Preached for the Fifth Sunday in Lent, April 2, 2017 - St Kateri at Christ the King

Today's scripture proclamations:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/040217.cfm

“And Jesus wept.”

The shortest verse in the entire Bible, and yet one of the most powerful.  And Jesus Wept.  In three words, we hear such humanity, such compassion, and it is clear that Jesus knew what we know of too well, huh – the pain, the anguish, the emptiness of grief, of loss.

I can remember that Thursday afternoon vividly, standing over here in the big room at Harris.  Staring at my mom.  I knew she wasn’t asleep, of that I was sure.  My mind raced back to my childhood – to all those nights Mom had fallen asleep on the couch, exhausted from a day of raising us kids, her mouth wide open – “I’m catching flies” she used to joke. 

No, she was not asleep.  Her mouth tightly shut, lipstick neatly applied, hair was perfectly arranged – no curlers like she used to wear at night.  No.  My mom was dead.  Lying here before me in the casket my siblings and I had picked out just the day before, now beautifully dressed, a peaceful look on her powdered face, nothing like the pained, anguished look she had when I last saw her at the nursing home, struggling for each breath before finally giving up.

“Calling hours begin at two, so would the family please be here at 1:30,” the funeral director had told us.  This was that awkward half hour – time to first view the body, console one another, and steel our demeanor before the well-wishers arrive.  A moment seared in my memory forever.

And I recall saying a quick prayer, a much nicer one than I had been thinking at the nursing home three days earlier – which went something like this: “Lord if you had been here, my mother would not have died.”  No, now I prayed “Jesus, you can raise her.  You raised Lazarus, and he had been dead four days and wrapped and buried in the tomb.  This is only the third day for my mom.”  I watched her closely, hoping to see her chest rise and fall with new breath.  Nothing.  Unlike Lazarus, Mom’s not coming back.

Ah, but she is!  We believe that, our faith tells us that!  You see, this Jesus Christ, who is both living water and the light of the world today proclaims to us that He, Jesus, is the Resurrection and the Life!    Now I have to believe that nearly every one of us has experienced the death of a loved one.  Yes, each of us has been there, weeping along with Mary and Martha, weeping along with Our Blessed Lord. 

And each of us will one day experience our own physical death, so for us these words of Jesus give us great hope and comfort!  “I am the Resurrection and the Life,” He says.  “Whoever believes in me, even if they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”  My mother, who died in Faith, will one day sit up, climb out of that box and walk out of her tomb!  I believe this.  And I believe if I die in His friendship, and you, we will walk out of our tombs as well!

But, my brothers and sisters, this hope is not just for those who have fallen asleep.  For Jesus is the Resurrection, but He is also the LIFE!  And His promise is not only life after death, but he promises us eternal life beginning NOW.  Jesus, who has the power to raise Lazarus from the dead, can bring new life into the darkest times and situations we face, in our lives, NOW. 

He stands before whatever tombs are in our lives - broken relationships, sinful addictions, grudges that we cling to, forgiveness we refuse to give, job losses, broken or troubled marriages, whatever it is that wraps us up, binds us and entombs us, and He asks us:

“Do you believe that I can heal this?  That I can bring light into this darkness, life from this death?  Do you believe in ME?”

It’s the very same question He asks Martha “Do you believe this?” It’s the same question He asks of our catechumens, who will answer “yes!” in the waters of baptism in two weeks at the Easter Vigil, when they are also confirmed and share in Christ’s very Body and Blood in the Sacrament of Eucharist.  And He asks each of us today, “Do you believe this?”

It’s a question that demands an answer.  That demands that we choose.  That we choose with our entire lives.  A choice to place all our trust in Him and leave behind our tombs of sinfulness, leave behind all that binds us, no longer alive, dead for a long time.   A choice to stop stumbling in darkness, afraid to come out into the light.  A choice to open ourselves to Him, to seek His forgiveness, to allow Him to place within us His Spirit, that we may live!  A choice to say YES, LORD, I believe in you with all my heart.   

With only a couple weeks left in this holy season of Lent, what better time is there than now to experience the Lord’s life-giving, loving mercy.  In the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  Entering the confessional, which you could liken to a tomb, bringing with you whatever it is – that awful weight you’re carrying, that habit or addiction that binds you tight, that baggage and sin you think He could never forgive.  And you hear those most beautiful words, being spoken by the Lord Himself through the voice of the priest “by the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  He’s there ready to remove the weight, untie the binding, forgive you and give you peace. So you can walk out free and in a very real sense, alive again.

To each one of us today, Jesus shouts those liberating words of life, "Lazarus, come forth!" He’s calling us to wake from our sleep.  To rise from our tombs.  To walk in new life, in Faith in Christ Jesus, who is Lord forever and ever.  Amen.

