Homily from the Fifth Sunday in Easter, Cycle C - Preached 10am St. Kateri at Christ the King

Today's Mass readings:   http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/042416.cfm

Sometimes the three readings at Mass work quite well together, sometimes not.  Sometimes I can’t find a single common thread among the three, and sometimes it’s quite obvious.  Today is one of those times when it’s not so obvious, to me at least.

Yet upon closer review there is a word that appears in all three readings.  Once in the first reading, four times in the second reading.  Once again in the Gospel.  Did you catch it?

New.

I, John, saw a new heaven and a new earth.  I saw a new Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God.  I give you a new commandment.  Behold I make all things new.

OK, I cheated a little with the first reading – Paul and Barnabas proclaimed the good news.  But the whole reading is about all the new churches throughout the region – just like the magnolias blooming all around us, so too were these new Churches budding and buzzing with the excitement of the good news of the salvation of Jesus Christ, proclaimed to the gentiles by the Apostle Paul and his companions.

New.  The Lord makes all things new.  So the obvious question is – what exactly is so new?  And the answer is the same, no matter whether it’s the new heaven and new earth, or the new Churches buzzing with excitement, or the Lord’s new commandment – the answer is love. 

A new kind of love.   A new definition of love.

You see, when the world hears the word “love,” it usually thinks of an intense emotional feeling, one that brings satisfaction, pleasure or happiness to oneself.  It may be an outward-focused feeling toward another, but at the end of the day it’s really kind of inwardly-focused, about what I’m getting out of the love relationship, or from the object of my love.

I “love” ice cream because it tastes delicious.  A young couple might say they love each other because of how wonderful it feels when they’re together.

Jesus has a different meaning altogether.  A new meaning to His world, and still new to ours.  This Gospel, you see, takes place after supper on Holy Thursday, right in between His washing His disciples’ feet and His heading out to the garden, to His inevitable arrest, passion, and death.

And so it’s important to note that His commandment isn’t only to love.  It’s to love one another as I love you, Jesus says.  It means as I have just loved you by washing your feet.  It means as I’m about to love you – on the cross, in total self-giving. 

This is the meaning of the Greek word “agape” – used by St. John in this passage.  The highest form of love.  The love of God.  The love relationship of the Father and the Son – a complete pouring out of self for the other.  The love God has for you and for me.  It’s the same word used by St. Paul in his letters to the Colossians and Ephesians when he compares the love of a husband and a wife to the love of Christ and His Church.

It’s this self-less agape love that is what’s “new” proclaimed in all three of our readings.  A love that is counter-cultural to the self-seeking feeling that this world thinks of when it hears the word “love.”  It’s what we should think of whenever we look upon the ultimate symbol of love, the Holy Cross.

But truth be told, how many people these days look on the Cross of Christ and see a symbol of love?  We live in what some are calling a “post-Christian” world.  A nation in which fully one quarter of the population claims no faith in God.  So much of our nation, and our community, has no frame of reference to see agape love in the Cross of Christ.

No, sisters and brothers, the only way they’re going to see Him, and learn of the agape love He has for each of us, is by the love we have for each other, and for them.

This is the love a Christian husband and wife pledge to each other on their wedding day.  That they give themselves to the other completely and selflessly, through thick and thin.  It’s the love a priest devotes his life to – a fully selfless love of God’s people, his flock.  It’s the love each one of us signed up for on the day of our baptism, when we were counted as His disciples, obedient to His commandments.

We are blessed to have the example of so many saints who, despite their weaknesses, despite their sinfulness, chose to love selflessly as He loved.  Saint Frances Xavier Cabrini, missionary to immigrants in the United States, or Saint Katherine Drexel, who gave up her family fortune to devote her life to caring for native Americans in the west and southwest.  We all know of our contemporary, Mother Teresa, who will be canonized a saint this summer.

But don’t we all also have examples in flesh-and-blood people we know, who day in and day out exhibit selfless, agape, Christlike love?  The selflessness of my mom, and my wife, come to mind as examples of selfless love. 

Chris and MaryBeth come to mind.  They were a regular, happily married, middle-age couple raising their two daughters.  MaryBeth had been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis fifteen or so years ago, but some powerful new medicines were keeping her MS symptoms pretty much at bay and she was able to live a pretty normal life. 

