The Fourth Sunday of Easter (Cycle B)

THE VOICE OF THE SHEPHERD

Acts 4:8-12; 1 John 3:1-2; John 10:11-18,27-30 

Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Nat King Cole, Tony Bennett: unmistakable voices whose sound, style and phrasing have the power to take us back to a time and to a place of first love . . . of romance . . . of heart break. Who can ever erase from their memory the commanding voice of FDR, the poetry and power in the voice of Martin Luther King, the trusted voice of Walter Cronkite on the evening news? There are just some voices you never forget.

Last year, I celebrated Christmas with my brother Bob and his family. After we had exchanged presents, my oldest niece, Kathleen, said, “Uncle Bruce, I have one more gift for you.” She then took out her laptop and sat next to me on the couch. She clicked on an audio file of an old cassette recording that she had transferred to her computer. It was a cassette that I made for her when she was ten years old to accompany a tape recorder I was giving her for Christmas. And so, as I listened, I was transported back thirty-three years to hear my youthful voice deejaying a selection of Christmas songs, narrating “The Night Before Christmas,” singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer with a Norwegian accent, and basically making a complete fool of myself! And as I heard my younger self signing off and wishing her a Merry Christmas, my somewhat maturer self said, “Kathleen, I can’t believe you kept that all these year!” Kathleen said, “Wait Uncle Bruce. It’s not finished.” And then I immediately recognized a voice that I hadn’t remembered was on that tape. A voice I hadn’t heard in sixteen and a half years. The sweet, loving voice of my mother. And after that, a voice I hadn’t heard in four years: the kind and gentle voice of my father. There are just some voices you never forget. 

If you noticed, this morning I extended the Gospel to include three lines also found in the tenth chapter of John’s Gospel (Please don’t tell the bishop!) But I wanted you to hear everything that Jesus had to say about himself when he calls himself the Good Shepherd. And I think those three lines are important to us.

Jesus says that his sheep hear his voice. “HEAR” not “heard.” Present tense not past. Christianity is a relationship, and every relationship is established and maintained through communication. And so we shouldn’t chalk up to fantasy, wishful thinking, or pious sentiment that God IS speaking to us, and we CAN hear His voice.

The fact is God is always speaking to us, but the problem is we aren’t always listening, or we aren’t quite sure how to listen. And the truth of the matter is, we can’t obey him or follow his lead unless we hear him—and we can’t hear him unless we understand how he speaks to us today. God is a pure spirit, and so we need to seek out, feel comfortable with, and accept the way that a spirit communicates: not with a human voice, but through some means outside of himself, adapted to our nature. He may use things we can see and hear in order to stir our imagination, or he may enter directly into our thoughts. 

But we’re like the prophet Elijah. We seek God’s voice in lightning bolts and claps of thunder, in the loud and the dramatic. Yes, God can shout, but as Elijah learned, God more often whispers. He’s heard in the subtle and the ordinary. God nudges us, guides us, answers us, through the still small voice of intuitions that come while we pray, while we meditate, while we dream . . . in thoughts that persist . . . in a sense of peace that fills us when we consider one option over others . . . and in the circumstances of our lives. The voice of the Shepherd comes to us in the truth of the Scriptures, the teachings of the church, the insights of the saints, and the advice that comes from others who follow his way. 

So if God is still speaking to us, why do we find it so difficult to hear his voice? There are many reasons. Sometimes we’re afraid to listen. We don’t want to hear what God has to say to us. We know that he may ask something of us that’s difficult to do or give. Instead of listening, we close our ears and pretend not to hear.

Sometimes we don’t hear God because we’re too busy putting our own needs ahead of everything else. Our desires to have more, and to be more, are often in direct conflict with what God desires for us. It’s difficult to hear his voice over own voices calling for more.

Most often, though, we simply don’t recognize God’s voice over the roar of life around us. Our world is noisy and demands so much of our time and energy. We're so focused on everything else that we fail to hear God’s gentle whispers in our lives. Often we're so busy and so consumed with everything around us that we miss him even when he's screaming our name, trying to get our attention.

And then there are many voices in our world, clamoring for our attention, making demands of us, extending promises to us. There are imitators, calling us down the wrong path. We’ve got to know how to tell the difference between the authentic voice of the Lord, and all of the other imitations out there. So, as you pray, as you listen, pay attention: 

+ If the voice you hear encourages you to trust, then it’s probably our Lord. If the voice you hear leads you to cynicism, then it is not. 

+ If the voice you hear calls you to be generous and self-transcending, then it’s from the God of Love. If it calls you to selfishness and self-centeredness, it’s an imposter.

+ If the voice you hear calls you to be faithful, to be true to your word, to keep your promises, it’s of God. If the voice invites you to break your promise and lie, it’s not of God. 

+ If your hear an invitation to spend more of your life focused on others, to measure your success by the difference you make in someone else’s life, it’s probably from the one who said, “If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all.” 

+If the voice you hear calls you to be a peacemaker, a justice-doer, a hope-giver, it’s from the same one who once said, “Blessed are the peacemakers, they will be called “Children of God.” 

+ If you hear an encouragement to treasure life, set aside angers, forgive and forgive some more, it’s from the one who said we need to forgive seventy times seven times and who, himself, looked down upon those that had just crucified him and forgave them. 

+ If the voice you hear tells you that you are deeply loved by the eternal God, if the voice you hear tells you that you have a dignity that no one can take away from you, if you hear a reminder that Jesus loved you so much that he was willing to die for you, then that voice is from the God of All Goodness. But if the voice you hear tells you that you’re not worth it, that there is no hope for you, it’s a lie from the Evil One.

“I am the Good Shepherd. My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” This week, let’s quiet our minds and open our hearts to hear God’s voice speaking to us. He longs to have meaningful conversations with us. We must decide to listen for His voice; if we don’t, we may miss the comfort, the inspiration, the encouragement God bestows upon us when He speaks intimately with us. This week, listen to that still small voice speaking to your mind and heart. You know the voice. There are just some voices you never forget.

Students' Stations of the Cross

I recently assigned my Eighth Grade students at St. Therese School to write meditations and prayers on the Stations of the Cross. Below are the ones I chose to present to the rest of the school for our Holy Thursday retreat day. What is presented here certainly shows, not only the talent of the students, but their deep sense of faith. I hope what these students wrote touches you as you pray them. 

The Station of the Cross

By the Eighth Grade Students

Of St. Therese School

The First Station: Jesus is Condemned to Death

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.
All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: Did Pontius Pilate know that he was killing the Son of God? Does he know that he was killing our Savior? Pontius Pilate saw nothing wrong in Jesus, yet he handed him over to be crucified. He followed the words of his citizens instead of trusting his gut feeling of letting him go. Jesus was sentenced to death for teaching love and care. Nobody stood up and defended Jesus in his time of most need. (Sean Murphy)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Whenever we feel like something going on in our lives is unfair and we don’t understand it or accept it, help us to remember the selfless act Jesus did for us. Help us to remember always the cruelty he was faced with and how our problems, what we think is pain, are nothing compared to what Jesus went through. He was chosen to be condemned, and he responded that violence is never the answer. He didn’t fight back. Help us to remember that everything happens for a reason. When we feel like giving up, help us to remember that Jesus never gave up. Amen. (Taylor Rippon)

The Second Station: Jesus Takes Up His Cross

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: Jesus is handed his cross on which he will die. The cross is very heavy and immense. Every step he takes brings him a step closer to our hearts and God. Jesus was handed his cross with open arms and love, just like he will be when we go to heaven. When Jesus picks up his cross and starts to walk on the path and up the hill, he is showing us with his mercy and love the path to eternal life with him and his Father. Jesus was so selfless that, instead of being angry with the people who doubted him, he asked God to forgive them. (Bridget Doherty)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Lord, give me the courage and faith to accept my crosses. Send the Holy Spirit to guide me towards you and away from sin during difficult times. Help my faith to be at its strongest when I am faced with hardships. Jesus, when I am struggling, remind me of your great sacrifice. Remind me of the day you took up your cross for my sake. Remind me of your will. And remind me of the reward of eternal life given to those who act in your name. Amen. (Matthew Rose)

The Third Station: Jesus Falls the First Time

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader:

Jesus falls, and he can’t get up alone

Someone helps Him get up, and he lets out a groan.

