"WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR?"

Homily for January 4^th, 2014: John 1:35-42.

           “What are you looking for?” Jesus asks the two disciples of John the Baptist who have just heard him say, pointing to Jesus: “Behold the Lamb of God.” The two respond with a typically Jewish counter question: “Where are you staying?” To which Jesus responds with an invitation: “Come and see.” They do so, and their lives are changed. They become Jesus’ friends, then disciples and finally apostles: his messengers to others.     

Jesus is asking us this question, right now: What are you looking for? Why have you come out in the dark and cold? What are you looking for in your life? Is it “the good life” advertised in glorious technicolor on our TV screens? Have you found the pursuit of that life satisfying, and fulfilling? Or is there still an emptiness inside that you cannot fill, and longings that remain unsatisfied, try as you may?

          So what are you looking for? You may not know it, but at bottom you are looking for love. You want a love that will not let you go, that will not let you down. You yearn for a love that will not cheat or deceive or frustrate you; a love that will fulfill the deepest longings of your heart, your mind, your soul. That is what you are looking for. That is what I am looking for – and what every one of us is looking for.

          Perhaps you have grown weary with looking and think the search is hopeless. You are wrong. There is someone who can satisfy your deepest longings. His name is Jesus Christ. Now, in this hour, he is challenging you with the same invitation he extended to Andrew and his friend: to come and stay with him. Accepting that invitation is the first step in becoming Jesus’ disciple – his follower and his friend.  

That is wonderful – and beautiful. But it is only the beginning. Jesus Christ wants you to become his friend, his disciple, his follower, so that he can make you his apostle: his messenger to carry the all-consuming love which he offers you here to those to whom he sends you: his sisters and brothers – yes, and yours too.

THE HOLY NAME OF JESUS

Homily for January 3^rd, 2014: The Holy Name of Jesus.

          We celebrate today the Holy Name of Jesus, a word which means “God saves. “The Catechism says: “To pray ‘Jesus’ is to invoke him and to call him within us.” The Catechism adds that the repetition of this name, as a prayer, is possible at all times, “because it is not one occupation among others, but the only occupation: that of loving God, which animates and transfigures every action in Christ Jesus.” (Nos. 2666 & 2668).

Soon after I entered seminary, 66 years ago, I resolved to pray the holy name of Jesus every time I went up or downstairs. I say “Jesus” at every step. This is my way of fulfilling St. Paul’s command to “pray always” (1 Thess. 5:17). It reminds me that I am always in the presence of God. The blessings which this way of praying brings are beautifully described in some hymn verses, written over 200 years ago in England.

     How sweet the name of Jesus sounds / in a believer’s ear!

     It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds / and drives away his fear.

     It makes the wounded spirit whole / And calms the troubled breast;

     'Tis manna to the hungry soul / And to the weary rest. 

     Dear name, the rock on which I build / My shield and hiding-place,

     My never-failing treasure filled / with boundless stores of grace.

     Jesus, my Shepherd, Guardian, Friend, My Prophet, Priest, and King,

     My Lord, My Life, my Way, My End / Accept the praise I bring.

     Weak is the effort of my heart / And cold my warmest thought;

     But when I see thee as thou art, / I’ll praise thee as I ought.

     Till then I would thy love proclaim / with every fleeting breath;

     And may the music of thy name / Refresh my soul in death.

J.Newton, 1725-1807

A VOICE CRYING IN THE DESERT

Homily for January 2^nd, 2014: John 1:19-28.

          The preaching of John the Baptist, accompanied by mass baptisms, created almost a sensation. Great numbers went out into the desert, where John lived, to hear him and to be baptized by him. (Cf. Matt. 3:5) The Jewish Scriptures, which we call the Old Testament, speak in several places of the Lord taking away sins by the pouring of water. It is understandable, therefore, that the religious authorities in Jerusalem send messengers to John to ask what is going on, and what is his authority.      

          John’s response to their questions is simple: “I am the voice of one crying out in the desert, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord.’” These words hark back to a passage in the prophet Isaiah: “A voice cries out: In the desert prepare the way of the Lord! Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God! Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill shall be laid low.” (Is. 40:3f)  Isaiah’s words were directed to his people in exile in Babylonian. The angels, Isaiah told his people, were preparing a way for them to return from captivity to their homeland in Palestine.

