Preached for the Third Sunday in Advent, Cycle A - Guadete Sunday, December 10/11 - 4:30p, 8a, 10a

Today's readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/12112016.cfm

I got word a couple days ago from a deacon friend of mine – he and his wife had just returned from the oncologist.  Second oncologist.  Second opinion.  The news is grim – worst fears confirmed - small cell lung cancer.  Since she already has end-stage kidney disease, chemo would be very difficult and unlikely successful.  So she’ll continue to serve in her ministry as an Episcopal deacon until she can’t, and then palliative care, finally hospice care.  Six months or so, tops.

Who among us, especially those of us in middle age, or late middle age, doesn’t know someone who’s had a similar experience?  With a loved one, or friend, co-worker, or maybe we ourselves have sat across the desk from a grim-faced physician.  I can vividly recall the doctor coming into the waiting room after my mom’s surgery – his face said everything we needed to know.

And it’s not just health.  Face it – life is hard.  Broken relationships.  Job loss.  The stress of money worries, stress that’s there when waking up, and still there trying to fall asleep.  And I could go on.

I was watching a clip from the musical Les Mis the other night – the beautiful and haunting song I dreamed a dream.  And a couple of the lines really caught my attention, as a young woman named Fantine sings:

There was a time when love was blind

And the world was a song

And the song was exciting

There was a time

And it all went wrong

Fantine goes on:

I had a dream my life would be

So different from this hell I’m living

So different now from what it seemed

Now life has killed the dream   I dreamed

Now hopefully very few of us would describe our lives as a “hell” but I’m pretty sure some probably would.  I see it in people’s faces.  In any event I’m willing to bet very few of us can’t relate to what Fantine sings – that life doesn’t turn out to be all we hoped and dreamed it would be.  Who here would really argue with the idea that life is hard.

It’s certainly hard for John, the subject of this evening’s/morning’s Gospel.  He’s been in prison, for quite some time – we’re in the eleventh chapter of Matthew’s gospel here and he was locked up in chapter 4.  And this is no prison like we think of prisons today – more likely it was a cold, dark, damp cell, little or no light, no sanitation, and he was probably in chains.

And John is giving up hope.  Life is not turning out to be what he dreamed, and the Lord is not turning out to be what he expected either.  Just last week we heard him speak of the ax being at the root of the tree, and the winnowing fan is in his hand to clear the threshing floor.  Today – doubts.  Get word to Jesus – are you the One, or is there another coming?

Against this darkness and near despair, Holy Mother Church tells us today “Gaudete!”  “Rejoice”

John, stuck in jail, or you or I burdened by life, might say – “Yeah right.  Rejoice.  Easy for you to say.  What do I have to rejoice about?”

The answer is a simple, single word.  Hope.

Rejoice, because we have hope.  We who are blessed with the gift of faith in Christ Jesus have hope.  I often wonder just how those who have no faith do it – how do they live day to day, where is their consolation standing at a loved one’s grave, where do they find peace driving home from the oncologist’s office? 

But we are blessed for we have confidence, we have His assurance, that the best is yet to come.  That into the darkness, the pain, the burdens of our lives, Christ is already with us, and Christ is coming.  That despite our pain and hardships, we have the hope of unending joy in union with the Trinity.  That is our great hope, and the source of our peace.  The peace of God that surpasses all understanding, St. Paul writes to the Philippians.

To John, despairing in prison, Jesus simply responded with the words of the prophet Isaiah – that the “blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised,
and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.”  In other words, I am the fulfillment of the prophecy.  I am the reason to have hope.  I am the reason to be joyful.  My kingdom is here with you now.

And that is why Holy Mother Church tells us today, “rejoice!”  That because Christ is with us, and coming soon, we can joyfully, even in the storms and difficulties of our lives.  We all know people, I’m sure, who despite very great hardships, great tragedies in their lives, exude peace, exude joy.  That comes from a deep faith in Jesus Christ, a faith that gives a deep sense of hopefulness.

Sisters and brothers, you and I are called to be those people who, despite our own great hardships, great tragedies, exude peace, exude joy.  You and I are called to be witnesses to the world around us of the hope we have found in relationship with Our Blessed Lord.

I saw a beautiful  quote on facebook this week – by the British anthropologist Jane Goodall, who spent 55 years living among and studying the lives of chimpanzees in Kenya – and it was simply this:  “the mission of my life is to give people hope.”

That really struck me.  I thought to myself – isn’t that my mission, too?  Isn’t that the mission of all of us who profess faith in Jesus  Christ?  The mission of my life is to give people hope.

And how?  By sharing the only hope.  The only reason for the advent candles and bright lights and candy canes.  The gifts and the eating and drinking and making merry.  The only hope.  Jesus Christ is with us, and Jesus Christ is coming with salvation for His people.

Gaudete!  Rejoice!

Homily - Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary - preached Thurs., Dec.8, 2016 - St.Margaret Mary 7p

Today's readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/120816.cfm

We gather this evening, as we always gather, to praise and worship the Father through Jesus His Son, and in particular we celebrate the mystery of the Immaculate Conception of Our Blessed Mother, Mary.  And a great mystery it is – how among the billions of persons who’ve walked the earth, other than that same Jesus Christ, Mary is the only person ever conceived without sin, without original sin or any tendency to sin, pure and spotless.

It’s a significant day, to be sure, a most significant day in salvation history that we celebrate, for at the Immaculate Conception, God first “intervened,” if you will, God first stepped into time and created in the womb of Mary’s mother a most fitting vessel, a most holy and fitting tabernacle who would eventually carry within her God’s only Son, our Lord and Savior.

And we celebrate that she is “full of grace” which means not only that she is pure and sinless, but also that she is completely fruitful – her entire life has borne fruit, from the moment of her conception, all her life, most especially in her “yes” to God at the Annunciation and her giving birth to our Savior, and yes, even for all eternity.

Quite a mystery, huh?  But we who’ve braved a blustery December evening to come to Mass, might ask – well what exactly does this have to do with me, in my life, here and now?