Mary cries out to help her tired, beaten son;

He keeps on moving, He knows it has to be done.

Despite the harsh treatment Jesus received,

He still made his trek up the hill of Calvery.

Jesus taught us that we could always persevere;

If we remember always to keep him near. (Olivia Guevara)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Jesus, help me always remember that you are here for me when I fall. Remind me that you, too, have fallen, and give me the strength to get back up. I know I may fall again, but you will always be there to help me get up again. Amen. (Olivia Greer)

The Fourth Station: Jesus Meets His Sorrowful Mother

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: Can you imagine yourself having to bear the weight of a splintering cross, while staring into your mother’s tearing eyes? As Mary slowly followed Jesus on the path to his death, she mourned and stumbled behind. All she wanted to do was help him carry his heavy load. When the guards allowed her to comfort him, she forgot about everyone else in the world, and poured her heart into Jesus’ hands. Her eyes, staring into his eyes, were already enough for Jesus. Jesus, tired and damp with perspiration, loved the touch of his mother’s hand on his, and he felt a sense of contentment as his mother followed in his footsteps. (Sarah Lawrence)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Jesus, help us to notice the people in our life who are willing to support and encourage us when we may be going through a difficult time in life. Help us to accept the help we are offered, so that we may realize there are people like you in our lives, and that they truly love and care for us. Please allow us to look to our parents for help when we are in need. Amen. (Olivia Guevara)

The Fifth Station: Simon of Cyrene Helps Jesus Carry His Cross

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: In this station, Jesus’ shoulders become too weak to carry the weight of the cross and he is unable to proceed. The soldiers see this casual man, Simon of Cyrene, who seems strong and energetic. They snatch him, and force him to carry the cross on his own shoulders. Simon did not want to help Jesus when he was asked to, but he serves this man at the time of his greatest need. This reminds us that our acts of assistance hold a great amount of value in the Kingdom of God. (Dyanna DeMaria)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Lord, open our eyes and ears so that we may see when others need our help. Provide us with the resources to assist those around us, so that we may feel compelled to get out of our comfort zone to rescue those who suffer. Use our hands and feet to serve you each day. Amen. (Dyanna DeMaria)

The Sixth Station: Veronica Wipes the Face of Jesus with Her Veil

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: Jesus’ fragile body cannot take all this humiliation and distress, and after falling twice, he is tired and weak. Yet he knows that he must open the Gates of Heaven for all of the souls in Purgatory, and so he gets up and pushes on. Wearing the crown of thorns, his face is covered with blood and sweat, and an innocent bystander known as Veronica sees Jesus’ face, and wipes it clean. To her surprise, Jesus leaves the imprint of his face upon the cloth. Jesus appreciates our little devotions to help the least of our brothers, for he said when we do that, we do it for him. Jesus wants us to help people in need, and those who are bearing a heavy load. He was grateful for people like Veronica who follow his example. We must be like her and assist innocent people that are in need of help. (Kayla Conde)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Jesus, when others refuse to acknowledge you, give me the grace to act as you would want me to. When others need help, let me go to them as Veronica did to you. Guide me along the path to you in Heaven, which Veronica walked along when she wiped your face. Amen. (Matthew Rose)

The Seventh Station: Jesus Falls the Second Time

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: Jesus had to carry that heavy cross with no one to help him. He is so tired and weak he can barely go on any further. So he falls once more. He feels every motion and move he makes with his body. He feels like giving up, but he keeps going on for us. When he falls to the ground, even though he is hurt and weak and feels like giving up, he doesn’t. We should be like Jesus when we feel like giving up, we too should keep on going, even when it hurts. (Eva Gergatsoulis)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Father, when I have struggles in my life, please help me to remember that I can get through them by praying to you and remembering that Jesus did the same, and that he struggled as we are struggling now. Amen. (Darya Don)

The Eighth Station: Jesus Meets the Women of Jerusalem

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: In this station, Jesus meets women who are crying for him. Even though suffering as he was, Jesus had in his heart to console these women and to show them true compassion. Their reaction to what was going on implied that they had very strong feelings about his punishment. There were crowds of people watching the crucifixion for entertainment, and crowds of people shouting bad things at Jesus. But this small group of women wept for him. (Olivia Greer)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Jesus, there are things in the world today that are wrong. There are people being killed for following you, and people who use it as a source of entertainment. Help me to always feel for others, even if I am not going through the same things they are. Amen. (Olivia Greer)

The Ninth Station: Jesus Falls the Third Time

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: Jesus falls for the third time on the road. It was getting harder for Jesus to carry his cross. It was growing heavier and heavier, but Jesus gets up and struggles to keep on going. His love for us was so great, and he knew that he had to die on the cross for us, so he gets up. He doesn’t quit. He keeps going on. (Darya Don)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Jesus, please help me to be a Good Samaritan and help people when they fall, not only physically, but also spiritually. If someone falls away from you or the Church, please help me to guide him or her back onto the path to eternal life with you in heaven. Also, please help me to never give up, just like you did on your journey to the cross. Amen. (Sarah Lawrence)

The Tenth Station: Jesus Is Stripped of His Clothes

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: As if he hadn’t been humiliated enough, Jesus is now stripped of his clothing. Clothing gives a man his privacy or his dignity. Not only has Jesus been beaten, but he must deal with being stripped of his clothes and being watched while the audience before him acts as if they were watching an entertaining show. This should be a lesson for us never to find amusement or entertainment in someone else’s pain or suffering. At the foot of the cross, the soldiers draw lots to divide his worthless possessions, his clothes. No shield or security protects him. As the soldiers and the people stare at him, Jesus stares up at heaven. (Enam Akasreki & Charlotte Matthews)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Father, when we feel embarrassed, help us to remember the humiliation that Jesus went through. Help us to be strong, as Jesus was, and to stand tall. Our Lord was put through a situation none of us can even imagine being in. Help us remember that Jesus didn’t run away or cower. He stood tall and did what he was meant to do, God’s plan for him, even after the humiliation, even after the pain. Help us to remember this at times of embarrassment. Amen. (Taylor Rippon)

The Eleventh Station: Jesus Is Nailed to the Cross

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: No words can describe the pain Jesus felt at this moment. It is beyond imagining having nails pounded into your hands. Jesus endured all the pain for the sake of us. He had an immense love for all of us as he went through all of his suffering and pain. He didn’t deserve this. When we are going through bad times, we might endure some unnecessary pain. But we must think of what Jesus had to go through, the agony he went through while on the cross, and realize that our conditions could be worse. (Marc Bain)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Jesus, when I am in pain, please help me to keep on going. Remind me to think of the pain you went through and see that my problems could be worse. And when I am struggling, please help me. Amen. (Marc Bain)

