“Yes, Lord, you may build the house.” The great King David had a great idea; “Let’s build a house for God, made of the best cedar wood. We’ll build it in the best location. On a mountain if need be. Inside, we’ll build the best furniture made by the best craftsmen, like a St. Joseph. We’ll call in the construction workers to build an inground pool in the backyard in case God wants to take a swim. Nothing but the best for God. We’ll move him out of that old, ugly, smelly, dirty tent he’s been residing in forever, and move him into a new address with all the worldly trappings.” King David’s great idea. So God said to King David through the Prophet Nathan , “Tell King David to go take a hike. He won’t be building me any houses. Bad idea.” So much for David’s generosity that God flung back in his face. “Yes, Lord, you may build the house.” What a difference between David, the greatest King in all of Israel by far, and this lowly servant woman from Nazareth. David wants to build a house for God, and gets turned aside. Mary gives God permission to build a house in her tabernacle. David wanted permission from God, somewhat. God wanted permission from Mary, for certain. “May it be done to me according to your word. Yes, Lord, you may build the house.” Anyway, the Temple got built, not by David as we know, but by his son Solomon. David was wandering in the netherworld after death by the time the first construction workers showed up. Despite that, David’s house idea was a good one, even though God left him out of the project. David was on to something. Like when we’re on to something good, and know it’s what God really wants. St. Francis of Assisi had a David inclination. God said, “Yes, Francis, build that house of poverty and simplicity.” God would borrow David’s idea, and use it for the world’s salvation. God would dwell in the Temple in Jerusalem, close to his people. They could come and visit him, spend time with him, and pray to him. That’s the same search for closeness we seek in the presence of the Eucharist. But the Temple of bricks and mortar in and of itself cannot save a single sinner anymore than the Green Monster can. Beautiful visuals they are; immense, superb craftsmanship, but no life or breath in them. In our weakness and sin, we needed a Temple – a sinless one – living and breathing, matching our makeup. And God left it up to Mary of Nazareth to decide if that was happening through her human perfection. ‘Yes, Lord, you may build the house.” Our God loves us so much that He didn’t like the idea of some earthly King building him a house, telling him “You have to move from that tent to the Temple, and don’t forget to take the fish tank.” A fair question; “Who is God in this case?” Sounds like it would be the human King. Instead, in preparation for the perfect humility and obedience of Jesus, God humbled himself before the Virgin, not through a Prophet, but through the angel Gabriel who stands before God, asking her, “Will you be the Mother of my Son?” As the entire court of heaven and all its inhabitants held their breath for the answer, waiting those few critical seconds that seemed like an eternity to see if the ball was going to be caught for an out, or fly over the Green Monster for a home run, Mary pondered a split second and said, “May it be done to be according to your word. Yes, Lord, you may build the house.” The house that our merciful God wanted was built. David had the idea. God borrowed it. Mary carried it in her and brought him to birth. We await the birth of that house in a few days, in a stable. The house of salvation, for us. the house of mercy, for us. The house of knowledge of the ways of God, for us. The house where God becomes up close & personal, for us. Eventually, a house with a Cross in it; and a house with an empty tomb. “Yes, Lord, you may build that house in me; you may build that house in
Imagine if you went out into a desert at night, no lights, no cameras, no action. Just dead silence, with a wolf’s howl or a snake’s hiss occasionally. So you go out to the dead silence in the pitch darkness, and you bring along with you a bullhorn. Press the “on” button, place the horn to your mouth – in the dead silence and the pitch black – and as loud as you can through the bullhorn you begin to recite the Our Father. How far will your voice carry over the extended plain, over flat land and sand? Will your voice be heard for miles? Would you get the attention of a walking creature, like a fox, the name Jesus called King Herod? Most likely your voice crying out in the desert, especially with a working bullhorn, would be heard through echoes for a handful of miles. That is one big-mouth! I know a few who need no bullhorn. John the Baptist had lots of practice at being a voice crying out in the desert. Living out there for years, having no one to talk to most of the time. Maybe he was present with some others once in a while. Some tourists on a bus may stop by here and there saying, “Who’s that weird-looking guy? Is he eating a grasshopper? Get your cameras out!” We know how tourists are. And from John’s angle; “Here comes another bus of nosy people again!” But most of his adulthood John was likely a hermit. A hermit with a big mouth, an oxymoron if there ever was one. The desert is the most perfect location on earth to have your voice travel for miles. The echoes continue on and on and on, until it fades into the darkness. The Baptist’s is the biggest voice, the biggest mouth that ever entered and left a desert, culminating at a River. From no water to holy water. He owned a crying voice that could be heard for miles in every direction. But John didn’t cry out just anything. It’s not like John told bad jokes through his bullhorn, wait for the silence of his bad joke to stop, then hear if a laughing hyena’s call would return his way. There were no bad jokes in the voice of John the Baptist. Rather, his voice was one of reason, of concern, a voice of holiness and conviction; a voice of truth and light; a voice that, yes, prepared the way of the Lord. John’s was the most excellent voice for conversion through the repentance of sins that carried throughout the desert of our world. His voice is still heard today for those who wish to pay attention. His was a good, godly voice crying out in the desert, all the way to the River. He carried his bullhorn with him. Tourists thought is was a jar of honey. It was his big mouth. We’re created not only for listening. Two ears; one mouth. Not just two ears, being a virtue to attentively hear the other, especially the cry of the poor. But also a big mouth. Now, when a person is a labeled a big mouth, it’s almost always an insult, is it not? When’s the last time “Hey, big mouth!” sounded like a compliment? But there’s at least one situation, one central part of our lives where a bullhorn is a very good tool for us saying to the world as Church, “Make straight the way of the Lord.” Those are words meant not only to be heard in the silence of our listening; they are meant to be spoken through a bullhorn to a word in dreadful need of hearing them. “Make straight the way of the Lord.” This straightness begins with each of us personally. We’re responsible for our straightness. We don’t blame any of our crookedness on others, like adults in a certain walk of life so easily and immaturely do (if you know who I mean). We cannot cry out in the desert, “Make straight the way of the Lord,” if our straightness is rather crooked. That would be a bad joke, where a sneering laugh echoes back our way from the pit below. It’s the holiness and faithfulness of John the Baptist that allowed his voice to penetrate the hearts and minds of the crowds awaiting a Messiah. “Who are you?” they ask. Are you Elijah or Moses, or Mary or Veronica? “No,” he answers. Honesty is a great virtue. Especially when confessing our sins. Then “What are you?” they ask him. What sort of creature are you John? What sort of creatures are we? As we close in on our Lord’s birth, may we draw closer to the sort of creatures who do not shy away from symbolically standing in the middle of the desert, with a bullhorn, with the “on” button lit up, a voice crying out, “Make straight the way of the Lord.” May these words never be a bad joke for us or others, but words that testify in our lives to the light of Christ.
