Homily for Monday, 30 March 2015‒ Monday of Holy Week

Readings of the day: Isaiah 42:1-7; Psalm 27:1, 2, 3, 13-14; John 12:1-11

“I… have called you for the victory of justice,” God says through the prophet Isaiah in today’s first reading. Of whose “victory of justice” does Isaiah speak?

Holy Week is our final preparation for the ultimate “victory of justice”: Jesus’ death on a cross for us. This is not a “victory of justice” brought on by anything we have done right or in retribution for what we have done wrong. This is God’s “victory of justice,” willed freely by God for our salvation.

And so is this not also our “victory of justice”? We are not mere spectators to God’s justice, so how do we make God’s “victory of justice” our own? Our answer to this question may seem obvious. We know what is right and just, and so we are called to act in ways that are right and just. Our Christian faith calls us to protect basic human rights, first and foremost that of life from conception to natural death. Our Christian faith calls us to use the prosperity we have to benefit the most vulnerable: People who are poor; the working poor; people who lack adequate shelter, water, and food; people who are ill; refugees and migrants. To protect the dignity of those most in need is our foremost “victory of justice”; how we become united in God’s “victory of justice.”

But what if we have little to give to help those who are in need? What if we cannot, as individuals, change social structures of sin that keep many mired in poverty; in violence; in injustice even in our own country? What if, even when we reject or at least do not participate in gossip or political partisanship, we see these continue and even increase in our culture? How do we promote God’s “victory of justice” then?

A saying by Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta comes to my mind when I think of how we might promote God’s “victory of justice” in our world today. Mother Teresa said: “We can do no great things; only small things with great love.” For whom have we or will we do a small act of kindness today? How will we show to somebody the “victory of [God’s] justice,” which is the same to me as the victory of kindness and mercy? Who has recently shown us God’s justice; God’s mercy; God’s kindness, even in a small way?

And, above all, when we know we have failed to show forth God’s “victory of justice,” may we never despair of God’s mercy. May we never despair, even when we fall into the same sins; the same lack of justice, and even confess these repeatedly. May we heed the words of our Gospel Acclamation to God this morning: “You alone are compassionate with our faults.”

Might Judas Iscariot’s greatest sin not have been stealing from “the contributions” to the poor; not have been his betrayal of Jesus, but despair? God keeps calling us to small acts of “great love,” so may we never despair! God knows our works, individually and socially, for and against justice. Still, God is “compassionate with our faults.” By Christ’s Passion and death God has redeemed us and made us co-workers in his “victory of justice.”

Homily for Sunday, 29 March 2015‒ Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord

Readings of the day: At the procession with palm branches: Mark 11:1-10. During the Mass: Isaiah 50:4-7; Psalm 22:8-9, 17-18, 19-20, 23-24; Philippians 2:6-11; Mark 14:1-15:27

For how many of us do the events of Jesus’ Passion and death seem somewhat “over the top”; somewhat extravagant?

Our Lord’s Passion according to Mark that we have just heard begins with a woman anointing Jesus’ head with expensive “perfumed oil,” anticipating Jesus’ death and burial. This is an extravagant act of love, to be matched only by Jesus’ own death on the cross for us. The woman’s love is so extravagant that many at table become “infuriated with her.” But Jesus says, “Wherever the Gospel is proclaimed to the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.”

In hearing Jesus’ Passion we remember the woman’s anointing of Jesus: Extravagant love. We remember many counter-witnesses to this extravagant love of the woman. We remember extravagant acts of fear, denial, and betrayal by Jesus’ closest friends. We remember extravagant cruelty as Jesus is led to a shameful death outside the city walls of Jerusalem. We remember the extravagant fidelity of the women who remained at the cross, who did what Jesus’ own Apostles could not do at Gethsemane: “Watch and pray.” We remember the extravagant mercy and courage of Joseph of Arimathea, who took Jesus’ body for burial.