The Twelfth Station: Jesus Dies on the Cross

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: Jesus has walked to the site of the crucifixion wearing a crown of thorns and carrying the weight of the cross on his back. He has suffered through the pain of the nails being driven through his flesh and into the wooden cross on which he is crucified. Now, the suffering rises to its highest point as he approaches his death before all of his hardships come to an end. Jesus reaches the end of his journey to death and will soon return to his Heavenly Fathers. As Catholics, we choose to follow the path of Jesus to an eternal life. We must keep this idea with us at all times. We must remember to act as Jesus did in every aspect of our earthly life so that we may begin a new life with him after death. The only end brought upon Jesus at his death was the end of his suffering. (Matthew Rose)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Lord, guide me along your path so that I, too, may earn eternal life with you in Heaven. Help to keep my focus on the final results of my actions and not what they bring me here on Earth. Remind me in everything I do that you and your will alone are most important in gaining eternal life after death on Earth. Let all mourn for the loss of their loved ones, but rejoice that they are sharing eternal life with you. Amen. (Matthew Rose)

The Thirteenth Station: Jesus is Taken Down from the Cross

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: In this station, Jesus is taken down from the cross. Everyone sees him as dead now, never to return. His mother, Mary, can now see what has been done to her son for nothing but his teaching love. Those who followed Jesus saw that this had been a brutal and unjust way for him to die. Little did anyone know that they had not seen the last of him. (Olivia Greer)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Jesus, it seemed like you were gone after you died. It may feel like you are gone again sometimes if my prayers are not immediately answered or if things in my life are going wrong and I don’t know why. Help me remember you died for all humanity, and you are never actually away from us. Amen. (Olivia Greer)

The Fourteenth Station: The Body of Jesus is Buried in the Tomb

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: Jesus has suffered, died, and is now being buried. His lifeless body is placed within a tomb. All of the disbelievers are joyful at the end of Jesus’ journey, but the true joy he is to bring has not yet come. All of his disciples mourn at the last sight of his deceased body, but this lifeless state is only temporary for Jesus. Some have probably lost their hope in Jesus’ plan, as they now see him being laid behind a tremendous stone, wondering how he would save them now. But at times, God works in mysterious ways. It is important to know that each step in God’s plan is essential for its final outcome. 

We must act as disciples of Jesus. As he acted out God’s will through his Passion, we too must act as God would want us to. Jesus held on to his faith every step of his journey, knowing that it would not be God’s will for him to endure this suffering unless it brought about marvelous good. While it may seem that no good has come from it, since Jesus has truly died and is now seemingly being placed in his tomb for eternity, it is only a matter of time before God’s plan unfolds in the lives of his disciples. We must remember that God’s plan may not always make sense to us in its many forms, but knowing this helps us to keep our faith strong throughout the peaks and valleys of our lives. (Matthew Rose)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Lord, when your plan may seem to have disappointed our expectations, as it may have seemed to your followers who watched your Son being placed in the tomb, help us to know that your plan for us is unceasing in our lives. Keep in our minds the truth that you have a path for each of us. Help us remember that some of the obstacles you present to us hide nothing but blessings. (Matthew Rose)

The Fifteen Station: THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS

Leader: We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you.

All: Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Reader: The Stations of the Cross are steps to Jesus’ death. Because of this, every one of them are devastating and difficult to listen to or watch. Unlike the others, the Resurrection is something that we, as Christians, look forward to. When Jesus was missing from the tomb, people were afraid. They thought that someone had stolen his body, but when they saw him proclaiming his Good News and praying with people, they were glad and relieved. It is the most amazing experience a person could ever observe. Jesus coming back to life was a shock to many people, but it also was a breathtaking moment in the history of humankind. Jesus not only saved us from sin, but he was an amazing role model to how we should live as Christians. (Sarah Lawrence)

Leader: Let us pray . . . 

All: Jesus, please help me to be a faithful Christian and a role model to people in my family, school and community. Please help me if I’m having hardships to remember what you have done for me. Each day help me make someone smile, and help me sacrifice something for someone. If I mess up, please help me “come back to life,” or help me get back onto my journey with God , just like Jesus did when he resurrected from the dead. Please help me keep these stations in my mind at all times so I can remember the sacrifice you made for us, especially if I am feeling ungrateful. Please help me ultimately become a better Christian throughout my life. Amen. (Sarah Lawrence)

First Sunday of Lent (Cycle B)

THE DESERTS IN OUR LIVES

Gen 9:8-15; 1 Peter 3:18-22; Mk 1:12-15

For Mark, the Gospel story doesn’t begin with angelic visitors or a prophetic dream. It doesn’t open with a miraculous birth or a poetic hymn to the Incarnate Word. In Mark’s Gospel, there is no soaring prose, no travelers from the East, no expensive gifts, no awestruck shepherds, no jealous, brooding king. Instead, Mark’s Gospel hurls us, ready or not, into a lonely and barren wilderness—a desert—where everything either bites or burns or stings. 

It’s hard to imagine a more dramatic moment than the baptism of Jesus. As he emerged from the water, the heavens ripped open and the Spirit descended like a dove while the voice of God proclaimed, “You are my beloved Son, in you I am well-pleased!" This, truly, would be a moment to savor—A moment to remember and celebrate. And yet, almost immediately, Jesus was driven out into the desert to be tormented by wild beasts and tempted by evil. 

It’s not exactly what you would expect, is it? After all, God was pleased—no… make that, WELL pleased with him. But this beloved son was driven directly from a moment of affirmation and love into the harsh wilderness. 

Experts say that deserts are formed under unique climactic conditions. Maps show that they cover about 25% of the earth’s surface. Globes indicate they are found only between specific latitudes. That’s what the experts say. But we know the truth about deserts, don’t we? 

The truth is, sometimes, no matter where we live, no matter how far we travel, the desert is all we can see. 

Sometimes, despite what the weather report or average rainfall may indicate, we find ourselves right in the middle of the desert: blinded, disoriented, sunburned, just about dying of thirst.

Sometimes, the desert feels so familiar, that we can name every shriveled plant, every venomous snake, every blistering ray, every irritating little grain of sand.

Sometimes, the wilderness can feel a lot like home. The single mom, stretched so thin that she almost disappears, knows the desert of exhaustion. The rejected child, watching silently from beyond the playground, knows the desert called loneliness. The unemployed man, whose sense of self-worth has become nonexistent as he faces rejection time and time again, knows the desert of despair. The widow, waking alone, eating alone, sitting alone, living alone without the love of her life, knows the desert called grief. The teenager, peering into the bathroom mirror, questioning just who really is that person staring back at him or her, knows the desert of confusion. The man, woman or child who receives the unexpected and dire diagnosis, knows the desert called fear. We know the truth about deserts, don’t we?

The truth is, despite what the globe says, deserts aren’t found only in sub-Saharan Africa, or south-west Nevada, or in the Sinai peninsula. Some of the harshest deserts aren’t marked on any map. They lie just around the corner or beside the 5th row pew at the 9:00 AM mass.

