"ELIJAH HAS ALREADY COME."

Homily for December 16^th, 2017: Matthew 17: 9a, 10-13.

          When the President comes to town, he rides in a bullet proof limousine (a sign of the violent and dangerous age in which we live). Preceding him are numerous policemen on motorcycles, and others in police cars. This almost military procession is more than is actually needed to protect the Chief Executive. It is done to prepare people for the one who is coming.

          Jesus’ people, the Jews, also expected that when the Lord’s anointed, the Messiah, came he too would be preceded by an entourage, including a prophet who would prepare the way for the Lord’s servant. The Old Testament speaks of this in a number of places, especially in the book of the prophet Malachi, who writes: “Lo, I will send you Elijah, the prophet, before the day of the Lord comes, the great and terrible day, to turn the hearts of the children to their fathers, lest I come and strike the land with doom” (3:23f).

          In the gospel reading we have just heard Matthew tells us that Jesus’ disciples recalled this tradition about Elijah coming. Where is he, they want to know? He has already come, Jesus replies. But people did not recognize him. In fact, they killed him. Then, Matthew writes: “The disciples understood the [Jesus] was speaking to them of John the Baptist.”

          Mark’s gospel tells us that John’s message was twofold. He preached repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And he proclaimed One who was coming after him. He would be greater than John, baptizing not with water but with the Holy Spirit (Mark 1:1-8). That is exactly what the gospels record. Though Jesus accepted baptism himself, there is no record of his ever baptizing anyone else. Instead, immediately after his resurrection, Jesus “breathed on [the disciples] and said: ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive men’s sins they are forgiven them; if you hold them bound, they are held bound’” (John 20:22f. )

          Was that just in ancient times? Not at all. That is still happening today. Jesus is still breathing on us and giving us the Holy Spirit. And in the sacrament of penance or confession he is still forgiving our sins through the men, themselves sinners, whom he has empowered to do this in his name. I made my own confession just a week ago, knowing that it is the best possible preparation for Christmas. If you have not yet done that, I hope you will. Then you will be ready for the coming of your Savior and Lord, who is also your elder brother, your lover, and your best friend.

"THEY ARE LIKE CHILDREN."

Homily for December 15^th, 2017: Mathew 11:16-19.

          Jesus speaks often of children in the gospels, usually in a positive sense In today’s gospel Jesus speaks about a negative aspect of childhood. Grieved that too few of his own people have responded either to his cousin, John the Baptist, or to himself, Jesus compares them to children who reject every approach of those who reach out to them in loving concern. ‘You complained that John was too strict and ascetic,” Jesus says in effect. ‘Me you find too laid back and merciful. What do you want?’ Jesus asks them.

          Children can be like that. I experienced it myself, in my own childhood. I might have been nine years old, or even younger, with a sister seven, and a brother five. I remember my father saying to another grownup, in a tone of resigned frustration: “My children are contra-suggestive.” I no longer know what occasioned this remark, but I can easily imagine it. Whatever my father suggested, by way of a leisure activity – whether it was a walk, a drive in the country, or a visit to a museum – we said: “Oh, no -- we don’t want to do that.”

          Most of us carry over this childhood stubbornness into adult life. We’d like to determine our own agenda, thank you. But of course we can’t. God set the agenda for us before we were even born. “My yoke is easy”, Jesus says, “and my burden light” (Mt. 11:30). Jesus’ yoke is easy, however, only if we accept it. Otherwise it chafes. How better could we respond to Jesus’ words in today’s gospel than to pray: “Not what I want, Lord, but what you want.”

          I started to pray that prayer perhaps 70 years ago. In my 90^th year, I continue to pray those words every day: “Not what I want, Lord, but what you want.” They are the best possible preparation for something else I started praying for on my 75^th birthday, and for which I continue to ask God daily today: a happy and holy death.

ST JOHN OF THE CROSS

Homily for December 14^th, 2013: St. John of the Cross.

