Preached this morning 6:30a and 8a at Christ the King -  for the Feast of the Passion and Martyrdom of St. John the Baptist:

            So King Herod married his brother’s wife.  If that were to happen today, they’d probably make a reality TV show out of it!  I mean you can’t buy a quart of milk at the store these days without being confronted by as bad or worse on the tabloid covers.  This one cheating with that one, sordid celebrity tales and the like, but hey, people buy this stuff.

            But it seems to me if one is to speak out against immorality in today’s culture, you’re immediately labeled “judgmental” – it’s a popular word these days, and the absolute worst sort of thing you can be called, don’t you know.  I dare say, in a society that has seemingly lost any sense of sin, personal sin or social sin, the only sin left is to be judgmental!

            John the Baptist was, without a doubt, judgmental.  He saw what was going on and wouldn’t be silent.  He saw, and labeled, sinful behavior.  And he called the people to repentance, “prepare ye the way of the Lord.  Of the One who is coming,” he said, “I am not fit to loosen the thongs of His sandals.” 

            To the King, Herod, who had the power of life and death, John had the courage to speak the truth – your marriage, your highness, is unlawful.  John fulfilled his calling as prophet – to speak truth to power.  And the King wouldn’t have it, nor His wife.  And he paid the ultimate price, the occasion of today’s feast.

            The bad news (or good news, at least the challenging news) is this.  By our own baptisms, you and I are called to be priest, prophet and king.  We are called to be prophets in our own world.  To not keep silent in the face of evil.  To not concern ourselves with “what are people going to think?”  or “am I going to get my head handed to me?”   

            We have had such prophets in our lifetimes – people like Martin Luther King who stood against injustice and, like John, paid with his life.  I recently witnessed such prophets during the Fortnight for Freedom.  Hundreds of ordinary Christians gathering and speaking out against unjust infringement on religious liberty.  Another example is this - while I’m not 100% on board with their message or tactics, there was a prophetic meaning in last year’s “Occupy” crowd in New York City – there is truth in the message that unbridled capitalism, the pursuit of profit without constraint, can cause great evil.

            But there is a real risk here – the downside of being prophetic – and that is this – we are all sinners.  We all need to heed John’s call to repentence.  We must look within our selves – for we have in today’s Gospel a case study of where evil comes from – it comes from within.  We saw this in yesterday’s Gospel and will hear it again this Sunday.  The combination of Herod’s pangs of guilt, Herodius’ grudge against John, Herod’s drunkenness and lust from Salome’s dance, and finally his pride, having sworn an oath in front of his dinner guests.  All this sin came bubbling up from within their hearts – it came together to lead to John’s demise – all came from within.

            So, my brothers and sisters, you and I do well to first be judgmental to ourselves – to examine our own hearts – to find what sin comes from within us, and to repent, asking God to create in us pure hearts.  So that we may be, as St. Paul tells us today, a model for others to imitate. 

            Let us approach the altar of grace, then, to be strengthened and purified, so that we may be courageous prophets in our own day.  And so that we may point the way to the coming of Our Lord Jesus Christ.  Amen.

 

Preached August 25/26 at Blessed Kateri at St. Margaret Mary site -

(Readings Joshua 24, Ephesians 5, John 6)

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

            Robert Frost wrote these words nearly 100 years ago, in his famous poem The Road Not Taken – maybe you recall, as I do, reading this poem in Junior High or High School.  This poem describes something you and I confront each and every day – making decisions, making choices. Sometimes small decisions, sometimes big ones.  Sometimes lifetime decisions.  What road to follow for the rest of our lives.  Sometimes eternal life decisions!  Faced with two or more ways to go, we must decide, and not knowing the future for certain, and we either reap the rewards or suffer the consequences.

            Choosing, making decisions, seems to be a common theme today – for we find folks confronted with life decisions in all three readings.