Now if you were to ask me that, I might be inclined to say we don’t need to have a takeaway from every Mass, from every readings, from every homily?  Isn’t it enough to gather and celebrate, to worship, to rejoice in God’s wondrous gift to us in the Immaculate Conception? 

But understanding Mary’s role in our salvation, and especially this day her role as the Immaculate Conception – this is very practical – very applicable to our lives here and now.

How? Let me tell a little story.  My wife and I spent our late September wedding anniversary a few years back hiking in the Adirondacks.  We set out on a perfect Saturday morning to climb two of the high peaks.  Drinking coffee at a morning campfire and making breakfast, we got a late start on what would be a twenty mile round trip hike.  As the day wore on and we got nearer the first peak, I started to panic, realizing that the sun was already dipping in the western sky, and calculating in my head whether we could make it the ten miles through the woods back to the car.  Only a quarter mile or so from the peak, I said “we’ve got to turn around and go back.  I don’t want to spend the night in the woods.”

Long story short, despite making great time down the trail, we ran out of daylight and soon it was pitch black in the woods, with one headlamp between us, no cell service, no overnight clothes, no tent.  We kept going and going until finally I realized we were on a path we hadn’t been on before.  The trail markers were still blue, but I knew we needed to be going southwest and we were heading straight north. We had missed a turn. I knew we were off course only because the moon was rising behind us.  Thank God it wasn’t a moonless night. 

We turned around and re-traced our path for a mile or so, then turned around again and then again.  Completely dark, completely lost in the woods.  No map. No compass. Very little food.  Getting cold.   We were both starting to panic.

The story has a happy ending, obviously – as I sat down on a bridge to eat a carrot, I happened to notice a sign on a tree that pointed the way out.  And at nearly 10pm we were safely back at the car.

What’s the point of this story?  On this journey, I was unprepared.  No map.  No food.  Most importantly no compass.  It was luck (and many prayers answered) that got us out of the woods that night. 

Life isn’t all that different, is it?  It can be quite frightening, cold, dark and we often can feel very lost.  We can follow the wrong signs along the way, toward the only destination that matters, eternal joy with Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Mary, the Immaculate Conception, is our compass on that journey.  A compass always points to one point, true north.  No matter where we are, the compass always points to that one place.  Properly using a compass we can always find our way.

Like a compass, Mary always points to one point, her Son, Jesus Christ.  Her entire life, from the moment of her conception, to His birth in the stable, by His side on Calvary – her entire life was about pointing the way to her Divine Son.  And her entire eternity is about pointing the way to her Divine Son as well.

She is a sure and certain instrument, always pointing us to her Son.  No matter the false signposts this world gives us, no matter the temptations the enemy places before us to distract us and have us lose our way, no matter how lost we are in the woods of life, we can always rely on His mother, Our Mother, to point the way to her Son.

Sure, there’s a chance we’ll find our way to her Son without her to guide us.  Our separated protestant brothers and sisters for the most part claim no devotion to Mary, claim no need of her.  To me that’s like setting out in the woods without a compass.  You might find your way, but why chance it?

And the fact that she is the Immaculate Conception means this – she’s completely reliable.  There is no risk, no chance, of her ever leading us astray by sin or scandal.  If we place our trust in people, we know from experience that we will always, to some extent or another, be let down.  No fear of that with Mary.  If we place our trust in her, we can be assured that she will always lead us to her Son.

Isn’t that cause for rejoicing?  We are so blessed to have the salvation Jesus Christ offers us by His death and resurrection, and we are so blessed to have His Blessed Mother to always lead us back to Him if we only ask her.

So let us rejoice and give thanks to God for His great gift to us - His Immaculate Daughter, our Immaculate Mother, a sure and certain guide to lead us to Jesus, who will lead us to our heavenly homeland.

And let us pray, Hail Mary….

Homily for the First Sunday of Advent Cycle A - Preached Sat/Sun Nov. 26/27 St. Cecilia Church

Today's readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/112716.cfm

I always found it curious that we would end a Church year like we did a week ago, with readings about the end times, about the final judgment, about the fulfillment of the Kingdom.  And then, a week later, begin a new Church year with readings about the end times, final judgment and fulfillment of the Kingdom.  Why is that, huh?

I think the meaning behind these readings can be found summed up in one of those Seven Habits of Highly Effective People that Steven Covey writes about – “begin with the end in mind.”  Begin with the end in mind.  The gist is – if you don’t know where you’re trying to get to, it doesn’t matter much which road you take.  But if you start with a firm goal, then how you get there makes all the difference.  So I think the Church is teaching us to begin again, begin with a firm goal in mind.

And we who gather this evening/morning do share a common goal, do we not?  Eternal life, eternal communion with our God, Father Son and Holy Spirit. 

But how often do we think about that?  How often as we live the day-to-day busy-ness of our lives, do we take the time to stop and think about where we’re going, where we’re trying to get.  And are we on the right road to get there? 

This new season of Advent - this new Church year - provide us a time to stop and think, and examine our lives.  Ironic, huh? That this time of year that this world has made more and more hectic, preparing for the “holidays” – is supposed to be a time of retreat, reflection, self-examination. 

And but don’t dally - do it now. All these readings seem to say - don’t delay!  There’s an urgency to these readings, huh?  We recognize that our salvation is nearer than when we first believed, nearer than last advent, nearer even than our last breath.  So we’d better get on with it.

Why? Because Jesus, the “Son of Man, is coming.”  On Christmas morn.  At the end of our lives.  At the end of time.  And this season gives us a time to reflect on Jesus’ coming in all three ways, but especially at the end of our lives.  The Gospel speaks to this.

Let’s take a moment and put ourselves into this Gospel.  Two men out in the field – one taken, one left.  Two women grinding at the mill – one taken one left. 

Imagine - what if you or I were there in the field, or grinding at the wheel?  Working away, here before you stands Jesus the Son of God Himself.  The “coming of the Son of Man.”  For your judgment – such that one is taken and one left.  To judge my life.  What have I done?  What have I failed to do?   Have I been faithful to Him?