As we journey through life, there are some parts of the journey where we might not want to know absolutely everything about a given situation. For example, when someone becomes ill, they may not wish to know a diagnosis. Some of us would say the more we know the better chance of recovery. Unless there is no cure. But some of us don’t want to know any potential bad news connected to our health. Which is why many guys – and a few ladies too – will not visit a doctor for years. This knowing or not knowing something important about ourselves leads to a curious question about the Immaculate Conception; “How well did Mary know that she was conceived a sinless creature in her mother’s womb, St. Anne? That God’s favor, grace, and power had filled her? Did Mary come to know in her adult years that she was conceived without original sin for the singular purpose of carrying the Divine child in her tabernacle?” Makes for a healthy, very spiritual meditation to ponder Mary’s self-knowledge. Would she want to know that God protected her from the ravages of evil, and the Evil One, and that He created in her being – body, soul, and spirit – the most perfect creature of all time? We know in Our Lady’s visits to St. Bernadette in Lourdes, France in the 1850’s Mary identifies herself to Bernadette as the Immaculate Conception. Did she know this on earth, or, did she learn this about herself after she was assumed into heaven? Whereas Tom Brady is the greatest quarterback of all time, poor Tom cannot hold a candle – or a football – to the greatness of Blessed Mary. Yet, as the Magnificat tells us in the first chapter of Luke’s Gospel, Mary calls herself a lowly servant. The best kind. The Gospel today is the story, not of the Immaculate Conception, but of the Annunciation, the conception of Jesus in Mary. We have in Scripture no explicit story of Mary’s conception in her mother’s womb. I suspect the very first reason for the lack of Mary’s conception story in the Bible is because her entire life is centered in the conception and birth of Jesus. If we could have asked her during her lifetime, “Mary, do you fully understand who you are and how God has favored you so?” She would likely answer, “Who I am is far less important than you worshipping the fullness of my Son. I want you to know and love him as I know and love him. With all your being. If you do this, who I am will be understood with joy.” And that’s the key understanding of this most beautiful Marian celebration. A celebration that we as Church, as proud Catholics, we embrace the infinite goodness of this Most Holy Woman and Mother. We unite our souls with her sinless creation and sinless life. Unlike Eve, who faltered in the Garden, dragging Adam into the pit, this Lady from Nazareth faltered not! Whether aware of this good news or not, she lived every day in the perfection of her virtues. And her greatest perfection and virtue were the words, “This is my Son and Lord. I invite you to walk in his path as I do.” May the Immaculate Conception pray for us. Amen.
Two Masses will be held in celebration of the Immaculate Conception of Mary, a holy day: Monday. December 7 at 4:00 p.m. & Tuesday, December 8 at 9:00 a.m.
There’s a priest I know who has the habit of one-upping everyone in conversations. If I say, “You know, I try my best to pray a Rosary each day,” he’ll say, “Oh, I pray two Rosaries every day.” Good for you! If you told him you were at the Red Sox game in October, 2013 when they won the World Series at home for the first time in 95 years, and that you had good seats in the grandstands, he’d say, “Yea, I was in the dugout for that game.” Everything a one-upper says has to be taken with a grain of salt. Or an entire barrel of it. It’s hard to figure out what’s true and what isn’t, understanding that more is not true than is. There are many, many parts of the life of John the Baptist to admire and imitate besides eating grasshoppers. From the start, in the holy womb of his mother St. Elizabeth, to violent finish with his head on a platter, John was faithful to his vocation and mission throughout. As Catholics, we are called, even commanded, by the Lord to do the same with the whole of our faith. John the Baptist, outside of Jesus and his holy Mother Mary, was a prophet infused with the virtues of humility and obedience. Not even the Apostles, I believe, lived these virtues to the perfection that John did. He had full understanding of what God sought from him from beginning to end, and had no worldly holes in him looking like a piece of Swiss cheese. John prepared to perfection the way of God’s Son into the start of his public ministry. The Lord welcomes the same from us. That we allow the holiness and beauty of Jesus’ ministry to walk before us in every phase of our lives. But my number one favorite personal characteristic of John is actually a failure on his part. He failed miserably at being a one-upper. John’s baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins was a spiritual reality that the Israelites of old could have used to save themselves from a ton of justified anger coming down from Mt. Sinai and elsewhere. At their building of a golden calf, bowing down and worshipping before it. Or being sent into the slavery of Babylon for 70 years, asking themselves, ‘God, where are you when we need you?” Repentance on the part of the Israelites for the forgiveness of their grave sins would have avoided untold amounts of misery and heartache they forced themselves into. Our repentance will avoid all those internal struggles we have. John’s message of repentance for the forgiveness of sins would have prevented all that horror for the Desert People of 40 Years. It was the loudest message to come down the pike that begins in heaven. Repent in preparation for God’s arrival. Repentance for the forgiveness of sins is the number one preventative medicine that cures the misery of spiritual illness. John’s message was – and is – the most effective way to be in, and remain in, right relationship with God and each other. The importance of John’s message cannot be overstated for us today. John was in a position better than anyone who made it to adulthood to one-up Jesus. His message of repentance proclaimed even before Jesus appeared at the River was so effective that according to a story in the Acts of the Apostles (Chapter 19), John disciples, many years after the Lord’s resurrection, when encountering St. Paul on one of his missionary journeys, the conversation between them turned to baptism. John’s disciples, years after Jesus ascended, never heard of being baptized in the Holy Spirit, the baptism of Christ that we have all received. They knew only of John’s baptism of repentance. It’s a fascinating story that reveals the lasting effect of John’s preaching. When you leave here today, you’re going to forget what I said. Years later, they remembered his message that carried well into early Christian communities. Despite this, John remained true to his calling and mission. And that’s the message for the 2nd Sunday of Advent in preparation for our Lord’s birth. A central part of our preparation is a self-understanding; that Jesus Christ is the leader, and we follow. Another verse from Acts, chapter 5; “We must obey God and not men.” This verse points to what will bring us to heaven, or what will send us to hell. In today’s world that some call post-Christian, it takes much humility to remain faithful and true to our following, even following the Savior of the world. We look to John the Baptist for the perfect Christian gift we can offer to our Lord; never attempt to one-up God by taking him over. By replacing him with worldly living. Yes, we are his hands, feet, and voices. But always in the context of being servant-followers to Him and each other.
Listening to the words of Jesus at times is not easy to understand or figure out. It would be akin to listening to Coach Bill Belichick in a coaches-only meeting speak about what’s supposed to happen on this defensive play or that offensive play. Most of us would ask, “What language is he speaking?” The words of our Lord in this Gospel on the 1st Sunday of Advent are not over-the-top million-dollar words to understand. “Be watchful! Be Alert!” Okay. Easy words. “You do not know when the time will come… What I say to you, I say to all: Watch!” Pretty basic words. But try figuring out what Jesus is really saying. Be watchful for what? A vaccine? That sounds good. The sooner the better. Return some semblance of normalcy to a passing world, where life passes by in a flash. “Be alert!” he tells them. Be alert for what? For someone to show up at midnight? Be alert for the owner of the house to return? That play is really hard to figure out. The language is basic; no multi-million dollar words. But the idea, the concept, the concrete answer and full understanding is not so obvious. They can be used – these words of Christ - in a thousand different contexts. Be alert when crossing a busy street so you don’t get flattened by a Mack Truck. Good advice. Be watchful for your family member to arrive home safely after a long trip. A loving a caring attitude. Be alert for signs of depression in a youngster who’s been “unsocialized” by adults because of the adults’ intense fear of a virus. That’s a useful thing to be alert for. Be watchful for signs of drug abuse or any abuse, and all other addictions that break hearts and can ruin faith in God within families. Be watchful and bring them to some peace through determination and care. Be alert for many dangers, physical and spiritual. Be watchful for numerous pitfalls as we journey through this God-forsaken world that God created so beautifully. Be alert for a bad homily! I suspect that all this sort of alertness and watchfulness that touch on everyday parts of our lives, they still do not capture the understanding of what our Lord speaks to today. That this play he’s calling and setting up with his disciples is a play that is altogether different, and most unexpected. Where we need to think outside the box. Our understanding of what Jesus means by these very simple words that point to a complicated idea, to grasp what he’s teaching here, means that our understanding must be divine. That there are times in our lives when thinking as humans, or thinking as a Democrat or Republican or any other weird sort of politics, will leave us way back there somewhere…when our Savior is calling us way up here in front of him. Where God is front and center, and not our politics. So, what’s way up here in the context of “Be alert! Be watchful!”? Our understanding of ourselves, the greater purpose of our lives, and where this entire show is going, is that our alertness and watchfulness are centered in Christ Jesus. Jesus tells them to be alert and watchful for him, because he’s coming back. He’s the gatekeeper, inviting us all to walk through his gate, and not go back to that village of pagans, where all us Gentiles came from. The one word not present in this Gospel is the word “return.” But the entire scene centers on this word. Return speaks to our faith in three ways. First, he’s returning at the end of this human experiment. At the end of time, when time is no more. When time will no longer be wasted. In the words of St. Augustine that capture this truth so well, he wrote that Jesus is returning whether we like it or not. It’s good that our Lord’s Second Coming is beyond our control. We would likely do something to prevent it if we controlled the consummation of the world. Second, his return to his disciples in the most personal way means his resurrection. “I’m coming back to you after they kill me,” he says, “and we’ll be dancing in the streets and shouting for joy, because the only thing killed will be death. Don’t give up hope when they tell you I’m dead. Don’t allow their lack of alertness and watchfulness to adversely affect your life. Because I’m returning to you, and I’m carrying you forward with me.” And third, what Advent is all about; be alert and watchful – again – for his return in a crib in a smelly barnyard. Don’t ever tire of the Word becoming flesh. That never gets old for a person of faith. For a faithless person it does get old. The word is Incarnation. Be alert, be watchful, and be ready to be “incarnated” into the human body of God’s Son. We are one with him in his birth. God reveals his human face in Jesus. And when Christ returns at the end, and raises our bodies to be like his, we will be way up there in the house of the Gatekeeper. God keeps his promises. I finish with the words of St. Paul in today’s reading from 1st Corinthians: “God is faithful, and by him you were called to fellowship with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” Amen.
