Preached for the Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time - February 6/7 - St. Kateri at Christ the King, 4:30p and 10a

Today's mass readings:   http://usccb.org/bible/readings/020716.cfm

            Aside from the Blessed Mother, I think Peter is my favorite saint. For of all the men and women in the New Testament, we are given, I think, a clearer picture of Peter’s personality, beliefs, strengths, and weaknesses probably than any other, and that includes the Apostle Paul, whose writings and the stories of his missionary travels make up something like a quarter of the New Testament.

            What do we know about Peter?

            Well, he was bold – he was the only one of the twelve who climbed out of that boat to walk on water toward Jesus, even if he did lose faith and sink. 

            He was filled with faith and fearless to proclaim it – “Lord, where would we go, you have the words of everlasting life?” he said.

            He was proud – “you’ll never wash my feet, Lord.” 

            He was filled with bravado: “Lord, I am ready to go with you both to prison and to death.”

            He was weak as he abandoned the Lord, denying Him three times, proclaiming “I don’t know the man,” just as the rooster started to crow. 

            He was filled with zeal - it was Peter that raced John to the empty tomb that Easter Sunday morn.

            And Peter deeply loved the Lord: “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”

            So Peter gives us great comfort, huh?  We can identify with Peter, a great saint and our first Pope, yes, but a real flesh and blood human being.

            And there was one other thing that Peter was – he was a sinner, as he honestly and humbly recognizes and confesses in this Gospel passage:  “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” 

            If you’re like me, those words strike a nerve, touch me deep down inside, for I often find me praying them myself.

            Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.

            Now if we stop to think about these words, and think about all the things that would happen in Peter and Jesus’ relationship after that life-changing day, and think about what we know and believe about this Jesus fellow, well we’d conclude that this sentence – “depart from me Lord for I am a sinful man” - is about the most ludicrous thing anyone has ever said! 

            For a couple reasons.

            First, Peter is asking Jesus to do something that’s - impossible.  They say nothing is impossible for God, but I’m not sure that’s true – for I think there are some things that Our Lord just doesn’t know how to do, and departing from us, stopping His love for us, is one of those things. 

            No matter what we’ve done.  No matter how sinful a man I am, no matter how sinful people we are.  We may depart from Him, and in our sin we do, for a moment or maybe for much of our lives, but He can’t, He won’t, EVER depart from us.  And that is mercy.  That is the love that He always has for each one of us. 

            After Peter denied the Lord three times, abandoned His friendship in the hour of the Lord’s greatest need, and perhaps watched from a distance as Jesus was nailed to the cross, Peter would have been especially tempted to say “depart from me, Lord.” But after the resurrection, there they were, gathered around a breakfast campfire, and three times the Lord asked Peter “do you love me,” and by Peter’s “yes, Lord” and the Lord’s mercy, was reconciled to Him.

            So like Peter, you and I should always be open and honest and humbly admit our sinfulness, admit when we have departed from Him, and seek that bottomless font of mercy which forever springs from Our Lord’s Sacred Heart!

            But there’s a second reason that what Peter says “depart from me, Lord, I am a sinful man” is so ludicrous, and that is this.  It’s not only that the Lord won’t stop loving us, <pause> but the Lord needs us.  You see, He has a mission for you, for me, for all of us, the Church, together.  We have to discern what that is, but he’s not going to let us off the hook with a simple, “sorry, Lord, I’m not worthy.”

            Just like the prophet Isaiah, a man of unclean lips living among a people of unclean lips, and just like the Apostle Paul, “least among the apostles,” he says, “not fit to be called an apostle” because of his persecution of the Church, even just like Peter who abandoned and denied the Lord, there’s work to be done, the Lord’s work.  

            And in God’s wisdom, or maybe foolishness, or even sense of humor, Our Blessed Lord doesn’t call the perfect to carry on His mission, to preach His words, to heal His sick, to comfort the grieving.  He calls sinners, you and me.

            There’s always a temptation to say, like Peter, Lord, I’m not worthy.  But here’s the thing – He doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called.  I remember as I was just beginning to discern a call to the permanent diaconate, I went to a deacon information night, and I distinctly recall Deacon Dave Palma addressing someone’s concern about “not being worthy enough,” maybe it was mine.  What Deacon Palma said is this: “You’re right.  You’re not worthy.  Now get over it.”

            We’ll soon pray the words of the centurion, “Lord I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof.” For truth be told, none of us are “worthy” of the call we’ve received.

            But the next sentence is this, “but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.” God gives us all the grace, all the healing, all the strength necessary to carry out that little part of His great mission that is my mission, that is your mission, that as a parish and Church is our mission.  He gave us that grace at our baptisms, when we were anointed priest prophet and king <<just like He will once again right after Mass when little Charlotte and Allaiza are welcomed into His Church as His newest disciples>>.

