Homily for the Sixth Sunday of Easter, Cycle C - preached May 1, 2016 (8a and 10a)

Today's Mass readings:   http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/050116.cfm

If I asked you to show me a picture of what peace looks like, what would you come up with?

If I asked that to someone living in the United States in 1865, they’d probably show me an image from the Courthouse at Appomattox, Virginia, with Confederate General Robert E. Lee, dressed in his finest grays and Union General Ulysses S. Grant, all dressed in blue, seated across a table from each other, Lee signing articles of surrender, ending four years of a bloody civil war.  

Or more recently, the people living August 1945, maybe some here this morning remember, the image from Times Square in New York City, throngs wild with joy amid a ticker-tape parade for “V-J Day” - celebrating the news that Japan had surrendered, ending six years of a horrific world war.  Or The image of a headline shouting PEACE! Or the scene a few weeks later, atop the battleship USS Missouri, Japanese Emperor Hirohito at a table with General MacArthur looking on, signing articles of surrender.

In each case, there was a conquering, victorious army.  And a vanquished one, utterly defeated. 

And in each case, with each surrender, we had peace.  For a little while, at least.  We tend, I think, to see peace in terms of the absence of conflict, absence of war.  Thing is, this kind of peace is, as we all know, short-lived.  It lasts until the next outbreak of conflict, of war.

Just since the end of World War II, in our own national history, we’ve been engaged in one military operation after another.  Korea. Vietnam. Grenada. Panama. Kuwait and Iraq. Bosnia/Herzogovina. Afghanistan.  Iraq again. Syria.  And that’s just the U.S. conflicts.  Not to mention all the other hot spots and conflicts in virtually every corner of the globe.

And it’s not just armed conflict.  Show me a major city that goes a day without a violent shooting or stabbing.  Show me a country that hasn’t made legal abortion the law of the land.  There aren’t many anymore.  There are a few nations that have outlawed the death penalty, but ours isn’t one of them. 

And it’s not just violence.  Look at our culture, our society, and the divisions within our society.  Seemingly escalating divisions.  Black/white. Muslim/Jew/Christian.  Democrat/Republican. 

Or show me a family that doesn’t have at least some distance or coldness between some family members, if not open hostility.  Or an extended family that hasn’t had one or more marriages rocked by the pain and bitterness of separation and divorce. 

And for so many people, it’s personal conflict and strife.  How many people, young people especially, are at peace with who they are?  We have an epidemic, right here in our community, of young people dying from heroin overdoses.   Epidemics of other addictions – alcohol, gambling, pornography, tearing apart relationships, and lives.  We have a silent epidemic of young people suffering from eating disorders, wounded by a culture that preaches anything but being at peace with yourself. 

One might argue, and it’s hard to refute I’m afraid, that the natural state of humankind is to be in a state of conflict.  Going back to Cain and Abel.  Even before that – as Adam and Eve, dissatisfied with the perfect life they had, curious about what that apple tree was all about.  Peace, to be sure, seems foreign, remote, at best a time-out in among the disorder and conflict in our lives.

Into this world of conflict, enters Jesus Christ, with a powerful promise to His disciples the night before His passion, preparing them for when He would not be with them any longer, and a powerful promise to you and me today.  He promises the gift of the Holy Spirit.  And He promises - peace.

“Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.  Not as the world gives do I give it to you.”  Yes, the Lord’s peace is very different than any fleeting peace the world promises. 

It’s important, I think, to understand where all the conflict, violence and war come from.  At the end of the day, they come from within.  From within individual people.  Our Lord says as much in Matthew’s Gospel, chapter 15: “from the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, unchastity, theft, false witness, blasphemy.”  That’s called, of course, sin.

Now many of the things I listed are the result of what we call “social sin” but what is “social sin” but the result of the action, or inaction, of a whole lot of people.  And much of our conflict truly comes from others, outside our control.

But while we have limited power to fix the social sin in the world, and we have almost no power to fix others’ faults and sins, we’d be putting the cart before the horse if we weren’t first to go about addressing the sin that comes from within ourselves. 

For if we’re honest with ourselves, not all, but so much of the conflict, the confusion, the lack of peace in our own lives we bring on ourselves by doing it our way, by ignoring His word, by seeking the glamour and empty promises of this world.  Frank Sinatra sang “I did it my way” but the message of Jesus Christ is this: if we want true peace, true joy, do it His way.

The Lord’s peace, therefore, is first about peace within.  About rearranging, rightly ordering all in our lives that is disheveled, disordered, messed up.

