Homily for Wednesday, 28 June 2017‒ Memorial of St. Irenaeus

Wednesday of the 12th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: 2 Timothy 2:22b-26; Psalm 37:3-4, 5-6, 30-31; John 17:20-26

How might we define glory? Does glory not seem like a somewhat abstract concept? Glory could be what is achieved in military victory or, usually less violently, when we out-argue somebody in a debate. These kinds of concepts of glory are in the background of our readings today on this feast day of St. Irenaeus, second century bishop and martyr. The second letter to Timothy asks us to “avoid foolish and ignorant debates” that only “breed quarrels” and so lead to nobody’s greater glory.

In Jesus’ great “high priestly” prayer from which we hear today in John’s Gospel, our Lord is especially concerned with both God’s and his Apostles’ glory. Jesus prays to God the Father, “I have given them the glory you gave me… I wish that where I am they may also be with me, that they may see my glory that you gave me.”

Of what kind of glory is Jesus speaking? Our glory and our giving glory to God depend first and foremost on one thing: Our unity. And so Jesus prays for his Apostles; for us: “That they may be one, as we are one.” How often do we pause to think and to pray over the beauty and the significance of this prayer? What would our unity look like? Perhaps our unity might show itself as greater unity among Christians, or maybe unity would mean a greater striving for the virtues listed in our first reading, from 2 Timothy: “Pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace”…

In 2 Timothy, unity that gives glory to God is shown through patience and gentleness, even (or maybe especially) with people in error and sin. “Be gentle with everyone,” 2 Timothy says, “able to teach, tolerant, correcting opponents with kindness.” In religious communities like the Basilians, we may refer to the kind of gentle, kind, and sometimes tolerant approach to error as “fraternal correction.” Too swift or too harsh, and correction may drive people away, making them less likely to be convinced of their error or even sin. Too permissive or slow an approach to correction may encourage the error. Neither approach forms consciences; neither approach contributes to our glory or to recognizing God’s glory. And is the line between these two false approaches not perhaps finer than we realize?

St. Irenaeus, whom we remember today, is not often remembered as a patient, gentle, or kind corrector of the errors of his day. One of his most famous writings is the Treatise Against Heresies. But Irenaeus did have a gentle, kind, and even tolerant side. Within his Treatise Against Heresies, Irenaeus encourages a cautious approach against heresy as against lesser errors. He says that now “we receive a certain portion of [God’s] Spirit” and are “little by little” made “accustomed to receive and bear God.”

This “little by little” approach resembles that of 2 Timothy and of Jesus himself. Irenaeus also says in Against Heresies that “the glory of God is the human person fully alive.” To become “fully alive”; to be perfected for heaven, takes us a lifetime. If we follow Jesus, 2 Timothy, and St. Irenaeus, it would seem that our journey to being “fully alive”; to meeting the fullness of God’s glory in our unity, is a journey taken “little by little.”

Homily for Tuesday, 27 June 2017– Ferial

Tuesday of the 12th week in Ordinary Time

Optional Memorial of St. Cyril of Alexandria

Readings of the day: Genesis 13:2, 5-18; Psalm 15:2-3a, 3bc-4ab, 5; Matthew 7:6, 12-14

“Do unto others what you would have them do unto you.” Obedience to this rule, which is often called “the Golden Rule,” is easy enough, right? “This is the Law and the Prophets,” Jesus says to his disciples; to us in Matthew’s Gospel. In other words, this “Golden Rule” is the minimum standard of justice. It presumes that we would not normally want harm ourselves, and so, if we would not normally want to harm themselves, then we should not want to harm another person, either.

But how often do we give into temptation to retaliate against another person who wrongs us? How often do we give into indirect means of retaliation: Gossip or passive-aggression? Have we ever held a grudge? In individual instances, these may not be very serious faults, yet their harmful effects can accumulate if we act in these ways toward others often enough. Even so, though, one instance of gossip, of passive-aggressiveness, or of holding a grudge against another, to say little about acts of outright aggressiveness, are breaches of Jesus’ “Golden Rule”: “Do unto others what you would have them do unto you.” They are offenses against justice. I wonder how many of our sins have little to do with the so-called “hot-button” or “culture war” issues of our time and more to do with how we act toward one another from day to day, especially when another person wrongs us, frustrates us, or when we simply disagree with another person on an issue that is important enough to us. The ease with which the “Golden Rule” may be broken under sometimes small temptations may be the “broad” road leading “to destruction” of which Jesus speaks. Narrow is the road of justice and kindness, especially when others behave unjustly or unkindly toward us.

Jesus’ Golden rule is a call to a minimum standard of justice. This call to justice is also present in the Book of Genesis, in the story of the parting between Abram and Lot we hear today. “The land could not support” both Abram and Lot together, so they decide to separate from each other. But Abram and Lot consider each other’s good; they are concerned with justice. Both settle where the land is fertile and where they will be able to support families and gain a livelihood comfortably: Abram “in the land of Canaan” and Lot “among the cities of the plain.”

