Homily for Wednesday, 5 July 2017– Ferial

Wednesday of the 13th week in Ordinary Time

Optional Memorials of St. Anthony Zaccaria and St. Elizabeth of Portugal

Readings of the day: Genesis 21:5, 8-20a; Psalm 34:7-8, 10-11, 12-13; Matthew 8:28-34

“Which of you desires life, and takes delight in prosperous days”? This question is asked in the last verse of our Responsorial Psalm today. Unless somebody is truly not of sound mind, who would not desire life and prosperity, both for him or herself and for one’s nation?

Yesterday we celebrated across this nation a lovely Fourth of July, Independence Day. We have celebrated our nation’s deep desire for life and prosperity. And our first reading today, from Genesis is, at its heart, a story of desire for life and prosperity. Prior to the events of today’s reading, God had promised Abraham that he would be the father of “a great nation”; of descendants to number as the stars. After a long wait—Abraham is already one hundred years old by the time “Isaac [is] born to him”— Abraham finally has a son, Isaac, with his wife Sarah. The problem is that Abraham had also had a son, Ishmael, with the slave Hagar. Could we not imagine that, like Sarah for Isaac, Hagar would have had great dreams for Ishmael: Dreams of “a great nation” of her and his family lineage; dreams of life and prosperity?

But those dreams of Hagar for Ishmael seem to become all but crushed as Hagar is banished through the jealousy of Sarah. Then again, we may ask, why does God not intervene on Hagar’s behalf here? Why does God not defend Hagar and Ishmael against this act of injustice by Sarah against them? If we are troubled by this question, we are not alone. Abraham, Genesis says, “was greatly distressed, especially on account of his son Ishmael.” Instead of defending Hagar and Ishmael, though, God says to Abraham, “Heed the demands of Sarah, no matter what she is asking of you.” Why does God seem to go along and even encourage this injustice of sending Hagar and Ishmael away? Did God not know that Hagar’s and Ishmael’s water supply would quickly run out under the desert heat, putting Ishmael’s life in danger? Of course, God finally intervenes on Hagar’s and Ishmael’s behalf, giving them water, but only when Ishmael is near death from thirst.

Yet almost hidden in the middle of this reading from Genesis is God’s reassurance to Abraham that, as he had promised of Isaac, God “will make a great nation of [Ishmael] also.” God’s justice, it would seem is not always our justice. Here, though, God’s way of assuring justice for Hagar and Ishmael, that Ishmael and Isaac both will give rise to great nations because they are both Abraham’s sons, seems simply bizarre.

Might God’s promise to Hagar and Ishmael, though, be an invitation to us? We rightly celebrate this “great nation”; these United States of America. We, like the Psalmist, desire “life and [take] delight in prosperous days.” But do peoples of other nations not also desire “life and [take] delight in prosperous days”? The invitation to us is to aid peoples of other nations both abroad and those who seek refuge among us, as God came to the aid of Hagar and Ishmael thirsting in the desert, to realize most fully their God-given human dignity; their desire for life; for prosperity; for peace. May we not impede them in their pursuit of life; of prosperity; of peace, desires God has given peoples of other nations just as he has given us.

Homily for Sunday, 7 August 2016

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Wisdom 18:6-9; Psalm 33:1, 12, 18-19, 20-22; Hebrews 11:1-2, 8-12; Luke 12:32-48

This homily was given at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Parish in Sherwood Park, AB, Canada.

Imagine if you were stranded on a faraway island. You have all you need to survive for the time you will be on the island: Water, food, shelter, warm clothing, and so forth. You have your family and closest loved ones with you. But on top of these minimal necessities to survive, you are only able to keep with you one thing. What is this one thing you would keep with you? What is your greatest treasure; the thing your heart most desires?

Jesus says this in our Gospel reading this evening [morning] from Luke about our greatest treasure; the thing our hearts most desire: “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” And so what is our greatest treasure; the one thing we would keep with us on this faraway island?