          The Church celebrates today one of the great saints of the 1500s, a century which brought both the disaster of the Reformation, but also great saints. The previous century witnessed repeated demands for Church reform in head and members. No one imagined, however, that reform, when it came, would result in the departure from Catholic unity of whole nations, and the setting up of altar against altar. The fruits of these divisions remain with us today in the form of literally thousands of Christian denominations which greatly weaken Christian witness to the world.

          At the very time however, when this disaster was unfolding, God raised up men and women of heroic faith: Ignatius of Loyola, the founder the Society of Jesus; his fellow Jesuit and missioner to the Far East, Francis Xavier; Philip Neri, the apostle of Rome; Charles Borromeo, born to wealth and privilege and made a cardinal at age 22 by his uncle by Pope Pius IV, but a champion of Church reform nonetheless.

In Spain the century witnessed the birth of St. Teresa of Avila, whom we celebrated on October 15^th, and her fellow Carmelite whom we commemorate today, St John of the Cross. Both dedicated their lives to deep prayer, and to reform of the Carmelite order, encountering bitter enmity from their fellow Sisters and Friars. For St. John this included imprisonment and torture.

          Though 17 years younger than Teresa, John of the Cross was her confessor and spiritual director. The writings of both on prayer are spiritual classics. A frequent theme in the writings of John of the Cross was the importance of silence. Here are three quotations from his writings which give an indication of his spirituality:

-- “A soul enkindled with love is a gentle, meek, humble, and patient soul.”        

-- “What we need most in order to make progress is to be silent before this    

     great God with our appetite and with our tongue; for the language he hears best

     is silent love.” And finally, my personal favorite:

--  “In the evening of life, we will be judged by love alone.

"REJOICE ALWAYS!"

Homily for the 3rd Sunday in Advent: Nov. 17th, 2017.
Is. 61:1-2a,10-11; Thes.5:16-24; John 1:6-8,19-28.

AIM:  To help the hearers experience Christian joy.

 

          One of the abiding beauties of childhood is the ability of little children to rejoice at the coming of Christmas. Many people here know a young child who is already in a fever of excitement, which increases each time a package is brought into the house to be put away until the Great Day. Through children we relive some of the joy we once felt at their age at the coming of Christmas. 

          Joy is the theme of the liturgy on this third Advent Sunday. The first reading and the gospel both contain the joyful proclamation that the long-promised servant of the Lord is at hand, the Messiah. And the second reading tells us to “Rejoice always.”

          Is that realistic? Can we rejoice always? Certainly not in the sense of making life one long happy-happy celebration. Every life contains sadness and hurt. Somewhere in this church right now someone is asking: “What reason do I have for joy?” If that is your question, then let me speak very personally to you. No matter what hurt you bring here — loneliness, perhaps, disappointment, bereavement, or the pain of some bitter injustice — you have, along with the pain and hurt, every reason for joy. Let me tell you about three. Each is closely connected with Jesus Christ.  We can rejoice because:

—      Jesus is behind us;

—      Jesus is with us; and —

—      Jesus is ahead of us.

Jesus is behind us

          At the first Christmas Jesus entered into our human life. He shared everything life brings us, sin excepted. Jesus experienced life’s joys: think of the wedding feast at Cana, where the quantity of water he turned into wine would have kept the party going for a week! But Jesus also tasted bitter grief. The shortest verse in the Bible says that at the grave of his dear friend Lazarus “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). On the cross Jesus experienced the most bitter injustice, and excruciating pain. The babe in the feeding trough at Bethlehem, and the man on the cross at Calvary, both proclaim: God cares. God loves you. Life is not meaningless, provided it is lived for Him, and in the strength that He alone can give. Sensing this in advance, Mary uttered the beautiful words we repeated in today’s Responsorial Psalm: “My soul rejoices in my God.” Despite suffering, injustice, and pain, we rejoice because Jesus shared it all. Jesus is behind us. We have, however, a further reason to rejoice: the knowledge that —

Jesus is with us.