But do we only remember? Indeed, we remember the extravagance of Jesus’ Passion; the extravagance it took for God to redeem us; to save us by the death of God’s only Son. We remember, but we also encounter. How? We encounter God’s extravagant, saving love when we speak it; when we pray by it; when we act by it.

When has somebody been kind to us, even in a small way? When have we been kind; done or said something loving for another; just prayed for another person’s good? These are our encounters with Christ’s Passion; with the Gospel of love; with this story of God’s extravagant love for us with which Christ died and would rise again for us, for our salvation.

Homily for Saturday, 28 March 2015‒ Saturday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Readings of the day: Ezekiel 37:21-28; Responsorial Canticle: Jeremiah 31:10, 11-12abcd, 13; John 11:45-56

Who are prophets among us today, those whom we recognize and those whom we do not recognize?

Our Gospel reading today from John presents us with an unlikely prophet: The high priest Caiaphas. How many of us are thinking, “Caiaphas, a prophet, really? Does Caiaphas not contribute to the evil that results in Jesus’ death?”

Indeed Caiaphas contributes to Jesus’ death, but he speaks some of the most prophetic words in John’s Gospel to the Sanhedrin, the governing body of Jewish religious authorities in Jesus’ time. Caiaphas says: “You know nothing, nor do you consider that it is better for you that one man should die instead of the people, so that the whole nation may not perish.” John explains that Caiaphas prophesies Jesus’ death “not only for the nation, but also to gather into one the dispersed children of God.”

Let us put John’s explanation here into historical context: By the time of Jesus, the people of Israel had a long history of failing to listen to prophets. True prophets like Ezekiel, whom we have heard in our first reading today, and Jeremiah, whom we have heard in our Responsorial Canticle, were ignored, persecuted, or even killed for doing exactly what Jesus did: Trying to gather Israel, God’s chosen people, into one nation. Because these true prophets were ignored and prosecuted, the people of Israel suffered periods of exile and occupation by neighboring nations.

Ironically, precisely because most religious authorities ignored and then planned to kill Jesus, Caiaphas’ prophecy that Jesus was the one “to gather into one the dispersed children of God” by his death came true; is still coming true today. We are a people being gathered together under Christ our Lord.

Who are the prophets today who signal our being gathered together as one people; as God’s people? Who are the unrecognized; unheralded prophets among us? Can we think of anybody today who, like the high priest Caiaphas, is disagreeable or even wicked, but who occasionally speaks profound words of truth, even unintentionally: Words that unite; words that examine our motivations; words that might expose some of our own sin; our own need for repentance?

Who are the Caiaphas figures of our time? Does it not take more discernment; more effort on our part to find the grain of truth that a false prophet like Caiaphas speaks, and to live this truth for our own good? This it does, and yet this is the calling to us through the Word of God today: To discern prophecy; to discern truth even from the unlikeliest of sources. The dull, those of weak faith, the disagreeable, and even the wicked are sometimes as much instruments of God as the strong, true, and faithful prophets to do God’s work: To gather us together as one people under Christ our Lord.

Homily for Friday, 27 March 2015‒ Friday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Readings of the day: Jeremiah 20:10-13; Psalm 18:2-3a, 3bc-4, 5-6, 7; John 10:31-42

Who here has ever felt stressed, or even distressed? What causes our stress or even distress? Perhaps our distress is from the loss of a loved one; the loss of employment; living in poverty; severe or terminal illness or that of a loved one; our own guilt; strife in our families and marriages; unrest in the world; our children or grandchildren not attending Mass; not being baptized or receiving the other sacraments…

As a priest I am privileged to hear of our many joys as people of faith. I also hear much of what brings us stress and distress. Often, when people speak to me of their stress and distress, I also sense a kind of guilt, especially if somebody’s stress or distress is accompanied by anger; even more if this person is angry at God.

Holy Week begins in just two days. Increasingly in our readings at Mass we hear of stress and distress of the people in our Scriptures. This will continue and intensify as we journey through Holy Week next week. Today the prophet Jeremiah is being denounced; terrorized; betrayed even by the people he once counted as friends. Jesus is in danger of being stoned to death for claiming (rightly) to be God. And the author of our Psalm today is also distressed by his “enemies.”

