed EUCHARIST.

Tired, weary, disgusted, lonely,

Go to your friends, open their door,

Say, “Look at me” . . . and receive their EUCHARIST.

I laughed at myself, and told myself,

“You, with all your sin, all your selfishness,

I forgive you, I accept you, I love you.”

It’s nice, and so necessary, too . . . to give yourself EUCHARIST.

My father, when will we learn, that you cannot talk EUCHARIST,

Cannot philosophize about it . . . you do it!

You don’t dogmatize EUCHARIST.

Sometimes you laugh it,

Sometimes you cry it, often you sing it.

Sometimes it’s wild peace, then crying hurt,

Often humiliating, never deserved.

You see EUCHARIST in another’s eyes,

Give it in another’s hand held tight.

Squeeze it with an embrace.

You pause EUCHARIST in the middle of a busy day,

Speak EUCHARIST with a million things to do,

And listen EUCHARIST for a person who wants to talk.

For EUCHARIST is as simple as being on time

And so profound as sympathy.

Jesus took bread in his hands, he looked at it and said, "Change."

He took the cup in his hands, he looked at the wine and said, "Change."

And they became EUCHARIST, his blood and his body.

Jesus takes us in his hands, he looks at us and says "Change."

And we become EUCHARIST, his blood and his body.

And we become EUCHARIST, until he comes again.

I give you my life, I give you me,

I give you . . . EUCHARIST.

The crowds in today’s gospel witnessed the miracle of the loaves and the fish but couldn’t accept the implications of Jesus’ words of the even greater miracle of his own flesh being the living bread come down from heaven. At every mass, we too witness a miracle: ordinary bread and wine transformed into this living bread. Can we accept the implications? Eucharist cannot be passive - simply taking, eating, drinking. Eucharist is active and dynamic, and the miracle of the Eucharist is not complete until we BECOME and SHARE. Be who you receive . . . Receive who you are.

Graduation

How do you judge the success of a school? Through the academic achievement of it's students? Through awards they receive? Through the values of good ethics and good citizenship that the administration and faculty imbue in its student? Yes to all of the above. But for a Catholic school, there is one aspect that an award ceremony, a report card or a diploma can't measure.  And that is faith. But how is that intangible to be measured?

In February, on the Tuesdays and Thursdays that I spent with the Eighth Grade students of St. Therese School, we discussed the Beatitudes, the eight virtues that Jesus tells us we are truly blessed if we possess, the virtues of citizenship in the Kingdom of God, the virtues that probably were most evident in Jesus’ own personality. I gave them an assignment. They had to compose five Beatitudes of their own. Below are the twenty-eight Beatitudes of St. Therese’s Graduating Class of 2014, one from each of our Graduates. I think through them, we will be able to judge that which a test could not – the profound and admirable faith of these students.

The Beatitudes

of the 2014 Graduating Class of St. Therese School 

Blessed are the loyal, for they will be shown faithfulness.

Blessed are you when you try your best, for you will do better.

Blessed are the generous, for they will receive much.

Blessed are the worrisome, for they are instilled with reliance on God.

Blessed are those who don’t feel uncertain to share their feelings, for they will never be afraid to share the truth.

Blessed are those who are prayerful, for their relationship with God shall grow.

Blessed are they who are scared and seek God, for they will no longer know the meaning of fear.

Blessed are they with heavy hearts; they shall find comfort in the arms of the Lord.

Blessed are the sad on earth, for they will eternally be happy in heaven.

Blessed are the considerate, for God will consider them.

Blessed are those who go to church, for they shall feel the never-ending love of God in their lives.

Blessed are those who are blinded by faith, for their eyes will be open.

Blessed are they who sacrifice for others, their reward will be in heaven.

Blessed are the lonely, for they shall be surrounded by friends and loved ones.

Blessed are the givers, for they will be given Heaven.

Blessed are those who forgive, knowing everyone makes mistakes including themselves, for they will seek and find and delight in the good qualities of the people around them.

Blessed are those who strive for holiness, for they shall be welcomed into heaven.

Blessed are those that show people the path for good, for they will be great leaders. 

Blessed are the poor, for they teach us to be thankful for what we have in our lives.

Blessed are the lost, for they shall be led by God.

Blessed are those who are drawn from the crowd, for they are one in a million with God.

Blessed are they who give a little bit of time to God every day, for God will bless them with an eternity with him.

Blessed are those who love others, for they shall receive ten times more love.

