Friday, January 30, 2015

Homily for Friday, Jan.30 - St. Kateri at Christ the King, 6:30a

Today's readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/013015.cfm



The word that comes to mind as I read and prayed with this Gospel is “patience.”   Have patience as the kingdom of God grows in our midst, and in ourselves.  I can tend to be impatient, with the apparent slow pace at which the world seems to be converted to His Kingdom, or even seems much of the time to be regressing, to rejecting the way of Jesus.  And even more impatient at the apparent slow pace at which I, my heart, seems to be converted, how slowly I tend to change, how resistant I can be to taking on the measuring stick of Our Lord, of which Father Paul spoke yesterday morning.  So have patience is what I’m hearing – He’s not done with any of us yet!

And another word that comes to mind is humility.  It helps to remember that it is God’s Kingdom we’re talking about here, not ours.  That God, in Christ, is in charge of seeing to it that the Kingdom grows in our world, and even in our hearts.  We have to do our part, to be sure, we are to give our “yes” to Him in whatever way He calls us, to cooperate with Him in seeing to it that the Kingdom grows in our midst, but ultimately, this is His enterprise.  And to abandon this into His hands, His providence, is an act of humility.

The words of Archbishop Oscar Romero come to mind.  This is called A Future Not Our Own:

It helps now and then to step back and take a long view.
The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of
saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement 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 include everything.

This is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one
day will grow. We water the 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 this.
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.

Monday, January 26, 2015

Homily - Third Sunday in Ordinary Time - Sunday Jan. 25 preached at St. Kateri at St. Margaret Mary

Mass readings:  http://usccb.org/bible/readings/012515.cfm


            Every year on July 4, for that, of course, is the anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, but let me ask you – have you ever read the Declaration?  I did, well actually I listened to a recitation of it as I was driving home from work earlier this week, and let me tell you, it’s a real eye opener.    This George III guy? who was our king at the time of the signing?  Obviously bad dude.  A very bad king. 
            For the declaration has about1300 words, but nearly half make up a laundry list of all the ways the King of England abused his power and made life miserable for our forefathers and mothers.   And so, you and I know the story, we celebrate the story, we formed these United States and fought a war to throw off the tyranny of a very bad king across the ocean.  And the rest is history.
            Problem is, we Americans have no idea, really, what it means to live in a kingdom.  Ever since 1789, we have elected representatives and senators and even presidents to govern us, and we basically find the notion of being ruled by a king or queen to be foreign, if not repulsive, to us.  We the people are in charge here in these United States.  We don’t live in a kingdom any more.  We don’t need no stinkin’ king!
            But that also means that when Our Blessed Lord proclaims in this Gospel that “the kingdom of God is at hand” we Americans (at least) really have no idea what that means.  The kingdom of God?  A foreign concept.  Something we’ve never experienced, in the secular, political world at least. 
            So it’s a fair question to ask – what does it mean to live in a kingdom?  As subjects of a king?  And what does it mean to live in the kingdom of God?
            Well the first thing I would say is that a kingdom implies a relationship.  Relationship between the king and his subjects.  The King rules and governs his people with love, caring, compassion. 
            On our part, that relationship requires a certain measure of humility, to subject oneself to the authority of the king – hence the word “subject.” It implies a recognition that He is king and we are not.    I know, that concept seems foreign to many of us, especially those of us who grew up in the 60s, when “question authority” could be seen on bumper stickers and t-shirts.  I am my own authority, many of us were brought up to think.  Nobody will tell me what to do.
            And the Church doesn’t teach something completely opposed to that, as it is recognized that we are to follow the authority of our own well-formed consciences.  But I would say that “reject authority” really runs counter to the faith journey of a true disciple of Christ.  For to believe in Christ, to follow Christ, means to recognize His kingship, His authority in our lives, His centrality in our lives.  And unlike the despot King we revolted against in 1776, we have a perfect king, a loving, benevolent king.  A king with unfathomable love and mercy for us, His holy people.
            The Kingdom of God, then, which Christ proclaims in this first chapter of Mark’s Gospel, is really about relationship - our relationship with our King, Our Lord Jesus Christ.  And we are called today to open our eyes to the Kingdom among us, the Kingdom of which we are part as His disciples, as His subjects.  And living as subjects of so great a majesty requires us to live very differently. 
            It requires us to repent of our sins and amend our ways, as Jonah preaches to the Ninevites and as our Lord commands us in today’s Gospel:  “repent and believe.” For Jesus also teaches us as St. John wrote  – “if you love me, you will keep my commandments.”  
            It also requires us to listen to His call, as the very first disciples did, dropping all they were doing and giving their lives completely to Him.  What is His call to me today, to you today?  Perhaps He is calling someone here to give yourself completely to Him in a religious vocation, as a priest, a vowed religious, or as a deacon.  For us married couples, perhaps He is touching us on the shoulder, calling us to greater love and to cherish and respect our spouses with a completely self-sacrificing love.  He is definitely calling each of us to make Him the “King of our hearts.”
            For to live as disciples, as subjects in His kingdom above all means to love.  To love our King, and to love each other, to love even those among us most difficult to love.  “Love one another as I have loved you,” Our Lord commands us.  Wherever Christ’s disciples are loving the Lord, loving each other, and loving even our enemies, there is the Kingdom which Our Lord proclaims.
            But it’s interesting – in this Kingdom, we do have a choice, we do have a vote – we can choose to be part of it or not, to choose Our Lord Jesus Christ as the king of our lives, or not.  Sisters and brothers, let us choose Christ, let us each make Christ the king of our hearts and lives, and our eyes will be opened to the Kingdom of God in our midst.
            I would like to close with this prayer I found in this book Living Like Jesus that I’ve been reading lately, for I think it fits nicely:
        Father, in the morning of this new day, I joyfully and gratefully submit every fiber of my being to you and your will.  I surrender every corner of my life, every ounce of personal ambition, striving, and longing to you and your kingdom.  By your grace, I ask for that purity of heart that wills only one thing – your will and glory.
        Lord Jesus, in the morning of this new day, I ask for the grace to make every decision and perform every single act according to the values of your kingdom, according to the model you lived and taught.
        And, blessed Holy Spirit, in the morning of this new day, I implore you to shower upon me the fullness of your fruits, gifts and power.  Please intercede for me with groans too deep for human utterance so that all this day I may live and act for the honor and glory of the God whom I love and adore, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Opening remarks and Homily for the funeral of Sally and Daniel Knauf, Jan 24, Christ the King


