JESUS, THE GIVER OF LIFE

Homily for April 6th, Fifth Sunday in Lent, Year A. John 11:1-45.

AIM: To proclaim Jesus as totally human and totally divine, giver of eternal life here and now.

            Why was Jesus crucified? Luke’s gospel suggests that it was the result of the resentment felt by the leaders of Jesus’ people at the enthusiasm of the common people “for all the great things they had seen” Jesus do. (Lk 19:37, Jerus. Bible) In John’s gospel the raising of Lazarus is the climax of these “great things” which provoked enthusiasm in some, resentment in others. It is the last and greatest of the seven “signs”, as John calls them, which show us who Jesus is. Last Sunday’s gospel, in which Jesus healed the man born blind, showed us Jesus as light of the world, and the giver of light. What does the sign in today’s gospel tell us? Three things.

1.       Jesus Christ is our brother and our best friend.

          “Master, the one you love is ill” was the message Lazarus’ sisters sent to Jesus. No specific request was necessary. Jesus would know what to do. Nor did  Mary and Martha need to name their brother. “The one you love” was all the identification Jesus required. The gospel writer, in recording these words, means us to understand that Lazarus stands for all those Jesus loves — ourselves included.

          “See how he loved him,” the friends of Mary and Martha say. It is their response to the shortest verse in the Bible: “Jesus wept.” We call Jesus the God-Man. Does that mean that he is partly God and partly man? No! Jesus is completely divine, and completely human. What better example of his humanity than his tears at the grave of his dear friend Lazarus?

          Jesus was no Superman immune to human suffering. However deeply we suffer, Jesus has suffered more. When we think that no one can possibly understand what we are going through, we are wrong. There is One who always understands, who is always close to us. He is Jesus Christ: our brother, our lover, our best friend. But he is more.

2.       Jesus Christ is the eternal Son of God.

          This gospel according to John begins by saying of Christ: “In him was life and the life was the light of the human race” (1:4). Last Sunday, in the healing of the man born blind, we saw Jesus as the giver of light. Today we see him as the giver of life. Perhaps you’re wondering what that means. Don’t we have life already? How, then, can Jesus give us what we already have?

          The life we possess already, which we received from our parents, is passing away. Every hour, every minute, every tick of the clock, brings us closer to the end of this life. Jesus Christ is the giver of a new and higher life, one that is not passing away. “I am the resurrection and the life,” he says in our gospel reading.  “Whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” 

          To believe in Jesus Christ means to trust him. For those who trust Jesus physical death will not be the snuffing out of a candle. It will be the gateway to a new and higher life; a form of existence which, unlike earthly life, is not passing away: where there is no more suffering, no more sickness, no more death; where — as we read twice over in the last book of the Bible — “God will wipe away all tears from [our] eyes.” (Rev. 7:17 & 21:4). Before he went to his own physical death on Calvary, Jesus showed himself to his friends as the giver of life, the one with power even over death.

          Between the raising of Lazarus, however, and the resurrection of Jesus there was a crucial difference. Lazarus returned to his former life. Jesus went ahead to new life. We see that even in the details. Lazarus came forth from the tomb still wearing his burial clothes. He would need them again. Jesus left his burial garments behind (cf. Jn 20:6f). He needed them no more. He had passed beyond death to a new and higher life.

          Jesus’ tears for his dead friend Lazarus are a sign of Jesus’ humanity. His tears show that Jesus is our brother, our lover, our best friend. The raising of Lazarus shows us Jesus as the giver of life, divine Son of God. But Jesus is the giver of life not only to Lazarus — and this is the third thing this sign shows us:

3.       Jesus Christ gives eternal life to believers here and now.

          We friends of Jesus live on two levels. We live, first, on the level of physical life, growing shorter every day and terminated by death. And second, we live on the spiritual level, on which we have an eternal and indestructible relationship with our heavenly Father. Eternal life is not something far away, pie-in-the-sky-when-we-die. No, the eternal life which Jesus gives to those who trust him and believe in him begins right now. 

          The principal means Jesus uses us to give us his gift of eternal life is the sacraments. The sacraments, however, are not merely infusions of some kind of spiritual power called “grace.” Every sacrament is a personal encounter with Jesus, our brother and our best friend; with Christ the eternal Son of God; with the One who loves us more than we can ever imagine.

          These three lessons of today’s gospel are beautifully summed up in the introduction to the Eucharistic prayer which we shall hear in a moment:

--        As a man like us Jesus wept for Lazarus his friend;

--        As the eternal God he raised Lazarus from the dead;

--        In his love for us all Christ gives us the sacraments to lift us up to everlasting life.

          So much meaning in this simple story; so much beauty; so much to cheer us, to uplift us; to comfort us when we are discouraged; to strengthen us when we grow weak; to raise us up when we fall; to fill our mouths with laughter and our tongues with joy! Do we ever stop to realize the glory of it all, and truly worship?         