            In the first reading we see the twelve tribes gathered at Shechem, the place where God had established the Covenant with Abraham.  The tribes are now gathered at the completion of their forty years of wandering in the wilderness, on the cusp of their being settled in the promised land, of becoming a nation.  And the question arises – are the Israelites to worship the gods of the lands they are inheriting, the peoples they have vanquished, or are they going to follow the Lord?  Joshua presents them this critical choice, and he exhorts them to serve the Lord, concluding with his great statement of faith:  “As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord!”  (Probably one of my two favorite verses in all of scripture!)  Notice however that he leaves the decision to the people – God doesn’t force the people to serve Him, nor does Joshua.

            In our Ephesians reading, we who are married are presented with choices as well.  St. Paul exhorts us to “Be subordinate to one another out of reverence to Christ” and live in love, as Christ loved us.  He is not speaking of a feeling of love here, but rather a decision, a choice, to love our spouse, to subordinate our own wants and desires to those of our spouse.  To serve our spouse, to put him or her first.  And why?  Because as married couples, we are to mirror the relationship of Christ and the Church.  Our married covenant love is to be a sign to the world of the Covenant love of Christ and the Church.  And how does Christ love the Church?  <point to crucifix> That’s right – He gave his life in complete sacrifice on the Cross!

            And we see the ultimate decision in the Gospel I just read.  This week marks the conclusion of our five-week tour of John’s sixth chapter.  And today’s passage marks the culmination of that chapter, the climax of Jesus’ Bread of Life discourse.  Last week we saw the Jews quarreling and questioning Jesus, yet rather than backing down, Jesus said that UNLESS you eat my flesh – real food - and drink my blood – real drink – you shall not have life within you.  He is presenting his listeners, both the Jews and his disciples, with a life-changing decision. 

            What are we to make of this passage?  What do we believe?  What is our decision?  As we know, this passage represents perhaps the greatest dividing line among Christians over the past two thousand years.  For most of our non-Catholic sisters and brothers believe that Jesus was speaking figuratively here, symbolically.  No way could Jesus mean His real flesh and real blood.  No way.

            But for Catholic Christians, the verses we read in today’s Gospel are the clincher!

            “This saying is hard” they said – “hard” meaning offensive, likely even disgusting.  And many returned to their old lives.  They up and left.  Disciples who had witnessed Jesus feeding the multitude, who had seen Him walk on water, could not accept what He was saying – eat my flesh, drink my blood – too hard, so they left.  Certainly if they were misreading Jesus, if He just meant something symbolic, He could have clarified His teaching and said, “Wait, come back, don’t go!  I was just speaking figuratively!”  But He didn’t say that.  Like Joshua, Jesus let them decide.  He left it up to them stay or leave.  And many left.  They could not bring themselves to believe.  And Jesus turned to the twelve and said “do you also want to leave?”  To which Peter, speaking on behalf of the twelve, answered in faith “Master, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.  We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.”  My other favorite verse.

            These questions present us with decisions that are critical in our own day.  Do we take Jesus at His Word?  Do we believe that He is really and truly present in the Eucharist we celebrate this afternoon/morning?  When Jesus said that He would be with us always, until the end of the age, did He not mean that He would be with us tangibly, Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity, in the Eucharist?  And even if we do not understand it exactly, do we choose to believe?  For I am sure that the twelve couldn’t possibly have yet understood it, not yet, not until the last supper, and Jesus’ passion, death and resurrection.  But they chose to believe!

            One look around our own St. Margaret Mary site, we see the empty seats – many which used to be filled by folks who no longer accompany Him here in the Eucharist.   Some who’ve chosen to leave, some who’ve simply stopped coming.  Some who’ve chosen not to believe in the real presence, a belief Christians have held since the beginning!

            But my sisters and brothers, let us not despair!  For you and I can do something about it! 

            First, we can ask God to renew our own devotion to the Blessed Sacrament.

            We can choose to approach the altar in reverence and with clean consciences. 