Opening remarks:


          My dear brothers and sisters, we gather this morning, we come from places far and near, we come together as the people of God to remember Sally and Danny, to celebrate their lives, to mourn their sudden and tragic deaths, and to say good-bye.  And to pray for them and commit them into the hands of our loving and merciful God.  And we remember too, Danny’s wife Bianca, and her family in Cathedral City California, mourning her passing.

            I think it’s important to note at the outset that, unlike the death of an elderly loved one after an illness, where we might feel sadness and possibly even relief, we gather today filled perhaps with all kinds of emotions.  We certainly feel great grief, great sadness on their passing, and in the way in which they died.  But we may have other feelings – anger perhaps.  Frustration at not having had the chance to say good-bye.  Remorse perhaps about important things left unsaid.  Guilt, or shame or embarrassment, even.  Betrayal.  Bitterness.  A feeling of being overwhelmed, or confused. Perhaps shock or even a profound emptiness.  And my guess is, you may have been filled at one point or another over the past couple weeks with any one or all of these emotions.
            These are all perfectly normal emotions as each of us struggle to comprehend, to come to terms with, to make peace with, this awful tragedy.  And these emotions are not, of themselves, right or wrong.  They simply are.  It is helpful, I think, to recognize these emotions in ourselves and express them when necessary, for they are stepping stones in doing the hard work of grieving the ones we love.
            My name is Deacon Ed Knauf, parish deacon here at St. Kateri Parish, and Danny’s uncle, Sally’s brother-in-law.  It is my privilege to preside at this morning’s funeral liturgy, and I would like to welcome you and thank each of you for being here this morning.

Readings:
Lamentations 3:17-26
Romans 5:5-11
Mark 15:33-39;16:1-6 

Homily:   
            Betty and Nancy, Brendan and Patti, Andrew, Marc and Tracy, on behalf of our pastor, Father Paul English, our priests, and all the staff and parishioners of St. Kateri Parish, please accept our deepest and most sincere condolences on the loss of your dear Sally and Danny.
              We’ve heard Nancy and Brendan beautifully speak of the lives of Sally and Danny this morning.  And we saw in the video the wonderful work Sally was doing with developmentally challenged kids at School 41.  We heard how she was a great friend to the many who worked with her and knew her. Of the big heart that she displayed to all whom she knew, but especially the children, her own children, and her students.  And we heard Brendan and Nancy speak eloquently of the beautiful kid Danny was, of the love he had for his son, Jacob, we know of the friendship he had for many – reading his facebook page you sense the love of his friends displayed there.