Homily for the Second Sunday in Lent, March 12, 2017

Today's scripture readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/031217.cfm

I guess I never realized it before, but every single year, on the second Sunday of Lent, Holy Mother Church gives us for a Gospel proclamation this amazing event, the Transfiguration of Christ.  This year it’s Matthew’s account.  Last year it was Luke.  Next year Mark.  But every year, year in and year out, we hear of Christ’s transfiguration at this point in our Lenten journey.

And so all week long, I’ve been asking myself, why?  Why is that?  What is there about this Gospel that merits such a place in the Church calendar, such a place in the holy season of Lent, only the second Sunday, still near the beginning.  For there must be a very good reason, I thought, but if there’s an “official answer” nobody’s shared it with me.  So I came up with a few answers of my own.

First answer is this – we are to begin this holy season with the end in mind.  We begin our time of self-denial – of deep prayer, fasting, abstinence, and almsgiving with a clear picture of why we are observing this season – the vision of the transfigured Christ.  A glimpse of Christ in all His glory, His face shining like the sun, His clothes dazzling white.  A glimpse of the glory of Christ on Easter morn.  And it’s the beatific vision, the face of Christ that you and I look forward to beholding when we meet Him on the last day, on our last day.

Second reason – we experience in this Gospel scene the holiness, the “otherness” of Christ.  We focus a lot on the mercy of  Christ, but isn’t it just as critical to focus on His holiness, and His call to us to holiness.

Today we have this amazing visual, we are shown exactly who this Christ is – transfigured in His glory.  And we hear those beautiful words of the Father, “this is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.  Listen to Him.”  Who is Jesus?  The Christ, the Son of the living God.  Jesus is God Himself.  We see in vivid detail His holiness, His godliness.

Now imagine for a moment if you and I were there alongside Peter, James and John.  What would your reaction be?  Mine, I decided, would be more like Peter’s from an earlier time – “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”  In the light of Christ’s transfigured glory, in the presence of Moses and Elijah, I would feel so unworthy.  I would see, and feel, my own sinfulness in sharp relief against His glory.

For if Christ is transfigured, you and I are disfigured, in our brokenness, in our sin.  You and I, in our sin, fracture and damage our relationship with Christ, the Son of the living God.  Rather than to listen to Him, we listen to other voices, too often our own.  Rather than to realize that He is God and we are not, to give Him worship and praise and glory, we build ourselves up, we worship and praise and glorify only ourselves.

But the beautiful thing is, that’s why He came, that’s why He suffered and died and rose again.  So we can be healed and restored.  In a word, so that we can be saved.  Not just at the end of our lives, but by His mercy, here and now.  To live differently

This season of Lent is a special time of healing and restoration.  Of believing in His love for us. A time of really listening to Him. Of listening to His call to us to live a holy life, as St. Paul writes to Timothy in our second reading.

It’s also a time of great grace, for by His grace, you and I who are disfigured by sin, may be configured to Him.  Come to live more and more in His image and likeness.  As Christ is seen conversing with Moses and Elijah, representing the law and prophets, we may come to live in more perfect obedience to His law, and more dedicated to bringing about the justice the prophets thirsted for.

And this is the hard part – may we be configured to His Cross, to His suffering and death.  In the verses just prior to this transfiguration Gospel, Our Lord teaches very powerfully that “anyone who wishes to come after me must take up his cross and follow after me.”   St. Paul commands Timothy, and you and me, too, to “bear your share of hardship for the gospel with the strength that comes from God.” 

So the third answer to my question is this – Strength and faith. Surely the vision of Christ in His glory on Mount Tabor gave great strength and increased faith to Peter, James and John.  Strength that was vital when only weeks later, when they walked up another mountain.  When they saw Christ nailed to the Cross on Calvary.

So let this time of Lent be a time of great grace – of configuring our lives to His, and uniting our sufferings, our own heavy crosses, to His passion.

Fourth answer - this Gospel, in which Christ is transfigured, is also a picture of the future that awaits each of us if we follow after Him and remain in Him to the end.  It is a prefigurement, if you will, of our own eternal destiny.  Of that day when, having been saved from the disfigurement of sin by His passion and death, and by grace strengthened and configured to Him and His life, passion and death, you and I may be raised up and transfigured.  Our own faces shining like the sun.  Our clothes radiant in dazzling brilliance.

A foretaste, a glimpse, of our own Easter Sunday, when you and I, too will rise with Him in glory, to live eternally with the Father, His beloved Son, in the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Homily - 8th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A - February 25/26, 4:30p,8a, 10a St Kateri at Christ the King and St. Margaret Mary

Today's scripture proclamations:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/022617.cfm

Powerball this past Wednesday was worth $435 million.  I don’t usually buy lottery tickets, but when it gets that high, sometimes I do. This week I did - I bargained with the Lord – said God, if I win I’ll spend the rest of my days figuring out how to give it all away to do the most good.  Apparently, He didn’t believe me.  The winning ticket was bought by some lucky soul in Indiana.  So I go to work.