            Every time we approach the altar and we are confronted with the decision - “the Body of Christ” - with God’s grace may we firmly and with conviction answer “Amen.”

            And after Communion, rather than run for the exits, we can tell the Lord how thankful we are for this most amazing gift.

            Most of all, we can go forth and LIVE Eucharistic, thankful lives, passionate about the wondrous, amazing gift we have in the Lord’s presence here in the Eucharist!    Renewed and strengthened, comforted and healed by Our Lord’s Body and Blood, we go forth to be His presence to the world, including those who’ve chosen to leave, and those who’ve stopped coming. 

            And by God’s grace, through our visible love and passion for the Lord in the Eucharist, may Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ guide them home.

Preached 6:30a and 8a at Christ the King, Friday, August 17:

                One of the things that differentiates the Roman Catholic Church from the churches of our Protestant brothers and sisters is our vow of celibacy – we have priests, deacons and religious – men and women who take a vow at ordination or religious profession, who by their own choice, opt to remain unmarried.  Rather than something we are proud of, this seems to be something many find quaint, or antiquated, and it’s even often a dividing line, among Catholics.  I hear quite frequently, haven’t you?  “If only the Church would get with it and let there be married priests…”  And some might ask, why?  Why is that?  And implicitly, one might wonder “Does the Church have something against marriage?

                We find the answers in Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel, where the Lord affirms BOTH the married state AND the unmarried state.  In this Gospel, Jesus teaches us very clearly that marriage is to be a lifelong relationship of a man and a woman, a one-flesh union that none may separate.  And Jesus says that this is “from the beginning” – it points back to the creation, to how we are made.  Made for the permanent, one-flesh union of man and woman.  And as St. Paul clarifies in his letter to the Ephesians (which we will read not this Sunday but next), the lifelong union of a man and a woman is to be a symbol to the world of the relationship of Christ and the Church – a sign of life-giving love and fidelity and mutual sacrifice.  So there is no question that our creator, the author of our sexuality, is pro-marriage!

                But at the end of today’s Gospel, He is speaking of the celibate life – those who choose to “renounce” marriage, who choose not to marry, for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven.  The vowed celibate, by his or her life, “consecrates himself or herself with undivided heart to the Lord for the affairs of the Lord” as the Catechism teaches us.  And the celibate points us to the next life – to the eternal relationship with Christ in heaven.  It is a sign to the world that our ultimate destiny is the next world, the eternal one, not this passing world, where Jesus tells us we will neither marry nor be given in marriage. 

                And we live in a world in which the focus seems to be carpe diem – seize the day!  A world preoccupied on worldly matters and concerns, a world worried about yesterday and tomorrow, but a world that refuses to acknowledge or even think about death and what follows.  That we have men and women who freely choose to forsake marriage to be a witness in this world of the world to come is a great blessing to us all.  It is an uncommon demonstration of great faith as well as great grace.

                So let us be profoundly thankful for the gift to us of our celibate priests, deacons and women religious.  And let us pray for them that they may be ever more perfect and faithful symbols of our eternal destiny with Christ Our Lord, Amen.

Preached Friday, August 10 - Feast of St. Lawrence, Deacon and Martyr, at Christ the King:

            While at Canisius College for a wedding a few weeks ago, I noticed a statue of the Jesuit Martyr Isaac Jogues on the main quad just outside the Chapel.  On the wall behind this statue is a quote from the early Church Father Tertullian, which reads “The Blood of the Martyrs is the Seed of the Church.”

            Our own patroness Kateri’s story came immediately to mind, as Kateri’s faith was fostered in a place where only ten years before her birth, Father Isaac Jogues and his companions were martyred.

            And this quote came to mind as I was reading about St. Lawrence, whose feast we celebrate today, and as I read and meditated on today’s Gospel.  For just as the wheat seed must die for the plant to grow and produce much fruit, our Church has grown and flourished in large part because of the contribution its holy martyrs have made, giving their all out of devotion to Our Lord.