Just this week, the Holy Father Pope Francis spoke of this – that we must take stock of our lives in preparation for that judgment – “We’d do well to think,” he said, ‘…what will the day be like when I will be in front of Jesus? When He asks me about the talents that he gave me, what use I made of them, when He will ask me: how was my heart when the seed was dropped, like a path or like thorns: that Parable of the Kingdom of God. How did I receive His Word? With an open heart?  Did I make it germinate for the good of all or in secret?”

Now, imagine again, Jesus standing before you.  What if, at that moment, rather than stand in judgment, He points straight at you and says “you decide?”  Tells you to judge, presents you at that moment a stark choice – Him or not Him?  On one hand a smiling Jesus, arms outstretched, open wide, beckoning me to embrace Him.  On the other hand an eternity entirely devoid of His love.  Pretty easy choice, huh?

Now what if, at that moment, the choices completely morph.  On one had you’re presented with all the glamour, the glitter, the good feelings, the undeniable attraction of sin.  Those deeds of darkness which the evil one puts in front of you, to tempt you.  Those deeds of which St. Paul wrote in our second reading. 

And on the other hand you’re presented with a life of faithful discipline, of resolve strengthened by frequent visits to the confessional and Eucharist.  A life of clinging to the crucified Lord.  Now perhaps the choice is not so easy, as one looks so tempting, so gratifying.  The other looks - so hard.

Now what if, on one hand you’re presented with a life of comfort and ease, of riches and pleasure and amusement.  And on the other hand Jesus morphs.  He becomes a homeless woman.  An immigrant child.  An elderly person lonely and dying.  An unwed mother, an unborn baby.  Each with arms outstretched, open wide, beckoning for our help.  And the judgment is again ours, yours and mine, to make.

You see, I’m not sure that the end times will be any different than our daily lives, that the judgments we make day in and day out aren’t the exact same as those we’ll be called to make when standing before the Lord.  That the final judgment won’t be a replay of all the many little judgments we make along the way.  Do we choose Jesus, or not Jesus?

Sisters and brothers, I think the message for each of us today, as we begin this new Church year and enter into this holy season of preparation is to ready ourselves - prepare ye the way of the Lord, for the Son of Man is coming.  Prepare for that day of our judgment.

For what time is it?  It’s the time to wake from our slumber.  To arise, to change our lives, our priorities, change the path we’re on if the path we’re on isn’t leading us to the only goal that matters – that is - eternal life, eternal joy, eternal communion with God, who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.  

Homily for today's Feast - Solemnity of Jesus Christ, King of the Universe - Nov. 20, 2016 - 9a St Cecilia, 11a St. Margaret Mary

Today's readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/112016.cfm

I preached last week and my wife was a little worried that I would go off and say something about the election in my homily, and was much relieved when I didn’t.  So - how about the election?  Just kidding. Thank God it’s over, that’s what I’m thinking.  We all got to vote, America got to choose.  We have a winner and we to deal with it, huh?

Well not exactly.  All across America there have been demonstrations.  People, mostly young people, protesting the result of the election.  Chanting things.  Carrying signs.  The favorite seems to a simple three words “not my President.”  Interviews reveal that many of the protesters, in fact, didn’t even vote.  And I’m not sure what the protesters’ goal is, since, as I said, we had an election, we all got to vote.

So what’s this got to do with today’s Feast, the Solemnity of Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, or more simply, Christ the King?  I mean, you don’t vote for king.  There’s a little skit in the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail that says as much:  “Who are you,” a woman asks King Arthur.  “I am your king.”  “King, eh, well I didn’t vote for you.”  “You don’t vote for king,” replies Arthur.

I guess the point I’d like to make is this, in the kingdom of Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, we do, in fact, have a vote.  We vote all the time.  Oh, most of us entered His kingdom at our baptism, but this kingdom requires more than the vote of a tiny baby. This kingdom requires us to vote with every passing day, with every decision we make.  Am I to be a part of the kingdom or not?

And what really stuck in my head, all this week, what with the protesters carrying signs saying “not my president” was this – how many of us, by our words, by our actions, by how we live our lives, in effect walk around carrying signs that say “not my King.”

You see, whether we like it or not, our lives are walking signs, walking billboards.  They either say “Jesus Christ is my King, my only King.”  Or they say “Not my King.”

It seems to me that we humans have two competing impulses.  Like the Israelites in our first reading, we have a desire, a need in fact, to have a leader.  So they acclaim David as their new king.  King of the Israelites.  And at the same time, we have a desire to throw off authority, huh?  I think of the slogan from the 60s – distrust authority.  I can think and decide for myself, is sometimes our attitude.  I don’t need no leader, I don’t need no king.

And that’s what you and I must decide – will we submit to Christ as King of our lives?  Or will we live a life of “not my king?”

I am confident that we wouldn’t be here this morning if we didn’t believe that He is our King.  Or at least if we didn’t have the desire that He become more and more the King of our lives.  So - what does it look like to show the world that He is our King?

First of all it means following His commandments.  It means submitting to His authority over our lives, submitting to His law. And His law is not burdensome, but a gift to us, for our good, for our happiness.  “If you love me you will keep my commands,” Our Lord tells His disciples, including you and me.

The most important of His commands is, of course to love.  Love God and love neighbor.  We have a stark image of our King in today’s Gospel – a King not robed in splendor and sitting on a throne.  But a King stripped naked, beaten and nailed to a cross.  And why? Out of obedience to His Father and unfathomable love for each of us, for by His suffering, death and resurrection, He has purchased for us the promise of eternal life.  Imagine - what kind of love is that, that surrenders His life for you and for me?

And so you and I, who are called by our baptism to build His Kingdom, who are anointed at our baptisms as “priest, prophet and king,” must follow in His footsteps.  To serve Jesus Christ as King of our hearts means to surrender our entire lives to Him and serve Him.  So that by our “yes” to Him, you and I, united in His Holy Spirit, may build His kingdom, here and now.  Exhibit His love in our sad, broken and divided world.  Be His healing and peace in a world of conflict.