And thinking back to that image of Lee and Grant, Hirohito and MacArthur, the Lord’s peace comes ironically, from surrender.  Surrender to Him.  Surrender to living one’s life with Jesus Christ at the absolute center.  Surrender to living one’s life in accordance with His commandments, His words.

“Whoever loves me will keep my word,” He says, “and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him.” 

He promises peace to anyone who lives in intimate relationship with Him, who surrenders their life to Him, who places all their trust in Him.  To be sure, our Holy Father Pope Francis speaks often of the devil, and make no mistake, the very last thing the devil wants is for us to be at peace, with ourselves, and with others.  The last thing he wants is for us to surrender ourselves to the power of Jesus Christ. 

But Our Lord promises that if we do so, we have nothing to fear, no reason to let our hearts be troubled.  Complete faith and trust in Jesus Christ, then, is true peace.  He promises us this.

And the first step is to be reconciled to Him.  To admit we are far from Him, that on our own we’ve messed things up, that we need Him to step into our lives and make things right. To let Him find us, shower us with His mercy, shower us with His grace.

Just yesterday, Pope Francis spoke about this.  “Often we believe our sins push God away from us,” he said, but “in reality, by sinning we push ourselves away from Him, but He, seeing us in danger, keeps searching for us.”

He went on to say, “Let us accept, therefore, the invitation to be reconciled to God to become new creatures and to be able to radiate His mercy among our brothers and sisters.” 

Brothers and sisters, we are especially blessed to have the Sacrament of reconciliation, where we can surrender ourselves to His loving mercy and be confident in His forgiveness and grace.  And we are blessed to have Eucharist, [which our young sisters and brothers will soon share for the first time], the very Sacrament of unity with Our Blessed Lord, the very Sacrament of surrender to Him and His grace and peace for our lives.

Sisters and brothers, we all know, I’m sure, one or more people who live very peaceful lives, even in the midst of violent storms raging about them.  Jesus Christ promises us today that we, too, can live like that.  If only we examine our lives, all the areas of our life that are unpeaceful, at conflict, or frankly messed up.  If only we give our lives and all our messes over to Him, and be reconciled to Him.  If only we trust in Him.  And we will have, as St. Paul writes, “the peace of God that surpasses all understanding, which will guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus,” our Lord.

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

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

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

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

New.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why, what happened five minutes ago?”

“I had a bowel movement,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What are we to make of this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So loved. 

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

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

* * * * * * *

And that’s all they found of this journal.

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

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

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

And He will answer, if we listen.

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

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

Preached Tuesday, March 29, 2016 - Tuesday of the Octave of Easter - Christ the King Church 6:30a

Today's Mass readings:  http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/032916.cfm

“Those who accepted his message were baptized, and about three thousand persons were added that day.”

Wow.  Amazing.  We had five new Catholics Saturday night receiving their Easter Sacraments at the Vigil Mass.  Imagine if we were to baptize 3000!

But, really, wouldn’t that be magnificent?  3000 new Catholics joining us as disciples of Jesus Christ? 

It was awesome celebrating the addition of the five new Catholics the other evening.  I had the biggest smile as they were baptized or received, confirmed, and shared for the first time in Eucharist.

Each worked hard for months to prepare to receive the Easter sacraments, and the Holy Spirit was burning brightly in each one.  Seeing new life in our Church is an awesome thing.

Pam and I were watching EWTN last night, a remembrance of Mother Angelica, who died on Easter Sunday.  And a number of the commentators spoke of the literally thousands of people brought to Jesus Christ by her bold evangelism, deep love for Jesus Christ, all through the international television network she founded.

I think the message of this first reading, the message of this season, is that as disciples of Christ, you and I are called to preach the kerygma, the proclamation, the words of St. Peter, and the consistent message of Mother Angelica – that is, that this Jesus has died and is Risen from the dead and is Lord and Christ.  That He died to set us free from the slavery of sin, and rose from the dead to give us the promise of new life here and eternally, and that He is Christ and Lord of our lives.

And we, a parish, the largest parish in the diocese, and individual Catholics, we should be earnestly going about fulfilling Christ’s commission to us – that we should be doing all we can to bring those around us, our fellow Irondequoit residents, to the Lord.

            For just as a part of the calling of a newly married couple is to bring about new life, if possible, so, too, is the calling of us as individual Christians and especially us as a parish family to bring about “new life” as well – new Christians joining the sheepfold of Christ.

And how do we do that?  With our proclamation, yes, but I think the main way is to live joyfully – we are, above all else, Easter people, witnesses of the Resurrection. 