            Lawrence was a third-century Roman Deacon.  Soon after the martyrdom of Pope Sixtus II (whose feast we celebrated Tuesday) at the hands of the Romans, tradition tells us that Lawrence was ordered to immediately surrender the riches of the Church to the Emperor.  In defiance, he gave away the earthly goods of the Church to the poor and three days later returned to the authorities accompanied by the destitute, blind, crippled and suffering, proclaiming “here are the riches of the Church.”  He was promptly sentenced to die and according to tradition was burned on the gridiron.

            Now Lawrence is called the “proto-deacon,” meaning the prime example for all ordained deacons, because of his great faith, compassion for the poor, and  devotion and obedience to his bishop, the Pope.  And just as he is a marvelous example for those of us called to serve the Lord as deacons, Lawrence is a marvelous example for all the Faithful.  But as great as was the example of his life, the reason our vestments today are red is to recall that Lawrence earned the crown of martyrdom - we recall that his faith was stronger than his love for life.

            Which brings us back to the quote at Canisius College – “the Blood of Martyrs is the Seed of the Church.”  There can be no doubt that the Church thrives on the wonderful example of the good and holy women and men, like St. Lawrence, whose faith is so strong that they are not deterred by death.  And as our Church continues to face persecution today in many parts of the world, and as there seems to be ever increasing hostility toward Christians here in our own country, we can rejoice and take comfort from the example of saints like Lawrence.  For in times of adversity our Church conforms itself ever more faithfully to the Cross of the Lord Himself, and grows and thrives!

            And even if we are not called to face death for the Faith, we are called to give our lives to the Lord, in whatever vocation we are to follow – married or single, ordained priest, deacon or religious.  May God give us grace and increased faith to conform our lives ever more closely to the example of the servant Lawrence and the Lord Jesus Himself, who with the Father lives and reigns forever.  Amen.

Preached August 4/5 at Blessed Kateri at Christ the King site:

“As children of God, we are overcomers and more than conquerors and God intends for each of us to experience the abundant life He has in store for us.”  

            Or so says the pastor of Lakewood Church, a non-denominational mega-church in Houston, Texas , which boasts a church “sanctuary” that was once an NBA basketball arena.  Their worship space seats nearly 17,000 people and cost more than 80 million dollars to buy and renovate.  I’ve watched a bit of this pastor on cable TV, and surfing the Lakewood Church website, there is quite a bit there I’d have no quarrel with.  Perfectly consistent with what our Church teaches.   So what is it that draws nearly 45,000 worshippers to this Houston church every weekend, with millions more watching on TV?  What is different about this man’s message that is so wildly popular, so wildly successful?

            It seems to me that the answer is found in the quote – that “God intends for each of us to experience the abundant life He has in store for us.”  Now Jesus does promise us abundance, but this pastor’s translation seems to be:  believe, and Jesus will make you rich.  Will make you a winner in life.  Trust in God and you will receive abundance in material possessions.  You’ll achieve personal, financial and emotional success.   

            Reading, and praying and even struggling with this week’s readings, the story of the Lakewood Church popped into my head.  For it seems to me that the 45,000 Lakewood parishioners (and millions more who watch on television) have quite a bit in common with the 5,000 men (and thousands more women and children) we read about last week, those whom Jesus miraculously fed, whom we see this week chasing after Jesus in boats, searching for Him.  Now like all Christians, the 45,000, like the 5,000 in the Gospel are seeking after Jesus Christ.   The good folks at Lakewood claim faith in Our Lord.  So what’s the problem?  I think the problem is this - it’s a Jesus Christ from whom they get bread.  A King who feeds their physical hunger.  And to put it in today’s language, a Jesus Christ who qualms economic fears.   A Lord who promises a nicer house, a bigger car, a fatter savings account.

            The first time I watched this pastor on TV, I said to myself, “No.  No, that’s not it.  Not it at all.”  And it seems to me in today’s Gospel, Jesus outright rejects that attitude.   He says “you are looking for me not because you saw signs but because you ate the loaves and were filled.”