Wherever Christians are living His love in service, there is His Kingdom.  All around us, in our own parish and community, we are living signs of His Kingdom.  Giving food to the hungry in our food drives.  Serving unwed moms at Bethany House.  Comforting the grieving through our funeral ministry.  Caring for the dying at the Sunset House hospice. Giving transport to the elderly through Good Samaritan Transportation, and I could go on. There is the Kingdom, and there are committed Christians giving witness to Christ as King of their lives.

So the question to ask ourselves as we go through this week…as we go into the Advent Season and prepare to celebrate once again the birth of the infant King in a cold stable…and as we take time to examine our lives, is this:  what does the billboard of my life say?  By my sin, by my turning away from Him, by my lifestyle, my priorities, my living only for myself, my conformity to this world, am I carrying a sign that says “not my King?”

Or by my obedience, my faithfulness, and by my loving service do I joyfully proclaim to the world around me – Jesus Christ, my Lord, my King, my God?

Homily - 33rd Week in Ordinary Time, Cycle C - November 12/13 St Kateri

Mass Readings for Today:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/111316.cfm

A few weeks ago my wife and I were visiting in the home of man and his wife, the man applying to become a deacon  In their living room they have a beautiful painting of the Blessed Mother Mary. She is a very young woman in this painting, sitting with the scriptures open before her, and she’s staring not quite into the viewer’s eyes, sort of off into the distance.

The man told me the painting is called the Annunciation, and portrays a teenage Mary at that moment, the scriptures representing the prophecies about to be realized in her “yes.”  In the painting her hand is raised in such a way so as to signify her acceptance. The painting, he told me, is a hand-painted copy of the original, painted about 500 years ago, which survives in a city in Southern Italy.

He showed me a picture of the original, and I remarked that the look on Mary’s face is different in their copy, that in the original Mary has a look of peace, almost a smile, as she looks off into the future.  Perhaps considering the joy her Offspring will bring, the salvation He will bring.

But in their hand-painted copy, the artist gave Mary a more somber, more foreboding look even.  As if at that moment the Blessed Virgin could see into the future, see all that would occur, all that would happen to this child she would bear, all the pain He, and she, would have to endure. As if she could see at that moment the way in which He would bring about our salvation.

That wistful look of Mary came to mind as I was pondering this Gospel.  Jesus is, like that painting of His Blessed Mother, looking far into the future, prophesying.  What’s it going to be like?  For Himself, and for those who claimed to be His disciples?

And a difficult path ahead – is what He foretells.  We’re approaching the end of Luke’s Gospel, just before Our Blessed Lord’s passion, death and resurrection.  Jesus is prophesying - looking into the future, first of all His own future – He sees the persecution He will endure, how He will appear before “kings and governors,” how the temple of His own body will be destroyed.

And, brothers and sisters, He’s looking into our future as well.  Foretelling that the life of His disciples, including you and me, will not be easy.  Some say we humans tend to be pessimists, that we’re always on guard against every threat against us, that we’re always seeing the worst coming. 

But I think we usually think the opposite, that we tend to see good things, rosy things in our future.  I mean, what new mother has a look of foreboding on her face as she looks upon her infant?

But we know from experience that life isn’t always good and rosy. Every year makes this more and more apparent. Who hasn’t experienced the anxiety and suffering of illness, our own, or our loved ones?  Or the pain of broken relationships.  The crushing fear of loss of work.  The grief of the loss of loved ones.  We can honestly pray with the psalmist “Our span is seventy years, eighty for those who are strong.  And most of these are emptiness and pain. They pass swiftly and we are gone. Give us joy, O Lord, to balance our affliction.”

Similarly, Our Lord is telling us in this Gospel – the life of faith aint gonna be easy.  Not if you’re going to be my disciple.  You will face ridicule, persecution, and even hatred, all because of your belief in me.  That prophecy has been found to be true all throughout the history of the Church, and isn’t it becoming more the case today, huh?

And in this future of chaos He’s describing, Our Lord is also promising a future of conflict, of spiritual battle.  The forces of evil against those of good.  The prophet Malachi speaks of that coming battle, and the final judgment, where the proud and evildoers will finally be burned up, but those who fear His name will be raised up.

So what’s the message for you and me in these readings, as we approach the end time, the second last Sunday of our Church year?  I think it’s found in the second reading from St. Paul’s second letter to the Thessalonians.  Be in this world, but not of this world, he seems to be telling us.  Follow our good example, Paul says, work quietly, peacefully, and most importantly, in unity.  Don’t let the concerns of this world divide us one against the other. 

And in the spiritual battles that rage around us, the battles that rage within us, cling to Him, Our Blessed Lord.  Our Lord promises us in this Gospel that if we persevere, if we remain faithful to Him, faithful to the end, we have nothing to fear.  “Do not be afraid,” He is telling us.  For by our perseverance, by our faithfulness, we will “secure our lives” – we will achieve the everlasting peace and joy that He has won for us by His cross and resurrection.

[For He is the rock to which we must cling in the storms of this life.  Nourished here by His Sacraments, and filled with His Holy Spirit, we have His promise that He will always remain with us and that His Holy Spirit is always with us to help us remain in Him.  Do not be afraid.  I am with you to the end of time.]

[For He is the rock to which we must cling in the storms of this life.  In a moment we will welcome little Eleanor Justine to the Church, welcome her as a disciple of Jesus Christ.  To a life of discipleship that we know won’t be easy.  But guided by your example of faithfulness, Chris and Laura, and nourished by the Sacraments, beginning today, she inherits the promise our Lord gives to all of us, that He will always remain with us and that His Holy Spirit is always with us to help us remain in Him.]

Now one other thought - two homilies for the price of one this week.

As we approach the end of the Church year, we also approach the close of the Jubilee year of mercy.  All around the world, in every diocese, the Holy Door of mercy will soon be closing.  Which to me is kind of a ridiculous concept because Christ’s mercy is never closed, never ends.  But this is a special year, in which we especially celebrate His never-ending mercy, in which we especially heed His call to repentance of our sins.

