Homily for Sunday, 8 July 2018

Sunday of the 14th Week in Ordinary Time


Readings of the day: Ezekiel 2:2-5; Psalm 123:1-2ab, 2cd, 3-4; 2 Corinthians 12:7-10; Mark 6: 1-6

This homily was given at St. Margaret Mary Church,  St. Kateri Tekakwitha Parish, Rochester, NY, USA. 

How many of us have experienced being rejected at one time or another? I do not want to dismiss my experiences of being bullied at school as a child and teenager as insignificant, because this experience continues to play a role in forming the person I have become, and even played a role in my having become a Basilian priest. And yet, the more I think about my experiences of having been accepted or rejected, I realize how fortunate I have been, with some important exceptions, to have been, for the most part, accepted wherever I have been, from my home city of Edmonton, Canada to Paris, France, where I live now for most of the year, and beyond.

Coincidentally, this is the second year in a row I have visited Rochester, and St. Kateri Parish, during the Fourth of July holiday. Some of us who attended or walked with us during the Irondequoit Fourth of July parade may have noticed Fr. Joe Trovato riding in a Chevy Corvair convertible. From where Fr. Joe was in the parade, he was ideally placed to notice and be deeply moved by (as he said to me later that afternoon) how often I was called to either side of the parade route to greet St. Kateri parishioners and families, and often children I have known from St. Kateri School. To be called and welcomed along the Fourth of July parade route is delightful to me, too, although it has become somewhat second nature to me because I know how genuinely welcoming we are here at St. Kateri. And yet to hear from Fr. Joe how much joy seeing this gave him in turn reinforces my joy in and thanksgiving for you; for this parish community of St. Kateri.

I have lost track of the number of times people of St. Kateri have greeted me during my last ten days here with, “Welcome home, Father.” Almost as often, people who have greeted me in this way have then paused and then added something like, “Welcome to one of your many homes, Father”!

Truth be told, I always and will always feel at home here at St. Kateri. I will always feel at home because you, my sisters and brothers of St. Kateri, have made this such a welcoming place, for me and many other people. And, with this, I would like to extend a word of welcome to everybody who may be visiting St. Kateri Parish this weekend and for this Mass.

As I thank you and welcome us together as officially as I can through this act of preaching, though, I cannot help but wonder why Jesus was made to feel so unwelcome, not only in places he visited but in his hometown. In our Gospel reading today from Mark, Jesus laments that “a prophet is not without honor except in his native place and among his own kin and in his own house.” We hear that Jesus is unable “to perform any mighty deed” in his hometown, “apart from curing a few sick people,” which is still significant enough that Mark would mention Jesus’ few healings in his hometown.

In Mark’s Gospel especially, this is not the first time and would not be the last when Jesus would be rejected. From the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, his family believes “he is out of his mind.” Today, we hear how Jesus is rejected in his hometown. And then, as Jesus is betrayed, arrested, beaten, mocked, and crucified, his most trusted friends and disciples flee from him. When Jesus is on the cross, “even God seems to have abandoned” him, and so Jesus cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me”?

When I contrast Jesus’ repeated and constant rejection and abandonment to death on a cross alone with the welcome I and so many people receive in a place like St. Kateri Parish, I cannot help but feel horribly for Jesus. Our Lord’s rejection throughout the Gospel of Mark by his family, the people of his hometown, his best friends, and seemingly even God, also reminds me of a 1989 French Canadian film by Denys Arcand called Jésus de Montréal (Jesus of Montreal). In this film, actors stage a Passion play in a church in Montreal. Parishioners of the church become increasingly unhappy about the direction of the play, and so they turn against the actor who plays Jesus, who is the same person who has written the play. The plot parallels the Gospels’ telling of the increasing rejection of Jesus himself.

At the Vincentian Motherhouse’s St. Vincent de Paul Chapel, where I usually go to Mass when I am in Paris, one of the Vincentian brothers, who knows I am Canadian but is either confused about the distance (a five-hour flight) between Montreal and my hometown of Edmonton, or pretends to be confused about Canada’s expanse, for humorous effect, enjoys greeting me after Mass with, “How is Jesus of Montreal today”?