Blessed are those who recognize God in each of us, for they will receive God’s love.

Blessed are the forgiving, for they know that no one is perfect except for God.

Blessed are the honest, for they will see through lies in Heaven.

Blessed are those who have lost a loved one, for they will be comforted and watched by a guardian angel sent by God.

And blessed is the entire world, for one day they will see into their hearts that war shall be replaced with peace.

Heavenly Father, bless these beautiful young people that that we and YOU delight in. We give thanks tonight for their achievements, their academic success, the talents they possess, the ways in which they have used the gifts that you have given them to make our school and our lives better, richer and more beautiful. May they continue to glorify you as they move on to the future and continue the quest to become the people that you call them to be. May they always strive to live out the Commandments you have given us, emulate the way of life that your son Jesus lived for us, and be faithful to the Beatitudes that they themselves say they are truly blessed if they possess. We ask this through Christ, our Lord.

Amen.

Ascension of the Lord

Drops That Sparkle 

Acts 1:1-11; Ephesians 1:17-23; Matthew 28:16-20 

Two weeks ago, I had the pleasure and the privilege of accompanying our Eighth Graders on their class trip to New York City to see the Broadway musical, Aladdin. I love Broadway musicals. One of my favorites is called Camelot. It tells the story of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. 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 first reading from the Acts of the Apostles and 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 Camelot, but the Kingdom of God. 

This is especially true of our eighth graders who, in two weeks, will leave the mountain called “St. Therese’s” and begin their journey to the distant lands of Morris Catholic, Pope John XXIII, Seton Hall Prep, Villa Walsh, Sussex Vo Tech, and Roxbury, Randolph, Mount Olive, and Lenape Valley High Schools. 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, all of which find their source and origin in His Most Sacred Heart. 

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 us today. We never have to feel afraid. Never have to feel lonely. Never have to feel like we go it alone. Never have to feel that we’re not good enough. Never have to feel that we can’t get past our mistakes and failures. Because Jesus is here . . . With us . . . Always . . . Loving us . . . Guiding us . . . Forgiving us. 

And so, like Tom of Warwick and like the Apostles, let us come down off our mountains. Let us run safely behind the lines . . . behind the lines of Sacred Scripture. Let us be true to ourselves . . . Let us be true to who God created us to be . . . Let us be true to the mission that He has given us - to be the keeper of His Dream, the teller of His Story. 

God wants us to sparkle!

Sixth Sunday of Easter (Cycle A)

You in Me - I in You

Acts 8:5-8, 14-17; 1Peter 3:15-18; John 14:15-21 

"Where is God?"

If you were to ask that question of a little child, he or she might point upward and say "God is up in heaven."

If you were to ask an older child that same question, and you happened to be driving along Main Street, that boy or girl might point here, to this building, and say "God is there, in church, that's God's house."

If you were to ask an adult that question, that person might answer that God can be found in the scriptures, in the sacraments, and in other people.

Each one of those answers is correct. God is in heaven, in church, in the scriptures, in the sacraments, and in other people. We can point to those things and people as places where God may be found. But I doubt any of us if we were asked "Where is God?" would point to ourselves and say "God is right here, in me." Yet this Sunday's Gospel might lead us to give that very answer.

There Jesus says, the Father will give us "the Spirit of truth . . . you know him, because he remains with you, and will be in you." Then Jesus goes on to say, "I will come to you . . . you will realize that I am in my Father and you are in me and I in you." Those words in the Gospel indicate that God dwells within us. That is something that begins with the Sacrament of Baptism by which we become children of God, members of the Body of Christ, and dwelling places of the Holy Spirit. We are reminded that God is in us each time we receive the Eucharist. We are united with Christ in one "holy communion" as he comes to us in consecrated bread and wine.

God dwells within us, and God's presence becomes more and more apparent the more we love God and keep the commandments that Jesus Christ has given us. As he says "Whoever has my commandments and observes them is the one who loves me." And what are his commandments? To love as he loved, to forgive as he forgave, to serve as he served. The more we do those things the more the presence of God shines forth from us.

“You in Me – I in You.” This is Jesus message of good news for us today.
“You in Me – I in You.” No matter what the future holds, we will never be alone.
“You in Me – I in You.” We have purpose and meaning to life because we are loved by God.
“You in Me – I in You.” We have purpose and meaning to life because God loves us and the natural

                                      outcome of that is that we love God and love one another.
“You in Me – I in You.” “If you love me you will keep my commandments.”