That is, until a couple years ago when the drug she was taking triggered a rare viral brain infection that nearly took her life, and left her with multiple disabilities.  Well, not too long ago, my wife and I were at a gathering and Chris and MaryBeth were there.  And I have to tell you - the patience, and gentle care, and obvious love that Chris has for his wife, helping her to stand up, leading her around, taking her even to use the restroom – it was absolutely beautiful – a striking example to me of agape, self-giving love. 

I’m sure when Chris vowed on their wedding day to love MaryBeth “for better or for worse” I can’t imagine he had this kind of future life in mind, but he makes the decision every day to be there for his wife, to love and care for her.  That was a clear picture to me of loving as Jesus loved.

But no matter our circumstances, we all called to love selflessly, as Jesus loved, in the every day moments of our lives.  As St Therese of Lisieux taught, even if we don’t have the opportunity to love greatly, as have canonized saints, as have our friends Chris and MaryBeth, we do have the opportunity to do “little things with great love.”

Make little decisions to love at every moment.  To say a kind word when we might have been silent.  To stop ourselves from saying an unkind word.  To look for the little needs all around us and to go out of our way to  help satisfy those needs. 

Forgiven here in the Sacrament of Penance, and fed here at His altar with His very Body and Blood, you and I, brothers and sisters, are sanctified and strengthened and called to go forth from here to show this world what is truly “new” and different – to show the world what true love is.  To demonstrate by our very lives that same self-giving love Jesus Christ shows, to show that same self-giving love to each other.

They will know we are His disciples, they will know we are Christians, only by our love.

Preached for the Fourth Sunday in Easter, Cycle C - St Kateri at St. Cecilia 5p and 9a

Today's Mass readings:   http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/041716.cfm

It was summertime, 13 years ago.  My wife and I and a dozen other couples involved with Marriage Encounter were planning to go to the national Marriage Encounter convention out near Chicago.  How will we get there, we were trying to figure out. 

Carpool?  Kind of a long drive.  Fly?  Pretty expensive, and we still have to get from the airport to the convention site.  What about the train, one couple asked.  Don’t have to drive, cheaper than flying, and you get to see the beautiful scenery out the window, like you see in the Amtrak brochures.

Having gone to college in the Midwest, I spoke up.  The only scenery you’ll see, I said, is the butt-end of factories and junk-yards in Buffalo, Erie, Cleveland, Toledo and South Bend!  Plus it will be dark for most of the trip, we’d sleep sitting up in our seats and arrive exhausted.  It’s not what you imagine it’ll be.  Plus I took the train for every break during college – been there, done that, no thanks, I said.

So, using frequent flyer miles, Pam and I flew.  Flew right over all those factories and junk-yards, arriving in about 1/10 the time.  But even though each of the train couples confirmed everything I had said, what they saw, how dark it was, and their lack of sleep, I kind of wished we’d have taken the train too.  We missed out on something.   We missed out on being with our Marriage Encounter friends.  We missed out on interacting with the people on the train, mostly folks who can’t afford to fly.  We even missed out seeing the butt-end of factories and junkyards.

Our lives can be like that, too, huh?  Flyovers.  Avoiding, or at least trying to avoid, the messiness.  There are dirt-poor people right here in our community, so we clear our consciences by writing a check or casting our vote.  Even where we live can be sort of a fly-over.  Some moved to suburbs for a bit of land and a quieter life.  Some moved to avoid “those people.”

This weekend we celebrate “Good Shepherd Sunday,” and the “one message” for all of us in our parish is this: “can you smell the sheep?”  This was a quote of Pope Francis, speaking to our priests not too long ago, exhorting them not to do a priestly “fly-over,” so to speak, but as shepherds, get in there with your sheep, get involved in their lives, get close enough to them to smell them.  To even start smelling like them.

Sheep, after all, are cute.  Anyone who’s seen a flock of sheep in a meadow will remember the serene peacefulness, not realizing how smelly these animals are. 