Most importantly, by separating from each other but still ensuring each other’s good, Abram and Lot act as God would act. Abram and Lot would have been perfectly in obedience with the “Golden Rule” that Jesus would give long after the time of Abram and Lot. They, as God calls us to be, are bearers of God’s presence to one another. As our Psalm response says today, the one who “does justice will live in the presence of the Lord.”

Today we also celebrate the memory of St. Cyril of Alexandria, who is known especially as a major promoter at the Council of Ephesus in 431 of the Greek title for Mary, our Blessed Mother, of Theotokos, or “God-bearer.” This title is not only a name for Mary; we are all called to be “God-bearers” by acting with justice toward one another as we would want others to bear the God of justice and kindness to us.

Homily for Sunday, 25 June 2017

Sunday of the 12th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Jeremiah 20:10-13; Psalm 69:8-10, 14, 17, 33-35; Romans 5:12-15; Matthew 10:26-33

Could we imagine ourselves as among Jesus’ first Twelve Apostles? Jesus goes up a mountain one night to pray and, when he returns, he chooses you and eleven other people to be his closest and most trusted friends. How would you feel? I, for one, would have been thrilled to have been chosen as one of Jesus’ first Twelve Apostles! That is, until the very first time we meet together. Suddenly, Jesus starts warning us that, as his closest friends, we will be persecuted, ridiculed, and eventually killed.

Who here would want to continue to be Jesus’ close friend then? How many of us would be afraid to continue openly to be Jesus’ close friend; one of his Apostles? I would be afraid. Yet, just when Jesus, I imagine, has his newly-chosen Apostles quaking with fear, unsure of whether they want to continue to be close to him, he speaks to them the first words we hear of today’s Gospel reading, from Matthew: “Fear no one.”

If we were among Jesus’ first Apostles, how many of us would still not be convinced by Jesus’ asking us to “fear no one”? For how many of us is Jesus’ assurance that we are “worth more than many sparrows”; indeed that we are worth more and of greater dignity than any other creature, created in the image and likeness of God, still not quite enough to overcome our fear?

I ask these questions, sisters and brothers, because we live in a world today that gives us many reasons to fear. In this respect, little has changed since the time of Jesus, or since human beings have walked this earth. The names of the persecutors; of those who make us afraid; of those who even endanger human lives have changed, but the fact of our world giving us many causes to fear has not changed. And fear is a natural human response; a feeling; an emotion. Fear is neither good nor bad; it simply is, in each one of us. If we are honest with ourselves, does not each of us fear something or somebody at some point in our lives?

Since I have been back here at St. Kateri for this short time, I have been deeply moved by how many of us, members of this parish, continue to voice concern for me and pray for me while I am studying in Paris. Many of us have asked me, “Isn’t it becoming unpredictable and even dangerous in Paris? Have you been near to the terrorist attacks that have taken place there”? My response to you has been something like, “Yes, there has been chaos and violence in our world recently, even close to me in Paris. But so far I am safe, and we cannot live in fear.” If we live in fear in response to violence and terrorism in our world, we give those who commit these hideous, murderous acts, who do Satan’s work in our world, exactly what they want. Those who commit violence and terrorist acts want us to be afraid; after all, we call their actions terror-ism.

In reality, though, I cannot help but feel fear when these acts of violence and terrorism occur, especially when they happen near me or people I know and love. On November 13, 2015, barely two months after I first arrived in Paris, 130 people were killed across the city. The nearest site of the Paris attacks, the Bataclan concert theatre, is only four miles from my apartment. For a few days, an eerie silence hung over Paris. I felt and lived this fear, even as I did my best to let as many people; as many of us know as possible that I was safe. Since then, there have been attacks in Brussels, Berlin, Nice, London, Alexandria and Cairo in Egypt, and other places including the little village of Saint-Étienne-du-Rouvray near Rouen, France, where Fr. Jacques Hamel was killed while celebrating Mass last July. Bloodshed continues in places like Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan, and around the world.

Our world gives us many reasons to fear. Let me say, then, a heartfelt thank you for your concern and your prayers. And let me continue to offer my prayers for us and for our well-being. When I say we cannot live in fear, I do not mean to be curt or to ignore your concern and even your fear for me or at the state of our world. Whenever I am here at St. Kateri, I sense an almost familial love that often expresses itself as concern: Is Father safe? How are his studies going? Is he getting enough to eat (all questions that have been asked of me here in these last two weeks, by the way)? These are questions similar to those my mother asks me, as mothers (and fathers, too) naturally do, even many years after I have left home, have taken vows with the Basilians and been ordained a priest, and have travelled around much of the world. To us, I will always be a brother in Christ; a son of St. Kateri. St. Kateri is always “home away from home.” Together, might we here at St. Kateri be like Jesus’ first Apostles, whom Jesus called from home to our heavenly home, and who in the process eventually succeeded in making our world a little less chaotic, violent, and fearsome.