“Like a modern bulldozer the angels were to level hills and fill in valleys, and thus prepare a superhighway. John the Baptist is to prepare a road, not for God’s people to return to the promised land, but for God to come to his people. His baptizing and preaching in the desert was opening up the hearts of men, leveling their pride, filling their emptiness, and thus preparing them for God’s intervention.” (Cited from Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel according to John, p.50)

John, as we saw before Christmas, was a voice for the one who is the Word: God’s personal communication to us, to show us, who cannot see God, what God is like. John the Baptist is still preparing people’s hearts and minds to encounter God’s Son and Word. He does so in what were perhaps the greatest of the Baptist’s words: “He must increase. I must decrease.” (John 3:30) Take those words with you into the year that is just one day old today. Let them be your guide during the remaining 364 days of this year. They will keep you close to the One who alone can make this a happy year for you. “He must increase. I must decrease.”    

THE LESSONS OF THE MAGI

Epiphany Year A.  Matthew 2:1-12.

AIM: To present the story of the Magi as a paradigm of the Christian life.      

          Who were these “magi” who were guided to the infant Jesus by a star?  Where did they come from? Where did they go? We do not know. To discover the story’s riches, we must pay attention to its symbolism. Read in that way, we find that the story has five stages. The magi, whom we also call the wise men, saw; they searched; they found; they worshiped; and they returned home. Let’s take each stage of their journey in turn.

They saw.

          A farmer kept a flock of tame geese which freely roamed the farmyard, always looking down for food. One day the farmer saw that the geese were nervous and restless. They were looking up. In the sky he saw the reason. It was autumn. Wild geese were flying south. The farmer’s geese flapped their wings and made a lot of noise. But they did not fly away.

          Many people are like that. Something unusual happens to raise their minds from life’s routine. They become aware of greater possibilities, a higher call. But they fail to respond. The opportunity passes. The old routine resumes. The wise men were different. They were not content with looking up.

They searched.

          Doing so required courage. How their friends must have mocked them.  “Following a star? What on earth for? Have you taken leave of your senses?” To set out in the face of ridicule, on what seemed like a fool’s errand, took courage. Sooner or later, it always takes courage to be a follower of Jesus Christ. His standards cannot always be made reasonable, or even intelligible, to unbelievers. At times the follower of Jesus Christ must have courage to swim against the stream: to say No when everyone else is saying Yes; or Yes when all others are saying No; to appear to reasonable, prudent people reckless, even crazy. The wise men had such courage. They set out on their seemingly mad search, and persevered in it until –

They found.

          For this they are rightly called “wise men.” To the clever people who mocked them they seemed mad. In reality they possessed, along with courage, the truest wisdom there is: the spiritual insight to recognize the unique call of God, and to follow it regardless of the cost. As their search neared its end, our gospel reading tells us, “They were overjoyed at seeing the star.” They had reason for joy. They were successful. They were vindicated. It was they who had been proved wise; their critics were the fools. From the wise men’s point of view the search had been all theirs. In reality it was God who was seeking them. That was crucial: for the wise men, but also for us – as we see in a child’s story.

          This little one came home in tears. When the child’s mother had dried the tears, she heard the reason for them. “We played side-and-seek. I hid. No one looked for me.” When you are only three, that can be crushing. “No one looked for me.”

          Someone is looking for you – right now. God is looking for you. He is drawing you to himself, as he drew the wise men by the star. If only you will look up, and be bold, you will find him. And then, like the wise men, you too will be overjoyed. To know that, even now, God is looking for you, drawing you to himself, is already cause for joy. The wise men’s joy is not the end of the story, however. When they finally arrived at the end of their journey –

They worshiped. 

          Their worship was not merely reciting prayers by memory or from a book.  They offered the best they had. The person who has never learned to worship like that is poor indeed. How sad when the Mass, for many Catholics, is merely the boring fulfillment of a legal obligation. No wonder such people habitually come late and hurry away early, complaining that they ‘get nothing out of it.’ We’re not here to get. We’re here to give. So forget about getting. Instead do what the wise men did. Offer God the best you have: something precious, costly. Then you will discover, even if only for a few fleeting minutes, the indescribable joy of self-forgetfulness, the joy of true worship.

          After the wise men had worshiped –

They returned home.

          They go back to the people who had mocked them when they set out. But they return home changed. They have been touched by their experience, touched by God. They have a message for those who thought themselves wise, but turned out to be foolish.

          We return home from church each week, some of us daily, from our encounter with Jesus here in the Eucharist. We too have been touched by God. We too have a message for others. It is this. God is not far off. In all our sorrows, in all our temptations, sufferings, difficulties, and joys, God is with us. God is close to us always – even when we stray far from him. We think that we must storm heaven with our prayers to get God’s attention. And all the time it is God who gives us the ability to pray. It is God who is searching for us, leading us onward, drawing us to himself. That is the message we take home with us. That is the gospel – the good news.