Children, maybe the treasure you would keep with you would be a favourite toy, or maybe a favourite children’s book, or video game, or equipment needed to play your favourite sport. For older children, teenagers, and adults, maybe our treasures would include what we need for our favourite hobbies: Craft material, a musical instrument, a good novel, unless you’re into non-fiction… Some of us might want to bring a television, or your dream sports car. Some of us who are handy might want to bring along our best power tool; after all, the shelter provided on the island is good enough for survival, but could always use some upgrades. For many of us, thinking more of spiritual survival, maybe we would bring a rosary or a Bible…

These (and others I have not mentioned) would all be great treasures we might consider bringing to a faraway island if we were only able to take one thing there with us. But in Luke’s Gospel Jesus is asking us to consider something more as our greatest treasure: The Kingdom of God. Jesus says “to his disciples…, ‘It is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the Kingdom.’”

We have only a small problem: Would it not be a bit far-fetched to fit the entire Kingdom of God on one faraway island? It would have to be a very large island! This is where we need to use our imagination… After all, if we were stranded on a faraway island, God would have had to make the island. God, as maker of the island, makes the rules as to the one thing, our hearts’ greatest desire, which we could bring to this faraway island. And so God could make this island as large as he wants, even large enough as to fit the whole Kingdom of God on it.

Trust me on this or, better yet, as God invites us, trust him! God constantly invites us to have faith in him; to accept this gift of the Kingdom of God that Jesus says the Father wants to give us. This treasure, God’s Kingdom, is worth selling “our possessions” and giving of our time; our talent; our treasure to help people who are poor, sick, troubled, or otherwise in need. If we had God’s Kingdom we would be ready for anything, on that island or here at home. And is this not what Jesus asks of us? “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit… You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour,” Jesus says.

How many of us are still not convinced; still trying to imagine the great big Kingdom of God somehow fitting on this little faraway island? Fair enough; the Kingdom of God is enormous and the island is probably tiny. And so God does not give us his whole Kingdom all at once. We will only have and be in the fullness of the Kingdom of God at the end of time, when there will be no worry about having to cram the entire Kingdom of God onto a little (imaginary) faraway island.

For now, God gives us small yet important (not imaginary, but real) signs of the future fullness of God’s Kingdom. What are these signs? First, God gives us the sign of his being with us in history. This history is spoken of especially in our readings today from Wisdom and the letter to the Hebrews. God was with God’s people, making freedom, “deliverance from Egypt” under Moses, possible. God shows himself in our history, the events of our world, as great and powerful, destroying Israel’s “enemies” in the time of Moses, but also as good and merciful, calling Israel; calling us “to himself,” back to the glory of our creation, when God made us and called us “very good.”

God then gives us the gift of faith; the faith God first gave Abraham; the faith or “conviction of things not seen.” Faith is especially important. Let us be honest: Can it not be difficult to perceive signs of God’s Kingdom; of God’s presence in our world through acts of violence and of terror; through brokenness of human relationships that many of us experience; through the suffering of innocent people? How many of us know somebody with the faith of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, and then some, through sometimes the most awful situations in their lives? This faith God gives us is a sign of God’s “promise,” a sign that God is working in our world to bring us the fullness of God’s Kingdom; God’s reign of mercy and peace over our world, even when God’s action is not easily seen through our world’s events.

God gives us the gift of faith. God is with us in our world and its history; in our story; our lives. Even better, God has personally become a part of our world’s history. God has shown himself to us as human in every way we are human except without sin, in the person of Jesus Christ. This is God’s greatest sign yet of the Kingdom. And this greatest of signs, God made human, Jesus Christ, asks only one thing of us in today’s Gospel: “Be ready.” Be ready for the fullness of God’s Kingdom.

But how can we be ready for the fullness of God’s Kingdom, a reality of peace; of goodness; of mercy; a treasure that surpasses even our wildest desires or imagination? It is absurd enough to imagine ourselves stranded on a faraway island, able to keep only one thing with us. The fullness of the Kingdom of God is still more beyond our understanding; we have never experienced anything like it. Yet it is real. It is Jesus’; God’s promise to us.

God gives us signs that point us to the “treasure” of the Kingdom of God: God’s actions in our world (in the unexpected, in miracles, but most often in little, everyday occurrences); God’s gift to us of faith; God entering our world as human in the person of Jesus Christ. And Jesus gives us, until he comes again, another sign; a sacrament of himself really present here in our Eucharist; our action of thanksgiving to and communion in God; in Christ...