Might we be like Jesus’ first Apostles, to whom our Lord said, “Fear no one… And do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.” May we be like the prophet Jeremiah, who from God accepted a similar mission to Jesus’ Apostles’ and our mission: Go out into the world. Speak and live not the message that the people necessarily want to hear, but that they need to hear (and pray to discern the often fine line between these). Risk everything; risk being denounced, misunderstood, and ridiculed; risk even our own lives for the message that God gives us to proclaim and to live: A message of love beyond all telling; a message of love that saves us; a message of love that is greater than any fear.

In response to the violence and the fearsomeness of the world, might we be like the Psalmist, who today cries out through our song, “Lord, in your great love, answer me.” Those who wrote the Psalms in our Bible experienced fear. They knew the fear of suffering, illness, and death; the fear of enemy nations and their more powerful armies; the fear of the effects of their own sin. It is no wonder, then, that about two thirds of the Psalms in the Bible are laments. The Psalmists were some of the best and most effective complainers our world has ever known! Fear not; may we cast our fears and anxieties on God, for God has a thick skin.

“Lord, in your great love, answer me.” Knowing God’s great love for us, then, might we be like St. Paul or the Romans he first addressed with the letter from which we hear today in our second reading. May we fear no longer even our own sin. There is no sin too great for God to forgive. And may our Church, through Reconciliation, Eucharist, and her other Sacraments, and by the way we live, welcoming each other as redeemed sinners, be ever more our world’s instrument of forgiveness; of absolution; of freedom from sin. St. Paul says to the Romans that sin and so “death reigned from Adam to Moses.” Sin and death reigned until Jesus Christ conquered these by his death on the Cross. Sin and death and, with these, fear, reign no more over our world.

Love reigns in our world now, and enables us to go out into a still sometimes-fearsome, violent, sinful world. We go out into this world with an Apostle’s mission; a mother’s, father’s, sister’s, or brother’s mission; a prophet’s mission; a Psalmist’s mission; Christ’s own mission entrusted to us to love as he loves us; to love one another from this world into heaven, and to “fear no one.”

Homily for Saturday, 24 June 2017– Solemnity of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist

Readings of the day: Isaiah 49:1-6; Psalm 139:1b-3, 13-14ab, 14c-15; Acts 13:22-26; Luke 1:57-66, 80

Saturday of the 11th week in Ordinary Time

Does anybody here share my fascination with meanings of names? Those of us who are parents: How many of you searched books, or now websites, to find the perfect and maybe most creative names for your children when they were born?

Our readings today, on this Solemnity of the Nativity of John the Baptist, are full of names. If anybody here is expecting a child or knows somebody who is, perhaps you may want to consider a name from our Scriptures, especially our readings today.

Today we hear the strange way in which John the Baptist is named. His family’s “neighbors and relatives” expect that he will be named “after his father,” Zechariah, from Hebrew, meaning “God has remembered.” We know from earlier in Luke’s Gospel the story of Zechariah. He was taking his turn that year to enter “the Lord’s sanctuary,” the Holy of Holies at the center of the temple of Jerusalem, “to burn incense.” There, an angel announces to him that his wife Elizabeth (from Greek, meaning “God is satisfaction”), thought to be unable to conceive a child, is pregnant. For failing to believe this news, Zechariah is silenced until his son is born.

Elizabeth then names him John (Hebrew for “God is gracious”; “God has shown favor”), a name none of John’s relatives had been given before. Although he still cannot speak, Zechariah wisely seconds Elizabeth’s choice of name for John (husbands, I understand that it is usually a good idea to support your wives in decisions like these) by writing on a tablet: “His name is John.”

Our Gospel reading goes on to say that John lives up to his name: He becomes the herald of God’s graciousness; of God’s favor; of our Savior Jesus Christ to the world. Luke says of John, “Surely the hand of the Lord was with him. The child grew and became strong in spirit.”

Today we hear from the Acts of the Apostles a summary of important figures from Abraham (“father of a multitude”) through King David (“beloved”), son of Jesse (“gift”), to John the Baptist, herald of Jesus (“God saves”).

Our first reading, from Isaiah, includes only two names: Israel (“he struggles” or “wrestles with God”) and Jacob (“holder of the heel,” because he was born holding onto the heel of his twin, Esau, a symbol for Jacob’s having taken Esau’s rightful inheritance as the— barely— elder son). But Isaiah includes several more hidden names. They are phrases, more than single-word names, that describe the role or mission of the prophet himself or other people: “Sharp-edged sword,” “polished arrow,” “servant” of the LORD, “a light to the nations,” and so forth.

Might these name-phrases also be good descriptions of our continued mission as Christians? Might a “sharp-edged sword” or “polished arrow” be a call to us to speak and live by the truth? We have heard perhaps the phrases “straight as an arrow” or “straight shooter.” We, too, are sent out to be “a light to the nations” and servants of the Lord. We, too, regardless of whether our name is John, are heralds of God’s favor, Jesus Christ; of our God who saves.