If we haven’t yet availed ourselves of the special sacrament of mercy, the Sacrament of Reconciliation, during this Holy Year of Mercy, there is still time to do so.  There is still time to receive His particular graces during this time, to hear His call to conversion and turn away from our sin, and receive the magnificent grace of being washed clean of our sin.  What a wondrous way to pick ourselves up, start over, and live each day ever so much closer to Him, Our Blessed Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Homily - Solemnity of All Saints, November 1, 2016 - 7p St.Kateri at St. Margaret Mary

Today's Readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/110116.cfm

I haven’t had dinner yet, so I’ll make this quick.

My day job is in downtown Buffalo, and in the evening as I drive home from Buffalo, it’s hard to miss the giant Powerball billboard just north of I-190.  They keep that billboard updated every day with the current Powerball jackpot.  $198 million, it said last evening.  198 million dollars if you pony up for a ticket and you’re the only one with the winning combination of numbers. 

Now of course you don’t get that much.  If you take it in a lump sum, you forego about a third, and you’re down to $130 million.  Then there are state and federal taxes, which will take almost half of it, leaving you with a paltry $71 and a half million.  Hardly enough to live on!

But can you imagine the good fortune, the incredible luck, of winning that much money?  What would you do with it?

This is what came to mind as I was thinking on the meaning of this solemnity, this feast.  For as much money as 71-and-a-half million dollars is, those women and men who have gone before us and whom we celebrate as saints in heaven have won a prize far greater, far more valuable than any Powerball jackpot, huh?  They’ve won the crown of eternal life, eternal peace, eternal joy, eternal love in the presence of God, standing before the throne of God, gazing on the face of God!

We gather this evening to celebrate their incredible good fortune, to celebrate the lives they’ve led, the example they are to us in the struggles of our lives, the help they provide us by their intercession in our struggles.

But we’re tempted, aren’t we, to think of this day as a feast for them, for those really good people, incredibly better people!  Indeed, we do celebrate today the named saints, those great women and men whose holiness, and courage, and faithfulness have been formally recognized by Holy Mother Church. 

But we also celebrate the host of unnamed men and women who’ve lived quiet lives of holiness, selflessness, and faithfulness to the end, those who’ve died in Christ and now live with Him.  We can be confident that many of the people we knew, who’ve gone before us, are counted among the saints.

But this Feast is not only for them. I think the message for this day is that you and I, brothers and sisters, <pause> are called to join them.  You, and I, are called to be saints.  In fact, if you think about it, that’s really the only thing worth living for.  You. Me. Saints.

Now most people would scoff at such a notion.  Me, a saint?  You’re joking.  You don’t know me very well, do you? You have no idea what I’ve done, all the things I wish I could do over, all the mistakes I’ve made, the sins I’ve committed.

But here’s the thing – with the exception of Saint Mary, the Blessed Virgin Mother of God, every single one of the saints we celebrate today - was a sinner.  Not all were horrific sinners, but some of them terrible sinners.  Thieves.  Adulterers and prostitutes. Murderers, even.

But every saint has one thing in common – each accepted the salvation freely offered by Our Blessed Lord, by His cross and resurrection, by the Blood of the Lamb, and each became a new person.  A new creation as St. Paul, himself a great sinner, wrote.  Saint Augustine, a renowned sinner who is now honored as one of our greatest saints, once said “there is no saint without a past, and no sinner without a future.”

Some, like Paul and Augustine, had dramatic conversion stories, but most a lifelong process of surrender, of turning from sin, seeking His forgiveness, letting Him take possession of their hearts. Living lives of ever-increasing faithfulness. And letting Christ work His amazing work through them.

So the message I hope you’ll take home and take to heart is this – you, and I – each of us – should embrace our call to be saints.  In the words of EWTN host Patrick Coffin:  “Be a saint. What else is there?”

And unlike Powerball, where the odds of winning are about one in 292 million, becoming a saint, something infinitely more valuable and eternally more lasting, is being offered to us as a gift.  If only we accept the gift, repent of our sins, and surrender our lives to Him so that He can work His grace, and mercy, His beatitudes through us. 

Then we have His assurance, His promise, Him who died to save us, that He will cleanse us and gather us on the last day and present us as His pure and spotless gift to His Father. To live forever in the joyful embrace of God, who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Preached the weekend of October 30, 2016

One of the blessings of having gone to Catholic grade school was to learn about Gospel stories such as this one – the story of Zacchaeus.  I still remember it pretty vividly, from maybe fourth or fifth grade, this story that resonates, I think, with young people, with little people.  I still remember some of the words of the song we learned, which went something like this -

           

There was a man in Jericho called Zacchaeus

            There was a man in Jericho called Zacchaeus

            Now Zacchaeus, he couldn’t see,

            So he climbed a sycamore tree,

            Til the Lord said “Zacchaeus, come on down”

It’s a vivid picture, huh?  I mean this short little dude, jumping up and down trying to see over the crowd gathering as Jesus would soon be passing by.  Zacchaeus had to have known something about the Lord, had to have heard of Him, maybe from his fellow tax-collector Matthew, now one of His apostles. And there must have been some charisma, something incredibly attractive, about the Lord, that so many would gather to catch a glimpse of Him. 

And somehow, Zacchaeus must have wanted to know more, to find out what this Jesus fellow was all about.  Something must have been missing in his life, not quite right in his life.  His riches weren’t fulfilling.  He had to have been feeling torn and I would guess anxious.  His loyalty to the God of Abraham on one hand, his quite lucrative profession on the other hand.  A tax collector, a collaborator of the hated Romans, which made his the scorn of everyone in Jericho.

So he climbs this tree.  This little, well-dressed, wealthy man, up there in the tree.  And the Lord stops.  Speaks to him.  To his heart.  Invites himself to come stay at this man’s house.  This public sinner’s house. 

And Luke tells us Zacchaeus hurries down the tree to meet the Lord and welcome Him to stay with him, welcomes Him into his home, his heart.   And everyone grumbles – this man eats with sinners.

A captivating story, huh?  Not completely different than the parable Jesus told a few weeks ago about the prodigal son.  This passage, like the parable of the prodigal, is a story of conversion, of repentance. And like that story, with three main characters.  In the parable of the prodigal, we remember the father, the prodigal son, the grumbling brother.  In this passage, there’s Zacchaeus, and the Lord, and the grumbling people. 