          And when we grasp this good news, the story with its five stages begins again: the seeing, the searching, the finding, the worshiping, the return home. This is the story of the Christian life: the royal road by which untold millions have walked, the road God wants you to walk – and me – for the remaining fifty-one weeks of 2014, and for as many more weeks and years as our journey may last.  Until it ends in Him; and journeying and searching and struggle are over, because we are home: where there will be no more weariness, no more discouragement, no more sickness or suffering, no more death. Where God himself will wipe away all tears from our eyes. Where we shall experience ecstasy; for we shall see Him face to face.

MARY, THE WOMAN OF FAITH

Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God.  Num. 6: 22-27; Gal. 4:4-7, Luke 2:16-21

AIM: To present Mary as the model of trusting faith in the new year.

          A new year! What will it bring? Some great success? Humiliating failure?  Unexpected happiness, or sudden loss? Dramatic change, or just more of the same? Illness, suffering, or death? We cannot know what the new year will bring. The one certain thing about the future is its uncertainty. 

          As we venture into the unknown, the Church gives us, on this New Year’s Day, a feast in honor of Mary, the Mother of God. Does this mean that Mary is as important as her Son, equal even with God? Of course not. A glance at today’s readings dispels any such idea at once.

          The first reading contains the beautiful formula of blessing that Jesus would have learned as a boy in the synagogue school at Nazareth. It remains today the common property of both Jews and Christians. The second reading mentions Mary, but does not name her. “When the fullness of time had come,” Paul writes, “God sent his Son, born of a woman ...” That was Paul’s way of saying that Jesus was truly and completely human, as he was also truly and completely God. The gospel mentions Mary twice, but tells us simply that she “kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.” 

          Why does the Church dedicate this first day of the new year in a special way to Mary? Because Mary is, in a unique way, the woman of faith. While only on the threshold of her teens, Mary was asked by God to venture into an unknown future, filled with suffering, the purpose and end of which she could not possibly understand in advance. We think of the angel’s message to Mary, that she was to be the mother of God’s Son, as something wonderful. To Mary, however, it meant being an unmarried mother in a little village, where everyone knew everyone else’s business, and where gossip was rife.

          Did Mary understand the reason for the angel’s message, and where her assent would lead? How could she? Luke tells us that even years later, when Mary and Joseph found their twelve-year-old son in the Temple at Jerusalem after a frantic three-day search, they still “did not understand” Jesus’ words to them about having to be in his Father’s house (Lk 2:50).

          The faith which enabled Mary to accept her role in this mystery was no once-for-all thing. Her faith, like ours, needed to be constantly renewed amid suffering and misunderstanding. Joseph wanted to break their engagement. In the Jerusalem temple Mary heard the aged Simeon prophesy her Son’s rejection and his mother’s suffering. When her twelve-year-old Son told Mary and Joseph, who for three days had thought him lost in Jerusalem and sought him frantically, that he had to be in his Father’s house, Luke tells us that “they did not understand” what he was telling them. (Lk 2:50)

          There would be much more that Mary did not understand and could not understand. In time her Son left home. Often thereafter he seemed to be fulfilling his own command about “hating” parents and other close relatives, and one’s “own life too” (Lk 14:26). At Cana, the site of his first miracle, Jesus appeared to treat his mother with perplexing disrespect. Even at the Last Supper Jesus made no place, it seems, for his mother. Only at Calvary was she permitted to stand beside her now dying Son, along with “the disciple whom Jesus loved” — deliberately left anonymous, so that he can represent the ideal follower of Jesus Christ in every age and place. 

          There on Calvary Mary experienced the full truth of Simeon’s prophecy three decades before: that a sword would pierce her own soul. There she shared the anguish of her dying Son, as he cried: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Calvary was the final and greatest test of Mary’s faith, the place where she had to renew once again, as she had done so often before, the declaration of trusting faith with which she had begun: “Let it be done to me according to your world.”  

          The next three decades would bring Mary much more that she did not understand, and could not understand. She continued to trust God nonetheless. In trusting faith she endured her greatest suffering, and for her the most incomprehensible, as she watched her Son die a criminal’s death on Calvary. The final glimpse we have of Mary in the New Testament shows her to be still the woman of faith: joining with the friends of Jesus in prayer in the upper room at Jerusalem, before the outpouring of God’s Spirit at Pentecost, as Jesus had promised.  (Cf. Acts 1:24)

          The Church sets Mary before us today because she, like us, needed faith to journey into the unknown; because her faith can inspire in us the we faith we need for our journey into the unknown; and because Mary’s prayers support us on our pilgrim way. 