            And He especially gives us that grace right here at His altar where He feeds us with very His own Body and Blood, His own life.

            So, sisters and brothers, whatever God is calling us to:

- whether it’s a vocation - to be loving and faithful husbands to our wives, wives to our husbands, parents to our children;

- whether it’s to be loving, devoted and faithful priests of the Lord; or deacon servants at His altar and for His people;or vowed religious;

- whether it’s to live a chaste, holy and devoted single or widowed life;

- or whether it’s any of the myriad of ministries and ways of service Our Lord may be calling us – music, service at Mass, feeding the hungry, caring for the sick and dying, visiting the imprisoned –

know this – “I’m not worthy” is a lame excuse.  He won’t hear of it.  He won’t depart from us; and He won’t stop calling us. 

            For His mission – the salvation and sanctification of the world - and our little corner of it, brothers and sisters, depends on you and me saying “yes.”  “Here I am, Lord, send me!”

Preached for the Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C - Sunday Jan 31, 2016 - St. Kateri at St. Margaret Mary (8 and 11)

Today's Mass Readings:   http://usccb.org/bible/readings/013116.cfm

            I haven’t been a deacon very long, so I haven’t had the chance to officiate at that many weddings, maybe seven or eight, but in almost every one of them, the couple picked this second reading from St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians.  Why? Well it seems like such a perfect reading for a wedding reading, huh?  I mean, it’s all about love, sweet, romantic, euphoric, love!

            And who doesn’t love this reading?  I hear those first few words…”Brothers and sisters, strive eagerly for the greatest spiritual gifts…” and my ears perk up and a smile comes across my face.

            Thing is, if we know the context in which St. Paul was writing – to whom he was writing and why – we’d conclude that a wedding is the last place you’d hear this reading.

            Paul was writing to the Church in Corinth, the capital city of Achaea in what is now southern Greece, a wealthy center of commerce, a very worldly, city.  A culture that didn’t value the dignity of human life, that considered human life expendable, from its widespread practice of abortion to its enthusiasm for the bloody games of the Roman amphitheatre.

            And while we, the Church, are always called to be different from the culture around us, to be in this world but not of it, the fledgling Corinthian Church had assimilated, taken on, much of the Corinthian culture.  Father George Montague describes the context of Paul’s letter in his scripture Commentary:

Imagine you’re in a parish where there are several drunks at Sunday Mass; where some are claiming that there’s no resurrection from the dead and that Jesus isn’t really present in the Eucharist; the parishioners are divided into cliques and factions; the Altar Society president isn’t talking to the catechist; there is public unchallenged adultery and many marriages are in disarray; there’s dabbling in new age spirituality; the liberals, charismatics and traditionalists are all trumpeting their version of the church; Masses are shortened for the sake of Sunday football, one of many signs the parish has compromised heavily with the surrounding secular culture.  A nightmare? Not exactly.  You’re just experiencing a modern version of the community in Corinth.

            In addition, we can infer from our second reading that the Corinthians were impatient, unkind, jealous, pompous, self-inflated, rude, selfish, quick-tempered, brooding, and rejoicing at wrongdoing!

            Enter into this picture the Apostle Paul, preaching now to the disciples there. Against this background, not completely different from the rivalry and bitterness and anger we heard described in Luke’s Gospel, what is Paul saying to them?  What is Paul saying to us?

            One thing, I’d say, is “grow up.”  That these ways of acting are childish.  Not childlike, which Our Lord praises, but childish.  They’re not the way we as mature disciples of Jesus are called to act, to behave.

            But the main thing, he says, is to love.  Love is the very mark of the true Christian.  Love is the antidote, if you will, to all these ways of acting, all these ways of taking on the depraved culture around us.  But to be sure, it isn’t the sort of love that naturally comes to mind when we hear this second reading proclaimed at a wedding – sweet, romantic, euphoric. 

            No, Christian love, the love which St. Paul is preaching is intentional, merciful and sacrificial.

            Intentional – love is not a feeling, it’s an act of the will. You see, we’re not born loving this way. Because of our sinful nature we’re actually born kind of selfish, self-centered.  We’re not naturally kind. Jealousy comes easy to us and we may often explode in a tantrum.  Now many of us have been trained from our earliest days in kindness and gentleness and self-control, but even then, we sin – we have impulses to do and say unkind things, we’re still often inwardly focused on ourselves. 

            Christian love is intentionally deciding to go against these impulses, these temptations, intentionally choosing to do the right.  True love is choosing to be patient and kind, choosing to put aside jealousy or arrogance, intentionally being courteous.  When the impulse strikes us to rejoice in wrongdoing, intentionally saying “no,” I won’t.  When tempted to relay a juicy bit of gossip, to listen to that small voice that says “no, don’t, how is that loving?”