I pray for all of us that, through this celebration, the Table of the Lord; our Eucharist, sign and sacrament of the fullness of God’s Kingdom, our greatest treasure and our hearts’ greatest desire will become nearer to you, little by little; not imaginary like a faraway island or even hoped for in the distant future, but real and present.

My sisters and brothers in Christ, we celebrate, here and now, signs that are real of the promise of the fullness of the Kingdom of God that is real: God’s action in our world and its events and history, our story; God’s gift of faith to us; God having sent his Son, Jesus Christ; Christ who gives himself to us in our Eucharist. Here is where our treasure is. Here is where our heart is. We are “dressed for action”; dressed for celebration. And we are ready.

Homily for Sunday, 24 July 2016

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Genesis 18:20-32; Psalm 138:1-2, 2-3, 6-7, 7-8; Colossians 2:12-14; Luke 11:1-13

This homily was given at the Monastery of the Carmel of St. Joseph near Spruce Grove, AB, Canada.

Please allow me to ask a couple of personal questions, and please do not answer aloud or even by a show of hands, but keep your answers between yourselves and God. First, has anybody here ever known somebody else to be a real pest to you? This person could be a co-worker; a relative; somebody in your family; a neighbour; somebody you hardly know and do not really want to know any better. For those of us here in consecrated religious life, the pest could be somebody in our religious community. Children among us: How often have you felt pestered by your brother or sister (if you have brothers or sisters); by another kid at school; by somebody else? This pest in your life may ask endless questions or make unreasonable demands. He or she gets under your skin. The pest will not simply give up and go away!

My second question is this: How many of us have ever been a pest to somebody? I have asked us to keep our answers to these questions between ourselves and God. But I must say that I am guilty as charged of having been a pest on a few occasions. As the eldest of three siblings in my family (I have one younger sister and one younger brother) and as a member of a religious community of priests, I have had many opportunities to be a pest. Sometimes the temptation is irresistible!

And sometimes to be a pest is fine. My sisters and brothers in Christ, today we hear first from the Word of God, from Genesis, the story of Abraham the Pest. Abraham is one of the finest pests in Scripture! God is on the receiving end of Abraham’s persistence “by the oaks of Mamre.” We have heard that all this begins with God’s plan to destroy the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah for their great wickedness.

I suppose that God did not need to tell Abraham that he was about to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. Why invite the trouble; the endless questions? Just go and destroy those wicked cities! Yet God relents. Way to go, God; now Abraham the Pest is sure never to leave you alone! But God has a purpose in allowing Abraham to question him about Sodom and Gomorrah. God, even at his fire-and-brimstone best, is not consumed with anger or bent on destruction. God is our God of mercy; of “loving kindness”; of true justice through and through. This event in Genesis is not about the nature of Sodom’s or Gomorrah’s sin (of which, despite longstanding speculation, scholarly and not, nobody is really sure) but first about God’s merciful love. Destruction is God’s last resort.

Long before our current concept developed of “innocent until proven guilty,” God applies this principle by going “to see whether” the people of Sodom and Gomorrah have done as they are accused of doing. By doing this, God allows Abraham the chance to plead with him: “Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city; will you then sweep away the place and not forgive it for the fifty righteous who are in it”?

God must admit that Abraham has a good point here. To find fifty righteous people, even in cities as wicked as Sodom and Gomorrah, would be somewhat easy. But then Abraham persists: “What if there are only forty-five righteous people in Sodom and Gomorrah”?

We might imagine God responding, “Fine. I will spare the city if only forty-five righteous people are there, but do not push your luck”! And so what does Abraham do? He pushes his luck further, of course: “Suppose forty are found there.” “Fine,” God says, “hold the brimstone.”

“Suppose thirty are found there.” “Fine,” God sighs, “I’m having trouble finding my flamethrower anyway.”

“Suppose twenty are found there.” God responds, “Abraham, what did I say about not pushing your luck? But, yes, no problem, I will not destroy Sodom and Gomorrah if you know of twenty righteous people there. Now go away and do not bother me anymore”!