But there’s something else true about deserts—something that Mark wants us to hear. Jesus has been there first. That’s the Good News of Mark’s opening scenes. No desert on earth is so remote, so barren, so seemingly inhospitable to life, that Jesus hasn’t walked there first. As we begin our Lenten journey, our Gospel today reminds us that Christ entered the desert and emerged triumphant He faced everything that you and I can face, Satan and all of life’s beasts. Know that whatever the boundaries of your desert, whoever or whatever the beasts, the Spirit has driven you there as God’s beloved one, as Christ’s sister or brother, and will use the experience to draw you closer to himself while defeating the powers of Satan in your own life. You are not in the desert alone. 

Jesus’ presence in the wilderness reminds us that there’s something else true about deserts: Despite all appearances to the contrary, the wilderness is filled with life. A handful of desert soil, baked and brown, blowing in the hot wind, can be filled with hundreds of seeds, just waiting for a chance to bloom. That withered plant, desiccated and dry, has living roots reaching deep into the ground. That empty landscape—lonely in the harsh light of day, comes to life in the moonlight as reptiles and insects emerge from hiding. Even at its most desolate, the desert is always ready to burst into bloom at the first sign of life-giving water. Maybe that’s why God so often uses the desert as a place for transformation. Maybe that’s why Jesus emerged from the waters of baptism only to be thrust into the wilderness.

This Lent finds many of us traveling through the desert wrestling with demons and tempted by evil. Some people might look upon that journey and despair. But we know the truth about deserts, don’t we?

The Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle B)

Come Follow ME

Jonah 3:1-5,10; 1 Corinthians 7:29-31; Mark 1:14-20 

Here, very early on in the Gospel of Mark, we have the call of the first Apostles. Mark gets down to business fast. Here, in only the sixteenth verse of his Gospel, we find Jesus calling Simon and his brother Andrew, and then, having gone on a little further along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, he calls the sons of Zebedee, James and John. 

Short though these four verses may be, we find in them an extraordinary amount of detail. In fact there are four important features which are paradigms for all the other call and conversion stories in the New Testament. But they’re not restricted to the pages of the Bible, for they’re also the characteristics of our own story of call and conversion as well. 

The first feature is that it is Jesus who takes the initiative. He is the one who does the calling. The initiative comes from God and at a time and place of his choosing. He takes us where we’re at. It might be fishing, it might be while praying. It might be at the office, at home, at school, or at church. It might come at the sea shore or on a mountaintop. Whenever, wherever, or however it comes, it is an action of pure grace in our life and it doesn’t depend on anything we do.

The second feature is that Jesus doesn’t normally choose people from the elite; he tends to choose from among ordinary people. He sees what is hidden, what he feels he can use for the benefit of the building up of his kingdom. He doesn’t necessarily chose the qualified, because he, himself, is the one that qualifies. All that is required is trust and an openness to learn, to change, to grow.

The third point to notice is that the Apostles are invited to share in the life and work of Jesus. They go where he goes; they do what he does; they say the things he says. They learn by example, by doing, by living with him.

And the fourth point is that Christ’s call is quite explicit. He says simply but clearly: “Follow me”. There is none of the eloquence that would later characterize his teaching, His words are straightforward and direct. There is no ambiguity, yet at the same time, nothing is made clear. Things will gradually evolve and become clearer as time goes on. 

It’s interesting to note that Jesus called them to ‘Follow ME’. He didn’t say: “I have a theological system which I would like you to investigate; I have certain theories that I would like you to think over; I have an ethical system that I would like to discuss with you. He said ‘Follow ME’.” It is all about relationships – it is about falling in love. As one theologian put it: “In the greatest number of cases a man follows Jesus Christ, not because of anything that Jesus said, but because of everything that Jesus IS.”

And somehow we know that Jesus extends that same invitation to each one of us. But we look for alibis; we sometimes pretend we don’t hear him. We look around and hope it’s someone else he’s talking to. But Jesus is unrelenting. “You!” he says again and again, and eventually we realize it is indeed us, you and me, that he’s calling out to. We’re people who like to consider all the possible options, do research, clarify and analyze what it is precisely that we are being asked to do. We want to carefully weigh up all the facts and possibilities. We have responsibilities, jobs, family. We have been trained to be rational, balanced, well-adjusted, well-informed people and to make such a radical decision requires a lot of consideration. And we conclude, “It’s crazy! Why me?” And God responds, “Why not you?”

When God called a shepherd to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt, Moses thought God had it all wrong. Confronting a king and demanding him to free his workforce and then leading a cranky mob of people through the wilderness? That’s just crazy! A farmer by the name of Gideon was called by God to lead an army and save Israel. A farmer to be a general and defeat a powerful enemy? – That’s just plain crazy! Four fishermen were called to leave their nets and follow Jesus. And what those four fishermen did was equally as crazy. Jesus spoke to them – no bright lights, no rolling thunder, no visions or dreams, no angels with gold-tipped wings in bright gowns – Jesus simply said, "Come with me" and they immediately got up, left their nets, and everyone and everything. 

What are the nets that you’re asked to leave behind? Feelings of inadequacy? Guilt over past sins? Your schedules - the unnecessary busyness that you cram into your life? A toxic relationship? The immediate but fleeting satisfaction that money and power give? Things you call “obligations” that are really nothing more than your need to control? Stubbornness and close-mindedness? The pressure you put on yourself to do the popular thing to gain acceptance? 

"Follow me!" he said to those fishermen. "Follow me!" he says to you and me. Jesus calls us to a life of conviction, to a life of urgency, to a life of reaching out with his message of love and forgiveness to all the people we encounter in life. He calls us to reach out to the lonely, to the hungry, to the sick, to the ones in prison, to the disabled, to the forsaken, to the needy. But most of all, he calls us into a relationship. A relationship with him. What’s stopping you? 

I’d like to address the rest of my homily specifically to the Eighth Grade Class from St. Therese School, who are with us today:

You might think that today’s Gospel, the call of the Apostles, and by extension, his call for us to follow, is just for adults. But remember what we talked about in class. Often times, the people that we hear about in the Bible that God called, that God had expectations of, that God gave something significant to accomplish, were teenagers, just like you. Mary was only somewhere between twelve and fourteen years of age when God asked her to be the Mother of the Son of God. And the majority of the Apostles were just a little bit older than you are now. And so, today’s Gospel is also for you! God has called you, empowered you, and blessed you with your talents, with your intelligence, and with your personality, all of which he expects you to use to help build his Kingdom around you. 

Today is the beginning of the end of your time as a student of St. Therese School. In exactly 135 days, you will graduate. Today we mark this final stage of your preparation before you move on to Morris Catholic, Pope John XXIII, Seton Hall Prep, Oratory Prep, St. Elizabeth’s Academy, and the public high schools to which you have just been accepted, by bestowing on you your graduation pin. A simple pin. But a powerful symbol of who you are: equipped, empowered and expected to go forth and make a difference by bestowing God’s grace, love and mercy on the world. Each of you has been called to celebrate, initiate, generate and liberate: 

• To CELEBRATE who you are as God’s beloved sons and daughters, as well as the bonds of love that, therefore, necessarily unite us all as brothers and sisters.
• To INITIATE, in your own unique style, utilizing your intelligence and talents, ways to touch hearts, heal hurts, right wrongs, and nurture the needy.
• To GENERATE a sense of right and decency in a society that has chosen a path that is often so far astray from the way of Jesus. Remember that, as attractive as it might be, Jesus didn’t say, “Go follow the way of the world.” He said, “Come follow ME!”
• And to LIBERATE minds and hearts and souls through spreading the Good News of the salvation by your words and by your actions.