Now some permanent deacons have jobs in ministry, working for a paycheck from the Church.  Some are retired and can devote much of their time to their ministry.  And some go to work in a secular day job in order to put food on the table and a roof over their families’ heads.

I’m in that last group - those permanent deacons whose ministry is largely confined to doing what I can on weekends, trying to balance diaconal ministry with my first ministry, that of husband and father, and balancing it all with the demands of a day job.

I was blessed to find a new day job last year, leaving my last employer for a number of reasons – some disagreements, some discomfort with the products the company made (mostly used in military applications),  better opportunity, more challenge, better pay.  In my first year all of the above have come to pass – especially the challenge.  The new job has a long commute and I’ve wound up working a large number of hours, sacrificing time I would have spent with my wife and family, even time in prayer and at daily Mass, time I could have spent in my diaconal ministry.

So these readings, especially this Gospel, raise for me the important question – why?  While preparing for her women’s bible study last Sunday, my wife turned to me with that question – why? Why do you do it?  Is it for the challenge, like you’re fond of saying, or is it really for the money, for a bonus?  Ouch, I said to myself.  Am I serving God, or mammon?  Ouch.

But but but, I rationalized - we just put three kids through college.  We haven’t saved enough for retirement.  Still have to pay the mortgage – wouldn’t it be nice to someday have the house paid for.  And we like to be generous with our money.  Dot dot dot.

Truth be told, her question continues to be on my mind and heart, as I contemplate, as I examine, my motives – what is driving my behavior?  Whom, or what, am I really worshipping? 

And why am I so worried?  Until she asked that question, I’d have said I have few money worries.  But after some thought, I have to admit maybe it’s worry about the future that has me running faster and faster on the wheel.

Now if your mind has wandered off thinking about your own worries, and who doesn’t have them, please come back.  Eyes up here.

My point is this – we all have worries.  Even the deacon and priest.  And not just money.  Kids – what mom won’t admit she worries about her kids?  Even grown up and gone from our house, we still worry about our kids, huh?  Health concerns.  The economy. Staying employed. This dark, increasingly secular culture.  You name it, there’s no shortage of things to worry about.

But what’s really accomplished by worry?  If we stop to think about that, we’d realize two things – first, what a very wise parishioner told my wife awhile back.  “Worry,” she said, “is wasted prayer.” Worry is wasted prayer.  And it is. 

If we took the time spent worrying and devoted it to prayer instead, in giving over our concerns to the Lord, we would not only enlist His help (not that He doesn’t already know our needs – He tells us today very clearly that He does!), but we’d also be a lot less stressed.  We would, in a word, abandon ourselves into His hands, into His arms. And that would bring us the peace that we so desire.

Second, we’d realize that worry, part of the human condition of suffering that it is, is really a lack of trust.  A lack of faith.  We don’t trust enough in a loving God, a God who even if life isn’t turning out exactly how we want, always walks with us, cares for us.  And even if bad things befall us or the people we love, we have His promise that if we’re faithful to Him, in the end it will turn out, well, heavenly.

So we don’t trust enough, huh?  Our Blessed Lord is saying quite clearly in this Gospel, I think, that we need to trust His Father.

What does this kind of trust look like, exactly?  I came upon a rather vivid image of this kind of trust this week reading this book a parishioner gave me.  In what turned out to be the last year of his life, Henri Nouwen made a sabbatical and wrote a daily journal which is now this book, and reading a few pages I was directed to a passage from another of his books.

By way of background, Nouwen was in Europe and became fast friends with a troupe of trapeze artists called the Flying Rodleighs, and was enamored with their high wire theatrics.  Flying through the air, a flyer and a catcher.  The flyer who would let go of the swing, tumble through the air, and be grabbed out of the air by the catcher.  Nouwen wrote:

"When the circus came to Freiburg two years ago, friends invited me and my father to see the show. I’ll never forget how enraptured I became when I first saw the Rodleighs move through the air, flying and catching as elegant dancers.

"One day, I was sitting with the leader of the troupe, talking about flying. He said, 'As a flyer, I must have complete trust in my catcher. The public might think that I’m the great star of the trapeze, but the real star is Joe, my catcher. He has to be there for me with split-second precision and grab me out of the air as I come to him in the long jump.' 'How does it work?' I asked. 'The secret,' Rodleigh said, 'is that the flyer does nothing and the catcher does everything. When I fly to Joe, I have simply to stretch out my arms and hands and wait for him to catch me and pull me to safety.'

" 'You do nothing!' I said, surprised. 'Nothing,' Rodleigh repeated. 'The worst thing the flyer can do is to try to catch the catcher. I’m not supposed to catch Joe. It's Joe's task to catch me. If I grabbed Joe's wrists, I might break them, or he might break mine, and that would be the end for both of us. A flyer must fly, and a catcher must catch, and the flyer must trust, with outstretched arms, that his catcher will be there for him.'