But what do Jeremiah, Jesus, the Psalmist, and we have in common? I think we have in common the invitation to be honest with one another and with God. If we are joyful, speak of our joy to one another; pray in joy and thanksgiving to God. If we are stressed or distressed, find an outlet for this stress or distress, too: A trusted friend; a family member; a priest; God. But might some of us be thinking: “Nobody likes a complainer? Is it ever right to complain to God in prayer; to be angry with God?”

Over the past several days, even weeks, I have reminded a few people, even myself sometimes, of the value of an effective complaint! Well over half of the Psalms are psalms of lament. The prophets complain often; we hear one of Jeremiah’s bitter laments today. As Jesus hangs on the cross (we will hear this on Palm Sunday, this weekend), he speaks the words of Psalm 22, one of the deepest laments in all of Scripture: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me”?

And so I think it is sometimes appropriate, even to be encouraged, to complain, even to God. Are we not a culture averse to complaining? One of my favorite books about this is Walter Bruggemann’s The Costly Loss of Lament. What a costly loss indeed if we lose the trust in God and in one another necessary to complain effectively when we need to do so!

I am convinced that a good lament arises from trust in one another; trust in God. Listen again to our Psalm response today, so trusting in God’s deliverance from distress: “In my distress I called upon the LORD, and he answered me.”

Yes, lament when necessary in times of distress. Raise your joys and your distress to God, as an act of honesty; an act of trust in one another and in our God.

Homily for Wednesday, 25 March 2015– Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord

Readings of the day: Isaiah 7:10-14, 8:10; Psalm 40:7-8a, 8b-9, 10, 11; Hebrews 10:4-10; Luke 1:26-38

This homily was given at Bethany House, a shelter for homeless women and children in Rochester, NY, and a ministry of the Sisters of St. Joseph.

“Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you!” This is the angel Gabriel’s greeting to Mary in our Gospel reading today. And yet has anybody here ever thought about how this greeting is not just to Mary, but to us, too?

Gabriel’s greeting to Mary is unnerving for sure. And then Gabriel follows this greeting by announcing to Mary that she “will conceive a child”; not just any child but Jesus, the Savior of the world. Luke’s Gospel gives us a detailed sense of how Mary felt at this announcement, which we celebrate today as the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord. Clearly Mary is afraid: “How can this be?” she asks Gabriel. But we know that Mary’s fear does not stop her from saying her famous “Yes” to God: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.”

One of my favorite hymns, heard more often during Advent, sets the scene of the Annunciation: “The angel Gabriel from heaven came, his wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame. ‘All hail,’ said he, ‘O lowly maiden Mary. Most highly favored lady! Gloria’”! The way this hymn describes the scene of the Annunciation, it is a fearful scene indeed.

How would we respond to Gabriel’s greeting and announcement if we were in Mary’s place? Would we echo her “Yes” to God: “May it be done to me according to your word”? Or would we be more like King Ahaz in our first reading, from Isaiah, who refuses the Lord’s will for him and for Israel? “I will not ask! I will not tempt the LORD!” Ahaz turns away from the Lord’s greeting that is very similar to Gabriel’s message to Mary: “God is with us.”

Do we sense and trust in God’s presence “with us,” especially in crisis situations? How many of us, here at Bethany House, have faced poverty; faced, as Mary did, an unplanned pregnancy; faced homelessness and unemployment or underemployment? And if we have not been among the poor, the homeless, the unemployed and underemployed, or those faced with bringing a child into our world in these circumstances, have we ever taken time to care for people who have; to minister to and with them?

Even (perhaps especially) through crisis situations or in our ministry with those experiencing crisis, God still greets us: “Hail, full of grace”! Will we echo Mary’s “Yes” to a God who saves us; is “with us”; lifts us up; upholds our dignity; makes us “full of grace” even in our most difficult situations? “Behold… Let it be done to me according to your word.”