And so, in this Catholic Schools Week that we begin today, appreciate all that has been given to you in your years here at St. Therese’s, and for some of you, at St. Michael’s. Prayerfully get in touch with the gift that you are . . . the gift you’re called to share. And continue to prepare yourself for the great adventure that God has planned for each of you as his disciple.

Solemnity of the Holy Family (Cycle B)

RECOGNIZING THE SACRED AMONG US

SIRACH 3:2-6, 12-14; COLOSSIANS 3:12-17; LUKE 2:22-40

Today, with our Solemnity of the Holy Family, we’re sort of caught in the middle, aren’t we? Stuck somewhere in the midst of the First Day of Christmas and the Twelfth Day of Christmas – between the Feast of the Nativity and the Feast of the Epiphany. Our trees are still lit, our houses are still decorated. There are still cookies left to devour, and our gifts are still in neat or not-so-neat piles in close proximity to the Christmas tree before they find their ultimate destination in closets, drawers and toy chests. And hopefully too, the great stories that warm our hearts at this time of the year have not been placed back on the bookshelf to gather dust until next year’s reading. This morning, as has been my custom the past couple of years at Christmas, I’d like to use my time in the pulpit to tell you a story, one that perhaps you’re not familiar with. Today’s story you might think is more appropriate for next Sunday’s Feast of the Epiphany, but I think it applies just as much to today’s Gospel. It’s the story of the Fourth Wise Man.

Once, in the days when Augustus Caesar was master of many kingdoms and Herod reigned in Jerusalem, there lived a faithful member of the Magi from Persia named Artaban. Like his fellow Magi, Artaban believed that the highest of all learning is the knowledge of the stars. To trace their course is to untangle the threads of the mystery of life from beginning to end. And if we could follow them perfectly, nothing would be hidden from us.

Artaban had observed a new and great star rising. He studied the ancient writings and believed that the new star was a sign of the birth of a new king, one who would govern the world as one family. And with three of his fellow Magi, Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, he decides to search for the Promised One. Artaban sells all of his possessions and buys three precious jewels -- a sapphire, a ruby and, the most precious of all, a pearl, to present as tribute to the king.

Accompanied by his servant, Orontes, Artaban begins his journey through the desert. But as he neared the place where he had arranged to meet Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, he comes upon a dying man. Because the Magi are physicians as well as astrologers, he stops and, for hour after hour, labors until the man is restored to health. Artaban tells the man that he will leave him bread and wine, and a mixture of healing herbs, but that he must leave to continue his quest to Jerusalem to find the one who is to be born King of the Jews, the great Prince and Deliverer of all. Clutching Artaban’s hand, the old man blesses Artaban, and tells him, “I have nothing to give you in return for what you have done for me – only this; that I can tell you where the Messiah must be sought. For our prophets have said that he should be born, not in Jerusalem, but in Bethlehem of Judah.”

And so pressing on, Artaban discovers that his friends have gone on without him. He sells his sapphire to buy a caravan of camels and provision to continue his journey alone. He arrives in Bethlehem just as King Herod’s soldiers are killing the baby boys of Bethlehem. Guarding the doorway of a home where he has discovered a young mother and her baby son hiding, Artaban offers a soldier the ruby as incentive for the soldier to leave them in peace. From the mother, he learns that Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar have already left Bethlehem, as has the child to whom they paid homage and offered their gifts. The child and his parents have fled to find safety in Egypt. And so, Artaban once again embarks upon his quest for his king. He goes to Egypt, and searches tirelessly for him, only to discover that once again, he is a step behind. The child has returned to Israel

The Fourth Wise Man continues his travels from place to place, and in his search he sees hunger and famine, plague stricken cities, the imprisoned and the enslaved. In all the morass of humanity, he found none to worship – but many to help. He feeds the hungry, and clothes the naked, heals the sick and comforts the captive. And although the years of his life pass like the cascading sands in an hour glass, he never abandons the quest for his king.

Thirty-three years of his life pass away, and Artaban is still a pilgrim, still a seeker of light. His hair was now white as the wintry snow. Worn and weary and ready to die, he comes for the last time to Jerusalem. There was great commotion in the city. Everyone was talking about a great prophet named Jesus who had been arrested and was going to be crucified. It was said that God was working through this prophet and that God was in him. He made the lame walk, lepers clean, the deaf hear, the blind recover their sight, the dead rise to life, and the poor, have had good news proclaimed to them. And Artaban realizes that this prophet, Jesus, is the king he had spent so many years searching for.

So Artaban hurries to the place where Jesus is to be crucified. Perhaps his pearl, the last of his precious jewels, can be used to ransom the life of the King. But as Araban moves through the streets of Jerusalem toward Mount Calvary, he sees a girl fleeing from a band of soldiers. “My father is in debt,” she cries out. “And they are taking me to sell as a slave to pay his debt. Save me!” Artaban hesitates; then sadly takes out his pearl, and gives it to the soldiers to buy the girl’s freedom.

Artaban looks up toward the end of the street where he sees a hill on which stand three crosses. He hears a voice cry out, “Father, it is finished. Into your hands I commend my spirit.” Suddenly, the skies were dark, the wind blew, and the earth shook. Artaban knew that his quest was over, and he had failed. He would not find the King. And he fell to the ground, clutching his heart.

Three days later, his servant, Orontes, comes to bring him home to Persia. As they pass the tomb where Jesus had been buried, Artaban closes his eyes and calls for his servant to get him some water. And when he opens them again, he sees a hand offering him a cup of water. He looks up, and his eyes widen and he exclaims, “Lord, it is you! You’re alive! Oh Master, I have long sought you. Forgive me. Once I had precious gifts to give. Now I have nothing.” Jesus smiles, and looks at Artaban with love. “Artaban, you’ve already given your gifts to me.” Confused, Artaban replies, “I don’t understand, my God.” “When I was hungry you gave me to eat, when I was thirsty you gave me to drink. When I was naked you clothed me. When I was homeless, you took me in.” Artaban, confused, responded, “Ah, not so, my Savior. I never saw you hungry, nor thirsty. I never clothed you. I never brought you into my home. I’ve never seen you until now.” But the Risen Savior replied, “Whenever you did these things for the least of my brothers, you did them for me.” A long breath of relief exhaled gently from Artaban's lips. His journey was ended. His treasures were accepted. The Fourth Wise Man had found the King.

Today it might seem like we’re simply stuck somewhere in the middle between Christmas and Epiphany. The shepherds have returned to the fields and the Wise Men have yet to arrive. And maybe to us the three feasts of Christmas, the Holy Family, and the Epiphany seem somewhat disjointed. But I think there’s a strong and significant connection between what we heard on Thursday, what we heard in our Gospel today, what we will hear next week, and in the story of the Fourth Wise Man. And that is: recognizing the sacred among us.

Let’s face it, very few of us will be as blessed as Mary and be visited by an angel. Perhaps none of us will ever be privileged in this life to peer into the face of Jesus, as did St. Catherine of Siena and St. Faustina. If we’re waiting for that sort of encounter with the Divine in our lives, we’re probably going to be disappointed. But maybe the lesson of the liturgies during the Christmas season is that instead of looking up, we need to look around. We need to become aware of the sacred in the ordinary. That’s what the shepherds did, who were innocent enough to hear the song of angels in the whisper of the wind. That’s what the Wise Men did, who were wise enough to see God’s beckoning in the brilliance of a star. That’s what Simeon did, who was so attuned to the will of God, that he heard His voice in the cry of a child.