This does not deter Abraham the Pest: “Oh, do not let the LORD be angry if I speak just once more.” “What is it”?! God growls at Abraham, “I said not to bother me anymore about Sodom and Gomorrah! Then again, I’ve promised you everything else: A son; descendants to outnumber the stars… I kind of like you. In fact I love you dearly, even though you are such a pest! What do you want”?

“S-s- suppose ten are found there…” Abraham trembles. “Done,” God says, “for the sake of ten I will not destroy it… Now will you go relax under the oaks of Mamre and stop pestering me”? “Deal,” says Abraham.

… If we have such a great example of how to be a pest as Abraham in the Old Testament, can we not imagine that, in the Gospels, to be a pest would be raised to a fine art form? Jesus gives his disciples; gives us a prayer, the Our Father, the Lord’s Prayer, that is an acknowledgement of the holiness of God’s name, “Father, hallowed be your name,” followed by a series of petitions. We ask God for things in this prayer: “Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, as we forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

Might we understand the Our Father, especially in light of the rest of today’s Gospel reading, as Jesus’ teaching on how to pester God effectively? The Our Father is not meant to be prayed only once. We pray it together every time we gather to celebrate our Eucharist. And many of us pray the Our Father multiple times a day. God wants us to pester him!

Now God invites us to join in the long tradition of pestering him effectively. Abraham, our father in faith, is also our father in persistence. Jesus was persistent. So were Jesus’ disciples, and so are we invited to be.

Jesus gives us a story, exaggerated for humorous effect, of the man who “at midnight” asks his friend for “three loaves of bread” because his “friend… has arrived.” The man is able to get “whatever he needs” in the end, Jesus says, if only “because of his persistence.” And then we hear from Jesus through Luke another memorable saying: “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.”

Only here Jesus is no longer exaggerating. God will answer our prayer; our petition. God may not answer our prayer in exactly the way we expect, or even the first time we ask. But often, I think, God wants us to keep asking; to be persistent; to ask in a variety of ways for what we desire so to give us a chance to purify our desires. What, ultimately, do we all desire? I think the answer to this question is eternal life; salvation.

Our salvation is worth pestering God about, as are other desires of ours that lead us in the direction of salvation; of eternal life; of stronger relationship with God and one another. St. Paul, another of the Bible’s most brilliant pests, says this in his Letter to the Colossians: Do not be afraid to ask God to be saved; to ask God for forgiveness; for the strength to forgive others. Even “when [we] were dead in trespasses,” we were never beyond God’s saving love, kindness, and mercy.

Our God, Paul adds, has already anticipated our persistent prayer; our ultimate desire to be saved: “He forgave us all our trespasses… He set this aside, nailing it to the cross.” If Abraham were effective in pestering God to save Sodom and Gomorrah “for the sake of” only ten righteous people, now we have a chance to be saved because of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ; because of this action of the one and only truly Righteous One.

And so it is worth our while to pester God. Pray with persistence. Knock on God’s door at midnight, saying, “Our friends have arrived and we need bread for the great celebration of your merciful presence; the sacrament of salvation we call Eucharist.” And, with persistence, our desires will be purified, to lead us more directly to God; to salvation. After all, God began working on satisfying this ultimate desire of ours before we ever asked.

Homily for Sunday, 17 July 2016

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Genesis 18:1-10a; Psalm 15:2-3, 3-4, 5; Colossians 1:24-28; Luke 10:38-42

This homily was given at the Monastery of the Carmel of St. Joseph near Spruce Grove, AB, Canada.

What is hospitality? What would be the best image we could form in our minds of the perfect host?

Our readings today present us with several images of hospitality; with several hosts. We hear in Genesis of the visit by “three men” to Abraham and Sarah at “the oaks of Mamre.” Abraham shows himself to be a gracious and even quite humorous host. He says to the three men, “Let me bring a little bread.” I imagine Abraham with a slight smirk on his face as he enters the tent to ask Sarah and his servant not to make only “a little bread” but a magnificent feast of “cakes… curds and milk and the calf that he had prepared.” Maybe Abraham thought, “These three visitors are in for a big surprise. They do not know the feast I have in store for them”!

At the end of this feast at Mamre, one of the servants says to Abraham, “I will surely return to you in due season, and your wife Sarah shall have a son.” Might Abraham have thought at this point, “Wait a minute!? I have heard this promise of a son before. What a joke! Sarah and I are way too old to have a child”!