"When Rodleigh said this with so much conviction, the words of Jesus flashed through my mind: 'Father into your hands I commend my Spirit.' ... 'Don't be afraid. Remember that you are the beloved child of God. He will be there when you make your long jump. Don't try to grab him; he’ll grab you. Just stretch out your arms and hands and trust, trust, trust.' "

What a beautiful and powerful image of the trust we need to have in God’s love for us.  To let go of the bar, tumble through the air of our lives, and let Him catch us.  With complete abandonment.  With complete hope.  With complete trust.  That’s the remedy for worry, isn’t it?  Complete trust.

Let me close with this beautiful prayer I read in the same book, a prayer Henri Nouwen prayed every morning, a prayer by Charles de Foucauld:

Father,

I abandon myself into your hands;

do with me what you will.

Whatever you may do, I thank you:

I am ready for all, I accept all.

Let only your will be done in me,

and in all your creatures -

I wish no more than this, O Lord.

Into your hands I commend my soul:

I offer it to you with all the love of my heart,

for I love you, Lord, and so need to give myself,

to surrender myself into your hands without reserve,

and with boundless confidence,

for you are my Father. Amen.

Homily preached for the Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time - January 29, 2017 - St. Kateri at St. Margaret Mary

Today's scripture proclamations:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/012917.cfm

I can still recall the conversation pretty clearly, happened almost thirty years ago.  I had been looking for a new job.  A first interview at one company, then a call-back and second interview with the company owner.  Seemed to go pretty well, and now I was getting pretty cocky, thinking this is a slam dunk.

Couple days later, waiting to hear from them, waiting for the offer I’m expecting, I’m reading the want ads (this was long before monster.com), and I focus on this job description.  I read a couple lines – sounds good.  Read a couple more – sounds familiar.  Read the last - hey wait a minute - this sounds exactly like the job I just interviewed for twice.

So I call the headhunter.  I say I read your ad – is this so-and-so company?”  “It is,” she said, “how did you guess?” 

“Because it sounds exactly like the job I just interviewed for over there.”  “I’m really sorry, that’s too bad.” she says.  “They called us yesterday and said they wanted more candidates.”  “Bummer,” I said, and wrote off that opportunity.

Happy ending, though, for eventually I did get the offer and spent a few good years at that company.

Today’s Gospel proclamation, from Our Lord's sermon on the mount, presents us a bit of a job description, too, doesn’t it?  These eight beatitudes, which means blessednesses, or graces, these eight are kind of like the Lord’s job description for anyone who would be His disciple, His follower.

I must confess, I’ve never been all that fond of these beatitudes, they’ve always made me feel a little uncomfortable. I’ve always found them challenging.  Certainly never wanted to preach about them. 

Why?  Because unlike that job I’d interviewed for, with its every requirement one I thought I was a perfect match for, truth be told I’ve never necessarily thought of myself when presented with, or thinking about, these eight beatitudes.  No.  I’ve always squirmed a little.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, meaning those unattached to the things of this world.  Me? 

Blessed are the meek, meaning not weak, but controlled strength and humble.  Does that describe me?  Or would overbearing and obnoxious be a better description, at least a lot of the time.

Blessed are they who mourn, yes meaning those who have lost loved ones, but also meaning those who decry the vast evil in the world, like those who traveled to Washington Friday for the 44^th March for Life.  Am I always mournful, unsettled by the world’s evils and injustices?

Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for justice, who will not be silent in the face of injustice.  Like Cardinal Tobin of Newark, close friend by the way of our pastor, who this week spoke out against the new President’s immigration actions, saying that our welcome to immigrants is one of the things that made America great in the first place.  Am I like that?  Is my life about hungering and thirsting for justice?

Blessed are they who show mercy.  What humility it takes, doesn’t it?  To put aside self and ego to give forgiveness and mercy.  What grudges do I cling to?  And do I spend my time doing the works of mercy, corporal and spiritual?

Blessed are the clean of heart.  Is mine clean, or is it smudged by greed, or pride, or lust?

Blessed are the peacemakers.  Do I seek to bring about peace in the situations of my life?  I can too easily recall being an agent of conflict and divisiveness.

Blessed are they who are persecuted for justice’s sake.  Am I OK with being persecuted, or do I dwell on what others think of me, yearning to be accepted, fearing I won’t be liked?

If you’re like me, going through this list, you might find it pretty uncomfortable, too.  And I’m pretty sure Jesus meant it to be just that – dis-comforting - shaking us out of our comfort zones.

But here’s the thing – I’m also pretty sure that the same Jesus who is telling us today – this is what it means to be my disciple – I’m pretty sure He also will give us the grace to live the beatitudes out.  Give us the grace to desire to live the beatitudes out.

You see, as we grow in faith, becoming more sure of His love, He places within us the seed of desire to more and more live this way.  He places within us a desire to know Him better, to live more like Him.  And these beatitudes are what it means to live like Him.