A LITANY OF PRAISE, THANKSGIVING, AND REPENTANCE

[For the 60th anniversary of my priestly ordination on April 3rd, 1954]

I praise you Lord 

          for my ordination to the priesthood, sixty years ago today

          for my baptism and confirmation    

          for the sacrament of penance, through which you constantly forgive my sins

          for the Eucharist, in which I receive your love, your power, your goodness,

                    your joy, your peace

          for the gift of your Son, Jesus Christ, in all life’s changes “the same,

                   yesterday, today, and forever”

          for your holy word, which enlightens and guides me on life’s way

          for the gift of priesthood, which makes me the servant of your holy people,

                   though unworthy, and the herald of your truth

I thank you Lord ...

          for a wise upbringing at the hands of good and loving parents

          for a younger sister, brother, stepmother, and half-sister

          for loving friends to share my laughter, tears, struggles, triumphs,

                   and defeats

          for a wonderful education, still unfinished

          for health, energy, and strength

          for fine food, and “wine that makes glad the heart of man” (Ps. 104:15)

          for music, the laughter of friends, and the joy of children

          for adventure, beauty, and romance – in many countries and on the

                   ocean wave

          for deliverance from perils, known and unknown

          for hardships, rebuffs, humiliations, disappointments, failures – which

                   remind me of my need of you

          for all who have inspired me, shamed me, reminded me of my high calling

                   as your son, your priest

          for the forgiveness of those I have wronged or disappointed

          for your boundless patience, reflected in the patience of fellow travelers

                   on the pilgrimage to you

Forgive me Lord ...

          for pride and arrogance and every evil way

          for stubbornness and insistence on my own will, my own ideas

          for words, looks, deeds that have inflicted pain

          for insensitivity to others’ needs, weaknesses, and moods

          for seeking self instead of you

          for opportunities neglected, words of comfort never spoken, deeds of

                   kindness left undone

          for bad examples given, confidences abused, promises unkept

          for yielding to discouragement, cynicism, and despair

          for seeking nourishment from idle dreams and neglecting today’s

                   achievements, satisfactions, and rewards

Support me Lord ...

all the day long, until the shadows lengthen, and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and my work is done. Then in your mercy grant me a safe lodging, a holy rest, and peace at the last. (1)

Stay with me Lord ...

          be my remaining journey long or short

          stay with me, guide my vessel safely into port.

                                      *                 *                 *

          When I turned seventy, I started to pray daily that the years that remain to me may be fruitful.  At the age of seventy-five I added a daily prayer for a happy and holy death. I am confident that both petitions will be answered. How, I gladly leave to the loving providence which has surrounded and upheld me for almost 86 years.

---

         (1)   This prayer is composed from language used by Newman in two Anglican sermons from 1842 and 1843.  I sometimes use it at burials and have asked that it be used at mine.

__________________________

Adapted from the version originally composed for my 60th birthday on 14 May 1988 and printed in my autobiography No Ordinary Fool: A Testimony to Grace (Tate Publishing 2008)

"THE LORD HAS FORSAKEN ME"

Homily for April 2^nd, 2014: Is. 49:8-15; John 5:17-30.

AZion said, >The Lord has forsaken me; my Lord has forgotten me.=@ Those were the closing words of our first reading. Have you ever felt like that? You pray, and the Lord seems to answer with silence. In that first reading it is the God=s whole people who ask whether God cares. In one of the most beautiful verses of Scripture, God answers their plaintive question. ACan a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even if she should forget, I will not forget you.@

Scripture portrays God as our father many times over. God=s loving care for us includes qualities usually regarded as masculine: strength, power, sternness in discipline, and generosity in reward. But God is more than a father. Here he speaks, through his prophet Isaiah, to tell us that, like a mother, his concern for us includes qualities we think of as feminine: gentleness, tenderness, and warm, protective love.

Indeed, God=s tender concern for us, his children, exceeds that of the best father and mother combined. He knows our needs before we do, even as a good mother senses in advance the needs of her baby. Nature itself shows God=s loving care for everything he has created. Look at God=s handiwork in the flowers, his care for the birds. Can we suppose for one minute that we are of less value than these? If so, we have little idea of our true worth in the eyes of our heavenly Father.

In the gospel Jesus speaks of the intimate relationship between himself and his heavenly Father. “The Son cannot do anything on his own,” Jesus says, “but only what he sees the Father doing.” The union between Father and Son could not be more complete than that.

