Homily for Tuesday, 12 May 2015– Tuesday of the Sixth Week of Easter

Readings of the day: Acts 16:22-34; Psalm 138:1-2ab, 2cde-3, 7c-8; John 16:5-11

Have any of us ever heard of events like those in our reading today from the Acts of the Apostles and wished we had the strength Paul and Silas did under persecution? Paul and Silas continue to praise God while in prison and then, miraculously, they break free of prison. Also, the jailer and “everyone in his house” suddenly embrace the Christian faith.

Or, when we hear today’s Gospel reading, from John, do any of us feel some empathy for Jesus’ disciples? Jesus is about to be taken from them; about to die a shameful death on a cross. Jesus senses that “grief has filled” his disciples’ hearts, so that they are too afraid and sad even to ask questions anymore. None of them asks Jesus, “Where are you going”? I can identify with Jesus’ disciples here in John’s Gospel. I am not sure, if I were in their situation, whether I would behave any differently than they do.

But Jesus encounters his disciples’ grief with the promise of “the Advocate”; the Holy Spirit. He does not reprimand his disciples for not having the strength to understand that his death will not be the end, but only the beginning of their mission; of the Church. No, Jesus promises his disciples the strength they will need for this mission; the strength that only the Holy Spirit can give them.

And even amid their grieving, Jesus’ disciples show tremendous strength. They show that they are already receiving the strength of the promised Holy Spirit; the strength they need to admit that they are sad; confused; in need of God’s presence to carry on. And only when Jesus’ disciples admit their need for God; for the strength of the Holy Spirit for their mission, does Jesus give this strength to them.

The strength to grieve; the strength to admit when we are troubled; when we need the support of loved ones and from God, is the same strength from the same Holy Spirit that empowers Sts. Paul and Silas to break from jail and bring the jailer’s household into the Christian faith. Imagine the jailer and his family when they accept baptism: Did they not know that accepting baptism put them at risk for the same persecution that Paul and Silas experienced? Their trust in God and in the message of Christ preached by Paul and Silas is as much the work of the Holy Spirit as the strength to grieve and to be sad but, in grieving and sadness, to continue to trust in God.

We have this same strength in ourselves as did Jesus’ disciples in our Gospel reading; as did Sts. Paul and Silas in Acts. God invites us today to trust that we have this strength of the Holy Spirit in us and among us. God invites us to let the words of our Psalm today resonate within us: “Your right hand saves me, O Lord.” Give us the strength you have already given us, Lord; the strength of your Holy Spirit. Give us the strength that advocates for us always, in good times and in bad; in our successes and happiness as in our sadness and our grief; the Holy Spirit’s strength that brings us your salvation.

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 Saturday, 15 November 2014– Memorial Mass, Holy Sepulchre Cemetery

Readings of the day: Wisdom 3:1-6, 9; Psalm 23; Colossians 3:1-4; Luke 23:44-49, 24:1-6

This homily was given during the monthly memorial Mass at the Christ our Light Mausoleum Chapel of Holy Sepulchre Cemetery, Rochester, NY.

“Why do you search for the Living One among the dead”?

Whenever I hear these words from Luke’s Gospel, spoken by the “two men in dazzling garments” at the tomb of Jesus to the women who had gone with burial spices for Jesus’ body, I am always deeply moved. How would the women at Jesus’ tomb have responded to the men’s presence and to these words? How would we respond, if we were in the women’s place?

In one word, our Gospel reading captures the women’s reaction to encountering the “two men in dazzling garments”: The women are “terrified.” Their terror is understandable; they had just witnessed our Lord’s horrible suffering and death on a cross. They had stood “at a distance watching everything.” This was the end for somebody they had considered Lord and friend.

I wonder if they were any less terrified after the men’s words that came next: “He is not here; he has been raised up.” What the men say is incredible; the dead do not simply rise from their tombs in the flesh! But then, while the women; these first witnesses to Jesus’ resurrection are terrified and probably unconvinced that Jesus “has been raised up,” the men ask the women to do something. What do the men ask the women to do? “Remember what he said to you while he was still in Galilee.” Remember how Jesus said that he would suffer, die, and rise again.

“Remember.”