Imagine the difference we would make in the world if each of us were to live the beatitudes, if the world saw the beatitudes in each of us, in all of us.  The would see Christ in each of us.

For these are not only our job description.  They’re also a pretty darn good description of what Our Lord Jesus was all about, too, huh?  Meek, not weak.   Humble and poor in spirit.  Mournful of the sin, the evil around Him.  Yearning for righteousness and justice.  Showing incredible mercy.  Making peace.  Pure of heart.  And willing to suffer persecution and yes, even death, death on a cross. 

That describes Jesus to a T.  And with His grace, with the help of His sacraments, especially Eucharist - His Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity we receive into our bodies and souls here at the altar, yes you and I can live more and more a beatitude life.

Now Our Lord’s job description doesn’t come with a promise of competitive pay but it does promise great benefits.  It promises peace and joy in this life and the best retirement.  Just look what you and I are promised, and what we have to look forward to – you and I will be comforted, shown mercy, we’ll inherit the land, we’ll be satisfied.  You and I will be called children of God, will see God and inherit His Kingdom of Heaven, for all eternity.

Now who could ever turn down an offer like that?

Homily - Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, January 22, 2017 - 8a/10a St. Margaret Mary / Christ the King

Today's scripture proclamations:   http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/012217.cfm

Today is an anniversary.  A joy-filled anniversary!  The 61st anniversary, the 61^st birthday, of our pastor, Father Paul English.  A day to celebrate and give thanks for the gift to all of us that this joy-filled priest is and has been to our parish, to each of us.

But you may be aware that today is also another anniversary.  A rather dark, tragic anniversary.  For it was 44 years ago today that our Supreme Court intervened in time and law and without precedent lifted virtually every legal protection afforded to our smallest and most vulnerable sisters and brothers, the unborn, when they legalized abortion in all fifty states, for all nine months of pregnancy.

This has brought a darkness over our land, a gloom that persists to this day.  We probably don’t think about it very much – out of sight, out of mind.  Two years ago 137 people died in the Paris terrorist attacks.  Last June 42 at the airport in Istanbul and another 49 at the night club in Orlando.  About 3,000 persons perished on 9/11.  I could go on.   All made international news, and rightly so.

But what if we lost 3,000 people a day, every day, in terrorist attacks?  Imagine the news stories.  That’s the toll from legal abortion just in our nation.  Every day.  About three every minute.  40-50 million worldwide, according to the world health organization, every year.  Mind boggling? Out of sight out of mind.

But abortion isn’t the only darkness, not the only threat to life, not by a long shot.  In our own state, there’s a movement afoot to legalize physician-assisted suicide, a grave evil that has led to out-and-out euthanasia in some European countries.

And while tremendous advances have been made in our lifetimes to reduce starvation, hunger is still the #1 threat to global health, as the World Food Programme estimates that 795 million people worldwide, about 1 in 9, don’t have enough food to eat. 

In His encyclical Evangelium Vitae (the “Gospel of Life”), Pope Saint John Paul II spoke of the “extraordinary increase and gravity of threats to the life of individuals and peoples, especially where life is weak and defenceless.” He continued – “In addition to the ancient scourges of poverty, hunger, endemic diseases, violence and war, new threats are emerging on an alarmingly vast scale.”

Calling to mind the teaching of the Second Vatican Council, the Holy Father condemned in the name of the whole Church, including you and me, declaring that every upright conscience must agree, he condemned "Whatever is opposed to life itself…any type of murder, genocide, abortion, euthanasia, or wilful self-destruction, whatever violates the integrity of the human person, such as mutilation, torments inflicted on body or mind, attempts to coerce the will itself; whatever insults human dignity, such as subhuman living conditions, arbitrary imprisonment, deportation, slavery, prostitution, the selling of women and children; as well as disgraceful working conditions, where people are treated as mere instruments of gain rather than as free and responsible persons; all these things and others like them.”

It’s a dark list indeed.  Four weeks ago, we celebrated the Light that the Father sent into our darkness, Jesus Christ Our Lord.  He came to preach a gospel of repentance, the good news of the kingdom, a gospel of life.  As His disciples, you and I are called to be lights in the darkness of our times.

As people of light, we are called to be people of life.  People who, by our baptisms are called to be prophets, to proclaim Our Lord’s Gospel of life.  Called to proclaim, and celebrate, the God-given dignity of every human life, from conception to natural death. And to defend human life against every threat.

These matters are too often reduced to a matter of politics.  I belong to Hillary.  I belong to Donald.  I belong to Bernie.  We let our political views color our religious beliefs, rather than the other way around.  Is either party, is any politician (public servant as they prefer to be called) authentically and consistently representing the Gospel of Life?  Perhaps in different ways, but we can see the culture of death in aspects of each of our major parties’ platforms.  Our new president promised a “pro-life” position on abortion, but also promised he’d punish terrorists by killing their families.