We know that Abraham had not always been the best host. God had made this promise of a child before to Abraham and Sarah, and they had dared to laugh at God and his far-fetched promise. Now, as he hosts his three guests “by the oaks of Mamre,” we see that Abraham is beginning to master the art of hospitality with a bit of humour. And just as the three men are about to leave, they deliver God’s announcement to Abraham that, from this point, in her womb Sarah has become the host to God’s last laugh at the expense of Abraham and Sarah: She is now pregnant with Isaac, whose name means “he who laughs.” One does not simply laugh at God and get away without consequences!

This would be far from the last or most direct time in which God would enter our world; in which God would teach us something about hospitality; in which God would go so far as to become human like us, to share in our life, our death, our sorrows yet also our joys, our tears and, I am sure, even our laughter. God has revealed himself to us in this utmost way in the person of Jesus Christ. Now we as Church are hosts to Jesus Christ; to God in our world. How do we go about hosting God in our world; revealing God to our world today?

The episode of Abraham with his three guests at Mamre is perhaps most famously depicted in the Russian Andrei Roublev’s fifteenth century icon called “The Trinity” or “The Hospitality of Abraham.” I do not dare to explain the sublime symbolism of this icon, which I do not understand well: Which angelic figure represents which person of the Trinity; why in some cases the angels’ wings overlap and in other cases do not; the significance of the chalice form of the space among the three figures and the wine-filled chalice on the table around which they are gathered; what the meaning is of the angels’ clothing, of the house in the upper right and of the tree at top centre… I would just as soon laugh at God as try to decipher Roublev’s “Trinity.”

I will only say this about the Most Holy Trinity: In the Trinity we have the ultimate revelation of hospitality; of the love among Father, Son, and Holy Spirit such that there is mysteriously distinction yet no division among the three persons of our one God. In the Trinity there is even more perfect hospitality; more perfect love than the hospitality and love shown by Abraham to his three guests at Mamre.

Yet I think there are simpler images of hospitality and of love, with humour, than Roublev’s “Trinity” or than Abraham’s feast with his guests at Mamre. I think of two images in my mind of great hospitality, one from my experience of being on pilgrimage to the Holy Land and the other from the history of my religious order, the Congregation of St. Basil or Basilians.

Three summers ago I was on a Basilian Peace and Justice Pilgrimage to the Holy Land. We were in the Palestinian territories of Bethlehem, Hebron, East Jerusalem, Jericho, Qumran, and the Dead Sea, south toward the Bedouin lands of the Negev desert, and elsewhere. It was the beginning of the Muslim month of fasting by day, Ramadan. In several of the homes in which we stopped, we were offered tea and sometimes small sweets. The hosts, if they were devout Muslims, would not partake of the food and drink they offered us. At the same time as we on pilgrimage felt for them, we were moved by some of the most profound hospitality we had ever experienced.

From our Basilian history I recall the story of our ten founding priests, who ran a clandestine minor seminary on a hill near Annonay, in the foothills of the French Alps, in the wake of the French Revolution. From time to time the Revolutionary troops would stop by our minor seminary to inspect us, to ensure we were not doing anything religious. One advantage of the hilltop placement of the minor seminary was that our founding confrères could see the troops approaching from a long distance. Our priests had enough time to prepare for their arrival by setting out the best French bread and wine their meagre resources could buy. The troops would go about their “inspection,” wining and dining with these priests-in-disguise until, suffice it to say, they went home more than full and satisfied, leaving our first Basilians and the minor seminary they served to survive another day.

The hospitality of our one God in three persons was alive and well in the meeting of Abraham with his guests at Mamre; alive and well in the Holy Land; alive and well among our early Basilians in Annonay. And our God of hospitality is alive, well, and present here now. Mysteriously, here in Carmelite community in this monastery, united with your Carmelite sisters and brothers throughout the world and all religious and the entire Church, particularly in this Eucharistic celebration, we are both the guests and the hosts in this house of God.