            But if that’s not the Christ I believe in, it forced me to ask myself, “why do I believe?  Why do I follow Christ?  Do I believe because He gives me bread?  Do I believe because he provides stuff, the things, to which I am attached?  Do I believe in order to get?” 

            The answer Jesus gives us today is this:  look beyond what I can do for you.  Look to me.  Come to me.  Be in relationship with me.  Believe in me, accept me and the gifts I freely give to you.

            I am more than your provider, He says.  For the grumbling Israelites saw God just so, and so did the Gospel crowd who were ready to haul the Lord away to make Him king. 

            The answer lies in a relationship with Jesus, in which He is the object of all my love.   He calls you and calls me to surrender.  To surrender to Him in faith, to make Him the center, of my entire life, my entire being.  A reordering of my life in which all I live for is to love Him and become more like Him.  More like the person I was meant to be, to be transformed into the person I was created to be.

            And what does that look like?  It looks like bread.  Jesus uses a metaphor, a visual if you will, of bread to show us what He’s like and what it means to be like Him, to truly follow Him.  Now later in this chapter of John, Jesus unmistakably speaks of the bread that He will give.  Which is His own flesh and blood - true food and true drink which He will give for the life of the world.  And we’ll hear more about that over the next three weeks as we delve further into the sixth Chapter of John.

            But at this point I think He’s speaking metaphorically, using the visual of bread, in this sense: 

            Bread is only good for anything if it’s broken and shared.  Given away.  Consumed.   It’s a visual that describes the very life and love of the Holy Trinity – a relationship of complete self-giving.  It foreshadows Our Lord’s death on the cross – His act of total and complete self-giving.  And yes, it is a prelude to His gift of His Sacred Body and Precious Blood at the Last Supper.

            It’s a model for us to follow, if we want to be authentic followers of the Lord.  We who are made in the image and likeness of God are called to the same complete self-giving love of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  For if we are truly in relationship with Him, if we are truly to imitate Him and be formed into the women and men we were created to be, then we must also be bread - the bread of life. 

            Rather than focus on what we will get out of our faith, we ourselves and as a Church community must be allow ourselves to be blessed, broken and shared.  Given away.  Consumed.  Totally.  Leaving no room for self-seeking.    And this is called love.  “Love one another as I have loved you” the Lord commands us at the Last Supper.

            Ironically, by completely giving ourselves away, we find joy.  I dare say that in giving ourselves away it’s the only way we find joy.  If we seek joy, if we search after happiness, we’ll never find it.  But if we seek to love, we can’t help but experience joy.   In love, He will satisfy all our hunger and all our thirst.  All that we long for in life. 

            As we approach the altar to feed on His Body and drink His blood, let us ask the Lord for the grace and strength to be living bread – to give ourselves to be blessed, broken and shared – bread to our families, our communities and the world around us.

            And if we are living bread to others, they will see in us the Spirit of the Lord, who will lead them to the one table of His flesh and blood, and at the end of time lead us all to His Father, who lives and reigns forever and ever.  Amen.

Another dog homily - preached July 28/29 at Blessed Kateri parish, St. Cecilia site:

We have two dogs at home, a big one and a little one.  And Sadie, our little dog, has a game that she likes to play with her food.  And it works like this.  She comes around and lets us know in her own way that she’s hungry –  she follows me to the garage as I pour some food into her dish, and then she follows me back into the house, and there she lays down right next to her bowl to protect her food.  She’ll even sometimes growl at Maddie, our big dog, to dare her to try to come over here and eat my food.  And, if we’re out of the room and forget to put Sadie’s food up out of reach, Maddie will usually do just that – she’ll walk right over and eat Sadie’s food.  Now this game of Sadie’s, this guarding her food and growling to keep Maddie away consumes most of Sadie’s waking hours.  She even seems to sleep with one eye open so as to protect her food.  She doesn’t understand that out in the garage there this giant bag of dog food, and I don’t think she appreciates that one of us goes out to fill her dish pretty much whenever she asks.