            This kind of love is challenging, and difficult.  But it comes easier, and maybe only, with the grace that God provides us. 

            Christian love is intentional, but it’s also merciful, forgiving.  When we hurt another, it’s critical that we have empathy, the ability to put ourselves in the other person’s shoes, which leads us to realize the hurt we’ve caused.  Empathy and humility, then, should lead us to beg forgiveness from the other person, to be reconciled to the other person.  This is how it works with God, too, huh?  We examine ourselves, our behavior, and we come to the realization of the ways we’ve sinned, of the ways we’ve failed to love God as we ought, and we beg His mercy, His forgiveness, and seek to be reconciled to Him.

            And when another has hurt me, how do I react?  Am I bitter?  In my pride do I hold onto my hurt, or am I humble enough to be open to forgive and let myself be reconciled to the other? 

            Finally, Christian love is sacrificial.  Love is patient; love is kind; and love is death - death to self.  The love of which St. Paul writes, the love which we see most vividly here on the Cross, is a death to self, it’s a complete outpouring of ourselves for the good of the other. It’s wanting nothing but the good of the other.

            This self-giving love is also not natural, it’s a gift, the gift of grace, something that as we mature in faith is a light that shines ever brighter in us.  It’s also a purging, as we mature in faith, as by God’s grace we become more aware of all the ways we cling to self interest and self-centeredness. 

            Actually, it’s this kind of love that most every married couple with a marriage that’s endured over the year knows very well.  It’s why their marriage has endured.

            And it’s this love that lies ahead of us in heaven.  Heaven, I’m convinced, is not a place where we’ll be waited on hand and foot for all eternity as some would have us think.  No, what if heaven is a place where we give of ourselves completely?  Pour ourselves out completely for all eternity, just like the love of the trinity which we’ll enter into.

            Let me close with a little parable which I think is a beautiful and vivid way of describing this kind of love:

            I asked God to give me a vision of heaven and hell.  First He showed me hell.  I saw a multitude of people sitting at a banquet table as long as the eye can see, and on the table was an amazing feast. The food was stacked high and the aroma coming from each entrée was exquisite. Each person looked longingly at the feast with anticipation of the best cuisine they’d ever seen.  But nobody was eating. You see, they all had forks that were three feet long. Occasionally, someone would stab at their food hoping to somehow get a morsel up to their salivating mouth but the result was the same. The fork was too long. They were helpless. They all sat there starving, groaning in pain as their bloated stomachs ached for something to eat. And they sat there, looking longingly at this feast, for all eternity. The people were devastated, lonely, and in despair. Though it wasn’t what I ever expected, that was hell.

            Then God gave me a vision of heaven. There was a sea of people sitting around the same banquet table as long as the eye could see. On the table was the same amazing feast sacked high and with the same exquisite aroma. What I didn’t expect confounded me. For they all had three-foot long forks as well. But these people were all eating and loving every second of each other’s company as they each served one another, feeding each other. They were laughing and conversing, having an incredible time, enjoying this most amazing feast. They never seemed to get full and the food and desserts just kept coming.  It was breathtaking. These companions all had love and joy in their eyes, delighting in the honor and privilege of serving one another. The love and grace in the banquet room were obvious. In this place, it was clear where I was. For this was heaven.

Homily preached for the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C - January 23/24 - St. Kateri at Christ the King

The readings for this Sunday:   http://usccb.org/bible/readings/012416.cfm

     

            It’s hard to believe, but because Easter is early this year, we’re already just about half way between the end of Christmas, with the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord just two weeks ago, and the beginning of the holy season of Lent, with Ash Wednesday just two weeks from Wednesday.

            Today, the third Sunday in ordinary time, marks a sort of beginning, as today we officially begin our journey for most of this year through the Holy Gospel according to St. Luke.  Today reminds me a bit of Thanksgiving or Christmas when you hear those wonderful words “dinner’s ready!” and there is this amazing feast spread out over the table before your eyes. 

            Well, Luke’s gospel is a little like that – a veritable feast of words, a beautiful narrative of the life and mission and teaching of Our Lord Jesus Christ.  The prophet Jeremiah wrote “when I found your words, O Lord, I devoured them.”  And I envision that this year will be a little like that, as we feast on the Gospel of Luke.  As we grow in faith and love as we contemplate the many rich themes St. Luke proclaims.

            The first is this. Luke’s Gospel, you could say, is a story of reversal.  God in Christ comes to reverse the attitudes and mores of this world, to challenge attitudes of security and complacency, to confront the powerful and rich, those who already have comfort and consolation within society, and to raise up those who are deemed unworthy, the lowly, the marginalized, the outcast.  In Luke’s Gospel we’ll hear Jesus proclaim that the last will be first while the first will be last. We’ll hear about the rich man who never sees Lazarus, the beggar at his door.