Yet in trying to take in this mystery we may try to do too much, so that we become less-than-ideally present to God; to God’s hospitality; to God’s love among us. And so Jesus offers us a gentle caution through our Gospel account of the encounter among Jesus, Mary, and Martha. I think we do well not to try to smooth over Jesus’ admonition of Martha who, Luke’s Gospel says, “was distracted by her many tasks.” At the same time, Mary is fully attentive to Jesus, sitting at his feet and listening “to what he was saying,” taking the posture of a disciple of the time. Jesus says to Martha, “Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

Would we not expect Jesus to give Martha more credit for welcoming “him into her home”; for serving him and Mary at table; maybe for caring for their other household, material needs? And yet Jesus sides with Mary over Martha! Why?

Somehow Mary, in sitting “at the Lord’s feet” and listening to him, was more hospitable to Jesus than was Martha, who was left “to do all the work by” herself. How can this be? Hospitality can take many forms. Sometimes hospitality means to “do… the work”; to serve at table; to expend energy serving our sisters and brothers. This is the “Martha” form of hospitality shown rightly by Abraham at Mamre; by our Palestinian Muslim hosts during our Holy Land pilgrimage; by the first Basilians to the Revolutionary troops in Annonay; often by us in religious life. But then sometimes the “Mary” form of hospitality is most appropriate: Simply listen, quietly but actively; be present; learn from our Lord and from one another.

The right form of hospitality for the moment will be a constant process of discernment. Yet this discernment; this hospitality is an essential part of our calling as Christians; as a people gathered here in celebration; as a people of God who is love; who is hospitality in person, always present to us.

Homily for Thursday, 2 July 2015– Ferial

Thursday of the 13th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Genesis 22:1b-19;  Psalm 115:1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 8-9; Matthew 9:1-8

Have you ever encountered somebody (or have you been somebody) who trusts another person; trusts you; trusts God to the point that this person would do anything for the person she or he trusts? Can this kind of unfailing trust not sometimes appear to us to be naïve?

We hear in our readings today of people with great depth of trust in another. First we hear of Abraham, who has such faith in God that he is willing to sacrifice his only son, Isaac on a makeshift altar in the wilderness of Moriah. And then we hear in Matthew’s Gospel reading of the trust some in the crowds had in Jesus’ ability to heal a paralytic whom they bring to Jesus “on a stretcher.” Matthew contrasts the trust in Jesus of those who bring the paralytic to him and the lack of trust; the lack of faith of “some of the scribes,” those we would expect to have the deepest trust and faith in God but do not.

On the surface, does our Gospel reading of Jesus’ healing of the paralytic not seem much more believable to us than Abraham’s near-sacrifice of Isaac in Genesis? To me it seems far-fetched that God would ask of Abraham, and Abraham would be willing to carry out, the sacrifice of his only son, only to have a “messenger” of the LORD stop him just as he is about to kill Isaac. Would God ask this of Abraham after promising Abraham and Sarah for many years that they would have a child together; that this child would be the first of many descendants, numbered as the stars? I think this would be highly unlikely.

Jesus’ healing of the paralytic is much more believable than Abraham’s near-sacrifice of Isaac. At least the people of Israel in Jesus’ time knew of Jesus’ reputation as a healer. It is not a surprise that they bring the paralytic and many others to him who are in need of healing. If anything the unbelief of “some of the scribes” is somewhat exaggerated here in Matthew’s Gospel. Their charge of blasphemy seems to be illogical; a charge out of nowhere against Jesus, whom many religious leaders of the day felt was a threat to their authority.

But despite the far-fetched elements of our readings, is there not a parallel between them: Limitless trust? Our God’s ability and willingness to ensure our good is limitless, and so are we not invited to have trust in God that is equally limitless?

If we trust in God without limits, God will often go beyond what we have trusted in God to do for us. Abraham trusted that God would keep his promise to Abraham of descendants in faith in unlimited number, even as God was seemingly asking Abraham to sacrifice Isaac. Abraham trusted that, as Sr. Sandra Schneiders, IHM, says, God is not a God of destruction. Even if Abraham had sacrificed Isaac, something greater; somehow life-giving would arise from this. And the paralytic and many in the crowds in Mark’s Gospel are rewarded for their trust more than they could have imagined. Not only is the paralytic healed, but his sins are forgiven!