Well so are we, brothers and sisters.  It may look like we have our act together and lead picture-perfect lives like the Amtrak brochure pictures of lakes and mountains, but our lives, each of us, are at least partly broken, messy, “smelly,” so-to-speak.  Who among us can say they know nothing of the pain or hard-heartedness of broken relationships, the damage of addictions, the grief or regrets from the death of friends or family, the hopelessness of job loss or serious illness, the guilt of sin?

What the Holy Father was telling our priests was – get in there, into peoples’ lives, be present to them where they’re at,  heal their wounds, be the living presence of the Lord, the Good Shepherd to them. Get so close to the sheep, holding them, carrying them, that you begin to smell like them.

But that message isn’t only for our priests, is it?  In whatever our vocation, and we join with the worldwide Church today in praying today for priestly and religious vocations, in whatever our vocation, you and I, too, act as shepherds, too, and you and I are called to get down and get close enough to smell the sheep.

What does that look like in our marriages?  Are our marriages flyovers, do we live like ships passing in the night, or are we truly present to our spouses, meeting their needs for intimacy, deep communication and validation?  Just last night my wife was trying to say something important to me, and she was really hurt when I wouldn’t put down my smart phone.

And as parents are we only about going to work and supporting our families, or do we truly get to know our kids, their hopes, their dreams, their fears, where they’re really at in this very different, frightening world?

And in our other ways of service, and make no mistake, we are all called to service, are we flying over or are we in there with the sheep?

As part of my preparation to be ordained a deacon, I worked for a summer as a hospice chaplain, assigned to go visit and care for the spiritual needs of about a dozen dying hospice patients.  I’ll never forget one man, George.  I went to visit him one day at his nursing home.  As many hospice patients are, he was incontinent, wearing depends.

“George, how are you today?” I asked him.

“I was doing great ‘til about five minutes ago.”

“Why, what happened five minutes ago?”

“I had a bowel movement,” he said.

“Hold on,” I said.  “I’ll go get the nurse to get you cleaned up.” 

Recently my wife and I started working a volunteer shift at Sunset House, our local Irondequoit hospice, and now if that conversation were to happen at Sunset House, it’s up to Pam and me to get George cleaned up.  I had been present to George, and hopefully met some of his spiritual needs, but looking back that was kind of a flyover.

Or another story, this one from Holy Week.   It was Holy Thursday.   Sister Grace, the 80-year old nun who runs the House of Mercy homeless shelter over on Hudson Avenue, had put out a call on social media for donations of Easter hams, and it was my intention to buy some and bring them down there, but I forgot.  So I called my wife and she went and bought them and delivered them.  Felt real good about ourselves.

But the following day, a friend of ours was leaving Good Friday service here at St. Cecilia, and as he was heading to his car up walks an obviously homeless man, asks for some food, “I’m hungry.”  Not wanting to hand him money, our friend says “come on, I’ll take you to get you something to eat.”  Finds out his name is Tom and he lives under a bridge, and doesn’t have a thing in this world other than the clothes on his back. Seeing the condition of Tom’s shirt, and noticing how bad he smelled, our friend took off his shirt, neatly folded it up and gave it to him.

And then took him to Wendy’s and fed him and then our friend says “Are you familiar with the House of Mercy?  Mind if I take you there, it’s a warm place to stay.”  And so he did.  And gave another homeless man his gloves on the way there.

I still feel good about our donation of the hams, but this friend of ours is the one who got close enough to smell the sheep.  So like many of my homilies, this one’s as much for the guy standing up here as it is for anyone else.

So, sisters and brothers, the takeaway this week is this - you and I are called, in all our vocations, in all the ways in which we shepherd others, to a new level of intimacy, a new level of service, a deeper level of love.  Like our Blessed Lord Jesus Christ, who is the Good Shepherd, you and I are called to let ourselves get close enough to smell our sheep.

Preached Tuesday, April 12 - Communion Service - St. Kateri at Christ the King 6:30a

Today's Readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/041216.cfm

We continue our journey through the Acts of the Apostles.  I love these daily updates of all that was happening in the first days of the new Church.  Today we continue the story of the Deacon St. Stephen, how he courageously spoke the word to power, much as the Lord Himself had done, and how he met the same sort of fate – his death, though, by stoning, and how he practically echoed the Lord’s words as he neared the end – “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.”  And, of course, the very last line places this young man Saul at the scene, consenting to Stephen’s execution.