          Moreover, if we are trying to live as Jesus lived, united with his heavenly Father and ours, and trying to do good to others, we have eternal life here and now, Jesus tells us. “Whoever hears my word and believes in the one who sent me has eternal life,” Jesus says. Note: not “will have,” pie-in-the-sky-when-you-die, but here and now. Such people, Jesus assures us, “will not come to condemnation, but [have] passed from death to life. “ That is the gospel. That is the good news.  

THE GOOD PHYSICIAN

Homily for April 1^st, 2014: Ezek. 47:1-9, 12; John 5:1-16.

          “Do you want to be well?” Jesus asks the paralyzed man unable to get to the healing waters because of the crush of others ahead of him. Not all sick people do really want to get well. Their illness gains them sympathy which they lose, once they are healed and become ‘like everyone else.’ Moreover, Jesus (who as we see often in the gospels) can read minds and hearts, surely saw that this man was a simple soul indeed. After his healing he doesn’t even ask Jesus’ name, but lets the man who has changed his life slip away into the crowd unidentified. He discovers Jesus’ identity only later, when Jesus himself takes the initiative to look for the man he has healed. And then the man repays Jesus by identifying him to the authorities. A dull soul indeed.

The Church gives us, in the first reading, an account of the prophet Ezekiel’s vision of the stream of healing waters flowing from the Temple to be rebuilt following the return of God’s people from their exile in Babylon. The Temple was the earthly dwelling place of God. With the birth of Jesus, who is God’s divine Son, God transferred his earthly dwelling place to a new temple: the body Jesus himself. (See John 2:21). That is why, at Jesus’ death, the Temple veil, concealing the Holy of Holies, the place of God’s dwelling, was “torn in two” (Mark 15:38 and parallels). God had withdrawn his presence: a veil was no longer needed.

In this story we see that the healing previously flowing (in Ezekiel’s prophecy) from the Temple now comes from Jesus himself. Rather than helping the man reach the healing waters, Jesus heals him with a mere word. He continues to exercise his healing power. One of Jesus’ titles is “the Good Physician.” He heals us from the inherited guilt of original sin in the water of baptism. Through the word of a priest authorized to speak in Jesus’ name, he heals us in the sacrament of penance from the guilt of actual sin.

"THIS SECOND SIGN . . . "

Homily for March 31^st, 2014: John 4:43-54

          The royal official who asks Jesus to come with him to heal the official’s son, who is near death, is a pagan. Jesus’ initial response to the man’s request seems harsh. “Unless you people see signs and wonders, you will not believe.” Why does Jesus respond in this way?  The most likely answer is that Jesus wants to teach the man to have faith, to trust. The official, it seems, would believe only if Jesus went with him to his house. He wanted to see Jesus curing. Most of us have this attitude. We are not aware that is shows the deficiency of our faith.

The official loves his dying son so much that he won’t give up. “Sir, come down before my son dies,” he pleads. Jesus still won’t budge. “You may go,” he tells the man, “your son will live.” And now comes a crucial sentence in this story. “The man believed what Jesus had said to him and left.” That shows faith. He no longer insists on Jesus coming with him. Without any guarantee save Jesus’ word, the official believes. Before he reaches home, his servants come to him with the joyful news that the crisis is past. His son will live. When he asks when the boy began to recover, he learns that it was at the very hour when Jesus had assured him: “Your son will live.” How he must have rejoiced! And how Jesus must have rejoiced at the official’s faith. Later, a week after his resurrection, he would say to his apostle, Thomas, who refused to believe until he actually saw the risen Lord: “You [Thomas] became a believer because you saw me. Blessed are they who have not seen and believed” (John 20:29). This pagan official was one of that blessed company.

The story concludes with another significant sentence: “This was the second sign Jesus did when he came to Galilee from Judea.” Only in John’s gospel are Jesus’ miracles always called “signs.” The first of these signs was the changing of water into wine at the wedding feast in Cana. A sign points beyond itself to something else. The sign at Cana shows that when Jesus gives, he does not only abundantly, but super-abundantly. The quantity of water made wine would have kept the party going for a week! The sign in today’s gospel shows that Jesus’ love embraces all. He turns no one away. He asks for faith. And when we show even the smallest beginning of faith, he grants us healing, that our faith may grow and become complete.

"TWO MEN WENT UP TO THE TEMPLE TO PRAY."

Homily for March 29^th, 2014: Luke 18:9-14.

The Pharisees have had such a bad press that we think the first man in this story must be a hypocrite. He Is not. He really has done all the things he lists in his prayer. The tax collector, on the other hand, is a public sinner. He collects taxes for the hated Roman government of occupation. Much of it goes into his own pocket. Unable, like the Pharisee, to point in his prayer to any semblance of a good conduct record, he appeals simply to God=s mercy: AO God, be merciful to me, a sinner.@ 

Here is what our Emeritus Pope Benedict XVI says about these two men in his book, Jesus of Nazareth [pp. 61f]:

AThe Pharisee can boast considerable virtues; he tells God only about himself, and he thinks that he is praising God in praising himself. The tax collector knows that he has sinned, he knows he cannot boast before God, and he prays in full awareness of his debt to grace. [AGrace@ is the technical term for God=s freely given love, something we can never earn.] ... The real point is ... that there are two ways of relating to God and to oneself. The Pharisee does not really look at God at all, but only at himself; he does not need God, because he does everything right by himself. He has no real relation to God, who is ultimately superfluous B what he does himself is enough. 