Are we as dedicated as Artaban to make our whole life a quest to find our Lord? Have we forgotten the oracles of Isaiah the prophet? Have we forgotten the words of the angel to both Mary and Joseph? Have we so quickly forgetten the refrain we sang over and over in the season of Advent? This child whose birth we celebrate is EMMANUEL – “GOD WITH US!” Here. Now. Forever. And so, this wonderful, blessed, miraculous season challenges us to discover the places, the people, the circumstances, and the events in which GOD IS WITH US...right here . . . right now . . . forever.

And where do we begin our search? Maybe today’s feast is meant to tell us that a good starting point is in our homes. Perhaps today’s feast challenges us to recognize Him in the wisdom and experience voiced in the stories we’ve heard countless times by the senior members of our families. Perhaps in the advice, patience and understanding of our spouses. Perhaps in the unconditional love, support and forgiveness of our parents. Perhaps in the spontaneous affection and simple, unexpected, random acts of kindness of our children. And then, moving outside of our homes, maybe it’s in the ear of a neighbor to listen. The shoulder of friend to cry on. The out of the blue smile of a stranger. The voice of affirmation of a boss, a co-worker, a teacher, a coach when we really need to hear it. Or maybe He is in the elderly, the spouse, the parent, the child, the neighbor, the friend, the stranger, the boss, the co-worker, the teacher, the coach who need OUR wisdom, experience, patience, understanding, support, forgiveness, love, affection, kindness. Our ear to listen. Our shoulder to cry on. Our smile. Our voice of affirmation.

Artaban searched his whole life for the king that was always there in his midst, but he never recognized him. Today, let’s go home and let’s look under the tree to see if there is one gift still there unwrapped and unopened: Christmas eyes that enable us to see the sacred within our midst. To see Emmanuel – God with us.

Advent Reflection IV

The Virgin and the Carpenter

Across the heavens an angel races to Nazareth

to give vision to a Virgin;

to disturb the dreams of a Carpenter 

“All things are possible with God,” 

he informs the Virgin.

And sweeter than the song of an angel is 

the Virgin’s response: “Let it Be,”

her “yes” - a constant refrain she will sing throughout her life.

“Do not be afraid” he reassures the Dreamer.

And the Carpenter’s silent assent rises to God like burning incense,

for reality has become greater than his dreams.

The two become Bethlehem bound,

led not by the light of a star,

nor by the song of an angel,

but only by their intense dedication to the will of God. 

And it is to the shabbiest of dwellings,

the most sacred of sanctuaries, 

that they are led.

But it is a place where miracles occur. 

A place where

a plan is accomplished,

a promise is kept,

a prophesy is fulfilled,

and hope is born.

A place where

the longings of generations come to fruition,

and the dreams of countless believers become reality.

It is a place where

a faith-filled Virgin becomes a faithful Mother

and one who is righteous becomes a Father of the heart.

The Virgin finds her place in the stable;

it is next to her Son: 

always present, 

always supporting,

always affirming,

always cooperating.

And the one who dreams dreams finds his place there, too.

It is in the shadows:

forever protecting,

forever offering quiet strength,

forever submissive to the will of God,

forever guiding all who come upon the stable to Jesus and Mary.

Soft Virgin voice sings.

Tender Virgin lips kiss. 

Warm Virgin hugs envelop and embrace.

Strong carpenter hands caress.

Gentle carpenter touch calms.

Reassuring carpenter arms rock baby to sleep.

Before angels give their gift of song,

before kings present their gold, frankincense and myrrh,

before shepherds kneel and offer their praise;

there in the solitude of the stable,

the Virgin and the Carpenter offer the first gift,

the greatest gift: 

the gift of their love.

Advent is our time to decide, 

our time to make ready 

the gifts we will bring to the stable in Bethlehem.

This Christmas, as we come to the stable

and bow our head 

and bend our knee, 

what gift will we offer?

If we offer only gold, frankincense and myrrh like the Kings, 

will our gift look beautiful but fade and dissipate over time?

If we offer only wonder like the shepherds,

will our praise ultimately diminish to mere lip service?

Or will we offer the gift of Virgin and the Carpenter? 

For the gift of love was the first and best of all Christmas gifts.

It is nothing less than the total gift of self.

It is the only one that is truly worth giving.

Because, 

after all, 

that is the gift 

He gave to us.

Advent Reflection III

Shepherds & Kings

On a night so long ago

angels and stars raced across winter skies

to announce,

to proclaim,

to invite,

to beckon.

Yet of all the eyes that turned their gaze toward star-lit heavens that night,

it was but three kings who saw 

the sparkle, 

the glimmer, 

of hope. 

And of all the ears that heard the whisper of the wind, 

it was but a handful of shepherds who heard 

the sonorous melody,

the lilting refrain, 

of a promise fulfilled.

How many others looked at that same night sky

but were blind to the rising of a star?

How many others heard that same evening breeze 

but were deaf to the song of angels?

Advent is our yearly journey to the stable of Bethlehem:

our chance to follow a star;

our chance to be summoned by an angel;

our chance to trace the familiar footsteps of the shepherds and kings.

It is a time when we must ask ourselves

if our eyes have become too distracted to search the skies for guiding stars,

if our ears have become too complacent to be attuned to angel-song.

Shepherds and Kings,

They are you.

They are me.

Like them, some are poor

others rich.

Some are beckoned by the song of an angel;

others summoned by the brilliance of a star.

Some stumble through the darkness to the stable;

others walk a star-lit path. 

And like them, each one of us is called 

to see, 

to hear, 

and to follow.

To travel, 

to find, 

and to offer praise.

To kneel,

to present our gifts, 

and to glorify God for all we have seen and heard.

Shepherds and Kings,

They are you.

They are me.

For like them

it is only when we listen to the whispers of angels 

that we can be filled with joy and wonder.

It is only when we follow the star 

that we can become wise.

So this Advent, 

like the shepherds, let us listen to the promptings of angels. 

Like the Kings, let us be beckoned by a star;

And with them, 

let us find our place

at the stable of Bethlehem.

Advent Reflection II

A Star, an Angel, and a Donkey

A Star dances in the Eastern sky

and beckons, “Come follow me.”

And three who are wise leave behind

palace and power, 

kinsmen and kingdom,

in search of the King of Kings,

in search of the One whose kingdom is not of this world.

The song of an angel shatters the quiet of a winter night

and proclaims, “Come follow me.”

And those who tend their sheep in open fields leave behind

field and flock,

fatigue and fear,

in search of the Lamb of God,

in search of the One who would call himself the Good Shepherd.

The bray of a donkey interrupts a serene country village

and volunteers, “Come follow me.”

And a virgin mounts

and a carpenters walks beside.

The two leave behind

family and familiarity,

gossip and glances,

to honor a decree,

to fulfill a prophesy.

A star, an angel, and a donkey.

All three share a common mission:

they beckon; they summon; and they point.

They announce; they direct; and they rejoice.

They lead; they guide; and they carry

all those who are Bethlehem bound.

All three come to rest at the stable

so that others may find their way there.

Advent is our time to shine.

Our time to sing.