What is it for Jesus to be "In" us, or us to be "In" Jesus? We can get some idea of it from a popular phrase we use today. We speak of people really "getting into" something. She really "gets into" her job as doctor, for example. That means, she gives her heart and soul to the work; it consumes her energy and becomes a great passion; she gives it everything she’s got. If we say, "He’s really into football," we know that his wife had better watch out come Sundays from September to February because everything else goes on the back burner. To get into something is to make it your own, to intertwine your deepest self with it, to - in a way - ingest it.

Now Jesus promises that kind of closeness with the coming of the Spirit. Jesus being "In" the Father; Jesus being "In" us; and we - through the presence, working, guiding, prodding, teaching, leading, caring and protecting of the Spirit -- becoming "In" God.

Think of it - God "getting into" you! We're not just talking about a vague influence. We're not speaking about some hazy inspirational strength that one would gain from the memory of Christ and his example on earth. It’s far deeper. Far closer. Far more mysterious. And far more intimate than that.

Jesus, through the words of our Gospel, is meeting us this morning with a message of a Person, a divine Person, who will be by our sides . . . to be our strength in all weakness, our Peace in all trouble, our Wisdom in all darkness, our Guide in all confusion, our Comforter, our source of Righteousness when sin is strong, the Giver of Victory over temptation, our Companion and Friend in moments of great loneliness.

We're talking about a Divine Spirit-Being, God the Holy Spirit, coming so close to believers that he touches their very hearts, a heart-to-heart relationship, sharing in the most intimate, deepest manner possible. “You in Me – In in You.”

In Matthew’s Gospel, in the account of his conception, we are reminded that Jesus is Emmanuel, “God with us.” We proclaim that in song each week during the Advent season. But here, in today’s Gospel, Jesus reveals that the Good News is even better than that. He is not only, “God WITH us;” he is “God IN us,” a presence so intimate that his Holy Spirit empowers, enlivens, energizes, inspires and sends us out, just as Jesus himself was sent to make the Father known. It can be frightening and seem an insurmountable task. But Jesus assures that we will not be left orphaned.

“You in Me – I in You”. Let that be our mantra. Let it run constantly through our minds this week. In our work and in our leisure . . . in moments of grace and occasions of temptation . . . in our struggles with sadness, loneliness, failure and fatigue . . . in our experiences of joy, acceptance, success and energy . . . in times when we worry about our health or when we take it for granted . . . when we appreciate our blessings, or when we pray for our needs . . . as we take the presence of God to the people who enrich our lives, and to those that challenge our patience. “I in You – You in Me.”

"Where is God?" To answer that question we can point to heaven. We can point to the church and to others. But just as surely, if we’re keeping God's word, we can point to ourselves! Perhaps St. Patrick said it best in this prayer attributed to him:

Christ with me. Christ before me. Christ behind me. Christ in me. 

Christ beneath me. Christ above me. Christ on my right. Christ on my left.
Christ when I lie down. Christ when I sit down. Christ when I arise.
Christ in the heart who thinks of me. Christ in the mouth that speaks of me. 
Christ in the eye that sees me. Christ in the ear that hears me.

Where is God? Closer than we ever realized.

Third Sunday of Easter (Cycle A)

The Jesus Who Stays

Acts 2:14, 22-33; 1 Peter 1:17-21; Luke 14:13-35

It was the same road, the same people — but the experience changed their direction and destination. It was the same road, the same seven miles between Jerusalem and Emmaus — but the speed of their return was different. It was the same road, the same two disciples — but there was something new and different about them.

On the way to Emmaus, they experienced sadness, disappointment and hopelessness. They whispered the hopes that had filled their hearts that maybe this Jesus was the Messiah that faithful Jews had been waiting for so long. They had hoped, and so they had followed. Then, paralyzed by terror, they had seen Jesus arrested; driven through the streets like a common criminal; crucified… along with all their hopes and dreams for the people Israel. Even the report of the women that Christ’s tomb was empty didn’t raise their spirits; it only confused them even more. And so, on that first day of the week, reeling from all that had happened, there was nothing left to do but go home. Those seven miles never seemed so long.

But the situation was different on their return to Jerusalem. The two felt overwhelming joy and hope. They had a clear focus and determination to tell what they had experienced. The two felt an urgency. There was no time to waste. And those seven miles were never traveled in such a short time.

What happened on that road? An apparent stranger accompanied them along the way. And he turned out to be their risen Lord, Jesus Christ. And Jesus transformed these two disheartened people into "burning hearts."