            And we hear this theme in today’s Gospel.  Jesus lays claim to being the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy – “I am,” He says, “the one sent to bring glad tidings to the poor.”  I am the one sent to proclaim liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.”  Heck, that’s a pretty good cliff notes summary of St. Luke’s entire vision of the mission and life of Jesus!

            Many of us, perhaps most of us, fall into the camp of those who enjoy the comforts, the security, the consolations this world provides, so prepare to be challenged.  Let’s be open to being challenged, all this year, as we make our way through Luke’s Gospel. 

            Second, Luke’s Gospel is uniquely a Gospel of salvation, of conversion, of mercy.  God has visited us – “God with us” - for our salvation, to work saving acts, to come to save the lost.  You and I are always called, but uniquely so in the stories and parables and words of Jesus that we will hear in this Gospel, to lifelong conversion.  To lifelong change of mind and heart.  To repentance of our sins and reliance on the bottomless well of God’s love and mercy. 

            It’s especially fitting, in this jubilee year of mercy, that we will hear and study and put into practice this Gospel, often called the Gospel of Mercy.  We’ll hear the parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin.  The parable of the prodigal son, which might be better called the parable of the loving and forgiving father. We’ll see God in Luke’s image of loving Father, forever seeking us when we’re far away, forever calling us back, forever beckoning us to rest in His loving embrace.  Forever waiting with His mercy.

            As an aside, without any comment on politics, I was startled the other day when I read of an interview with a presidential candidate.  The candidate was asked about his Christian faith and whether he’d ever sought forgiveness, and he responded “Why do I have to repent or ask for forgiveness, if I am not making mistakes?"  Well I’m not going to judge this person, because that’s an attitude shared by many in our world, one I too often knowingly and unknowingly share myself.  There’s no doubt that many of us have lost a sense of our own sinfulness, our own need for repentance, for conversion.

            Come October we’ll hear in Luke’s Gospel a similar story - the parable of the righteous Pharisee in the temple, thankful that he’s not like the rest of humanity, contrasted with the sinful tax collector, standing in the back, pleading “O God, be merciful to me a sinner.”  And we’ll hear which one curries favor with the Lord! 

            So brothers and sisters, as you and I are walking with Jesus through Luke’s Gospel this year, this year of mercy, why don’t we ask God to show us our sins, our sinfulness, convict us of our sins, not so that we may be sad and weep as did the people in Nehemiah’s time in today’s first reading, but so that we may throw ourselves on His loving mercy and rejoice in His salvation!

            Yes, rejoice!  For once we’ve experienced the love and mercy of God, we come to a profound realization that we are to be people of joy.  Luke’s Gospel is a Gospel of joy, more so than any of the other three Gospels.  Luke has a uniquely positive outlook on history, on humankind, on human activity.  It’s a perfect backdrop as we continue to reflect on Pope Francis’ recent Apostolic Exhortation, Evangelii Gaudium, meaning the joy of the Gospel.  The Gospel is to be joyful!

            Joy is so central to who we are as Christians, as disciples of the Lord, or at least it should be.  The words from today’s first reading come back to mind: “Today is holy to the Lord your God.  Do not be sad, do not weep.”  Be joyful!, in other words. 

            Let me ask you – if a stranger to the Faith were to walk in here, would she or he think we’re joyful?  Or do too often give off vibes of indifference, or exclusion, or boredom, or even anger?  Do we smile? 

            Back in grade school, the teacher would sometimes stop class and make us stand up and exercise, jumping jacks or stretches.  I want to do that right now – but instead of jumping jacks, let’s everyone just smile – c’mon - stretch those face muscles!  Smile! Let’s practice being joyful!

            Because we have so much to be joyful about!  In fact, we have here the ONLY thing, in the end, to be joyful about – we have here the Lord, the Christ, the Savior!  And He’s chosen us as His people!  Given us His mission!

            Yes, for once we’ve experienced the mercy, the conversion of heart, and the joy that only Christ can give, we heed His call and go forth in mission and service.  The Gospel of Luke can be called the Gospel of Mission, of Service.  We will hear and see Jesus curing lepers, feeding the multitude, preaching the parable of the Good Samaritan.

            Sisters and brothers, you and I, too, are called to joyfully carry on this mission of the Lord.  You and I are called to this mission of service.  Fed and nourished here at His altar with His very Body and Blood, you and I, too, are called to go forth to live this Gospel.  To be His eyes and ears. Hands and feet.  To bring glad tidings to the poor.  Proclaim liberty to captives.  Give sight to the blind.  Free the oppressed.  And proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.