And like the parable of the prodigal, we’re invited, I think, to ask ourselves which character we identify with, which we’re most like. Which we’re called to be.

Perhaps we identify with Zacchaeus.  This man with something missing in his life.  Who is already generous with his riches, as I read one commentator say.  But knows there must be more.  Knows deep down inside that he’s gotta change, must turn away from his sin, must repent and be converted.  A man who probably doesn’t love himself very much, because of his sinfulness, his shame, and so has no idea how much he’s loved by the God who created him.  The God who, walking by, stops and calls him by name, calls him to climb down out of that tree. 

We’re all, I think, Zacchaeus, for we’re all sinners.  None of us really comprehends the depth of God’s love for us, huh?  All of us are searching for more, for meaning, for joy.

We here in these four walls are truly blessed because here we have found and continue to find the only thing that can bring us true joy, and that’s not a thing but a love relationship with a person, the same person who called Zacchaeus down out of that tree – Our Blessed Lord Jesus Christ.  Who is the only source of true joy, of true fulfillment, of peace, of mercy, of healing.

But isn’t it true that those of us in these four walls can sometimes find ourselves grumbling, like “everyone” else in this story?  Not just the scribes and Pharisees, but “everyone.”  Including the disciples and apostles.  Who might have claimed some “ownership” of the Lord and their own interpretation of what His presence among them signified.  Who grumbled that he would speak to such a sinner, much less invite himself to go stay with such a person.

I know I can be that way.  Judgmental.  Convinced that my understanding of the Lord is the correct one.  Not open to His spirit.  Not open to change, to conversion of my heart. Maybe more interested in wall-building than door-opening.  Not very attractive.

If that describes you, too, sisters and brothers, then perhaps He’s calling us to look for Him anew.  To open our hearts to His invitation to climb out of the tree, to come stay in our homes, in our hearts.  To humbly admit our own sinfulness and open ourselves anew to His call to repent and be converted.  To again experience the peace, the joy that only His mercy can bring.

For if we find here the only thing that brings true fulfillment, true joy, we will have hearts on fire to share that good news with everyone.  We won’t want to hoard Jesus to ourselves but share Him and His message.  We will want to open doors, not build walls.

In this way, you and I as individuals but above all as His Church are called to be the third character in this Gospel – Jesus Himself.  We are called by our baptism to share in His mission and what is that mission?  It’s right there in the last few words of this Gospel – The Son of Man came to seek, and to save, the lost. 

It’s right there, too, in our parish mission statement, which reads “Our mission is to invite and welcome people of all ages, backgrounds and walks of life to embrace and celebrate our vocation – to be Christ to the world.”  And to be Christ to the world means to do what He did - to seek, and to save the lost. 

You see, crazy as it may sound, He ascended into heaven and left you and me to carry on His mission.  Not alone mind you, but guided by and filled with His Holy Spirit, and fed here at His altar with His very Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity, it’s up to you, and me, all of us to be like Him - charismatic, attractive, above all joyful, and to go forth from here be His mercy, His love, in our world.  To seek the lost so that He can save them.

That is our mission - it’s up to you, and me, and us - to welcome and gather them in, where they, too can hear the call we hear, the call to repent, to convert, to change our hearts.  To experience as Zacchaeus did, that life-changing encounter with Jesus Christ, Our Blessed Lord.

Preached the weekend of October 16, 2016

Some say God doesn’t have a sense of humor, but I’m pretty sure this little parable was pretty funny to Our Lord’s listeners.  Jesus says the judge concludes “I shall deliver a just decision for her lest she finally come and strike me.”  The Greek word St. Luke uses literally means “lest she give me a black eye.”

The visual He means us to have, I think, is this scoundrel of a judge with one of those thought bubbles above his head, imagining this little old lady, this widow, with a look of intense anger on her face, coming up to him and smacking him over the head with her purse.

And so the meaning, of course, is that if we nag God long enough, He’ll finally give us what we ask, lest we smack Him over the head, right?

Well, I don’t think so, not exactly.

For we all know from experience, we’ve all prayed long and hard for something, for someone, and in the end it just seemed that God ignored us, didn’t do what we asked.  When the word came a number of years ago that our teenage niece’s cancer was terminal, we prayed so fervently, so persistently, and yet still, we lost her.

And we also know from experience, that sometimes we pray long and hard for something, for someone, that God does answer prayer, sometimes with a miracle.  My wife, sensing better than I did that something was broken in our relationship, prayed quite long and hard for an answer, and that prayer was answered on our Marriage Encounter weekend when we experienced a u-turn, a renewal, a rejuvenation in our marriage.  No telling where we were heading without that weekend.

And a parishioner came up to me last weekend to report two miracles she had just experienced, miracles she had been earnestly, persistently praying for – her granddaughter called to say “Grandma, I’m coming back to the Church” and her grandson called to say “Grandma, I’m going to become a Catholic.”

So we’re faced with an age-old dilemma – why does a good God seemingly answer some prayers and not others?

And the answer to that is that it’s mysterious, that God is always listening, and always does always respond to our prayers, even if not the way we asked, or not in our time.  We can’t manipulate God, you see, but we have His word, we can trust that God is always faithful, and will always give us what we need.  And that God will always bring good out of the worst situation even if we don’t want to see it, or can’t see it yet.

Our niece’s death seemed a catastrophe at the time, except the faith she exhibited despite her suffering, especially at the end, increased the faith of everyone she knew.  Literally hundreds of her friends and classmates and nurses and doctors came to her funeral and told the family how much her life and her illness affected their lives and increased their faith.

And her suffering and death prompted one guy to realize the shortness of life, that we don’t have forever, that if I’m going to pursue becoming a deacon now is the time.  Prayer answered, just not the way we were expecting or hoping.

So - if Jesus isn’t promising us that praying always, threatening a black eye, will necessarily produce from God our desired result, what is He saying?

I think the answer is in that last sentence, which when I first read this seemed out of place with the parable, but which I think explains the meaning of the parable – “but when the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on earth?”