You and I, brothers and sisters, are called to declare “I belong to Christ” and let our consciences be formed by Him and the teaching of the Church He founded.  By the successors to those apostles He called on that seashore.  Indeed it is critical that we examine and re-inform our consciences.  Saint John Paul spoke to this, declaring that our consciences have become darkened and conditioned by our secular society, and that we are “finding it increasingly difficult to distinguish between good and evil in what concerns the basic value of human life.”

Imagine the change we could bring about in our nation and world if you and I were to consistently and brightly shine our deep reverence for every human life into every dark corner of our society.  If we were united in our beliefs about the need to protect and nurture and care for every human life.  If we were statistically any more pro-life than society at large.  Sadly, we are not.

But being truly pro-life is not merely a matter of participation in the public political arena.  It happens right here in our Church building, it happens right here in our hearts.  I know a family, long-time parishioners, who don’t come here to church anymore.  Their teenage daughter got pregnant.  She, with the support of her parents opted to take the difficult road, giving birth, keeping and raising her son.  Had him baptized, brought him to church. 

And somehow they felt eyes of judgment on them here.  Yes she got herself in a bad situation.  But rather than to take the easy way out, the one the secular culture advocates and even pays for, they chose the difficult road.  And those eyes of judgment chased them away, such that they now go to Mass in a neighboring parish.

I know that the vast majority of our parishioners would celebrate this family’s choice for life.  But it only takes a few, doesn’t it?

As to those women who’ve chosen abortion, do we sit in judgment of them?  We pray that they come to know the great love and mercy Jesus Christ Our Lord has for them, that He so wants to heal them, but aren’t we also called to be people who show that same love, mercy, compassion?

Do we who call ourselves pro-life care for and support poor or unwed mothers choosing to keep their babies?

Do we care for the hungry, the starving?  At three of our masses this weekend, another Father Paul, from Florida, is here on behalf of Food for the Poor, a wonderful organization which houses, feeds and provides water to the poor in seventeen countries, right here in our own hemisphere.

So let us each examine our hearts.  Ask ourselves – do I respect and reverence every, single, human life?  Or are some more important than others?  Am I open and welcoming to every one?  And will I speak out, and pray, and work for a more just, more truly pro-life nation and world?

Saint John Paul closed Evangelium Vitae with these powerful words and this prayer to the Blessed Mother:

“Mary is a living word of comfort for the Church in her struggle against death. Showing us the Son, the Church assures us that in Him the forces of death have already been defeated.  The Lamb who was slain is alive, bearing the marks of his Passion in the splendour of the Resurrection. He proclaims, in time and beyond, the power of life over death.

“As we, the pilgrim people, the people of life and for life, make our way in confidence towards ‘a new heaven and a new earth’, we look to her who is for us ‘a sign of sure hope and solace.’  So let us pray:

“O Mary, bright dawn of the new world, Mother of the living, to you do we entrust the cause of life. Look down, O Mother, upon the vast numbers of babies not allowed to be born, of the poor whose lives are made difficult, of men and women who are victims of brutal violence, of the elderly and the sick killed
by indifference or out of misguided mercy.

“Grant that all who believe in your Son may proclaim the Gospel of life with honesty and love to the people of our time.

“Obtain for them the grace to accept that Gospel as a gift ever new, the joy of celebrating it with gratitude throughout their lives and the courage to bear witness to it resolutely, in order to build, together with all people of good will, the civilization of truth and love, to the praise and glory of God, the Creator and lover of life. Amen.”

Homily - Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A - January 15, 2017 at 5p/9a, St. Cecilia Church

Today's Scripture Proclamations:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/011517.cfm

I was on my way to work this week, listening to Catholic radio as I’m wont to do, and heard a fundraising promotional spot which I hadn’t heard before.  It was a tape of the Chili fire department radio, middle of the night, January 1, two years ago.  It was only a snippet  I heard on the radio, but I found the complete radio call on youtube.  Went like this –

Beep-beep.  Company number 3 – automatic alarm activated…St. Pius Tenth Church, thirty-ten Chili Avenue, Box 3604.  4332 responding.  4332 be advised we’re getting additional alarms from the alarm company – front foyer, east smoke, front office, north smoke, south and west – smoke.  4332?  Go ahead.  Firefighter on location reporting heavy fire in the building – St Pius the Tenth Church thirty-ten Chili Avenue.  Got heavy fire from the church.  4332 on location – we have water.  32 on location – they have water.  4332 has command in front of the building and he has a fully-involved structure.

If you’re a fire-fighter with one of our local companies – Ridge Culver, Sea Breeze, Point Pleasant, Laurelton, St. Paul perhaps – you might find that kind of interesting, and you’d certainly appreciate those who get up in the middle of the night to risk their lives to go put out a fire.  For doing that, for making yourselves available like that, let me say “thank you!”