          He is never distant, even when we stray far from him. To be with Jesus, all that is necessary is a simple upward movement of the heart. “Pray without ceasing,” our second reading told us. Is that any more realistic than the command to rejoice always? If we think that praying means reciting long prayers, it is not reasonable. Once we realize, however, that short prayers are best, then praying always is realistic. How often, as we go through the day, do we have reason to say: “Jesus, help me.” Whenever I realize, as I do often, how blessed I am to be a priest, and how much more the Lord gives me every day than I could ever deserve, I say over and over: “Lord, you’re so good to me, and I’m so grateful.” 

          “My Lord and my God” is a perfect prayer. So are the holy names, spoken as we cross the street, drive through traffic, or stand in the checkout lane: “Jesus, Mary, Joseph.” Or simply the name of Jesus alone, repeated with every breath, with every heartbeat: “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.” That is a perfect prayer, which goes straight to our heavenly Father, reminding us at every moment that he is with us.

          Jesus is with us in his holy word: proclaimed here in the assembly of God’s people, or read over quietly by ourselves. More than one person here has experienced, through hearing or reading Holy Scripture, what those two friends of Jesus experienced on that first Easter evening on the road to Emmaus: “Did not our hearts burn within us as he ... explained the scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:32).

          Jesus is with us in the sacraments, especially in the sacrament we are celebrating right now: the Holy Eucharist. Jesus is with us also (though we often forget this) whenever we encounter someone in any kind of need. One day we shall hear him saying to us: “Inasmuch as you did it — or failed to do it — to one of these least sisters or brothers of mine, you did it — or failed to do it — to me” (Matthew 25: 40 & 45).

          So we rejoice because Jesus has entered into our human life, experiencing the same joys and sorrows we experience. We rejoice also because Jesus is always with us. And our final reason for joy in the knowledge that — 

Jesus is ahead of us.

          The one future event that is absolutely certain is death. If death were simply the snuffing out of a candle, we should have little reason for joy. But death is infinitely more. Death is the great transformation, the passage from this life, limited in a hundred ways and shadowed by suffering, to life eternal: where there will be no limitations, no suffering; where God will wipe away all tears from our eyes. The certainty of death, and the parting from loved ones which death entails, sadden us. We can rejoice, however, in the knowledge that when we come to walk that last stretch of life’s way, we shall not be alone. Jesus will be with us. He is waiting for us at the end of life’s road, to welcome us with joy to the eternal dwelling place that he has gone ahead to prepare for each one of us (cf. John 14:2).

          What reason have we, then, for joy? Every reason! We rejoice to know that Jesus is behind us: he has entered into human life and shared it to the full. We rejoice because Jesus is always with us: never distant, even when we stray far from him. And we rejoice because Jesus is ahead of us: every day, every hour, every tick of the clock brings us closer to the great encounter with Him who loves us beyond our imagining.

          And so now I, his unworthy but joyful servant, invite you, once again, to join in the great feast in which we celebrate this joy; where we encounter, as intimately as we can in this life the One whom I now proclaim to you with great joy:

          “Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, yes and forever” (Heb. 13:8).

"TAKE MY YOKE UPON YOU."

Homily for December 13^th, 2017: Matthew 11:28-30.

          I spoke to you twelve days ago about Jesus’ words, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” Jesus’ words in today’s  gospel reading were among the examples I quoted. “Take my yoke upon you,” Jesus says. In Jesus’ day yokes were in daily use. Carved out of wood to fit over the shoulders, they had arms extending out beyond the shoulders, with a ring on each end supporting a rope from which the person using the yoke could hang a bucket or other container. This made it possible to transport with relative ease loads which could not be carried by hand.

          It was crucial that yoke fit the shoulders of the person using it. Otherwise the yoke would chafe and the person attempting to use it would soon throw it off. “My yoke is easy,” Jesus says, “and my burden light.” There is an unspoken “IF” there. The yoke and burden Jesus offers us are easy and light only if we accept them. If we chafe against the yoke and try to throw it off, then it is not easy; and the burden which it supports is heavy and definitely not light.

          To help us accept the yoke Jesus says: “Learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart.” Meekness and humility do not come to us easily or without prolonged effort and many failures. We must be lifelong learners. Our teacher is the best there is. He understands our difficulties. He is not interested in how often we stumble and fall. He is interested in one thing only: how often, with his help, we get up again, and continue the journey.

