Thursday, May 29, 2014

A Reason for our Hope

6th Sunday of Easter – Cycle A
Homily
         
(Acts 8:5-8, 14-17; Psalm 66:1-3, 4-5, 6-7, 16, 20; 1 Peter 3:15-18; John 14:15-21)

          If you were asked to, do you think you could “give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope”? Could you do it with “gentleness and reverence”?
          Our ordinary, daily, life gives us all kinds of opportunities for giving an account of our hope. We live today in a world that many are calling a “post-Christian” era. Experts who study that sort of thing actually have fifteen measures of non-religiosity that include not praying to God, or reading the Bible, or attending church, or considering faith an important part of their lives.
          The most recent study concluded that thirty-seven percent of Americans can be classified as “post-Christian” based on those fifteen criteria. Thirty-seven percent! We live in a world in desperate need of hope. This is why the “new evangelization” is so important – because you have hope because we know that Jesus has conquered sin and death and has sent his Spirit to be our “Advocate” – to change the world. You and I have hope because we have a vision of an end-time of fulfillment when there will be a new heaven and a new earth and the kingdom will be fully engaged in all of creation. And you and I have an obligation to share that hope with all those who struggle with hopelessness.
          In my prison ministry I go to Collins Correctional on as many Friday nights as I can, and those of us from the outside have faith-sharing conversations with the men inside. If you want a prime example of a place where hope is rare, visit a prison.  But just this Friday one of the men started talking about how easy it is to focus on the length of his bid – until he remembers that he has the promise of eternal life. “You know”, he said, “when I think of being with Jesus for all eternity, the next three years seem like nothing at all”.
          You and I also must live in a hope based on the promises of Christ – and we can hope not because we are so good at trusting, but because God is trustworthy. And the message of the trustworthiness of God is truly “Good News” – Gospel – euangelion in Greek – evangelization. We should feel compelled to share that Good News with everyone in our lives – and to do so, as the second reading reminds us – with gentleness and reverence.
          You might think that you are poorly equipped for the task of evangelization. But consider this – Philip in the first reading had no written gospel, had no catechism, had no Religious Ed or Catholic School education – he might not have even ever met Jesus in person. Yet his faith was so strong that it allowed him to go to Samaria – Samaria! – where there was such great animosity – and he witnessed so effectively that the crowds paid attention and were filled with great joy.
          What it takes is being a “Good News” person. We recently completed a program in the parish called “Good News People” – could all of those here who were part of the program please stand up. For those of you who missed out on it the past year, we’re going to run it again starting in the fall. One of the messages of the program is that we must live the gospel – we must live the good news, that if we love Jesus it has to make a difference: we need to be somehow transformed, challenged, changed.
          As St. John Chrysostom so aptly put it 1650 years ago: “There would be no need for sermons, if our lives were shining; there would be no need for words, if we bore witness with our deeds. There would be no pagans, if we were true Christians.”

          Jesus tells us that those who see him see the Father, and because he has given us the Spirit, those who see us can see Jesus – if we keep his commandments of love and witness to hope. How are you going to be Good News to others this week? You might be the only Gospel that some people will ever read.

Monday, May 19, 2014

Diakonia and the Deacon Jesus

5th Sunday of Easter – A
Homily

(Acts 6: 1-7; Psalm 33:1-2, 4-5, 18-19; 1 Peter 2:4-9; John 14:1-12)

Note: This homily was delivered to a group of fellow deacons during the closing liturgy of our weekend retreat.

          It’s really not surprising why the reading from the Acts of the Apostles was traditionally considered to be a story about the first deacons. In the first verse, the word that is translated as the “distribution” of food is diakonia (the Greek word that gives us “deacon”). In the second verse the word that is translated as “serving” at the table is diakonein. And in the fourth verse the word that is translated as “ministry” of God’s word is diakonia.
          More recently, scholars have debated whether this episode really represents the first deacons – but if we got wrapped up in that debate today we would be missing the point of this Scripture in the context of the other readings.
          The point is that the community recognized a need and brought it to the Apostles, and those leaders of the Church also recognized the need and gathered resources in order to fill the need. Even more, what was recognized was the injustice that was underlying the problem – there was a disproportionate treatment being given to one group over another. There was, in fact, an unequal distribution of necessities in the community.
          Note that those two actions, recognizing the need and gathering resources to fill it, and eliminating the inequities that cause those needs – those are two fundamental activities of deacons that Jim identified for us on the first night. And, in fact, that IS diakonia, that is the ministry of service, that is the two feet of Catholic Social Teaching –providing direct service for those in need today, and working to eradicate the underlying causes of injustice, inequality, and inequity.
          That IS diakonia, and it is hard work – but it is what we have chosen to do. One of the reasons that it is hard work is that there is not always a clear direction, a standard set of guidelines, a tried and true process or approach to addressing needs and drive out injustice. Like Thomas, we want to know the “way”. How often we want a road map, the plan. If you’re like me, I like to have a plan in place, and I get unsettled sometimes when things change. I guess Thomas was looking for the same thing.
          But Jesus says something startling that answers Thomas’ question in an unusual way – Jesus IS the way. He is not the step-by-step direction of Google Maps, he is the way of life that answers how we are to do what we need to do. He is the model of how human life is to be lived, and, even more, the model of how to live as a deacon. The WAY that we are to be deacons is to radiate the deacon Jesus. As a deacon, we only truly find ourselves when in our prayer and our action we see ourselves, in some small way, as an icon of the one true deacon, Jesus himself.
          It is easy to get caught up in a worry like Thomas had – maybe unsure of whether we are going the right way, taking the right direction, doing everything we can to build up the Kingdom. Especially when we realize that what we do, especially to eradicate injustice, or lessen the violence in our world, or take on any long-range goal doesn’t show results right away.
          We can be doubters like Thomas – not sure if this is the right way, not sure where this whole journey will lead us, not really positive of where Jesus is going with this whole thing.
          Some time ago I came across a reflection that has been incorrectly attributed to Archbishop Oscar Romero. It was actually written by the late Bishop Ken Untener of Detroit when he was a priest. I’d like to share it with you as a closing reflection.

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.

The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision. We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is the Lord’s work.

Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.

No homily says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the Church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.

This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the Master Builder and the worker.
We are workers, not Master Builders; ministers, not Messiahs.

We are prophets of a future not our own.