I think Our Dear Lord is telling us to take it up a notch, take it up to 30,000 feet, and look at prayer in the context of faith.  Or faithfulness, which might be a better translation of the Greek word “pistis” – will He find faithfulness on earth.

The key, I think, is to see this Gospel not only in terms of prayer but in the context of  faithfulness, of persisting and remaining faithful in relationship with God to the end, to the coming of the Lord.  Just as we believe God is always faithful, so too are we called to be always faithful, to the end.

We’re getting close to the end of Luke’s Gospel, here, in this passage.  Jesus is traveling to Jerusalem and He’s getting close, close to what He knows is the end of His time on earth.  And He will be leaving us to return at the end of time, when the Son of Man comes.   With the gift of His Holy Spirit, you and I are called to remain faithful until that time.  To remain strong, with our arms held high, to remain in relationship with Him.

And just as any relationship requires intimate communication to grow and flourish, so does our relationship with God - and prayer is that intimate communication.

But we often tend to see prayer in terms only of petition, of our requesting something, from our just judge.  Or in terms of intercession – requesting something for someone we love and care about.  It is that, but more.

Prayer in the context of relationship, in the context of faithfulness – includes praise.  Thankfulness.   Also silence – quiet mental prayer – silent adoration.  And if prayer is communication with God, then one prayer so often overlooked is just listening.  Quieting the heart and mind and listening to what He wants us to hear. Without this communication, we have no relationship with God, not one that will last to the end at least.

What marriage relationship lasts to the end without intimate communication?  Without words of praise?  Without quieting the heart and mind and truly listening? Without sometimes just being still and being in the presence of the other? Without this communication, there is no real relationship, not one that will last to the end, at least.

But just as a husband and wife pledge lifelong faithfulness one to the other on their wedding day, so too do we pledge lifelong faithfulness to God in our baptism, again at our confirmation, and in a real, tangible way when we receive into our minds, hearts, souls and bodies HIS very body, blood, soul and divinity in Holy Eucharist.  Holy Eucharist, which is the highest and greatest of prayers, of intimate communication with Our Blessed Lord.

So let us pledge again, brothers and sisters, let us renew once again our vow to remain faithful in relationship with our God in lifelong fidelity.  And let us renew our pledge to persist in humble, intimate, lifelong prayer with Him who made us, Him who sustains us, and to Whom we shall one day return.

Preached the weekend of October 9, 2016

How thankful, how grateful, are we, really?

We have one day out of 366 devoted solely to giving thanks, but nowadays most of the stores are open on that day, and there are multiple football games to watch, so how thankful are we even on that day?  Praise God that Kohls and the Mall of America and now 40 or so other stores might be starting a trend, deciding not to open on Thanksgiving – we can go back to being thankful for one day a year rather than treating that day as a day for great bargains.

Jesus’ words in this Gospel are pretty easy to understand – be thankful!  End of homily, right?  But let’s go a little deeper – what does it really mean to be truly grateful?

I was thinking about that, meditating on it, researching it even –what is it to be grateful?  I came upon a beautiful TED talk by Brother David Steindl-Rast, a 90-year old Austrian Benedictine monk who lives at Mount Saviour Monastery near Elmira.  His talk is entitled “Want to be happy, be grateful!”

Brother David makes the observation that all of us want to be happy, and that most of us would say that if we’re happy, we’re going to be grateful.  But we all know people who live charmed lives, with all sorts of advantages, who are deeply unhappy, and we all know people who experience great misfortune and tragedy in their lives who are nonetheless deeply happy, who radiate happiness.

Those people who are happy despite all the misfortune life can bring have one thing in common, according to Brother David – they are grateful.

Gratefulness, he says, is found at the intersection of realizing something is truly valuable and realizing it is a free gift, freely given.  And if we want to be truly happy, we won’t be grateful now and then, or on one day a year, but all the time.  We will realize that every moment is a gift.

Sisters and brothers, I think the takeaway Our Blessed Lord wants us to go home with this week – is that thankfulness, gratefulness, is a choice.

Ten lepers are healed.  Ten lepers in effect raised from the dead.  From lives of being completely cut off from family, friends, community, forced to live on the fringe of society and doomed to die of a horrific disease, alone.  And Jesus heals them, restores them, brings them back to the fullness of life, so to speak. 

Yet only one of them is thankful.  Only one stops, realizes this great gift he’s been given, and chooses to go back, falls at Our Lord’s feet and praises God. 

Where are the other nine? Our Lord asks.  I’m guessing they’re happy to be healed, but hey, getting leprosy was a bum deal, not something they deserved, so heck, they deserve to be healed.  And it seems to me we’re not going to be grateful for anything we think we have coming to us, anything we think we deserve.

We tend to take things for granted, or think we’re deserving, we’re entitled.  Hey I deserve this.  I worked hard for that.  You can’t have a truly thankful heart and an attitude of entitlement.

You can’t have a truly thankful heart with an attitude of pridefulness either.  To be grateful means to be realize the gift, and to realize one’s received an unmerited gift means one must humble oneself.

Or take bitterness or anger – how can we be grateful if we’re bitter or angry?  There’s only room in our hearts for one or the other.

And you see, more than a now and then choice, thankfulness is a way of living.  We’re called to choose to be thankful in every situation, in every, single, moment.  For every moment is a free gift from God who created us - every breath.  Every heartbeat.

Brother David says that the key to living gratefully is simple – same as what we were taught as children learning to cross the street.  Stop. Look. Go. 

We need to intentionally stop in moments of our busy lives. It helps to have little stop signs – he put sticky notes on the water faucets and light switches to stop, to realize the gift of water, or light.   

Then look – open our eyes, our ears, all our senses, most of all our minds and hearts to realize the gifts God has freely given us in these moments.

Then go – in that moment we are called to respond.  Maybe it’s just to enjoy the moment, enjoy the gift. Maybe it’s to act out of great gratitude of heart.

I tried this yesterday/Friday and it works.  I was leaving my day job to drive home, and it had been an exhausting, frustrating day, one of those days where nothing went well, and I was in a sour mood.