Is this not why we are here in this chapel of Christ our Light Mausoleum; here at Holy Sepulchre for our monthly memorial Mass? We remember. Most if not all of us remember a loved one who has gone to God before us; perhaps a loved one buried here in this place. It is a tremendous act of courage to be here amid the sadness; the confusion; even the terror of death to remember. For your courage I and the Church thank you; we pray for you, for your consolation. And at the same time we remember…

We remember that “first day of the week, at dawn,” when the women at Jesus’ tomb heard the news from the “two men in dazzling garments”: “He is not here; he has been raised up.” We do not remember Jesus’ resurrection because it was a one-time event. We remember because in Jesus’ resurrection is the same promise of resurrection to eternal life for every one of us. These are the words we will hear in a few moments at the beginning of our Eucharistic prayer, as gifts of bread and wine are brought to the altar to be transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ: “In [Christ] the hope of blessed resurrection has dawned, that those saddened by the certainty of dying might be consoled by the promise of immortality to come.” Christ’s resurrection is our hope of resurrection. That first “dawn,” “the first day of the week,” is our first dawn, our promise of eternal life with our loving God. This is why we are here. We remember.

We remember, in the words of our first reading from the Book of Wisdom, our loved ones who are loved by God; who have gone to be with our loving God. We remember that “they are at peace.” We remember that are loved ones are among “those who trust in” God. What does the Book of Wisdom say about our loved ones who have trusted in God; who await their resurrection from the dead? Wisdom says that “those who trust in him shall understand truth, and the faithful shall abide with him in love, because grace and mercy are with his holy ones, and his care is with his elect.” This we remember.

While we celebrate the entry of our loved ones into eternal life and hope for the same eternal life for ourselves, we remember in the words of St. Paul to the Colossians: Our beloved have been “raised up in company with Christ” and “when Christ our life appears,” we “shall appear with him in glory.” Remember…

Let us remember, as we celebrate our departed loved ones with this memorial Mass, the act of courage that has brought us here. We remember the Lord who “is our shepherd… from death into life” as we pray this response to our Psalm. Let us remember this amid our sadness; our loss; our grieving, when we “walk in the dark valley.” God is with us. Our loved ones are with God, whose “rod and staff give [us] courage” in these difficult times.

We are not a people who “search for the Living One among the dead.” We remember that our Lord Jesus “is not here; he has been raised up.” Our loved ones have also “been raised up.” We, too, will be “raised up” after our Lord Jesus Christ. This is the promise given to us by our Lord “while he was still in Galilee”; while he walked this earth among us. We do not “search for the Living One among the dead.” We are here, the living ones among the living ones, in the real presence of the Living One; those raised from the dead together with those awaiting the same promise of resurrection. This is why we are gathered here. This is the purpose of our memorial Mass.

We remember.

Homily for Friday, 17 October 2014– Memorial of St. Ignatius of Antioch

Friday of the 28th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Ephesians 1:11-14; Psalm 33:1-2, 4-5, 12-13; Luke 12:1-7

What are some things that we fear? When I was a very young boy, I wanted to become a firefighter. There was one problem with this, though: I was afraid of the sound of sirens. So here, a few steps in vocational discernment later, I am a priest and not a firefighter!

I am sure that our fears as we grow; become adults; progress through life become somewhat more complex. Jesus, though, speaks of one basic fear that I wonder if it ever leaves us, no matter how courageous we may be: The fear of death.

Jesus says to his disciples in Luke’s Gospel, “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but after that can do no more.” Let us put ourselves in the place of Jesus’ disciples. By this point in Jesus’ public ministry, would they have known clearly that Jesus’ life was going to end in a humiliating death; that of a common criminal on a cross? Would this not have made Jesus’ disciples afraid not only for Jesus’ life but for their own lives?

Perplexingly yet comfortingly, Jesus invites his disciples not to fear death. But he does not entirely dismiss fear, which is natural, human, and sometimes an appropriate reaction to obvious danger. Jesus says this to his disciples after inviting them not to fear either their deaths or his: “Be afraid of the one who after killing has the power to cast into Gehenna.” The significance of Gehenna here is that this was the place outside the city walls of Jerusalem where garbage burned and the poor, the ritually unclean, and the especially wicked were often buried in undignified graves. If there were a hell on earth for anyone living in Israel in Jesus’ time, Gehenna was it. Just the mental image of Gehenna would have struck fear in Jesus’ hearers of today’s Gospel.

Do not fear death, Jesus asks us, but do fear hell. And yet fear hell and the one “who has the power to cast into Gehenna,” into hell, only in the context of God’s love and mercy toward us. Would a loving and merciful God who created us in God’s own image and likeness; next to God in dignity and worth, allow us to be cast into hell easily? I think not.

This does not mean that we test God by acting in ways beneath the worth with which we were created and called as daughters and sons of God. This does not mean that we may not encounter ridicule or, less likely, true persecution and even martyrdom for our faith. As we celebrate today the feast of St. Ignatius of Antioch, martyred in Rome about one hundred years after Jesus’ time, we recognize that courageous disciples continue to be martyred in our time.

And yet this is not to make us fearful. Do not fear death, Jesus says. Fear hell and the one who can cast us into hell but, more importantly than any fear, trust God who saves; who in Christ will be victorious over the power of hell itself.