            But we gather here today not only to recall the lives of Sally and Danny, but I think I would be remiss if I didn’t say something about their death, and about the way in which they died. 
            Anyone watching sporting events in the 70s and 80s will remember the guy with rainbow colored hair holding the sign that read John 3:16, which is one of my favorite bible verses – “God so loved the world that He gave His only Son so that all who believe might not perish but might have eternal life.” Well another of my favorite verses is first Peter 3:15, for Peter tells us “Always be prepared to give anyone who asks the reason for your hope.” Hope.  The purpose of this homily, then, is to give the reason for my hope.
            It would be difficult, to be sure, if our gathering today were the result of Sally and Danny dying in a tragic car accident, or from some mysterious illness, but we gather this morning confronted by the reality of an act that we simply can’t get our minds around. A horrific act that defies logic, defies explanation.
            We want to make sense of it –why? How? How does something like this happen? And how is it that a guy seemingly on top of the world at 8 O’clock on New Years Eve plunges, less than a day later, into what we can only conclude was an uncontrollable rage and deep, dark despair? And why is it that a person as loving and caring as Sally should meet her end in such a sudden and violent fashion? 
            We read about these things, we see them on the news, but we never expect them to happen to people we know, people we love.  The shock we feel, the stress, the anxiety, perhaps even the fear – are because we are confronted face to face with - and there’s no other way to put it - an evil act.         A terrible, violent, evil act.  And we gather today as a people of faith, a people who hold human life sacred, who believe human life is a gift from God, not ours to take. And so we’re nothing if not horrified by what happened in that apartment in Palm Springs.
            And it’s natural, I think, to ponder – what about the eternal destiny, especially of Danny.  Some, even some people of faith, may be ready to pass judgment and consign him forever to the nether world. 
            Well, know this – who are we to judge?  We are all, to be sure, the “ungodly,” the sinners of whom St. Paul writes to the Romans in the reading Michele proclaimed.  We are all in need of mercy and forgiveness.  And while we’re not here today to canonize anyone, to make anyone a saint, nor are we here to conclude the opposite.  God alone is the judge of men’s hearts and souls.  All we can do is entrust our loved ones into His loving care.
            After all, we as Christians always preach of the need to separate the act which we call evil, from the actor – the person.  Hate the sin, love the sinner, we are fond of saying, we are taught, and we believe.  Well we’ll never have a better opportunity to practice what we preach than on this occasion. 
            For we must recognize that people are fragile, and with all that life throws at us, good people sometimes become broken people.  Good people sometimes do bad things, sometimes very bad things.  What happened in that apartment in Palm Springs could not have been a rational act, wasn’t thought out, wasn’t planned.  Danny struggled for a lot of his life with many issues, many demons you might say, and they pursued him for much of his adult life – and on that fateful morning, you could say they finally caught up with him.  
            We’ll never fully understand why it happened, but it’s clear that something must have snapped, must have broken. But our Church, trusting in God’s loving mercy, always teaches that our accountability for sinful acts depends on full consent of the will.  And we believe in a Lord and God who alone knows the hearts of men and women, who alone knows what happened in the mind and heart of our brother Danny.  The words of Our Lord from the cross come to mind – “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
            And so, as a people of faith, we give this tragedy, this mess of human brokenness, we entrust this all to Him, to Our Blessed Lord, Jesus Christ.  For our Christ is not a far-off distant god, but rather One who became one of us, who took on human flesh, who walked and slept and ate, who has “been there, done that” to put it in modern terms.  Who knows what it’s like to mourn the violent death of a loved one – his cousin John.  Who knows what it’s like to lose a parent, Blessed Joseph.  Who faced most everything we face in this life.  And a Lord who Himself became the victim of a horrible, violent death.
            But more than a man, Christ truly was the Son of God, Who loves each one of us with mercy and compassion deeper than the deepest of oceans.  Who loves Sally and Bianca and Danny with that same unfathomable love.  I can imagine that just as Our Lord was dying on the cross, breathing His last, the devil was right there lifting his arms in triumph.  But it was a fleeting triumph, for on Easter Morning, by rising from the tomb, Our Lord snatched eternal victory from the jaws of defeat, confounding the prince of darkness, and winning eternal life for each of us who believe.
            If the devil dared to lift his arms in triumph over the tragic scene in Palm Springs, we can only trust that Our Blessed Lord was right there too, to once again confound the evil one and bring His victory, His eternal victory.
            We pray then, for the souls of our beloved Sally, Bianca and Danny, and we entrust them into the loving arms of Our Blessed Lord, Jesus Christ, and we ask Him to hold them close, to wrap them in His tender love and shower them with His extravagant mercy. 
            And we pray also for ourselves, that God give us peace in our mourning, and strength and grace to go forth from here to bring light into the darkness of people’s lives, with new resolve to sow seeds of love where there is none, forgiveness where there is bitterness, peace where there is discord, and healing where there is brokenness.  And we ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.