There are few who move out. There are many who move in. That statement certainly applies to our nation. Despite the threats of this or that person moving north of the border or to some European nation infested with a pandemic because this person or that person got elected, we still have a country that few move out of, and many want to move in to. We are blessed in many respects. We are also challenged to become better in many areas, but we are blessed. We pray this remains so in the years ahead for our present young folks, so that our thanks to God will be continuous and true as time marches on. There are few who move out, and many who move in. Not only in the context of our nation of red, white, and blue, but also in the setting of a leper colony. Once you move in, it’s almost impossible to move out. A truer observation would be, “Once the many are forced into that village of contamination, one can move out only through a miracle of healing.” Easy in, but not easy out. In a leper colony, the easy out is when they carry out your dead body. It’s no wonder they yell so loud, raising their voices to fever pitch; “Jesus, Master! Have pity on us. We had to move into this village years ago and we cannot move out.” Lepers in the time of Jesus were no more than caged animals. Restricted in movement; forced to live in the city garbage dump; no friends to rely on. About as bad a situation as a roomful of patients with coronavirus. So, Jesus does what he does best. And if you think I’m referring to his healing power, I’m not. What the Lord does best is mercy. His miracles are made possible only through a heart that loves every part of his creation, except sin. But today, Thanksgiving Day, is centered more on the reaction to mercy rather than the mercy given. On the opposite reactions of returning to render thanks, or walking away without going out of one’s way to say “Thank you.” I believe we would all agree that “going out of the way,” which the Lord did, deserves another in return. After Jesus, we highlight the other All-Star in this Gospel story, the leper who returned to offer thanks. And we raise him/her as a model this day for all of us who have moved into the Kingdom of God, into this community, with the hopes of never moving out. Of course, the difference between our situation and that of the 10 lepers is, through faith, we’ve moved into a glorious community of believers, with all our health issues, personality traits, and idiosyncrasies, whereas the lepers cannot escape fast enough. Their community is not glorious at all. The one nameless leper who returns to Jesus is the Bible’s one continuous reminder for all people in all places and times to thank our Savior for his merciful actions that have moved us out of the community of sinners that Adam & Eve shoved us into, moving us out of that horrible place into the kingdom of light. We thank God for countless blessings bestowed, both physical and spiritual over the years. But more so for the move caused by his mercy; moving us from the country of Hades to the nation of Heaven. A good move indeed.
St. John Paul II called it “the feminine genius.” The genius of the woman who either cares for her family with the love only a wife and mother can give. The genius of a woman like Mrs. Barrett who was recently appointed to the United States Supreme Court, balancing her demanding work, her Catholic faith, raising seven children including two adopted from Haiti, being a devoted wife to her husband. And for good measure, handling with total grace and patience some of the dumbest and crudest questions she’s ever been asked by Senators who were anything but graceful. Her value is far beyond pearls, as the writer of Proverbs expresses so nicely today. And Mrs. Barrett’s value far beyond pearls will reach its limit in the legal profession if one day she’s the deciding vote in the overturning of the horror called Roe vs. Wade, allowing all the children to live. The feminine genius, understood from the genius teaching of St. John Paul II who raised the dignity of the woman to her highest measure. A value that is far beyond pearls. And far beyond the parable of talents too. In the Gospel parable that Jesus teaches, let’s pretend the 3 servants, instead of being men which Jesus calls them, let’s assume for the sake of a Sunday homily the 3 servants are women. This would match up best with the reading from Proverbs. They’re called in by the Boss who knows the gifts and talent ability of each one. One servant receives 5 precious pearls owned by the Boss, and she’s told to go and increase the number of pearls. Another woman receives three, and the third receives one. Each according to their ability. We can’t all be a St. Teresa of Calcutta, or a St. John Paul II (even though I look like him). We can’t all be a St. Therese of the Child Jesus, or a St. Francis of Assisi. That’s the 5-talent crowd. Or more like the 500-talent group. Each of us is given the responsibility in our Baptism to return to the Lord what we’re capable of increasing through being open to his grace. And God, the Boss, is satisfied with each respective investment. The problem here that may arise is allowing our pride to get in the way because we may think, “I belong in the 5-talent group.” Anyone who believes this, you best be ready to ready to lay down your life for Christ. Literally, spill your blood for Jesus. It’s more like, “No, you belong in the three-talent group.” Back to the women servants, beginning with the one talent, the one precious pearl worth much less than a worthy wife. The one who goes out and buries the pearl because she was too afraid that her husband would be angry if she showed she was smarter than him. A more profitable Christian investor than him. We thank God that Mrs. Barrett’s husband doesn’t think this way. He was mighty fine with her becoming a Supreme Court Justice. And women, like men, at times make the wrong decision with the placement of one precious pearl, and what to do with the joy of the Baptism entrusted to us by the Boss upstairs. All this servant had to do was to go out and make another disciple for the Lord. With all her friends, one would think the possibility was easy. But hiding her Baptism, and burying her Baptism in the ground happened for two reasons: fear and selfishness. Fear, for not trusting that God would provide all she needed to make another disciple, another pearl. And the selfishness of keeping one’s faith to oneself, when faith is a virtue to be spread like mayonnaise on a tuna fish sandwich. The woman servant entrusted with the 3 talents and makes 3 more for the Boss, is most of the holy woman I’m blessed to know and love. To add three more pearls to God’s account requires a long list of goodies: a devoted wife; a caring mother; a single woman who loves God and neighbor (one need not be married); a woman devoted to daily prayer; one who builds up her intellectual feminine genius in a thousand different fields for the good of those who benefit from her genius….women doctors, nurses, counselors, judges, and teachers. All called to care for and build up others in truth and dignity. And do so as a joyful Christian woman embracing the fullness of her faith. There’s a lasting genius in such faithfulness. And so many other areas of life. My own mother would be in this group of 3 talents. And the women with 5 pearls who go on to make 5 more, or 500 more. Like men, they’re fewer in number. These are the worthy wives, mothers, and single women whom God called to have a direct role in salvation history, alongside all the other great women in the Communion of Saints. There is no one above Mary of Nazareth. The theotokos, the Mother of God. She is the premiere 5-talent holder who said “yes” to Gabriel. She’s the woman servant entrusted to carry within her the five great talents of her Son: life, death, resurrection, ascension, and return to raise our bodies. For 14-plus years of priesthood I’ve been trying to convince young ladies who seek a female model in their lives to avoid Hollywood and New York and look to the small village of Nazareth where the perfect female role model is found. After Blessed Mary, the 5-talent servants are St. Mary Magdalene and her conversion; St. Veronica who wiped the face of Jesus as he carried his Cross; the mothers of Peter & Andrew, James & John; the Samaritan Woman at Jacob’s Well where Jesus thirsted for her faith; the Syro-Phoenician woman who convinced Jesus to heal her daughter. And all the great women Saints over 20 centuries of the Church. They brought many souls to the Savior of the world. Burying their 5 pearls was never a thought. So, for all the women servants of the Boss, all that feminine genius - and all us men servants too – we don’t want to be the number one talent. The three and five talents are the ones who produce for Christ, who is Lord forever and ever.