            Sadly, I see a lot of myself in both dogs’ behavior, especially Sadie’s.  I jealously protect and guard what is mine, often forgetting, not appreciating, that everything I have is a free gift from God.  And sometimes I find myself looking at what others have and wishing it was mine, unsatisfied with what I’ve been given.  For me, the temptation to guard what is mine and growl at anyone who may want some of it is especially strong at times like this, in an economy like we have today.  I sometimes let fear get the best of me, and I tend to forget, or if not forget then not trust, that God is generous, that God provides, that figuratively, God has a big bag out in the garage.

            And that brings us to today’s Gospel.  For there is one way of looking at Jesus’ miracle that we read about today, and perhaps you’ve heard this before, that says that Jesus didn’t have to create loaves and fishes out of thin air.  Rather, so this theory goes, there was something in what Our Blessed Lord said, or perhaps in the way He looked right into the peoples’ hearts, that caused them that day to open up their cloaks and bags and give freely of the loaves and fishes that they had brought with them.  Food that perhaps they had been guarding, food that they had been protecting, grasping.  Giving so freely that there were twelve baskets left over.  And I suppose if Our Lord were able to change hearts that quickly and that profoundly, that would qualify as a miracle, or so this line of thinking goes.

            I actually like that way of looking at this Gospel passage, but it leaves me sort of unsatisfied.  I mean, Jesus wasn’t just some unusually effective, or charismatic preacher.  No, Jesus was the Son of God, the very Word of God made flesh.  The healer of lepers, who made the blind see and the deaf hear.  Who could change water into wine and even raised folks from the dead.  So I don’t doubt for a second that he had the power to multiply five loaves and two fish and feed thousands. 

            I want to believe, I choose to believe, that somehow He took these bread and fish, blessed them, broke them and shared them with the multitude such that there was plenty for everyone and some left over, and my 21^st-century brain doesn’t need to know how He did it. 

            For aren’t most of seven billion people somehow fed every day from the goodness of the earth He created?  And isn’t the earth God created capable of feeding every one of us?  If you stop to think about it, isn’t that absolutely amazing?  And yet, we don’t know exactly how that happens.  It comes to mind especially at times like this when we read about drought facing much of our nation’s farmlands. 

            Further, don’t we believe that all that is seen and unseen was created through Him?  The moon and the sun and the stars? 

            And don’t we believe that for 2000 years, in the person of the Priest, Jesus has been taking, blessing, breaking and sharing His very Body and Blood with His followers the world over?  Nourishing us and feeding us to heal us and unite us and send us forth to do His work?  So I believe that our God who created the universe could and did a miracle, a wonder, a sign that day.  One that so impressed the people, so impressed his disciples, that this is the only miracle that all four Gospel writers describe.

            But for us here, for us now, if WE want to be miracle workers, if we want to let Jesus work miracles through us, then I sorta like the newfangled way of explaining today’s Gospel.  If my own heart were to be so changed, so transformed, if all of our hearts were to be so touched by Our Lord, such that each of us would fully trust, that each of us would share freely from our abundance, recognizing that everything we have is God’s gift, well it seems to me that all the poor and hungry of the world would be fed.  The children of Africa and Haiti and other third-world places would have plenty to eat and none would die today of starvation, or bad water, or rampant disease.  Instead of clutching and grasping and protecting what God has given, if every person were to trust in the goodness and providence of the Lord and share from our abundance, no one would go without. 

            And that WOULD be a miracle, wouldn’t it?

            Let me close with a very simple prayer: 

            Heavenly Father, give bread to all who hunger.  And to all who have bread, give a hunger for justice.  We pray in Jesus name.  Amen.