Witnesses in the sense that we believe exactly what St. Peter proclaims in this first reading 

And we witness this most of all by our hope, our joyfulness.  Our smiles.  Our peacefulness.  Our lack of bitterness and judgment.  Our service to each other and our community, meeting their physical and emotional and spiritual needs, washing their feet, so to speak.

If we live this way, as “Easter people,” others will see our joy and want it for themselves, and we will be able to, as St. Peter writes, “always be prepared to give a reason for our hope.” 

And what is that reason?  That Jesus Christ, once crucified, is truly risen.  He now lives!   Forever and ever.  Amen.

Preached Friday, March 25 - Good Friday of the Lord's Passion (3pm, Christ the King Church)

Readings:  http://usccb.org/bible/readings/032516.cfm

It is not unheard of for one person to die for another.  To sacrifice one’s life for another, or to die in place of another.  We see this theme occasionally in books and in movies, and in real life. 

We’ve all heard stories of bravery - medals awarded posthumously to soldiers who’ve thrown themselves on live grenades to save their squads. 

The film Saving Private Ryan tells the fictional story of a squad of eight soldiers sent behind enemy lines to save the life of one soldier, the only one of four brothers to survive the Normandy invasion.  A story in which seven of those eight give their lives. 

Casablanca is the most popular film of all time, in no small part because Rick Blaine sacrifices not his life but his freedom to set free his lost love, Ilsa Laszlo and her husband Victor.

In real life we know the story of Saint Gianna Beretta Molla, Italian Pediatrician and mother, who in 1961 refused both abortion and hysterectomy and sacrificed her own life so that her unborn daughter might be born.

And of course we know the story of the Polish priest Raymund Kolbe, given the name Maximilian Maria when he professed vows as a Franciscan, now known to the world as Saint Maximilian Kolbe.  Best remembered for his selfless act at Auschwitz, volunteering to submit to execution, to martyrdom, to save the life of a young husband and father, Franciszek Gajowniczek, who’d been condemned to death. For whom Maximilian asked to die in his place.

Yes, it is not unheard of for one person to die for another.  For a good person, St. Paul writes, one might even have the courage to die.

But what was unheard of, until this Good Friday, was for the God who made the universe to die for a person.

The God who made the stars, conceived of the Virgin Mary by the power of the Holy Spirit, also, coincidentally, on this day, which in any other year we celebrate as the Feast of the Annunciation.  To take on human flesh, human nature, and submit Himself to the most horrific, painful, and humiliating death possible.

And why?  For you.  For me. 

Because of our sins, our offenses before our all-holy God, you and I were sentenced to death, eternally separated from God.  But Christ, the Son, the spotless Lamb, out of His unfathomable love for us, gave Himself up in obedience for us, for you and me, to restore us to grace, to set us free from the power, the slavery, of sin.    

For our offenses He was pierced, the prophet Isaiah proclaims.  Our infirmities He bore.  Our sufferings He endured.  He died in my place.  And yours.

And when that sinks in, deep down in our hearts, how do we feel about that, what is our thinking, what is our response?  When we realize in our marrow that He has died in our place?

What were the thoughts and feelings of Franciszek Gajowniczek, during the 54 years he lived after Father Kolbe took his place?  What are the thoughts and feelings of St. Gianna Molla’s daughter, still alive today, some 54 years later?  

Unworthiness, perhaps?  Certainly gratitude, sincere humble gratitude.

How much greater the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, which purchased for us not 54 years more of life, but eternal life? 

 We should feel gratitude to be sure, and a profound sense of obligation.  An obligation to live in a way that makes that sacrifice to have been “worth it.”  To not have been in vain.

Abraham Lincoln, speaking at the dedication of the national cemetery in Gettysburg about the thousands who had just died there, vowed to “take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion - that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain.”  

At the end of Saving Private Ryan, Captain Miller, the leader of the squad that had found and rescued Private Ryan, lay dying.  His last words to the young private?  “Earn this.” 

Sisters and brothers, now make no mistake, there is nothing we can ever do to “earn” the salvation Our Blessed Lord won for us, the supreme sacrifice He made this day hanging on the cross.  But what we can do is this. 

We can give our lives back to Him, totally and completely, in gratitude for the supreme sacrifice He made for us this day.  That’s all He asks.  That we give ourselves totally to Him.  That we who have been set free from the slavery of sin, and for whom He won our eternal salvation, cooperate in our salvation, living our lives in a way that gives glory only to Him and to His Father.  And that by our lives we may lead others to know Him, love Him and serve Him.

Brothers and sisters, in a moment we will come forward to embrace and kiss the holy cross.  As we revere that sacred wood, on which He gave Himself up for each of us, let us resolve anew, in great love and humble gratitude, to give our lives to Him.