At some point later in the day or early evening, most of us will get a little tired and drowsy. If we expend much energy, or even do nothing at all, the body will tire after a certain number of hours of being awake. A handful of us are like the Ever-ready bunny, banging on the drum of life from early dawn until late in the evening, burning the midnight oil. But many of us could settle for a short nap for our bodies later in the day. Having accomplished much good, or nothing at all, we enjoy a rest. The theme for this Sunday’s readings is drowsiness, and not joining certain groups of drowsers, but holding fast to our faith in Christ. I do question at times – when I reach a certain level of frustration – whether the Bishops in our country have become collectively drowsy for the past number of decades with regard to proclaiming the entire Gospel openly with forthrightness, while holding others accountable who subvert the Gospel. There seems to be a collective silence that hurts the Church as Christ founded Her, commanding the first Apostles to go out and teach the nations, baptizing the world in the name of the Holy Trinity. One re-reading of the Acts of the Apostles can bring their collective voices back to where they need to be for the good of God’s People. As the world expands its godlessness through actions and laws that destroy human life and settle for human saviors, their collective voices are much needed today. One re-reading of the Acts of the Apostles and meditating on the courage of the Shepherds Peter and Paul would remove all the contemporary drowsiness and deafening silence. When our Bishops do not collectively have the oil of fortitude in their lamps, they become, like Jesus says in the parable, foolish. We want leaders who own an entire oil company, where the oil for their lamps never runs low, like it never did for Peter or Paul. Fortunately, our Worcester Bishop has lots of oil. We are blessed. But all of them as one voice collectively? Not as much. Today’s second reading from Paul to the Thessalonians is centered on death. The death of loved ones who believed in the resurrection. They expected that great and terrible day to happen while they were still awake. In their lifetime, the belief was that Jesus would return. Instead, they all went the way of dust. Paul, being the courageous Bishop that he was, settles the matter by writing about the necessity of hope. Paul instructs these virgin believers to place the oil of hope into the lamps of their faith. With other believers dying around them - their family members and friends, which we all can relate to – now some oil needs to be discovered that will allow their faith to stay lit, and not hold onto lamps that burn out. Many Christians today have allowed their lamps to be burned out. It makes me wonder as a priest how much of the burning out of their faith lies at the feet of episcopal silence for so long. Either way, the Thessalonians are hurting because of the death of their loved ones. That sounds familiar for many of us. Some things never change for those who love others. And hurting because of someone’s death is one of them. In this month of November when we lovingly remember the souls of all the faithful departed, St. Paul, the great Apostle and Bishop, places into all our lamps of faith the type of crude oil that keeps us true to Jesus until the end. It’s the oil of hope, which is anything but crude. “We do not want you to be unaware about those who have fallen asleep, so that you may not grieve like the rest, who have no hope.” Grieving is allowed for any of us who are faithful, but never without the hope of being together again with our brothers and sisters in the Lord. As Catholics, there is no pretending like our stock of oil runs dry for the lamps of our faith. Do not allow such complacency to overpower your faith life. As some people moan and groan and bewail the results of the election this week, pretending like that’s the only part of life that matters, Christians do not lose hope in what concerns us first. When we die from this world, when Jesus shows up at midnight knocking on the door saying “Let me in to collect my faithful people,” and you’re outside slumbering while smoking a pack of Camels, or outside with our crying towels because one of them is going to lose, pretending like heaven has fallen never to be picked up again. When Jesus shows up, the first way we are ready with an abundance of oil in our lamps of faith is to stay focused on him. Stay centered in Christ. For those who are angry, this is an opportunity to draw deeper into the Lord, letting go much more of this world as we walk toward eternal life. Maybe that’s what he’s asking you to do. And if your candidate wins, then do the same. Death is the great equalizer, as the Thessalonians found out. We’re all on the same page with that reality. It’s best to be wise than foolish, possessing hope as the oil for our lamps.
Our Parish will be hold a Mass for All Souls Days at 5:30 p.m. This Mass will present the opportunity to pray for the faithful departed remembering in a special way our loved ones who have died in the past year and beyond. After the homily, all who are present can light a candle and place it in front of our altar in memory of a loved one. This 5:30 Mass is in addition to our daily 9:00 Monday morning Mass, which will still take place.
In our celebration today of All Saints, there are many singular words that stand out for that particular group of holy ones over the centuries. The first word always for the Saints is love. The Saints were great, great lovers. In their lives, they teach us to love God above all. And in the midst of intense political heat, heat that can burn and scorch in hurtful or helpful ways, we constantly are in need of the pleasant reminder that our love and energy is given over first to God. Namely to Jesus. The Saints in the Communion of the Church loved the Lord with all their heart and soul, as God commanded the Israelites in the Old Testament and Jesus teaches in the New. When we read the same teaching/commandment in both the Old and New Testaments, the priority and importance of said teaching cannot be over-heightened. The Scriptures will always speak to our daily living, and loving God above all is the teaching that is the starting point of every generation of God-fearing people. The Saints loved God, and couldn’t wait to say hello in person. Which is why so many thousands of them accepted martyrdom. As St. Paul wrote in Chapter 13 of First Corinthians, there is faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of these is love. Love sets the Christian table for all we say and do. Love tells the truth about something, whether comfortable or not, whether politically correct or not. In the Saints, their love for God rose above the world’s troubles. Heaven was their goal, and love was the way to reach that goal. Flowing from their love for God, all the Saints loved their neighbor. This is one of the many benefits of loving God above all; that our love for God; that our love for the Lord must be shared with others. The story of St. Maximilian Kolbe is one of the best examples; a Saint who accepted the death sentence of another man in the camp because that man was a father with children, saving that man’s life while forfeiting his own. He stole that man’s death, and made it his own. There is no greater love. The second word for all the Saints that naturally follows the word love is the word faith. In Christianity, faith is believing what we cannot see. We have faith in the resurrection. Have you even seen one? Were any of us standing at the tomb of Lazarus? Is anyone here that old? Have you ever seen a hearse stop at the front gate of St. John’s Cemetery on the last leg of its trip to the grave site because some guy in his casket was yelling out from inside the box, “Open up! I’m not dead! I’ve been raised by God!” That hasn’t to me yet as a priest. And for a few of them, without mentioning names, I’m glad they stayed in the box. They’re better off in Purgatory. Faith; believing what we cannot yet see. But St. John in today’s 2nd reading provides a spiritual insight on how faith is presently working for our benefit. Our faith makes us children of God now, he writes. We’ve been adopted through the victory of Jesus on the Cross. We’re familiar with that popular Good Friday song, “Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?” (And after Bridget, Jane, and Travis, no one sings it better than Johnny Cash.) To answer the title’s question, we were there in spirit because we are all sinners. But no, we weren’t there to see it. But we have faith it happened. All the Saints, including the ones here today, fully embraced and covered themselves in being God’s children now. That’s who we are. That’s your dignity by virtue of your faith. We are not orphans, we are not roving immigrants in the sight of God. But like immigrants, we have in common with them that we are God’s children now. The faith of all the Saints was all in for their Creator while bringing their faith to others. What they sought above all was to see God as he is, as St. John also writes. Seeing God as he is, which many of us are closer to doing than we think, is the reward of faith. If anyone wishes to see the Devil as he is, they can toss their faith into the dumpster where Satan resides. We prefer, like all the Saints, seeing God as he is. The third singular word for all the Saints is works. As St. James so clearly writes in his Epistle, “Faith without works is dead.” Faith without works of love is faith watered down and made easy, which is dead material. Faith with works that express our love for God and neighbor is today’s Gospel of the Beatitudes. When the Lord sat down with them on the mountain that day, he brought with him his A-Game. In truth, Jesus always had his A-Game in his Divine and human perfection. But here it really shines forth for his Apostolic Saints as they drink in his words. The Beatitudes are the works of love and faith rolled into one large, delicious loaf of bread called the Eucharist. In living the Beatitudes, we consume Christ. In living the Beatitudes, we work for Jesus our Master. Poor in spirit; simplicity; being grateful for who and what we have; not looting the property of others; having no regard for keeping up with the Joneses. Mourning; compassion and empathy for the other suffering soul. Meek; reject all violence. Thirst for righteousness; seeing the world as God sees it. Merciful; let go and let God clean us. Clean of heart; recapturing some youthful innocence as adults. Peacemakers: extend a hand in love and don’t join the rioters. Persecuted for Christ; no revenge; no lashing out; die for him who died for you. Being insulted; offer a blessing in return and pray for the insulter. Rejoice and be glad. Your reward will be great. The Beatitudes are works that flow from our faith working through love. They’re not easy, are they? But they’re not impossible either, because all the Saints as human as you and I passed the test. I pray that we do too, through the grace of God.