What are we to make of this?

First of all, I think, it would have been quite easy for Stephen to clam up and save his own skin, or even deny the Lord, as had Peter at the Lord’s passion.  But filled with the Holy Spirit, he could not.  He was compelled to speak in truth and courage, despite the consequences. So the first takeaway is that you and I, like Stephen, are called to be courageous, to speak the truth even against power, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Second, this first reading serves as a foreshadowing of Friday’s reading, that being the amazing conversion of St. Paul on the road to Damascus.  We see a faithful, fervent, zealous Saul today, so attached to the faith that he was willing to oversee the death of Stephen in an effort to stamp out the name of the Lord.  But Saul had largely missed the message from the Hebrew scriptures, one that was fulfilled in the person of the Lord Jesus Christ, namely “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” 

It is easy for us, too, I think (or at least for me) to get caught up in “the rules” and forget that the message of the Lord was love and mercy and conversion of heart. 

But the last thought I’ll leave you with is this – that nobody is ever beyond hope.  As we’ll hear on Friday, the Lord can change even the hardest heart, as He did Saul’s, who became one of our greatest saints, Paul. 

And no one, no matter what they’ve done or failed to do, is so sinful, or weak, or unworthy that the Lord may not have a great mission in mind for them.  After all, none of us is truly “worthy” of the Lord’s calling to us, yet call He does.  It is incumbent on us, then, to listen and follow.

Preached today - Third Sunday of Easter Cycle C, Sunday, April 10, 2016 - St. Kateri at St. Margaret Mary

Today's Mass readings:   http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/041016.cfm

Biblical scholars believe that there was another Gospel, long lost, often referred to as the “Q” Gospel, that came before the synoptic Gospels – Matthew Mark and Luke, and was the starting point for each of those Evangelists’ gospels.  Just last week there was a story in the news – archeologists in the Holy Land uncovered an ancient text – which they believe might just be this long lost “Q” Gospel.

As I was meditating and praying on these readings, I imagined - what if these same archeologists uncovered another ancient text, the ancient diary, or personal journal, of the same St. Peter who figures so prominently in today’s Gospel.  And that you and I got to read the pages of this journal he might have written around the time of Holy Week and just after – those days we’ve been remembering and celebrating these last few weeks.  What is it that Peter might have written? 

So here are few of the pages I imagine he might have written in his daily journal:

Friday, March 25 – The worst day of my life, bar none.  I mean maybe we should have seen it coming, they’ve been threatening Jesus for weeks, and He’s been dropping hints about what might happen, but last night they finally got him – we were in the garden after supper, and along comes this small army of the temple guard led by, of all people, Judas!  And they arrested the Lord!  I was panicked.  Didn’t know what to do.    

They hauled him off to the chief priests, mocked him, spat on him.  Took him to Pilate and he gave in and ordered that he be crucified!  And that’s just what they did – they’ve killed my Lord, my friend, my best friend, and I’m beside myself.  I don’t know what to do – I’m afraid they’ll come for me next, and at the same time I’m so despondent, I’m tempted to end it all like Judas just  did.

‘Cause as if it’s not bad enough that they murdered my Lord, I denied Him.  Three times.  And I’m pretty sure He heard me that last time.  Don’t even know the man, I said.  My betrayal was the last thing he heard come out of my mouth.  NOOO!  I have no idea how I can go on.

Sunday March 27 – the most amazing day of my life, bar none.  Got the group together in the upper room, and then here comes Mary Magdalen saying something about the Lord not being in his tomb.  John and I raced to the tomb, found it empty, the cloths all rolled up.  Could it be?  I mean, he said he’d be raised from the dead after three days, but we had no idea what he was talking about. 

Then tonight, he came and stood before us.  Stood right before us!  Jesus is alive!  Unbelievable I know, but there he was!  First words out of his mouth were “peace be with you.”  Peace, right.  For right then it hit me.  As overjoyed as I was, how can I forget how I let him down, how I abandoned him in his time of need.  I kept expecting him to pull me aside for “the talk.” 