          Let me conclude with some words which evoke this trusting faith.  They were written in England about a century ago. As you listen, you may wish to imagine them being spoken to you by Mary, the woman of faith, as you cross the threshold of a new year.

          “And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: ‘Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown. And he replied: ‘Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than a light, and safer than a known way.’”

[M. Louise Haskins; quoted by King George VI in his Christmas broadcast, 1939]

"THE WORD WAS MADE FLESH."

Homily for December 31^st, 2013: John 1:1-18.

          If you came to Mass on Christmas day, you probably heard this gospel. You may have thought it strange. Where are the shepherds, the manger, Mary and Joseph? Where is their child? Instead of these familiar Christmas figures we have heard about abstractions: light and darkness, the Word becoming flesh.

Let=s start with another word: Aincarnation.@ It means Ataking on flesh,  embodiment.@ This building is the incarnation of an idea in the mind of the architect who designed it, and of the sacrifices that made its construction possible. Children are the incarnation of their parents= love. And Jesus is the incarnation of God. 

We cannot see God. Jesus shows us what God is like. That is why this Christmas gospel calls Jesus God=s Word. A word is used to communicate. Jesus is God=s word because he is God=s communication to us: not a lifeless, abstract statement, but God=s living and breathing utterance and self-disclosure.    

When we listen to Jesus, we hear God speaking to us. When we look at Jesus, we see what God is like. What do we see when we look at Jesus? We see that he preferred simple, ordinary people. He came to the world in a provincial village where nothing interesting or important ever happened. Jesus moved not among wealthy or sophisticated people, or among scholars and intellectuals, but among ordinary people. They were the ones who welcomed him most warmly.  The rich and powerful and learned had difficulties with Jesus. Many were hostile to him – then, and still today.

In his youth Jesus worked with his hands in the carpenter=s shop. His teaching was full of references to simple things: the birds of the air, the wind and the waves, the lilies of the field, the vine, the lost sheep, the woman searching for her one lost coin, leavening dough with yeast, the thief breaking in at night. Those were images that everyone could understand. Jesus also told stories: so simple that they capture the interest of children; yet so profound that learned scholars are still studying them today.

In preferring simple people and simple things, Jesus was showing us what God is like. He who is God=s utterance and word, God=s personal communication to us, is saying through all the circumstances of his life that God loves humble people. God is especially close to those who feel that they are not in control of their lives; that they are the victims of circumstances; that their lives are a tangle of loose ends and broken resolutions.

It is because God gave us his Son at Christmas that we give gifts to one another. The greatest gift we can give cannot be bought in any store. It is the gift God gave us at Christmas: the gift of himself. Look at Mary=s child: helpless, vulnerable, and weak, as all babies are. He is God=s way of saying: >This is how much the Lord God, creator of heaven and earth, loves you; enough to be become tiny, insignificant, vulnerable.= Jesus, the personal utterance and word of God, is God=s gift to you. He wants you to share this gift with others.

JESUS' "HIDDEN YEARS"

Homily for December 30^th, 2013: Luke 2:16-40.

          The prophetess Anna, whom we have just heard about in the gospel, was very old. “She never left the Temple, “Luke tells us, “but worshipped day and night with fasting and prayer.” There are such people in the Church today: contemplative nuns, who do not leave the convent for charitable or other good works, like most Catholic Sisters. They lead mostly hidden lives, praying for others.

          Anna has evidently been praying, as devout Jews had done for centuries, for the coming of God’s promised anointed servant, the Messiah. When Mary and Joseph brought the infant into the Temple to present him to the Lord, as the Jewish law required, both the priest Simeon and Anna recognized at once that this was the long awaited Messiah. 

         How they most have rejoiced! Anna’s joy is evident in the fact that she cannot keep the news to herself. “She gave thanks to God,” Luke tells us, “and spoke about the child to all those who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem.”

         Then comes what at first seems like an anti-climax. Mary and Joseph return to Nazareth with their child. Save for a glimpse of Jesus back in the Jerusalem Temple at age twelve, we know nothing about his boyhood, adolescence, or young manhood until, at age 30, he begins his public ministry with 40 days of fasting in the desert. These are called “the hidden years.”

          Are they really so hidden, however? “Isn’t this the carpenter’s son?” people in Nazareth will ask later (Mt. 13:55). So we can assume that as a boy, Jesus must have worked in the carpenter’s shop. Is it conceivable that any shoddy work came out of that shop? that customers were kept waiting beyond the promised delivery date? And it was there, in that carpenter’s shop, in accepting the burdens, duties, and frustrations of a very ordinary and outwardly uninteresting life, that Jesus “grew and became strong, filled with wisdom,” as Luke tells us at the end of today’s gospel. 

          He calls us to do the same.