The reward is great, and maybe even a bit far-fetched, when we trust limitlessly in our God.

Homily for Saturday, 27 June 2015– Memorial of St. Cyril of Alexandria

Optional Memorial: Our Lady's Saturday

Saturday of the 12th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Genesis 18:1-15; Responsorial Canticle: Luke 1:46-47. 48-49, 50, 53, 54-55; Matthew 8:15-17

Have you ever heard somebody laugh or be joyful when laughter or joy is unexpected? Or have you laughed or been joyful yourself in an unexpected situation? I can think of many situations in ministry when I have encountered joy and even laughter when it has been unexpected: Amid severe illness or that of a loved one, or when people share with me joyful moments they had with their loved ones who have recently passed away.

We know the healing effects laughter; a joyful spirit; smiling can have, even when we are not feeling very joyful: Relaxation; reduced heart rate and blood pressure, and so on… And laughter and joy have their place in our Scriptures.

Sarah despairs of ever conceiving a child with Abraham, despite God’s repeated promises to them of descendants. Who could blame Sarah for some despair? And so, in her despair (and with it some disbelief), Sarah laughs... at God. When I hear this story, I think of it as Biblical permission to laugh in unexpected, even difficult situations, and even to laugh at God. To laugh at God may not always be inappropriate or irreverent.

Here, God seems to reward Sarah and Abraham for finding comic relief at God’s expense. Of course, God returns Sarah’s humor even as God keeps his promise to grant her and Abraham a child. This child is named Isaac, Hebrew for “he laughs.” And so God gets the last laugh at Sarah and Abraham!

Sarah tries to deny her laughter at God today, but later in the Book of Genesis she will look back on her longing for a child with gratitude for her son Isaac, “he laughs.” “God has given me cause to laugh,” Sarah will say, “and all who hear it will laugh with me.”

The situation in our Gospel reading at first seems to be no laughing matter. A Roman centurion approaches Jesus and says, “Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, suffering dreadfully.” Jesus immediately promises, and delivers on his promise, to heal the centurion’s servant: “I will come and cure him.” But before this Jesus greatly praises the centurion’s faith, which is greater than anybody “in Israel”; the centurion’s faith we echo every time we celebrate our Eucharist: “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof. Only say the word and my servant shall be healed.”

What is so great about the centurion’s faith? Could it be his humility; his feeling of unworthiness to have the Lord “enter under” his “roof”? Could it have been his trust that Jesus could cure his beloved servant, even though the centurion was not of Jesus’ Jewish faith? Could it have been the centurion’s joyful spirit, even in the face of his servant’s illness? Could it have been all of the above?

Imagine the centurion’s joy, even though Matthew’s Gospel says nothing about how the centurion responded to Jesus’ healing of his beloved servant! The centurion’s hidden joy and Sarah’s open laughter invite us to the same joy; the same humble yet joyful faith. Our faith leaves us ample room for humor. I believe humor is even essential to a healthy life of faith. And sometimes, even amid the unexpected; even difficult situations, our faith leaves us room to laugh, even at God!

Homily for Friday, 26 June 2015– Ferial

Friday of the 12th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Genesis 17:1, 9-10, 15-22;  Psalm 128:1-2, 3, 4-5; Matthew 8:1-4

Who here has ever laughed at God? Would I be right in thinking that most of us here, myself included, would not laugh at God very often, out of reverence for God? We probably would not laugh at other people very often, either, because to laugh at other people is usually impolite. Would not many of us prefer to show other emotions to God, even anger, before we laugh at God?

But today we hear perhaps the most famous story in Scripture of somebody laughing at God. In spite of their old age, God once again promises Abraham and Sarah a child. Abraham responds to God’s promise by laughing at God! Now, I understand that God had promised a child to Abraham; had in fact promised Abraham descendants to number as the stars, and had yet to deliver on his promise, but is it not still rude and irreverent of Abraham to laugh at God? Abraham had been given many gifts from God: A loving wife, prosperity in land and herding livestock…

Could Abraham not have pleaded with God with the great trust of the leper in our Gospel reading today. Unlike Abraham, the leper is anything but rich and prosperous. He is an outcast in Israel of his and Jesus’ time. Yet this poor leper asks Jesus with great humility and trust: “Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean.” The leper does not ask Jesus, “Because I wish,” but “if you wish, you can make me clean.”