Our time to carry.

It is our time to be a star

and to light the way for those who live in darkness and give them hope.

It is our time to be an angel

and to rejoice and proclaim glad tidings of great joy.

It is our time to be a beast of burden 

and to bear upon our backs those for whom the journey is too burdensome or too far.

We have all had the opportunity of being a shepherd;
all had the privilege of being a king.
We have all struggled on our own personal pilgrimage to the stable.
And having found our way there,
we kneel and adore;
we offer our gifts
and become transformed.

For once we have encountered the Light of the World,
then it is our glow that must illumine darkened pathways.
For once we have experienced the Word Made Flesh,
then it is our voice that must proclaim Good News.
For once we have experienced Him who bore our sins,
then it is our strength that must bear the burdens of others.

This Advent
may we become
the instrument of the beckoning,
the source of the guiding,
and the strength for the journey
for all those who seek
a Child
in a stable
in Bethlehem.

Advent Reflection I

The Stable

Two lone figures travel narrow Bethlehem streets searching.

Searching for a place of welcome;

searching for a place of warmth;

searching for a birthing place.

But the doors remain shuttered and the welcome is never offered. 

And the long neglected place usually reserved for animals becomes their safe haven.

Yet what is deemed by others to be God-forsaken becomes God-chosen.

For Christmas eyes are transforming eyes;

they see what others choose not to see:

They see promise in what others view as folly;

They see possibilities in what others view as foreboding;

They see potential in what others view as forlorn.

A stable lies waiting in the Judean hill country.

Lonely. Dark. Cold.

Yet of all the unlikely places in the world

it is here that angels sing and a star comes to rest.

It is here that shepherds come to worship and kings offer their gifts.

Yes, a stable stands in wait in Bethlehem.

Lonely. Dark. Cold.

But on a night so long ago

that lonely stable was transformed into the palace of a king;

the darkness was shattered by the Light of the World;

the cold of winter was warmed by the fire of love.

O God-chosen stable. O holiest of temples.

You who were abandoned by men have been embraced by God!

In you heaven reaches down to touch earth.

In you miracles take place.

In you God becomes one with us.

Two lone figures travel narrow Bethlehem streets searching.

And each Advent that search continues . . . 

for once again a place is needed;

once again a place is sought.

In each heart lies a Bethlehem.

Some hearts are inns - 

places that still offer no welcome;

places where there still is no room;

places whose doors remain locked

and access is denied.

But some hearts are stables -

places that, despite of their imperfection, 

offer welcome;

places that allow themselves to be taken over;

places that allow themselves to be transformed;

places that are open to allowing Christmas miracles to take place.

And so, this Advent, come to the stable.

The journey is not burdensome,

nor is it far.

This Advent, come to the Stable.

It is as close to you as your heart.

The Angels gave Him their song,

The Shepherds their worship,

the Kings their gifts.

What can you give Him?

A place, 

a stable, 

a heart 

in which to be born again and again.

SOLEMNITY OF CHRIST THE KING (Cycle A)

IS GOD LIKE WARNER WOLF?

Ezekiel 34: 11-12, 15-17; 1 Corinthians 15:20-26, 28 Matthew 25: 31-46

____________________________________________________________________________

“I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do.”

Let me ask you a question. Don’t worry. I won’t ask for you to raise your hand or shout out an answer. It’s a rhetorical question: What do you think is the greatest sin? Murder? Rape? Abortion? Adultery? Stealing? Pornography? Destroying the reputation of a person? Physical, emotional, psychological, or sexual abuse? All serious sins, right? Very serious. Extremely serious. Mortal Sins. But what’s the worst? The Church lists seven sins as “deadly.” They’re called the Seven Capitol or Cardinal sins: pride, covetousness (also known as avarice or greed), lust, anger, gluttony, envy, and sloth. Is it one of those?

It’s interesting, if you look through the gospels, no one ever posed that question to Jesus. They asked him what the greatest commandment was. And we know he didn’t choose one of the ten. He said, the bottom line is this: Love God above all things, and love your neighbor as you love yourself. Those are the two greatest commandments. But he never addressed which sin was the worst. Or did he?

In our gospel today, we heard the Parable of Final Judgment. In it, Jesus says that those who will enter the kingdom prepared for them by our Heavenly Father are those who both see those who are in need: the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the foreigner, the sick, the imprisoned, AND responds to them. Why? Because they see HIM in THEM. But those who fail to be moved with compassion or who fail to transform their compassion into service to address the need, the want, the hurt, the plight of others are condemned for all eternity. Why? Because in THEM they did not see HIM.

And so it seems, at least it seems to me, that Jesus is saying that as horrible as some of the things we do to others and we do to ourselves can be, the worst sin we can commit is to be blasé, indifferent, insensitive, uncaring, unmoved; to fail to respond to the needs of others. The times when we could have affected a good, could have righted a wrong, could have made a difference, but didn’t. Sins of Omission. 

Why are Sins of Omission the greatest sin? Because clearly they violate what Jesus taught were the two greatest commandments. For if we don’t reach out to those who are in need, we do not love our neighbor. If we fail to see the crucified Jesus in THEM, we fail to recognize HIM. And if we fail to recognize Jesus, how can we love Him? 

Several Lents ago, in meditating on the passion of Jesus, I wondered what I would have done if I was in Jerusalem 2000 years ago. If I was a member of the Sanhedrin, would I have stood up, risked it all and defended Jesus? Or would I have sat silently as others condemned an innocent man? Would I have been one who shouted for his release outside the Fortress Antonia, or would I have lent my voice to the mob and shouted, “Crucify him?” If I stood along the road as he carried his cross to the place of execution, would I be like the women, compassionate enough to weep for him? Would I be like Veronica, brave enough to do a simple thing, like wipe the spit, sweat and blood from his face, or like Simon of Cyrene, strong enough to lend my brawn to lift the burden of the cross from Jesus’ shoulders if only for a short time? Or would I stand silent on the road and do nothing, or worse: jeer, mock, shout obscenities at this condemned man? Perhaps you’ve wondered the same thing. 

As I reflected on this, I hoped I would be one who had enough faith in Jesus and love for Jesus to act with compassion as he endured the agony, the pain, the sense of rejection he experienced. But I shrugged my shoulders that there is no way to really know. But then I realized there is. And here’s the litmus test: how well do I respond to his tortured and crucified self in the person of those who suffer NOW? How well do I respond to his need TODAY? If I meet the needs of those who are suffering today, then I would have responded to Jesus in his need. But if my heart isn’t moved into action today, then plain and simple, it would not have been for Jesus two thousand years ago. 

We’re very good, in our country of affluence, at writing out checks, aren’t we? We’re very good at responding to causes. We dig in our pockets and respond financially when we’re asked to contribute to the victims of hurricanes and earthquakes, disease and starvation, illiteracy and indigence. And thank God for that! But what about the times the need goes beyond dollars and cents, and the solution requires our time, or a kind word, or an ear to listen, or getting our hands dirty, or simply being there? What about the times when the need transcends the physical and is rooted in the emotional, the psychological, the social, or the spiritual? What about the times when the one in need isn’t comfortably faraway, but unnervingly close: a friend, a neighbor, a co-worker, a classmate, a member of our own family, the one you’re sitting next to in your pew? 

