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.”
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.”
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