Abraham, who has everything but a child with Sarah (please, let us be sensitive to and pray for those who have difficulty conceiving children), does not ask God humbly to act according to God’s will, but laughs at God for not delivering on his promise of a child! But what happens when Abraham laughs at God? What happens when the leper in our Gospel reading asks Jesus, “If you wish, you can make me clean”? Both Abraham and the leper get what they want: Abraham and Sarah conceive a son, Isaac, and the leper is made clean.

And God gets the last laugh at Abraham. We cannot laugh at God and expect to get away with it without consequence! Can we imagine God saying to Abraham, “Fine. I’ll give you your son with Sarah as promised. But because you laughed at me, your son’s name is to be Isaac.” The name Isaac (for those of us named Isaac or who know somebody by this name) is Hebrew for “he laughs.” Abraham laughs at God, and God returns the laughter at Abraham by naming his and Sarah’s son Isaac. Importantly in this story, though, Abraham and Sarah never stop trusting in God, even if he laughs at God. Abraham is forever our “father in faith.”

And so laugh at God if we please, but may we always maintain our humility and trust in God, who wills our good ultimately. The leper in Matthew’s Gospel is an example to us of humility and trust in God: “Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean.” And Abraham also invites us to humble trust in God, if only with a small dose of humor!

Homily for Monday, 22 June 2015‒ Diocese of Rochester Patronal Feast of Sts. John Fisher and Thomas More

Monday of the 12th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Genesis 12:1-9; Psalm 33:12-13, 14-15, 20, 22; Matthew 7:1-5

We pray in our Psalm today, “Blessed the people the LORD has chosen to be his own.” Have we not all been “chosen to be [God’s] own” by our baptism? But how many of us have been chosen for a task or vocation, especially when this was a great change in our lives, temporary or permanent? Maybe the point at which you were “chosen” was when you began your first job. Maybe it was when you were married (if you are or have been married) when you were chosen to be another’s “own,” in loving service to your wife or husband; to your family; to God. Maybe you experienced being “chosen to be [God’s] own” if you became Christian; Catholic as an older child or adult. Maybe it was when you were asked to care for somebody in special need, possibly sick relative or friend. Maybe you have been the person to whom your family has looked for strength in a time of loss of a loved one.

I have felt the blessing of being called God’s “own” many times. I was recently recalling having been called to serve for a few weeks in our novitiate in Colombia, with young men just beginning to discern their call to religious life and priesthood. On a Friday afternoon before Christmas, I was working quietly on my Advent Sunday homily when Fr. Morgan called from his meeting with the governing body of the Basilian order, in Toronto: “Would you be able to help for a few weeks in Colombia”? And then (somewhat less of a surprise than being asked to serve in Colombia) was my call to the priesthood. Again, I felt a deep sense of being blessed to share in Christ’s priesthood here at St. Kateri.

“Blessed the people the LORD has chosen to be his own.” Today we celebrate Abram, one of the first to have been “chosen to be [the LORD’s] own.” We hear in Genesis of how God chose Abram to “go forth from the land” of his family; from everything and everybody he knew. Long before God made good on his promises to Abram (later Abraham), Abram lived on nothing more than a promise. Abram lived on a sense that he and Sarai were blessed to be “chosen to be [God’s] own.” Abram’s trust in God’s promise of blessing made him our “father in faith.”

And today we also celebrate the feast day of St. John Fisher, patron saint of this diocese; Bishop of Rochester in England; cardinal of our Church; martyred by King Henry VIII, and St. Thomas More, Henry VIII’s Chancellor and also a martyr of Henry VIII. Both John Fisher and Thomas More had a keen sense of having been “chosen to be [God’s] own”; of serving God and following their conscience over their allegiance to the king. Perhaps St. Thomas More’s most famous line is, “I remain the king’s humble servant but God’s first.”

Sts. John Fisher and Thomas More were blessed to serve the king; blessed even more for having accepted martyrdom. They, like Abram, trusted in God’s promise of blessing, and call us to the same trust. “Blessed the people the LORD has chosen to be his own.”