Repayment in the Christian life is a repayment not of gold or silver, but faith and devotion to the Lord and the present cause of heaven. The cause of heaven on earth never changes as people and generations do. I think of my grandparents, great-grandparents, and even great-great grandparents, two of whom are resting silently one minute up the road in Rural Cemetery, and I think how they have all come and gone. But, during their lives of faith and devotion to God, their cause of heaven was no different than ours. Not even from the 1st century Thessalonians whom Paul writes to so graciously, nor anyone in the whacky world of the Middle Ages and after. The cause of heaven on earth is, of course, living the Gospel, living it to its fullness, and bringing it to the world. Some sectors of Christianity do this well, while others tend to be a bit more timid and silent when speaking is required. Giving to Caesar what belongs to Caesar. The word Caesar refers to the worldly powers we address. It does not mean giving our soul away, and selling it to the devil, even in the smallest way. Giving to Caesar what belongs to Caesar would be more consistent with being a good, productive citizen to the best of our ability. One who brings peace to our communities, not causing little or large wars all over the place. I feel sad for any Christian who is so wrapped up in today’s political scene to the point where their entire life, or much of it, is given over to Caesar. Where God is given little or nothing. It’s a sad sight indeed, watching someone, anyone, live totally for this world when life with God, Mary and the Saints awaits us. A Catholic giving to Caesar what belongs to Caesar is realized in virtues lived out. Faith working through love; works of mercy. Again, I think of the infamous St. John’s Soup Kitchen, an obvious choice. A Parish and dedicated group of volunteers from about 30 different zip codes feeding those who really are hungry. There’s no fake hunger in the hundreds who line up. Christ is in their faces. Whether they know it or not, we’re supposed to know that holy truth about them. We give Caesar what actually builds up Caesar in the sense of bringing God’s kingdom to our communities through the living out of our Catholic faith. Jesus no where says, “Give Caesar nothing.” Instead, by giving our all to Christ Jesus, we give some of that all to Caesar through loving works of mercy and good citizenship. We share Christ within the little world we inhabit. With that said, giving God what belongs to God gets a little muddy nowadays, and it has for quite some time, especially with us Catholic folk. Speaking from years of observation, many Catholics have a bad habit of either not seeing things as they are, or making excuses for unfaithful choices. For example, any Catholic Christian who lacks the fortitude to defend human life, God’s greatest gift before eternal life, and defend it properly from conception through the natural death God has written for us, that’s a Catholic who gives to Caesar what belongs to God. Any Catholic who supports and defends the total destruction of a child in the womb of its mother, and fails to see that’s what really happens, waters down their faith to the point of jeopardizing their own salvation. That person can receive Communion a million times over, but such reception never catches up to their giving to Caesar what belongs to God. And that’s the seriousness of this present day issue that many refuse to address. We want every day to be happy, and joyful, and the Patriots winning the Super Bowl every year. Funny how don’t get tired of that. But some of us get tired of addressing the most important moral issue of today. Catholics who get tired of defending human life, or fail to altogether, would have gotten tired of defending the horrors of slavery in 19th century America. Have the fortitude to defend God’s number one gift, human life. Always. Always. Light a firecracker in our souls if we have to. It must be defended against the forces of evil. I’ve said it in the past, and it’s worth repeating; From conception, God owns us. From the Book of Deuteronomy, Chapter 10; The heavens, even the highest heavens, belong to the Lord, your God, as well as the earth and everything on it. We belong to the Lord. He’s the Master; we’re his humble servants, imitating the servanthood of Jesus himself. Our lives are certainly not owned by any political party, especially one that speaks and acts like they’re in charge of life, replacing God’s ownership, deciding who lives and who dies. Or even a lead candidate who labels himself a “good Catholic” from one side of his mouth, and then says from the other side, “You can snuff out that child. At any point. Even after birth” That’s a Catholic who does not speak for the Catholic Church. That’s a Catholic who misrepresents the Catholic faith in the most serious way. I fear his salvation as he closes in on his own death. It is a fearful thing to stand before the living God, especially if we did not defend his most innocent creation. Catholics respect and defend all human life. That is our fundamental teaching, and not the personal choice of some guy running for office. Another muddy area for Catholics that follows the preeminent issue of life, an issue where we give to Caesar what belongs to God, is immigration and immigrants. It seems from my observation that many Catholics have a difficult time seeing the face of Christ in them. Seeing immigrants, real human beings, in the context only of legal citizenship, boundaries, territories, and walls, prevents us from having a vision that sees the face of Christ in that person. Seeing immigration in that manner places a non-Christian blindfold over our eyes. That, my friends, is a grave sin in which many Catholics knowingly or unknowingly are complicit. At the heart of our faith is the divinely revealed teaching to love and support – by word and deed – the lowly, the despised, the poor, the hungry, the refugee, the immigrant. God himself defended the widow and orphan. Check the Old Testament. It’s all over the text. Give to God what belongs to God, and love and support the immigrant, understanding that boundaries and territories are very important, but they are not the last say when living out our Catholic faith on this very human issue. God is all powerful and eternal. Caesar is passing. Standing before God, Caesar is a wimp. But God uses Caesar to bring love, empathy, and a boatload of relief to our brothers and sisters. From the unborn (the highest moral issue of our day), the sick & dying elderly, the hungry on Temple Street, to the immigrant who is today’s widow and orphan. We may despise them, but God will defend them. Do we wish to fight against God? We know who eventually wins. We give to God what belongs to God when we live, not just some parts of our Catholic faith, but the fullness of it. That’s the repayment God expects and nothing short of it.
