Homily for the Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - B

     Readings:

Reading 1:                     2 KinGS 4:42-44

Responsorial Psalm:     PSalm 145:10-11, 15-16, 17-18

Reading 2:                     EPHesians 4:1-6

Gospel:                          JohN 6:1-15

     What do you think happened to that boy? You know, the boy with the basket that had the loaves and the fishes? He disappears out of the picture once his loaves and fish are multiplied and used to feed over five thousand people. What do you think happened to him after this?

     Putting yourself as one of the characters in the Gospel story, or imagining other aspects of the story that are not told is one way to pray with Scripture – it sometimes provides deeper insights into familiar people and scenes. So what do you think happened to him? What do you think the rest of his life might have been like?

     Chances are he told everyone he saw for quite a while about what he had witnessed on that grass-covered hill – that Jesus had fed thousands with just a few loaves that he had had in his basket. And I can imagine that he spoke with some surprise, at least, that he had had a role in that miraculous event. I wonder how he was received – apathy? Skepticism? Ridicule?

     I can imagine that this experience had a deep and profound impact on him – and I like to think that maybe after what he witnessed he became a very generous person, a person who became very giving and selfless – that he did for others what he had seen Jesus do for the crowd.

     And I wonder why he had that basket of loaves and fishes – maybe he was on his way from the market or a family member’s house. Five loaves and two fishes were probably enough to feed his entire family for a week. But he gave it up willingly – all that he had - when asked by Jesus.  When they gathered up the fragments, I wonder if he got his basket refilled. We don’t know what happened to the twelve baskets that were gathered up. Maybe he got even more than the five loaves and two fish that he had originally.

     His experience of Jesus was probably a life-changing event. He was a different person after seeing what compassion, generosity, and the power of Jesus do when put together.

     What about you?

     You are here at this table to celebrate and remember a miracle – not just of the transformation of bread and wine into the very Body and Blood of Jesus- but Jesus offering his own life to save us. Because you have witnessed it, do you go out to tell others? Or is it something you keep to yourself?

You are here at this table to celebrate and remember the gracious generosity of God and how extravagantly God has provided for us with everything we need to grow and to thrive. Has it made you a more generous person? Have you become more selfless and giving? Do you look for ways to do for others what Jesus had done for the crowd?

     You are here at this table to celebrate and remember how Jesus took what appeared to be so little and miraculously used it to create a community, a feast, an icon of the Kingdom of God. Do you willingly give what you have and who you are to Jesus, knowing that he can take your gifts and use them to help bring about the Kingdom?

I do wonder what happened to that little boy because of his encounter with Jesus.

What happens to you?

Whose Shepherd Are You?

Homily for Fourth Sunday of Easter - B

"Good Shepherd Sunday" 2015         

         What a comforting image our Gospel gives us today. It is probably a familiar one to you – Jesus the Good Shepherd. There are so many images in art and music of Jesus holding a lamb, or carrying a sheep on his shoulders. Jesus – the shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep, the Lord who is our shepherd, who invites us to the table he spreads before us. And these young people will make their way to the banquet table of the Good Shepherd this afternoon/morning as they make their first communion. It truly is a comforting and engaging image for us.

            But sometimes we have heard this Gospel and thought about this image without allowing ourselves to be challenged by it. Because Jesus is the Good Shepherd for his sacrificial and self-giving love. He is the shepherd who is “good” not because he does his job well, but because he is the shepherd who is noble, who is righteous, who is willing to lay down his life for his sheep – not like the hired hand who abandons the sheep when he has to look out for number one. Jesus is the Good Shepherd because he is the model for us. And so that causes us to ask ourselves a question: Whose shepherd are you?

            Being a disciple means following the model of Jesus – and so we are called to love others as Christ has loved us and loved the whole world.  We are called to live and to love sacrificially. Whose shepherd are you? For whom do you lay down your life? For whom do you sacrifice, and whom do you protect and watch out for?

            In our first reading, Peter and John healed the crippled man at the Temple gate rather than walk by. They recognized that he must be treated with dignity – regardless of the lack of benefits the world would give. We must also lay down our lives – and our pursuit of success by the world’s standards – on behalf of those most in need of love and most in need of our care. Whose shepherd are you?

            Some of us have our task presented clearly in front of us. Some of us care for a parent or a spouse who needs constant care, or is dealing with a debilitating illness like Alzheimer’s, or ALS or MS. Some of us care for sick children, or elderly relatives. But many of us have opportunities to reach out in love and care for those around us – but don’t. Whose shepherd are you?

            We are called to as a series of concentric circles of concern. The small circle is the immediate family and those who are right around us. The next circle is our extended family, then our neighborhood, our city or town, our nation, and the rest of the world. We should be challenged to constantly push ourselves to the next circle of concern, expanding our care and love in ever wider circles.