In today’s gospel, we are told the name of one of the Emmaus-bound travelers – Cleopas. And the other? Well, the other is you. Or me. Luke left a blank space for us to fill in our own names because today’s Gospel is meant to remind us that we too are on a journey, a journey on which we often carry disappointments, dashed hopes, crumbled plans, insecurities, sufferings and sorrows. And on that journey, Jesus also comes to meet us, walks with us, and stays with us. He is there, but he is not recognized. He is there, but we do not see him. In good times and bad, in wakeful awareness and sleepy dreams, in moments of defeat, in the thrill of victory, in the dark night of the soul and the mountaintop experience, in the everyday, ordinary, mundane, run-of-the-mill, and in the knock-your-socks-off, spectacular, momentous, takes-your-breath-away moments of our lives, God is here, in our midst. God is a present God, an immanent God, a mysterious God who lives simultaneously beyond us, around us, and within us.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? That which is always and everywhere present quickly slips beyond our awareness and just becomes the taken-for-granted background that we ignore as we live our lives. And so, Christ walks with us on the road or sits with us at the table, and we fail to recognize him.

How often are we are like those Emmaus-bound travelers? How often have we failed to recognize Christ when he knocks on our door or comes to us in his many different disguises? How often have we rejected his message because it seems too improbable or demanding? How often have we failed to see his hand at work in the events of our daily lives? How often have we willfully chosen to ignore his will for us? How often have we missed him because we failed to look beyond appearance, and failed to see his presence in bread and wine?

Our Gospel today presents to us four ways that we are called to recognize the Lord. The first way that God is present to the disciples in today's Gospel was in the community of believers. Our Gospel begins with the two disciples walking along the road. But they are not alone. Jesus once said, “When two or three are gathered in my name, I will be there with them.” And He was with them, and He is with us. God is present with us when we come together a thousand strong in this Church as well as when two or three of us get together to pray together. God is present when you help your children say their bedtime prayers. He is present when a family says grace before meals. He is present when a husband and wife say prayers together.

The second way that God is present to the disciples on the road to Emmaus was in the proclamation of scripture. Jesus explained to them the meaning of scripture. The Bible is the Word of God. Yet, the Word has become flesh in Jesus Christ. The thing that makes the Bible a mystical book is the presence of Jesus, the Word of God, presenting the truth of God in the hearts of those open to his word. All of us should have a Bible, place it in positions of honor within our homes, and should read from it often. It should be read with reverence, allowing the power beneath the words to enter our lives, to transform us, to pierce our hearts like that two edged sword that the author of the Letter to the Hebrews spoke of when he wrote: "Indeed, the word of God is living and effective, sharper than any two-edged sword, penetrating even between soul and spirit, joints and marrow, and able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart."

The third way that the disciples on the road to Emmaus met the Lord was when they shared the breaking of the bread with him. Using the same words as the Last Supper, Jesus broke the bread, gave it to them to eat, and they recognized his presence. We receive communion weekly, some even daily. Through our faith, we recognize Jesus present in this sacrament, strengthening us to proclaim his presence to the world just as the disciples at Emmaus were strengthened to run to Jerusalem and tell the disciples, "We have seen the Lord." There is no way that we could ever fathom the power of the Eucharist to help us to proclaim with our lives that Jesus is alive, risen from the dead, alive in our hearts.

And lastly, Jesus came to the two disciplines on the road to Emmaus as a stranger. Christ is found in the midst of everyday life. The sacred moments, the moments of miracle, are often everyday moments, the moments we often chalk up to "coincidence." But for the pure of heart, coincidence is merely when God chooses to remain anonymous.  In every moment, God is here, loving us, shaping us, sanctifying us. Jesus often comes at the times, in the places, and in the guises which we least expect.  He might appear to us in a friend who comes in the midst of our pain, and sits and listens; He might be the one who believes in us. He might be the person who offers the help or advice that we have been seeking. And he is in the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick, the prisoner, and all those who society tosses aside and considers the "least ones."

Easter is the reminder that Jesus stays, and Emmaus is the reminder that we miss it! He was with the disciples on the road, but they didn’t know it! It was only when they invited Jesus to stay that they began to see his presence in a new way. They made room in their lives for him to be recognized, to be more than a once-upon-a-time memory. They invited Jesus to stay with them. And that’s what we need to do, too! We need to do it every day! Do you see him?