That’s one tough king. Hard to satisfy. But in truth, Jesus our King, the King of the Universe, is not hard to satisfy. All we need to do is extend empathy; compassion; mercy; forgiveness; love your neighbor; feed the poor; defend life in all its stages, from the unborn to the elderly sick who are dying. All we need to do to satisfy Jesus the King is listen and heed his words; “Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” What’s so hard about that? I bet at least half of you are perfect. Or at least you think so. I read a novel on St. Francis this past week as I did my annual retreat in the quiet and solitude of New Hampshire in the White Mountains. I didn’t want to leave. But Jesus said, “Excuse me sir, get in your car and drive 150 miles south to beautiful, noisy Grove St.” “You’re the boss,” I said. In the novel written on St. Francis, which touches on many of the real situations of his life, one part that stood out was the name that St. Francis called himself quite often. Actually, he had two surnames for himself. The first one, which I will slightly alter since we are in Church, was the name synonymous with Bother Donkey. There’s another word for donkey I will not say here. And that’s the word he called himself, meaning Brother Donkey. The second name St. Francis called himself when he realized he was too puffed up, or too filled with pride, when not giving God all the credit when his newly found Order was running on all cylinders, was the name worm. And when St. Francis called himself a worm; “I am a worm and no man,” he meant it. There was no false humility. Whenever he arrived too close to that border, at the edge of thinking he was somehow good and perfect, he would bring himself down faster than you can say “Lickety Split.” His purpose was to bring himself back, through the grace of God, to emptying out any overhanging pride in the success of his Order, returning to ground zero where Christ is all. Where Jesus is running the show, and the Franciscan Order. Where our Savior is the director of this opera. Where the Crucified One is the impetus behind the Kingdom of God spreading like wildfire in our lives. Wouldn’t it be just heavenly if we all did so? That each of us spread the Kingdom of God like a scorched earth policy. Spreading the Kingdom throughout families, communities, and nations the love of God that is found in Christ Jesus our Lord. That can make a person feel really tiny, realizing what little we accomplish at the end of the day. So, who wants to be a Saint now? I am a worm. But a worm that God loves unconditionally. There was one worm who wormed his way into the wedding banquet of the king’s son. “Go out into the streets,” the king said, “and invite everyone you see. The blind, the lame, the crippled, the beggars, the prostitutes and tax collectors, even Matthew sitting at his post. Invite also a couple UPS drivers.” God help us! And there in the midst of this large group of invitees is one guy still wearing his brown uniform. Just about the same color as a worm. And we know why he showed up wearing his uniform… He had to work overtime the night of the wedding banquet because of all those goods you people order online. After being invited by one of the king’s servants he said, “I need to finish my deliveries so I can get to the wedding banquet, the biggest party in town. I don’t want to miss out on it.” He enters the hall. The groom’s father, who is the king, sees what looks to be a guy wearing a brown uniform, with brown hat and brown socks to match. He walks over to this guy dressed like a worm and says, “That’s not a wedding garment. You insult my son wearing those company manufactured clothes. Time to throw you out. You can go eat at McDonald’s for the rest of your life.” (Talk about Purgatory!). And St. Francis got tossed out. Who is this king who would throw out St. Francis because he’s not dressed properly for the wedding banquet? You know what I think? (I’m glad you asked.) I think this king is not the king we think he is. He’s not the King of Heaven. He’s the king of materialism. The king of profit. The king of the external. The king who judges the outside. He’s the king who subscribes to the dictates of this world. And there was only one type of person he could toss out of his son’s wedding banquet. And that person was a Saint. Getting tossed out of this type of wedding banquet was the best thing that could have happened to St. Francis, lest he become more than a worm. St. Francis, and many other Saints in the Communion, perfected humility to an extreme we will never know, likely. There may be one or two of us. Maybe. Either way, getting tossed out of certain types of banquets in this life, banquets that do not hold to a Christian life, is a very good thing. Sometimes getting tossed out serves our eternal well-being. Even if we have to eat at McDonald’s once in a while in a brown suit. “I am a worm and no man.” Thank you, St. Francis, for a really good retreat.
Predictions are predictable. What’s predictable about predictions is that some predictions are wrong, others may be correct, and others still are unpredictable. We have a Presidential election in one month. Many folks are making predictions that this one is going to win, or that one is going to win. You can choose who this and that are. One side’s prediction will prove wrong, while the other prediction, which is no more than a guess, will prove correct. One group will smile, laugh, say “I told you so,” and pat themselves on the back like a politician. While the incorrect side will keep every ambulance in Central Massachusetts busy the day a victor is known. Off to the hospital they’ll go to treat a broken, angry heart. That’s my prediction. Jesus makes a couple predictions in today’s Gospel. His first prediction concerns himself, and how the stone will be rejected, and, after three days in the darkness and silence of Joseph’s tomb, become the Cornerstone. The Cornerstone of life eternal that will never be reversed. While we live in a time in history when religion is a four-letter word for a good percentage of the universe, I predict that many of the lost souls will return to the Cornerstone of their lives, the only One who offers salvation. Jesus’ prediction of being rejected to the point of death, on the face of it, spells trouble for him and his followers. It’s a stark prediction that admits to our world having a certain degree of momentary power over him, the Son of God. He predicts, “Okay, you’re going to kill me for telling you the truth of heaven, and how I teach the things of heaven so that you may know some peace, reject all violence, from looting to abortion, the worse violence of all.” Then he further tells his hearers, “I know you’re going to reject my message, toss it aside like a bad apple, and move ahead with crucifixion. The Stone will be killed.” And so it came to pass. His prediction was spot on. But the greatness of Jesus’ prediction doesn’t end on Golgotha. The stone becomes the Cornerstone. He becomes our Cornerstone through his resurrection. And the truth of this prediction by the Lord; we own it. So, what comes from this prediction is the question, “Are you ready to see them again? Where death is no more; where cancer is eternally absent; where peace is fully known; where forgiveness is never needed, that hardest of virtues gone forever; where joy is complete. Are you prepared to see them?” That’s the prediction of the Cornerstone, and the Cornerstone is Christ Jesus. His second prediction is the prediction of the kingdom being taken away from those who, not only reject the stone, but the Cornerstone. This is a prediction with hard results. The prevailing thought nowadays is that everyone is going off to heaven when we die. I’m pretty confident in saying that’s not going to happen. The Scriptures tell us to work out our salvation with fear and trembling. There’s way too much in Scripture that says this “direct ticket to heaven for everyone” is a bad prediction on our part. Everyone flying off to heaven after our last breath on earth dismisses the harsh reality of sin. These are fearful words our Lord speaks today; “The kingdom of heaven will be taken away from you and given to a people that will produce its fruit.” Not the fruit of an angry world. That’s the rotten fruit from the Garden of Eden. We live and share the fruits of heaven in the midst of a twisted and perverted generation. Paul provides the list of fruits, and a beautiful list it is. Whatever is true; truth grounded in our Christian faith. Whatever is honorable, just, pure, lovely, gracious, any excellence, anything worthy of praise. With each of these virtues that Paul writes to the Philippians, we instinctively know and understand how each of these virtues connect to Christ, and not twisting them into a false representation of God. Every holy list should remain holy, untainted by human predictions. Our Lord’s predictions today give us two understandings of our faith; that he is the stone rejected, moving three days ahead to become the Cornerstone of eternal life. He promises that the everlasting part of our human condition will be one of complete joy. And second, that a straight ticket to heaven is no guarantee for every person in the history of the world. God is the Judge who will make the final call. But he makes it clear that Paul’s list of good fruit is a requirement to be included in his eternal kingdom.