AThe tax collector, by contrast, sees himself in the light of God. He has looked toward God, and in the process his eyes have been opened to see himself. So he knows that he needs God and that he lives by God=s goodness, which he can not force God to give him and which he cannot procure for himself. He knows that he needs mercy and so he will learn from God=s mercy to become merciful himself, and thereby to become like God. ... He will always need the gift of goodness, or forgiveness, but in receiving it he will always learn to give the gift to others.@

Happy are we if those words describe us: people who know we shall always need the gift of God=s goodness and forgiveness; and if, in receiving these gifts we learn to pass them on to others

THE FIRST OF ALL THE COMMANDMENTS

Homily for March 28^th, 2014: Mark 12:28-34.

          The man who asks Jesus, “Which is the first of all the commandments,” is called a scribe. He is himself a teacher of the law. He is giving Jesus an orthodoxy test. By answering with a verse from the Old Testament book Deuteronomy about total love of God, Jesus passes the test.

          People today are still asking the scribe’s question. What is most important in our faith? Is being baptized most important? Or going to Mass, especially on Sunday? Or is being kind to our neighbor most important? Or trying to serve the poor and struggling for a more just society? There are strong arguments for all of these things. Jesus’ answer remains true, however. The practice of our faith begins with total love of God. That is the indispensable foundation of everything else.

          Devout Catholics today recite three times daily the Angelus prayer: at morning, noon, and night. In Jesus’ day devout Jews recited three times daily the verse from Deuteronomy about loving God totally which Jesus cites in his answer to the scribe.

          Jesus goes on then to cite a second Old Testament verse, this one from Leviticus: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Lev 19:18). The scribe praises Jesus’ double answer, saying that loving God and neighbor is “worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.” We find the same thing said in many of the Old Testament prophets. The equivalent statement today would be this: loving God and neighbor is more important than all novenas, litanies, pilgrimages, and prayers to the saints.   

          As the conversation concludes, Jesus tells his questioner: “You are not far from the Kingdom of God.” “Not far” he says, because of the new commandment which Jesus will give his disciples before his crucifixion. “Love one another as I have loved you” (John 15:12-23). Perhaps someone is asking: How can I love as Jesus loved? Jesus was divine. I’m only human. The answer to that question is simple. On our own we cannot love as Jesus loved. Aided, however, with the Holy Spirit, we can love as Jesus loves us. So we pray in this Mass: Come Holy Spirit, kindle in us the fire of your love!

SIXTY YEARS A PRIEST!

           Sixty years ago next Thursday I knelt before the bishop to be ordained a priest in the Church of God. It was the fulfillment of the dream I had had, without a single interruption, from age twelve. Have every one of those sixty years been happy? Of course not. That does not happen in any life. All of us must travel at some time another through the dark valley. For seven years, 1974 to 1981, I was without assignment and unemployed. Resident in St. Louis but belonging to a bishop in Germany, I was like an Army officer who has got detached from his regiment. The clerical system did not know what to do with me. Those years were hard, and terribly lonely. I survived only by prayer. And there were other hard years as well.

          If you were to ask me, however, whether I have ever regretted my decision for priesthood, I would reply at once: never, not one single day. I’ll say it another way. If I had my life to live over again, knowing about all the hard and difficult years which lay ahead, would I still choose priesthood? In a heartbeat! I would change just one thing: I would try to be more faithful. Priesthood has brought me pain and sorrow, yes. But it has also brought me joys beyond telling. Those joys are the reason why I say every day, more times than I can tell you: “Lord, you’re so good to me, and I’m so grateful.”                          

          The greatest joy is the privilege, beyond any man’s deserving, of standing at the altar day by day to obey Jesus’ command at the Last Supper, to “Do this in my memory.” Celebrating Mass was wonderful the first time I did it sixty years ago. It is, if possible, even more wonderful today. My prayer today and every day, starting over a decade ago and continuing on into the future, is twofold:

That the years which remain to me may be dedicated every more completely to the Lord God; and –

          For a happy and a holy death.

          I would like to close with a prayer composed by the great 19^th century English convert, now Blessed John Henry Newman, at the end of his long life a cardinal, which has been dear to me since childhood.

Support us, O Lord, all the day long; until the shadows lengthen, and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then in your mercy grant us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.