As I was walking to my car, I stopped and looked.  Looked up and saw the blue sky, felt the warm breeze on my skin, and I remembered the message of this Gospel – be grateful. 

I took a deep breath.  I thanked God for a spectacular autumn afternoon.  Thanked God that I have this job that yesterday at least was causing all my frustrations.  Noticed the bright yellows and reds in the trees as I drove home.  Thanked  God I have a home, a wonderful wife, a family to come home to.

And what a change of attitude!  My frustrations and anxieties melted away as I was thankful for that moment.  Now the key is to remember to always be thankful.  In every moment to stop and look.  To realize that every single moment is God’s gracious gift to me.

Brothers and sisters, in just a few moments you and I will experience once again the most sublime gift, the most sublime moment - that is Eucharist.  When Jesus asks “Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God,” the Greek word St. Luke uses for give thanks is “eucharistein” – the root of the word Eucharist.  At that moment we will receive into our bodies and souls the very Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Our Blessed Lord, Jesus Christ. 

For that moment, for that gift, let us be truly thankful.  Let us stop. Taste.  See.  Realize what it is, WHO it is, we are receiving.  Let us receive our Lord as His gift, not as something to take, to snatch, from the Communion Minister’s hand, but as a gracious gift, on the tongue or the flat of our hand. 

For we’ve done nothing to deserve this gift.  So many people, so many Christians even, don’t have this gift.  So let us worthily and with grateful hearts receive the Body and Blood of Christ.  And let this gift transform us into always-grateful people.  And unite and transform us His very presence, the presence of Christ in our Community, our nation, our world.

Homily - 15 Sunday in Ordinary Time Cycle C - Sat/Sun July 9/10 2016 - preached 5p,8,11

Mass readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/071016.cfm

I asked the Lord what to say this week, and the first thing I heard was “it’s hot, it’s summer, keep it short!”

If you’re like me, with this Gospel passage, so familiar to all of us, I have to resist the temptation to shut down my ears and heart, saying “I’ve heard this one before.”  It’s hard, I think, to listen to such familiar passages with new ears and hearts.  To say to the Lord, “what would you have me hear and learn today that I’ve never heard before?”

For it’s important, no, it’s critically important, no it’s eternally important, that we understand and integrate, take into our lives, what the Lord is telling us today, commanding us, in fact, this day.  For this Gospel is the very heart of the message of Jesus – it’s the very answer to the lawyer’s question “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Indeed, isn’t it the answer to the question, “what does it mean to be a follower, a disciple, a believer in Jesus Christ?”

And the answer boils down to this, I think – in compassion, in mercy, we go out of our way to help our neighbor.

A man is left half dead by bandits and three people pass by.  A priest.  A Levite.  A Samaritan.  Each, Our Lord tells us, and this is an important detail, sees the man.  The priest and Levite, “saw him and passed by on the opposite side.” 

Why? 

Perhaps frightened that the same thing would happen to them if they were to stop to help. 

Maybe late for a meeting or family gathering. 

Not allowed to touch a corpse, for to do so would make one ritually impure.

Whatever the reason, each was presented with a decision – stop and help or pass by on the other side.

The real reason the two pass by, Our Lord tells us, is this – both lack compassion.   The emotion, the motivation, to “suffer with” another.  Another word for it is empathy – the ability to put oneself in another’s shoes.  How would I want to be treated if it were me left half dead?

It was the hated Samaritan, Our Lord tells us, who was compassionate.  The Samaritan who transcends what he’s been taught about whom to love and whom to hate.  Transcends whom he’d probably been taught who his neighbor was and who wasn’t.

Who might have been late for a meeting himself, who might have been equally repulsed to touch someone who looked like a corpse.

Who stopped, cleaned and bandaged the injured man.  Put him on his beast.  Took him to an inn.  Provided for his care.

Went out of his way to help.

That, I think, is the message for me and you, and as a parish and Church, for all of us this weekend.  The message for you and me and us – who as disciples of Him who is the image of the invisible God, are called to be images of Him. 

Our Blessed Lord commands us, and this is no lofty command, He commands us as His followers to be people who go out of our way to help.  A people who are always open to encountering others, always making ourselves available, to help our neighbor.

And the second thing Our Lord is teaching us is that anyone, friend or foe, everyone is our neighbor. 

Everyone - male, female, black, white, Latino, Asian, believer, unbeliever, Christian, Jew, Muslim, young, old, born, unborn, gay, straight, resident, immigrant, all are our neighbor.  Luke Timothy Johnson writes that Jesus demands that we become people who “treat everyone we encounter – however frightening, alien, naked or defenseless – with compassion.”  “You go and do the same” is His command.

Sisters and brothers, you and I are presented many times each day with such decision points, such opportunities for encounter – walk by on the opposite side or stop to help.  Decisions which place demands on us - demands on our time, our talents, our treasure.  Demands perhaps on our leisure, our comfort, on our convenience.

Checking email a couple days ago, I saw an email for my wife from the Red Cross saying there’s a critical shortage of blood.  I opened the email and saw that there was a blood drive right here at St. Kateri today(yesterday).  Decision point.  I haven’t given blood in a couple years, I thought.  Time to go out of my way.  Plus the chance to practice what I was planning to preach.

In our bulletin most weeks, there is an entire page of ways in which we, too, can be compassionate Samaritans.  Here at St. Kateri we’re blessed that we have so many people who follow this command of Jesus to love neighbor as self – to be merciful and compassionate as we would want to be shown mercy and compassion.  In scores of ways our parishioners going out of their way to reach out to neighbor, visiting the homebound, caring for the sick and dying, transporting the elderly, teaching, coaching, catechizing our youth, singing and serving at funerals, feeding the hungry, and I could go on.

By being open to encountering neighbor in all sorts of ways.  By exercising mercy – the corporal works and the spiritual works of mercy.

Sisters and brothers, we are all called this week, I believe, to examine our lives, our priorities, and how we choose when we are faced with that decision, that eternal decision, one that defines us as disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ.  Do we cross look the other way and cross over to the opposite side? Or with compassion, do we take the risk to stop to help?