Homily for the Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 14/15 2012, St. Margaret Mary:

Our Yorkshire Terrier is always the first to notice someone coming to our door.  She perches on our sofa, and peers out the front window, watching and waiting, and she loudly barks to warn us whenever our home is about to be attacked.  OK, it might just be the UPS driver, but she doesn’t know the difference.  To her, every visitor is a potential menace, and she earns her dog chow by being a heckuva good watchdog. 

            Hearing her barking, one of us will usually peek out the window to see who’s coming to the door, and if you’re like me, if you see two young men in pressed dress trousers and clean, white shirts and ties, you immediately think “Oh no, the Mormons!” and you might leap into the coat closet before they see you through the window.  And wait there until the dog stops barking to let you know the coast is clear.

            At least that’s the way I used to act.  But somehow, that seemed cowardly to me, so the last time I was home when the young Mormon missionaries came around, I bravely greeted them at the door with a smile.  I explained that they probably wouldn’t be making any converts that day at our Catholic household, especially since I was approaching ordination as a deacon. 

            But before sending them on their way, I told them that I truly admire what they were doing – how much I admire their dedication, their courage, and their faith.  And I wished them well.

            And I meant it.  These young people, with a faith that is alive and on fire, are doing precisely what Our Lord sent His apostles out to do in today’s Gospel  – He sent the twelve out two by two to preach the Good News of repentence.   To the neighboring towns and villages.  This wasn’t yet the great commission that we read about at the end of Mark’s Gospel, when Jesus sends the disciples out to the whole world to proclaim the gospel to every creature. 

            But it’s a commission nonetheless, and it seems to me that it’s quite instructive for us here at Blessed Kateri parish, at this time and in this place.  Perhaps we are likewise being sent out right here into our Town of Irondequoit to preach the Good News, with our words, yes, but more importantly with the witness of our lives.  Perhaps not door to door, but it’s a call to evangelize nonetheless.

             Blessed Kateri parishioners are a minority of the Town’s population, and those who regularly come to Mass are but a fraction.  There are many folks in our Town who have no faith at all.  Moreover, there are  people in our Town who have never experienced the love of Jesus, who have no idea how much God loves them and cares for them.  Who is gonna tell them?  Who is gonna show them, if not us?

            But it’s a call that requires that our own faith be alive and on fire.  If we stop to think about how blessed we are as Catholic Christians, about what we have right here, how can we NOT spread this great good news?  How can we not proclaim the Lord from the rooftops?

            Have you ever received some really good news?  Marriage proposal?  Birth of a child?  You want everyone you know to hear about it.  I recall 15 years ago, after my wife Pam and I made a Marriage Encounter weekend, how alive and on fire our love was after that weekend.  I wanted every single married couple we knew to have the gift we had received. 

            Now if we stop to think about what we have right here in our faith community, shouldn’t we want EVERYONE to have what we have?

            For we have here a community  - the community of Christ’s companions, living the Faith passed on to us for over 2000 years.  A community of sinners, hopefully open and inviting to other sinners.  Sinners striving here to become saints.

            We have here Christ’s unbounded mercy - the forgiveness of sins He promised us, and the assurance of His forgiveness we hear in the words of absolution.

            We have here a tradition of justice and service to the poor, the sick, the uneducated, those who mourn, a mission of love which flows forth from the realization that God loves each of us and so we must love.

            And we have here the very Body and Blood of Our Blessed Lord, broken and shared at this table, to strengthen us and unite us and send us forth in love and service. 

            Yes, we have here the very presence of Jesus Christ in the Town of Irondequoit.  We ARE the very presence of Jesus Christ in the Town of Irondequoit.  You and I are being called to live and proclaim that presence everywhere we go, in everything we do.  It’s the reason we’re here.  I dare say it’s the very reason we were created.

            May we be truly thankful today and always for all of the good gifts God has given to us here.  And let us go forth with faith alive and on fire to proclaim Our Blessed Lord in our words and in our deeds.  For we exist for the praise of His glory, now and forever.  Amen.