The usual daily wage. Obviously there was no Union Local # 170 from my UPS days to represent the workers who entered the vineyard early in the morning, working hard and sweating all day, watching the last workers receive a usual daily wage – meaning a full day’s pay. Then came their time to be paid, thinking they would receive more. “We’re getting double the usual wage.” They were disappointed. After listening to this parable, don’t you think our hearts should go out to all the dedicated, hard workers who bore the brunt of the hot sun and day’s work? After all, they hauled in 10 times more corn, wheat, tobacco, and tomatoes than the 5:00 p.m. people. The 5:00 a.m. people loaded up 3 full carts, whereas the last ones being paid first and handsomely, realized it was dinner time and probably ate half of what they picked. One gets hungry being idle all day. The usual daily wage speaks to God being the Vineyard Owner and his system of payment. It would be nice if the U.S. Tax Code was this simple. One easy system. Where fewer CPA’s and lawyers are needed. But this usual daily wage of the Vineyard Owner; isn’t this God’s system of payment, the reward for doing his work, for living our faith in the wider vineyard, in the outer world? God’s system of payment is not complicated at all, even though we find ways to complain about it. It’s either Hades or Heaven, with a possible holdover in Purgatory. The usual daily wage is going to lift our souls and eventually our bodies next to all those great Saints, many of whom died for Christ, and many of whom lived for Christ from birth. Over the centuries, how many parents dedicated the life of their child to God’s service? Many have, becoming Saints as a result. We take the opposite approach today, where parents guide and lead their children softly into the person the child is meant to be, hoping and praying they arrive at the vineyard of the Lord and collect the usual daily wage someday. What happened to dedicating a child to God’s service for life? Does that happen anymore? Anyway, the system of payment God has set up for our practice of faith, hope, and love is a very simple, generous system of payment. The timing of entrance into the vineyard of serving the Lord is less important than the vineyard being entered. The usual daily wage will not be received until after we die. So all people have until that time to enter the vineyard. Yes, there are some good payments along the way; assisting the poor, marriage & family, good friendships. But the final usual daily wage is at the end of the day, if you know what I mean. Which brings me to St. Paul’s internal struggle in this awesome 2nd reading. Have you ever had an internal struggle between your life and your death, and which one you want at that point in life? This is what Paul struggles with in his Letter to the Philippians. But it’s not the usual sort of struggle. His words: “I am caught between the two. I long to depart this life and be with Christ, for that is far better.” Why? Because he wants his usual daily wage. Then he continues, “Yet that I remain in the flesh” – that he remains in the vineyard – “is more necessary for your benefit.” Such is the life of an Apostle. Paul’s struggle that is centered in collecting of his usual daily wage, my friends, is a good struggle. His faith in Christ is so explicit and so internally deep that he has the best of both worlds. His present life of doing God’s work fulltime, and the life with Christ in heaven that he knows awaits him. He fears neither death nor life, for the good reason of loving his life, because he knows the usual daily wage is the payment that lasts forever. And remember, St. Paul entered the vineyard a little on the late side. Our situation is no different from St. Paul’s. He loves his life. His internal struggle is that of, not living a few years, but having lived a lifetime. He’s done much. Paul’s is similar to the struggle of an elder person who knows their earthly life is drawing to a close. “When is he going to call me?” Maybe even, “Why has he taken all my Apostle friends and left me here?” What makes this a healthy struggle is maintaining a steadfast faith until our last moment in this vineyard. Don’t lose your faith in Christ. It’s your precious pearl. Lastly, a most important understanding is that Paul does not own his life. God owns his life. When reading Paul’s words here, one can get the impression that he – Paul – will decide when he will depart to be with Christ. No, he won’t! The great Apostle would be the first to tell us so. He can write these words about his life and death and which is better because he has given his every breath to Christ Jesus his Lord. Christ is the Master; Paul is the servant. God owns the life of St. Paul in the same way he owns ours. The final decision of life and death belongs to the Vineyard Owner who doles out the usual daily wage at the proper time.
There’s the good side of God forgetting our iniquities with total forgetfulness. And, there’s the bad side of God remembering our sins in detail, as today’s first reading from Sirach notes. It’s a fearful thought that God would remember in detail every sin committed against his majesty. Every blow that strikes another; every looting that destroys; every angry word yelled at another in vengeance. Every detail – minute detail – of every action and move, every facial quiver, how much saliva flew out of the mouth when screaming, all measured by God. To think that God would not forget such details we wouldn’t even consider is a fearful thought. Here we are again back to the virtue of forgiveness. It seems to come up at those necessary times throughout the Church year. At times, I get the sense we may treat forgiveness like Superman treats kryptonite; avoid it at all cost because if I draw near to it, it will kill me. When in truth, it does the opposite. It will save us. Just like it saved all those horrible, horrible men standing near the bottom of Jesus’ Cross, asking his Father in heaven to forgive these violent actors because they don’t know what they do. Some of the last words Christ would speak in his brief life. A life, by the way, not taken from him, but given over freely. The power of his life and death belonged to him alone, and not those horrible people standing down below him on that first Good Friday. Here we are, with readings that center on the most difficult virtue to put into practice from that long list of Christian virtues. So the king had first forgiven the large debt of a lowly servant after the servant begged for mercy. In fact, the king went further than the beggar’s request. The servant only wanted more time to repay. “Give me a couple more months and I’ll give you back all I owe.” But the compassionate king, acting like the God we love, forgave everything. “Don’t worry about it, Judas,” the king said, “you’re all set. You’re free of all you owe me. Keep what you make, and your wife and kids I was going to sell, buy them something nice instead.” Don’t you think the wider world, and our personal world, would be a better place if we could forgive as easily as that? Where God would have no need of remembering all our sins in great detail? Where forgiveness was not on the top of the list of difficulty, but somewhere down in the middle of the long list of virtues? Instead, Judas walks off, encounters someone just like himself in social standing, doesn’t keep his social distance because he starts to choke the guy – for it’s hard to choke someone from 6 feet away – probably spit in the guy’s face too like the Sanhedrin did to Jesus. He does his best impression of Robert DeNiro in a drunken rage. How can anyone be so quickly forgetful and so short-sighted about the mercy they were just shown by someone else who had the power to crush out their life? How can we lose sight of the mercy freely given to any of us so quickly? That amazes me more than any other detail in this lengthy parable. That the mercy shown to the first servant, the forgiveness that was just won through begging, could not be carried forth to the next human encounter. That’s what the Lord wants us to do with it. He doesn’t want us to lose the mercy we receive from him. But to forward it to our next encounter. Where we become God in the best sense. Where the Divine within us is spread like a heavenly virus. We understand why forgiveness is on the top of the difficult list. While many offenses against our person are actually tiny in nature, where we make them out to be large, once in a while there’s a large offense that makes forgiveness, mercy, and compassion genuinely hard to practice. But, the model here is the Cross, the largest offense in all human history, with Christ hanging on it, as we hang onto his words. When the Lord spoke those words of forgiveness from the Cross on that darkest of afternoons, it was in that moment that his humanity knew full and everlasting peace. He did it for them, those horrible people who wanted him up there, like the king in the parable forgiving the servant. But he also forgave for himself. Christ filled his human nature with goodness in that moment. And that’s what the virtue that is most difficult to practice does for us. It fills us with God’s peace. A very good reason to practice forgiveness, at least from our hearts.