The “Holy Masquerade.” At mass, Jesus wears the disguise of bread and wine. Outside the walls of this church, what is the disguise Jesus is wearing? The one who is hungry for attention? The one who is thirsty for a compliment? The naked one stripped of his reputation because of gossip, false allegations or the “sins” of his or her past? The stranger, the one who is always around but we fail to pay attention to them because they’re quiet, or awkward, deemed a loser, or have a difficult time fitting in? The one who is sick, sick and tired of today being no different than the day before and the day before that, and they live without hope? The imprisoned, the one who is not so much locked in, but locked out: out of our lives, out of our circle of friends because their “different”: different interests, different personality, different economic status, different race, different religion, different ethnicity, different sexual orientation? 

Sins of omission. You would think that our government would get it right. You would think that our Church would do better, our diocese, our parish. You would think we would do better. Do we see the needs of others? Do we see the hurt behind forced smiles? Do we hear the cries in wordy silence? Or are we oblivious to it: too busy, too self-centered, too much tunnel vision? Sins of omission. 

When we die and stand before God in judgment, what will it be like? Is God like Warner Wolf and will he say, “Let’s go to the video tape?” And if he does, what will we see? A highlights reel of our successes? A blooper reel of our sins? Or will it merely be a blank screen . . . times we should have said the kind, loving or compassionate thing, but the words never found our voice? Times we could have gone out of our way for someone, but the good remained undone? Times we were meant to stand up against a wrong or an injustice, and evil continued to flourish and the wrong was never redressed? “I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do.” In what I have failed to do. Sins of Omission. That’s what we call them. 

God give me ears to hear crying hearts, eyes that recognize poverty of spirit, and legs that stand tall for those who are made to feel small.

Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

Reluctant Servants

Proverbs 31:10-13, 19-20, 30-31; 1 Thessalonians 5:1-6; Matthew 25: 14-30

What is it like to be November? It is to be cold and dark and heavy. It is to be night. November, unlike any other month, is a taste of perpetual night. It is so cold, so empty, so bleak. November is a thief of color. It moves across the land, draining red, yellows, oranges, greens from trees, bushes, grass, from yards, fields, hillsides. In its wake, browns, blacks and endless grays stretch to everywhere, bringing shivering, withdrawing, shrinking-back-and-into cold. Even on those days when the sun shines, it is a distant gauze-filtered sun which does not penetrate the night-like cold of November.

To be November is to be the end of things: the end of summer, the end of warmth, the end of running about freely, unburdened by coats, scarves, clump-along boots, and the endless array of mittens. November speaks the end of the year more than does December. This eleventh month brings before us the stark brown dirt of death. November is a somber and dark creature.

"November creatures we are not!" shouts St. Paul. We may walk in the dark of November, BUT we are not Novembers! We may, at times, feel dark and devoid of light, cold and wintry. We are Aprils and Mays and Junes because we are the Beloved of God. We are the people God walks with and claims as God's own. We are the ones on whom God has set His heart. Aprils and Mays and Junes whom God has called into the great adventure of life.

November Sundays in our liturgy are the prime time for sorting through our lives in light of the last things. More precisely, THE last thing: the coming of our magnificently loving God. But this focusing on the end time has much more to do with the present than with the future. The future of our lives is always being realized in our present. God is ever breaking into our lives NOW in order that our future be secured. For the future will be no more and no less than what we are making of our lives now.

The slave of the buried talent in today’s gospel is a walking November, devoid of the color of life. "You who have nothing, even the little you have will be taken away." His loss is not God's fault, not God's doing. November people, afraid to risk, who will not jump into life with a sense of adventure, are faced with a built-in penalty. The enemy is within. Their talent, their personality suffocates. Unable or unwilling to dare, they become more and more isolated and impoverished. They play it safe, hedge their bets, take no chances! And become dull, drab, dreary persons unable to bear life-in fact, shrinking from life.

God doesn't play it safe! God looks the impossible in the face and challenges us to do the same. God lavishly scatters the seeds of talent and grace everywhere, throwing them broadcast, inviting us join in the same game. God, as we have learned from the parables of the past few Sundays, is wildly generous. Generous to being spendthrift. Spendthrift are we to be as well.

Like the slaves in this parable, God has given each one of us his love and many different gifts of grace. He wants us to invest them wisely; he wants us to take risks; he wants us to use the gifts, the talents he has given us - whatever they may be. As we see from the parable, if we fail to live in a loving relationship with God; if we fail to take risks for God and his realm; if we don't use the gifts he gives us, we shall certainly lose them.

I heard a true story recently about a man named Luigi Tarisio who, when he died, was found to possess 246 violins. They represented a lifetime of collecting. They were found stored everywhere throughout his house ~ in the attic, in closets, even in dresser drawers. But none were ever played; they were simply collected. His passionate devotion to the violin had robbed the world of all the music those instruments could have produced."

God does not want his gift of talents to be idle and useless, producing no return. Each of us has some God-given purpose in life with its accompanying ability. Each one of us has to be sure our talent is making music in the great orchestra of daily life. 

Joe Garagiola, former major league baseball catcher and TV personality, tells about a time when Stan Musial came to the plate in a critical game. Musial was one of the most talented batters of all time and was at the peak of his career at the time of this particular game. Meanwhile, the pitcher opposing him that day was young and very nervous. Garagiola called for a fastball, but the pitcher shook his head. So Garagiola signaled for a curve, and again, the pitcher shook him off. He then asked for one of the pitcher's specialties, and still the pitcher hesitated. At that point, Garagiola went out to the mound to have a conference with the pitcher. He said, "I've called for every pitch in the book; what do you want to throw?" "Nothing," the pitcher replied in a shaky voice. "I just want to hold on to the ball as long as I can." 

That, in essence, is the story of the third servant in the parable Jesus told about the talents. That servant was entrusted with an incredible treasure and his first reaction was to panic and hold onto that which he had been given.

What fears in our lives cause us to horde and hide that which God has given us? Would we rather play it safe and not use our talents than take risks and use them in the service of our Lord and one another? Often we discover, when we're willing to take risks, that our fears prevent us from doing things that we really enjoy doing, once we actually do them. This is true in many areas of our lives.

God does not want extraordinary people who do extraordinary things nearly so much as He wants ordinary people who do ordinary things extraordinarily well. And the challenge that is presented to us in today’s gospel is to ask ourselves how each one of us can use our resources of time and talent and treasure for God. What is that special thing which each of us can do that nobody else in the world can do in quite the same way? Is it to laugh, to smile and share your sense of humor? Is it an ability to encourage and inspire? Is it an ability to pray? Is it a loving tone people hear in your voice? Is it skill in music or art or teaching or managing or any number of other talents? The possibilities are almost limitless. What are those things the Owner of all things has entrusted to you? How have you responded to that trust? How are you doing as a steward of Jesus Christ?"

As we progress through another November in our lives, and as we we approach Thanksgiving, we think in terms of gifts and gratitude and this is good and proper. But do not forget yourself. Take an honest inventory of what God has given you – hard or easy, good or bad – and how industrious you are with it. Don’t look around or away but look within. The kingdom of God is in need of people who are willing to work and live. Faithful in tasks small and large, they become the tools of holiness. Picking up the groceries, paying bills, or calling a friend – these are what God has trusted us with doing. May the Sacrament of the Eucharist – the work of human and Divine hands – give us the strength and peace to gratefully and energetically live as good and faithful servants.

And remember the humorous slogan of God’s workers: "The pay may not great but the pension is out of this world!"