            In a beautiful document by our Bishops titled “Communities of Salt and Light”, they note that every disciple and every Catholic community are called to be “salt of the earth and light of the world”, and that the pursuit of justice and peace is an essential part of what makes a parish Catholic.

            In our parish, we have a new organization named for that document, called Salt & Light Ministry, which arose out of the inspiration of the parishioners who went through the Good News People program. The Salt & Light ministry is intended to coordinate the social outreach activities of the parish and to offer our parishioners opportunities to step into the next circle of concern. At the end of Mass you will hear from one of our parishioners about a ministry that they participate in, and they will extend an invitation to you to join them.

            Jesus the Good Shepherd has given us the model of self-giving, self-sacrificing love, and that model challenges us to step out in love into circles of concern around us to help our brothers and sisters. How far are you willing to go? Whose shepherd are you?

Christmas Homily 2014

          Dorothy Day once wrote that “It is no use saying that we are born two thousand years too late to give room to Christ…Christ is always with us, asking for room in our hearts”.

            Maybe if we don’t think about Christ asking for room in our hearts it’s because we don’t recognize Christ when he comes to us. And yet, Christ comes to us in every person we meet, and everyone who is a part of our lives. Christ is there knocking on our hearts, asking us to make room for him. If we have a hard time seeing Christ in everyone we know, and in everyone we come in contact with, maybe it’s because we think of the Christmas story we just heard as an event from long ago in far away Bethlehem.

           

            But if we realize that the story is our story too, we might be able to see Christ when he asks for room in our hearts. We have all been gifted in some way to be welcoming to the Christ in others.

            Maybe you are like Joseph - protecting the weak and the powerless who need us to care for them and defend them.

            Maybe you are like the donkey that carried Mary – lightening the burden of someone who is ill, or in a strange and unknown place.

            Maybe you are like the unnamed “inn-keeper” who was able to provide shelter and warmth to folks who otherwise would have been at the mercy of the outside world.

            Maybe you are like the shepherds – willing to leave your routine and your everyday life and be spontaneous in order to experience the great and marvelous things that God is doing for us.

            Maybe you are like the angel – announcing the “good news” of our salvation and giving glory to God – and proclaiming peace to everyone around you.

            Maybe you are like Mary, who said “yes” to what God asked of her, and to bring Christ into the world – to give life to Jesus and his kingdom and to share him with the rest of the world.

          

            The Christmas story is OUR story. The Christmas message is the message of hope and peace and joy for all of us – if we are willing to make it real and alive in our hearts. Christ is always with us, asking us to make room in our hearts.

Inequality is the root of social evil

Justice Perspective – June 2014

          Just about a month ago, Pope Francis created quite a stir when he sent out a tweet that said “Inequality is the root of social evil”. Two things happened: first, this was re-tweeted over 17,000 times; and second, there was a great hue and cry from some corners about the over-simplification of economics by the Pope, or at least that he was confusing.

          To put this tweet in perspective, we have to look at the context of where this succinct line came from. This was not a sentence just made up for the Pope’s Twitter account (@Pontifex). Actually, it was the last line from one of the paragraphs of his Apostolic Exhortation, The Joy of the Gospel, which he issued last fall.

          The relevant paragraph reads like this: “As long as the problems of the poor are not radically resolved by rejecting the absolute autonomy of markets and financial speculation and by attacking the structural causes of inequality, no solution will be found for the world’s problems or, for that matter, to any problems. Inequality is the root of social ills.”

          All kinds of recent studies have shown how income inequality is a problem around the world. Just recently, a study from the Organization of Economic Cooperation and Development showed that the income gap is widening in many developed nations. The United States, far from being shielded from this problem, is actually one of three countries that have the largest inequality (along with Turkey and Israel).

          There are a number of economic reasons for this growing disparity and inequality, but all these developments cannot be explained by economics alone. Consider how insightful Pope Francis is to identify the “absolute autonomy of markets” as one of the “structural causes” of inequality – the problem is the prevalent attitude that markets should be the driving force of human behavior, not morality.

          Some commentators have tried to show how the Pope’s comments are just simply untrue, since there is, in their minds, so much regulation of business these days. But they miss the point – the absolute autonomy of markets has less to do with rules and regulations and a lot more to do with how we relate to one another. In a “market driven” economy, right and wrong are determined not by ethics and morals or the common good, but by what best serves the “economy” and the well-being of the rich and powerful.

          This is what the Pope means when he says in another section of The Joy of the Gospel that there is a “dictatorship of an impersonal economy” that lacks any truly human purpose. The financial systems, he says, rule behavior rather than serve the common good. This is why the earnings of a wealthy minority grow exponentially and widen the gap that separates the poorer majority from prosperity.

          And how complicit are we in this whole process? How easily do we excuse the unethical actions of the “market” as just the cost of doing business? When businesses lay off workers do we see it as just a necessary part of increasing profits? Or do we recognize the calamity and disruption that it will cause for the families involved? Do we wink and smile at the shrewdness of unscrupulous lenders, Wall Street investors, and those who prey on those who are more desperate?