The influence and powerful results of communal prayer are quite apparent according to the words of our Lord. And the community that prays does not always have to be enormous. Jesus does not say, “Where two or three hundred are gathered in my name, there I am in the midst of them.” Or, “two or three thousand,” like my family, “there I am in their midst.” It seems like the Lord speaks of his presence among us in a special way to families. Where two or three, or seven or eight are gathered in his name, the blessings will flow. The first blessing being his presence in our midst. It’s a telling statement by Christ that speaks to the effects of family prayer. Speaking of speaking to effects, our readings this Sunday address the responsibility we all have of speaking. In the sense of making our voices heard. Many times this term, making your voice heard, refers to the world of politics, like that’s the only place our voices matter. Whatever is important to us is connected only to that insane and crazy world, we’re told. Making your voice heard is a good thing when trying to bring about some form of true and holy justice, and not some form of fabricated, false justice. All true justice is grounded in our Creator. This means seeking justice without violence. Seeking justice through violence is a human concept. Since we’re all sinful creatures, true, holy, and lasting justice cannot be had through violent means. Our readings this Sunday reveal true justice by way of making your voice heard. At times, such vocal noise will involve the world of politics, and sometimes not. Family prayer of two or three gathered in the holy name of Jesus while praying a Rosary, the Creed, the Angelus, is obviously not politics. Although we may pray for situations influenced by politics. If your brother sins against you, go and tell him, the Lord says. Speak the words. Build up some holy courage, get into your holy car, and tell him. Speak truthfully and to the point without reading him or her the riot act or a 400-page novel that’s boring. Tell them what they need to hear. Use your vocal cords for good production. Produce a verbal vaccine that will cure the spiritual pandemic. If that doesn’t work, if your personal vaccine does not cure the spiritual illness, invite in a couple others and give him or her more voices to hear. Good, just, trusting, and holy voices. Remember, this is not politics. And if that doesn’t work, Jesus says, then tell the church. To which I will add, be careful who you tell there also, because some priests have big mouths. The readings address the importance and necessity of speaking spiritually. In Ezekiel, God tells him in reference to the Israelites, “You shall warn them for me. You shall speak out to dissuade the wicked from his way. Not someone else Ezekiel, but you.” There was a bunch of wickedness occurring in the house of Israel during Ezekiel’s time of prophecy. Things that children should not hear. God told Ezekiel, “You’re my prophet. You need to tell them so they will turn back to me. They won’t listen to me anymore.” Clearly, the human condition has not changed from Old Testament times to the year 2020. Spiritual speakers are needed. You’ve all been baptized; a priest, prophet, and kings and queens. Who has the courage? Our second reading from Romans centers our spiritually speaking to others in the only spiritual place it belongs: “Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one another…You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” What does this look like? What Paul writes to the Romans: ‘Do not commit adultery; do not kill, steal, or covet.” By not committing these mortal sins, we love our neighbor as our self. By participating in them, we hate our neighbor as our self. Spiritual speaking can be very easy, such a spraying the Rosary. It can also be very difficult when living and preaching the Gospel, and making good choices along the way. But spiritually speak we must. Otherwise, the political world and political speaking will take over your life. And if that happens, we are not worth listening to. The ears of our listeners get tired really fast. Speak the things of God. Warn, dissuade, love, without violence. You are a prophet by means of your Baptism. Use your prophecy to continue to build up God’s kingdom.
Faith is the virtue that overcomes ideas and systems. Jesus came for the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Even the Canaanite woman calls him the Son of David, recognizing his Israelite heritage. But her faith in Jesus breaks down even the expectations of Christ himself. Personally, I think Jesus presented it as a challenge, to see if she would rise to the occasion. How often do we get challenged in our faith, where our faith in God is presented the opportunity to shine forth in a culture that pretty much sends the message to shut it down Monday-Saturday. And Sundays are okay as long as you keep your faith within the walls of the structure. Our faith is challenged every day to rise to the occasion. Whether it’s relationships – the big one; work-related; our generosity; health-related; having a heart for the poor, the immigrant, and the refugee, rather than judging them harshly, which we are commanded to not do. Every day, numerous times, we get challenged in our Catholic faith, small and large. Jesus sounding harsh – “Please move on, woman. I’m here only for the house of Israel.” This intentional response to her healing request challenged her to rise to the occasion. To the occasion of steadfast, abiding faith. The Lord said, “You have faith in me to heal your daughter? Let’s see how deep that faith really is.” And find out he did. For ourselves, we know we have faith in Jesus as Savior and Redeemer. If anyone asked us, “Do you have faith in Christ?” who of us here is going to answer “no.” We’re all going to say “yes.” Some louder than others, but all of us would say “yes.” And let’s not forget there are many people walking around today who will say “no” to that question. Where there is no internal light at the moment. So, there we are with our faith, the first of the theological virtues, and Jesus says, “I want you to show me how persevering your faith is. I’m going to challenge you. I am here only for the lost sheep of the house of Israel. A group, Mrs. Canaanite, you do not belong to.” Do we rise to the occasion, or do we walk away when seemingly rejected? In this incredible Gospel encounter, the fact that this Canaanite woman is a mother who seeks healing for her ill daughter allows for her faith to rise to the occasion. The advantage of being a mother who loves her daughter unconditionally, who would walk along the bottom of the ocean from one end to the other to ensure healing for her daughter, that advantage cannot be overestimated when it comes to persevering in one’s faith. That’s a great reason to chance it and stick it out. A loving mother will do anything for the good of the child they love. So will a loving father. Our Lord’s goal, despite the harsh words, is to draw from the mother of this ill daughter, an abiding faith that will carry her through the rest of her years. A faith she will share with her daughter. Like the Samaritan woman at the well of Jacob, this is the moment of truth. The one time in her life where she will either advance, or cave to the words of Jesus. Only tough-minded people will advance. The wimps will cave in and become violent toward God and others. We’re seeing much of that reaction right now. She’s a tough-minded mother; “Lord, even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters.” That’s more than wisdom. That’s raising your faith. It’s courageous and persevering. And Jesus smiled.
The tiny whispering sound that Elijah could barely hear. But, he had ears to hear, and hear the softness of God he did, in contrast to the loudness of this life. It makes a person wonder when God told Elijah to go outside the cave and be ready for when the Lord was going to pass by, what sort of presence did Elijah expect to see or hear? If God told you, “Go outside and stand next to the Marian statue on the grounds of Immaculate Conception and wait for me to pass by because I want to say hello to my Mother,” what thoughts will you have on how to recognize his presence? Are you going to wait for a thunderstorm to roll by on a hot, hazy summer afternoon? Do you think God’s presence is in the constant sirens that fly by the Church in both directions? Will the Lord be found in the loud motorcycles and countless cars and trucks without mufflers racing down Gold Star Blvd? if God’s presence is found in those earthquakes and fires, I’d be tempted to say, “Lord, hold back your presence today and grant me a day of peace without you.” Who knows what Elijah thought or expected when he went outside the cave! He was probably waiting for a comet to land next to him. “God’s presence must be found in the spectacular, the obvious, the booming, the overpowering noises beyond our control.” But no. The Lord’s presence in our lives is not found in pickup trucks and cars that have no mufflers racing up and down Gold Star. When that happens, I rename the street “Bronze Star.” Or “No Star.” Instead, the Lord’s presence in our lives is found on the grounds of a place like the Spencer Abbey, where a few monks are drinking Spencer Ale, eating their chocolates, softly listening to Gregorian Chant with big smiles on their faces as they thank God for being so close. The smiles are not caused by drinking too much Spencer Ale. God is close to them. That’s cause for smiling. That, my friends, is a tiny whispering sound. Those moments where Jesus tells the storm to cease, to be still, or in Lincoln St. language, to shut up. Each day we saunter outside our cave, leaving our homes, hopefully with the hope that we’re going to encounter the Lord’s presence in some form. Not a day in our life goes by without our Lord inviting us to get closer. We may carry some level of apprehension and fear what his presence will look like and sound like. What sounds or what person is he going to use to draw us in? We may think, “Well, if it’s God’s presence, I better nail my feet to the ground because I’ll probably get knocked over.” Granted, I’m a firm believer that God will use any means available to capture our attention to draw us deeper and deeper into his presence until the hour we stand before him on the other side of death. Means that are loud, soft, and anywhere in between to ensure we land on the correct of life eternal. He will use any and every means to grab our attention when the end result is our eternal good. Whatever it takes for us to arrive safely. Nothing is off the table when it comes to our eternal destiny. But, the tiny whispering sound, and Jesus’ presence that calms the roaring waters, are the most likely manifestations that allow for closeness to God in this world. In your life, if you haven’t already, make room for the quiet. Make room for the soft. Make room for some holy immersion. Recognizing when the Lord is close by is one thing. Melting into that closeness like Elijah and Peter did is a whole different ballgame. Despite God’s request, Elijah could have stayed in his cave. And Peter could have stayed in the boat, even after Jesus called him forth. But they chanced it. They both stepped out. One from the quiet of his cave; the other from a stormy, tipping boat. Elijah on the mountain, and Peter on the sea came to know that God is best known in the overpowering quiet that he wishes us to make room for.