          Our teacher’s name is Jesus Christ.    

"NOTHING WILL BE IMPOSSIBLE FOR GOD."

Homily for December 12^th, 2017. Luke 1:26-38

          Thirteen days before Christmas you come to Mass, and what do you hear? The story of the angel Gabriel’s visit to Mary, telling her that she is to be the mother of God’s Son. What’s going on?

What’s going on is the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. On December 9^th, 1531 a Mexican peasant, Juan Diego, encountered a girl at the hill of Tepeyac who told him to go to the archbishop of nearby Mexico City and ask him to build a shrine there in her honor. Recognizing that the girl was Mary, Juan Diego went to the archbishop and placed Mary’s request before him. Go back to Tepeyac, the archbishop told Juan Diego, and if the girl appears again, tell her I must have some sign to authenticate her request.

Three days later the girl reappeared and told Juan Diego to gather some roses, put them in his cloak, and take them to the archbishop. Although it was cold and long past the time of roses, Juan Diego found plenty of roses atop the normally barren hill. He filled his cloak with them and returned to the archbishop. When he opened his cloak, the flowers fell to the floor, revealing on the inside of the cloak an image of Mary. The image survives today, enshrined in the great church of Guadalupe, at the edge of Mexico City. It is the most visited Marian shrine in the whole world. Despite extensive examinations of the image, there is no scientific explanation of how it was produced or how it has survived intact for almost five centuries..

Nor has there ever been any explanation of how Mary, while still a virgin, conceived the baby boy whose birth we shall celebrate in just 14 days. When Mary herself asked the angel Gabriel who brought her this astounding news how such a thing was possible, she received simply the words: “Nothing will be impossible with God.” Some thirty-three years later (according to the traditional dating), her Son experienced something no less impossible than his virginal conception. On the third day after his public death by crucifixion, his tomb was found empty, and he started to appear to those who had loved him before. Jesus is not a dead hero from the past. He is our risen and glorified Lord, alive forevermore, holding in his hand the keys of death. He waits for each one of us at the end of life’s road, to lead us to the place he has gone ahead to prepare for us. There we shall experience not just joy, but ecstasy –for we shall see God face to face!     

 

THE MIRACLE OF FORGIVENESS.

Homily for December 11, 2017: Luke 5:17-26.

          “My friend, your sins are forgiven,” Jesus says to the paralyzed man in today’s gospel. Jesus is not saying that every illness is the result of sin. His words suggest, however, that Jesus saw in this particular man a spiritual burden that needed to be loosed before the man could be healed physically. 

          “We have seen incredible things today!” the onlookers exclaim in astonishment as they see the formerly paralyzed man pick up his mat and walk. For Luke, the gospel writer, the true miracle, however, is not the man’s physical cure, but the spiritual healing of forgiveness. 

          Perhaps you’re thinking: “What is so miraculous about forgiveness? Don’t we forgive others every day?” Thank God, we do. Between our forgiveness and God’s, however, there is this great difference. When we forgive, there is always a memory of

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the injury done, a “skeleton in the closet,” we call it. The wrong needs only to be repeated, or one like it, for the memory to be revived. God doesn’t have any closets. And even if he did, there wouldn’t be any skeletons there. God’s forgiveness is total. Jesus brings us this total forgiveness. In the sacrament of penance, Jesus uses his priests to bring us this gift.

          Some of the things we priests hear in confession help us to repent. Across the distance of almost sixty years I can still hear a child’s voice saying: “I stamp my foot at my mother and say No.” And I thought: that little one has greater sorrow for that small sin than I do for my sins, which are far worse. Telling you that is no violation of the seal of confession. I haven’t identified that child. I believe the Lord sent that little one into my confessional, to teach me a lesson. I’ve never forgotten it.

            “What will the priest think?” people sometimes ask. Let me tell you what one priest thought, a young man newly ordained and in his first parish assignment. In a letter to a friend, still in seminary, the new priest wrote: “I go into the confessional now, Jack; and I experience God in a completely new way.”