But why did I listen to that and repeat it today?  Well what really caught my ear when I first heard that this week were a couple of lines – “got heavy fire from the church” and “he has a fully-involved structure.”  Got heavy fire from the church. Fully-involved structure.

And I said to myself, isn’t that sort of our goal?  I mean, we don’t want to see our church buildings literally on fire.  But isn’t it our goal as a parish to be on fire as a church, to have a fully involved church?

These readings today seem to me to have one thing in common – a calling to action, a calling to apostleship, a calling to action.  And, it seems to me that our call is to be fully involved, fully on fire.

It is too little, the Lord says to the prophet Isaiah, to be His servant.  Rather, the Lord says “I will make you a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.”

The psalmist responds “Here am I, Lord, I come to do your will.”

And the beginning of his first letter to the people of Corinth, St. Paul writes to a people “who have been sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be holy, with all those everywhere who call upon the name of the lord Jesus Christ, their Lord and ours.” 

And we heard two callings in this evening’s (morning’s) Gospel – the calling of John to baptize with water and testify that Jesus is the Son of God – and the calling of Jesus, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.

For us who testify that we are His disciples, we, too are called.  It is too little for us, too, to serve Him – rather you and I – we the Church – are called to be a light to the nations that His salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.  Some, of course, may be called to literally go forth and be a light to the nations – just yesterday/Friday we buried a parishioner, a dentist, who without fanfare went on dental missions to a couple nations in South America, taking vacation time to do much-needed dental work for the poor in those countries.

But even if we aren’t called to go to other nations, we certainly are called to be His light to the ends of our town, from the river in the west, lake in the north, bay in the east and city in the south.  That is our calling, that is our mission. It is our vocation!  It is right there in our statement as a parish – 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.

We are still at the beginning of a new year – I would encourage everyone to pray and consider – how can I, how can we, be more fully involved?  How is He calling me, right now, to more fully live out that vocation?  What is my role in building up His Kingdom?

One idea – volunteer firefighter!  We assume someone will come and come quickly when we make that 911 call.  What if there were no “someone” willing to give of their time, willing to sacrifice and take risks, to come?

Another idea – hospice worker.  Our local hospice, Sunset House, has had a number of very long time volunteers retire.  Might the Lord be calling you to bring your talents and big heart to help those in the last days and hours of life?  Just a thought.

Other ideas – children’s liturgy, Good Samaritan transportation, visiting the homebound, teaching a faith formation class, and I could go on and on.

Maybe you’re at a place in your life where you can do no more than pray – but how important, how vital, is prayer!  To use your time to pray, for the Church, for its ministers, the faithful, that we may together continue to build His Kingdom right here in Irondequoit – that is a beautiful and necessary thing!

So as we begin this new year – we’re only half way through January after all, let us pray that 2017 may be a year in which we as a parish are fully on fire for the Lord.  And as we behold the Lamb of God, Who takes away the sins of the world, let us implore Our Blessed Lord to send His Holy Spirit to us to fan the flames of the fire in our hearts, so that we may burn ever more brightly, and truly be a light to the nations.  

That’s homily #1.  Homily #2, briefly:

One other way of building the Kingdom and being Christ to the world is through the CMA.  I know you’ve heard a lot of pitches for the CMA, and hopefully this will be the last for this year.  We’re nearly at our goal, 95% at last count.  I urge you, if you haven’t donated to the CMA, please prayerfully consider doing so. 

I stand here as a beneficiary of the CMA – except for the cost of books, my entire 4-1/2 years of masters-level education and formation for deacon ordination was paid by the Diocese out of CMA funds.  For that, I promised to give back my service, without pay, through retirement, to the diocese and my assigned parish.  That is my vocation, that is my calling, and indeed it is my great joy – to serve Him and His people, and in my own way try to be a light to the nations.  But it was made possible through generous gifts to the CMA.

So please, if you haven’t yet given, please consider doing so.  Thank you and may God richly bless you.

Homily for the Marriage of my daughter Erin and Ben Bovenzi, Friday Dec.30, St Kateri at St. Margaret Mary

Ben – dude - you saw her before the ceremony.  Bad luck, they say.  Missed out on the big moment, when those doors swing open and there she is.  Bad, bad luck.

And both of you – escorted down the aisle in a liturgical procession.  Instead of bride coming in on daddy’s arm and being given away.  More bad luck, I’m sure someone from the superstition police would tell you.

Well since we’re in the mode of breaking the rules here, or at least superstitions, I’d like to break one of my own.

Congratulations.  To both of you!

Wait! - bad luck!  You say “congratulations” to the groom and “best wishes” to the bride.  Or something like that.

Hogwash.  Congratulations.  To the both of you.

Four congratulations, actually.