You know.  The talk.  Where he says “Peter, how could you?  Here I am, staring death in the face, all alone, and my best friend, warming himself at a charcoal fire, says he doesn’t even know me.  Well, Peter, you let me down.  Totally.  I was totally wrong about you.  You don’t even know me?  Well guess what.  I don’t know you either.  I thought you could do the job, be my main man, and all you got is ‘I don’t even know the man.’”    

But all he said was “Peace be with you.”  Twice again.  He must be saving “the talk” for later.

Sunday April 3 – we were hanging out in the room again, and there he was again – the Lord! Totally weird – I mean I’m just filled with joy to see him, to know that He lives, yet each time he looks at me I have to look away.  I’m not looking forward to “the talk.”

Anyway, Thomas was there tonight.  Touched the Lord’s nailmarks, put his hand right in his side.  Said “My Lord and My God.”  I wanted to shout “AMEN” but thought it best not to be noticed.  I don’t know what I’m gonna do.

Friday April 8 – I’m completely confused.  So filled with joy to think that Jesus lives, and so filled with anxiety, and fear even, for that inevitable moment when he points at me and says “Peter we gotta talk.”  Maybe he didn’t hear me.  Nah.  He heard me.  He looked right at me.  Looked so hurt, so let down.  I think it’s best if I head back to Galilee, back to fishing.

Sunday April 10 – the most amazing day of my life.  You know how fearful I was of “the talk?”  Well it all started out this morning.  We were out in the boat, catching nothing.  Dude on the shore tells us “try the other side of the boat.”  Right.  Like we have no idea what we’re doing.  Thanks for the advice.  Anyway, what the heck.  We did it, and almost broke the nets we caught so many fish!  That dude? – it was the Lord! 

I was so excited, I jumped right in and swam to Him.  I so want to be with him again.  But I’m so afraid of him.

Anyway, he had a fire going and said “bring over some of those fish.”  Charcoal fire.  Uh oh.  Charcoal again.  He must have heard me.  Here it comes-the talk.  Brace myself.

But as he’s done ever since we first met, he completely surprised me.  Oh it was clear, he heard me all right, but there was no scorn, no judgment, no criticism either.  No.  All he did was ask me, “Peter do you love me?”  Three times.  Of course I said yes.  This was my second chance.  To say “yes” three times.  Yes, Lord, you KNOW that I love you. Then “Feed my lambs.  Tend my sheep.  Feed my sheep.”

And that was it.  He completely forgave me.  Completely healed me.  Completely accepted me.  Drenched me in His mercy.

              I’ve never felt so free in all my life.  So relieved.  So unburdened. 

So loved. 

It was the most amazing moment of my life.   I’ll never forget it.  That’s for sure.

And here’s the thing.  Now I know what my life is all about.  For all the rest of my days, my  life is about him.  Jesus.  The Lord of my life.  I will never abandon him again.  Who knows, I may even have to die for him.  Bring it on, I’m ready.

* * * * * * *

And that’s all they found of this journal.

My sisters and brother, you and I know the rest of this story.  That this man Peter, who failed the Lord, sinful and weak as he was, was chosen by Jesus for the vocation to lead Our Lord’s new Church, to tend His sheep and feed His lambs, and we know that he did, in fact, go to his own death for the sake of the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Next Sunday is the World Day of Prayer for vocations, a day in which we are all called to pray for vocations in the Church.  You and I, brothers and sisters, despite our own sinfulness, despite our own weakness, maybe even if we’ve betrayed the Lord, you and I are called to listen and take up our own vocations in the Church, whatever that might look like.  Maybe a new vocation.  Maybe ever deepening vocation.

All this week, it would be very good for each one of us, young and old, to ask the Lord – what is it you’re calling me to do, to be?  Lord, how would you have me give you my life in service to you and your people?

And He will answer, if we listen.

Whatever is our vocation, whether that means consecrated religious, faithful husband or wife, devoted and loving priest, servant deacon, or any of the myriad ways of serving in the Church, know this.  He is looking on us with eyes of love, and mercy, and compassion, and He is calling each of us, to feed His lambs.  Tend His sheep.  Feed His sheep.

In love and thanksgiving, let each of us, as Peter did, answer His call and embrace our vocation.