          Inequality is the root of social ills –and will only begin to be solved when each of us begins to support the person and the common good and not the “market”.

A Reason for our Hope

6^th 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.

Diakonia and the Deacon Jesus

5^th 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.

Peace Be With You

2^nd Sunday of Easter - Cycle A

Homily on John 20:19-31

Peace be with you!

(Response: And with your spirit!)

Amen!

            So here it was, the evening of the Resurrection, and Jesus’ disciples were all gathered in a room with the door locked because they were afraid. Jesus came and stood with them and, I am sure, startled them, but then he said, “Peace be with you”. A week later he they were in the room again, still with the doors locked, and he appeared again and said “Peace be with you.”

            And so here it is, the second Sunday of Easter, and we, the disciples of Jesus today, are gathered together. Our doors aren’t locked, but I wonder if we are any less afraid than those first disciples. Are we a Resurrection people? Are we listening to Jesus when he gives us his message of peace?

            The Gospel’s call to be a Resurrection people means that from now on, as followers of the risen Christ, we are to be at peace – first with ourselves, with God, with Jesus, with our families, with our neighbors, with everyone in the town and everyone in the church and with the whole world. From now on, we are a people of peace, a people who have peace within us, a people who shares that same greeting of peace with one another, a people who offers that peace to the whole world.

            The greeting that Jesus gives to the disciples, “Peace be with you”, echoes an earlier passage in John 14 when Jesus says at the Last Supper, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you”. The world’s idea of peace would lead us into the false ideas that stronger borders or more bombs or more military power will give us peace. No, the peace that Jesus calls us to is a peace that refers to the harmony that we experience when relationships with God, with the community and with ourselves are ordered correctly. Jesus calls us to be peacemakers and peace-builders – to create that order in relationships based on justice and right. Jesus breathed out the Spirit on those first disciples and gave them the mission of peace – and he still breathes that mission into us today.

            I was thinking about the call for us to be peace-makers and peace-builders as the canonization approached of these two Popes. For me, one aspect of both of their ministries was their commitment to peace.

            John XXIII wrote a most amazing encyclical entitled “Pacem in terris”, or “Peace on Earth”. There is a great quote from that encyclical on the front of our bulletin today. That document was written shortly after the Cuban Missile Crisis and the building of the Berlin Wall. Some of you only studied those events in history class, but some of us lived them and the fear that went along with them. But as frightening that those events might have been, John XXIII took a very optimistic tone in this writing. He focused on the kind of world that we are obliged to build as Christians – a world where peoples’ rights are respected, where governments truly have the common good as their goal and a world free from nuclear weapons where everyone who has helps those who have not – kind of the world that the Acts of the Apostles portrayed in our first reading today. One result of that encyclical is that every year since then, whoever is Pope issues a message for the World Day of Peace on January 1.

           

            Just as John XXIII saw the Berlin Wall go up, John Paul II saw it go down – and saw the end of Communism in Eastern Europe without a single shot being fired. Four years before that, John Paul gathered representatives of over 160 different religions and denominations in Assisi to pray for peace. There were not just various Christian traditions there, but Buddhists, Moslems, Jews, Hindus, Sikhs, Zoroastrians – every imaginable faith – to make the point that the desire of each religion, and the human heart, is the desire for peace. And they prayed – each in their own tradition, in their own language, all day for peace. And at the end, Pope John Paul offered a message to all the participants and to the whole world. He said, “Peace is a workshop, open to all and not just to specialists, savants and strategists. Peace is a universal responsibility: it comes about through a thousand little acts in daily life. By their daily way of living with others, people choose for or against peace.”

            Even though we hear the messages of Jesus and these two Popes, it’s very human for us to doubt that peace is possible. We read the paper or watch the news and have a hard time finding any examples of even the hint of peace. We question the possibility of peace in the world – where is the evidence that it’s possible? We wouldn’t be the first ones to doubt what we have yet to have proven to us.

            Thomas was like that. And yet, even in his doubt, Jesus offers his greeting of “Peace be with you” in Thomas’s presence. Two times Jesus shows his disciples his wounds when he gives them his peace, which I think means that Christ’s peace, the peace not of this world, comes not through violence or war or the false security of weapons, but through sharing in Jesus’ wounds, in his cross, in his non-violent suffering and his self-emptying love. When Thomas learns this, he exclaims, “My Lord and my God”. Thomas was making it clear that he was not following any false gods of power, or money, or weapons, or, the kings of this world.  Jesus is his Lord, and his mission is one of peace. Thomas accepted Jesus’ mission of peace. Thomas became a part of the Resurrection people.

Are we like the “doubting Thomas”, or the believing Thomas? Are we a Resurrection people? Are we listening to Jesus when he gives us his message of peace?

Peace be with you!

(Response: And with your spirit!)

Amen! Alleluia!!