First of all, congratulations on your courtship, which has been very different, counter-cultural.  And on your marriage – on getting married.  More and more this world will tell you it’s just a piece of paper, what do we need that for if we love each other.  I will tell you that getting married is counter-cultural, and becoming more so by the day.  So congratulations on trusting in each other’s love enough to commit to loving each other for a lifetime.

Second – congratulations on getting married before God and His people.  If you were paying close attention to the lyrics of the wedding song, which Matt and Julia so beautifully sang at the beginning of our liturgy, the opening stanza was “He is now to be among you at the calling of your hearts. Rest assured this troubadour is acting on his part. The union of your spirits here has caused him to remain for whenever two or more of you are gathered in His name, there is love.”

You could be exchanging vows and rings on a beautiful beach someplace, a destination wedding.  All the vogue these days.  But you have chosen to come here to give your consent, say solemn vows and exchange rings before God and all of us. 

This says something – something powerful.  It says that your faith is important to you.  Like Tobiah and Sarah whose prayer we heard in our first reading, you desire a lifelong covenantal marriage with God at the center.  That you seek God’s blessings and graces as you set out on your married journey together.  That you want Him to accompany you all along that journey.  And He will.  The meaning of the feast we celebrated only five days ago is “God is with us” – Emmanuel.  And God will be with you.  For that – congratulations!

Third, congratulations on your marriage here.  Not only in Church, but in this Church.  For here we recognize that yours is more than a relationship, more than a marriage. It’s a sacrament.  Sacrament – what’s that?

There was a question posed in that song Matt and Julia sang - “Do you believe in something that you’ve never seen before?”  A sacrament is a solemn, visible sign of something unseen, of a spiritual reality.

You see, since the beginning of time, God has been revealing Himself to His creation, to us.  The ultimate way He has revealed Himself to us is in the person of His only begotten Son, Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  Jesus became the sacrament, if you will, of the Father.  The physical manifestation of our unseen God with us.

Our Lord ascended to heaven, and what did He leave behind? A ragtag group of disciples, inspired by the Holy Spirit, led by twelve apostles – He left behind the Church!  The Church, then, is the sacrament, the physical manifestation, the ongoing presence, of Jesus Himself.  To carry on the mission of Jesus Himself. 

And why?  For the same reason He came to earth – for our salvation!  The Church is His instrument, His sacrament, for the salvation of the world.  And He graciously left the Church seven special ways in which He continues to manifest His presence to us – seven special sacraments – of which holy matrimony is one.

Put in this perspective, your marriage sacrament, which will begin in a few moments and last your entire lives together, is part of Our Lord’s plan for the salvation of the world.  Your vocation, your mission, as a couple, as a family, as a little church, is to make visible, first to each other, and to every person you ever encounter, the loving presence of Jesus Christ.

Your love, the way you speak to each other, look at each other, sacrifice for each other, forgive each other – is to be a physical and very real sign of something – some One - you’ve never seen before – Our Blessed Lord.  So that every single person you meet, but above all each other – will get a glimpse of His amazing love for us, by the way you love each other.

Your sacramental love will then flow out from your relationship to, God willing, your children, and your family, friends, community, our world.  You two together will comfort the mourning.  Be peacemakers.  Show mercy.  Seek justice and righteousness. Most especially with each other, but overflowing to your family and world around you.

That is what we mean by the Sacrament of Marriage.  It’s a mission – a vital mission He’s giving you, you’re accepting.  It’s vital especially in our time, in a world that thirsts for His presence.   Thirsts to know His love.  His tenderness.  His mercy.

For taking on such an important mission, I say “congratulations!”

Finally, congratulations on being married in front of this altar, where soon after we will celebrate His real presence in the ultimate Sacrament, the source and summit of our faith, Holy Eucharist.  You trust in His word when He says “unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood you shall not have life within you” and you want that life always in your marriage.

You will receive the very Body, blood, soul and divinity of our Blessed Lord into your own bodies, and into your marriage, and unite yourselves in communion with each other, with all of us who partake with you, and in a very real sense with all those who have gone before us, those loved ones we wish could be here today, and with all those who will come after us.

You recognize the importance of this sacrament in your own lives and now in your marriage.  Always, always, keep Eucharist at the center of your marriage. 

So to conclude, forget about bad luck.  With Jesus in His Blessed Sacrament at your center, and under the protection and intercession of His Blessed Mother Mary and foster father Joseph, the Holy Family whom we also celebrate this day, you won’t need luck.

For you will have grace – He will shower you with an abundance of grace, and give you the strength and meekness and mercy and every other good gift you will need on your married journey together.

You will have holiness – you will lead each other to ever deeper faith in Jesus Christ.

And you will have joy.  Not necessarily always happiness, but always joy.  Joy in knowing you are exactly where He wants you, fulfilling exactly the mission for which you were created.  Until that day when together you experience the eternal joy He promises to all His beloved.  And make no mistake – you are His beloved.

So I say it again - Erin and Ben – Congratulations!