Suffice it to say that I feel precisely the opposite of rejected; precisely the opposite experience of Jesus of Montreal— or Jesus of Nazareth— when I am greeted as generously and joyfully as I am around the world, from Paris to Irondequoit to Edmonton. These greetings are also deeply humbling, especially if we think of other times in our Gospels in which Jesus warns against the pride and vanity that can result from our adulation by the people we serve as Christian disciples. If we are received well, sisters and brothers, may we pray for the grace to serve God’s glory and one another’s well-being before our own. And if we have ever been rejected for our faith and not for our own fault, may we take solace in that Jesus, in becoming fully human like us, has entered into solidarity with our rejection. He has put our rejection to death on the cross with him in order to accept; to receive; to greet us one day into eternal life with him.

And so all this leads me into an important question for us: If Jesus were to appear among us here and now— if Jesus of Nazareth, or at least Jesus of Montreal, were to show himself among us as Jesus of Irondequoit— as Jesus of St. Kateri Parish, how would we receive him? If your greeting, every time I visit St. Kateri, of this humble(d) priest-servant-brother in Christ of yours, is any indication, I have no doubt that you would greet and receive Jesus with your characteristic generous, warm St. Kateri welcome. You would make our beloved Fr. Joe, whether riding in a Corvair in the Fourth of July parade or pausing the Mass as he does so beautifully and often to greet our cooing youngest members of St. Kateri Parish, proud. But, most of all, you would be giving Jesus Christ the welcome befitting our God who became human like and for us; who put himself at the mercy of our welcome in this world to save us.

How well, then, would we receive our Lord, Jesus of Nazareth, if he were Jesus of St. Kateri;

if he were Jesus of the House of Mercy or of St. Joseph’s House of Hospitality, Jesus of Rochester’s poor and those who serve the poor here and everywhere,

If he were Jesus of the U.S.-Mexico border

If he were Jesus of Rochester General, Unity, Strong, or Monroe Community Hospital,

If he were Jesus of the vulnerable elderly and homebound,

If he were Jesus of those not yet born,

If he were Jesus of the crisis pregnancy,

If he were Jesus of the abused,

If he were Jesus of the imprisoned,

If he were Jesus of those affected by war and violence?

For Jesus is all these. Jesus, who lived, who experienced rejection, suffered, died, and rose again, will return again at the end of time and, once again, he will put himself at the mercy of our welcome.

Homélie du vendredi, 29 septembre 2017– Fête des Saints Michel, Gabriel et Raphaël, Archanges

Lectures du jour: Apocalypse 12, 7-12a; Psaume 137 (138):1-2a, 2bc-3, 4-5; Jean 1: 47-51

vendredi de la 25ème semaine du temps ordinaire

Cette homélie a été donnée lors de la Messe d'ouverture (Messe d'équipe) du Weekend Retrouvaille au Centre Massabielle, Saint-Prix, France.

This homily was given during the opening (team) Mass of the Retrouvaille Weekend at Massabielle Retreat Centre, Saint-Prix, France.

Qu’est-ce qu’un ange ? Croit-on toujours en des anges dans notre religion chrétienne ? Qui sont, spécifiquement, les archanges St. Michel, St. Gabriel, et St. Raphaël, que l’on fête aujourd’hui ? Ce sont toutes des vraies questions que des gens m’ont posées dans un instant ou un autre. En réponse à ces questions, j’aimerais commencer par une histoire.

La veille de Noël passée, je présidais à la Messe près d’Edmonton, au Canada, dans la paroisse où j’ai grandi. On connaît bien, je crois, la partie de l’Évangile du soir de la veille de Noël, où « l’ange du Seigneur » apparaît aux bergers en train de « garder leurs troupeaux ». L’ange leur dit, « ne craignez pas, car voici que je vous annonce une bonne nouvelle ». Avant cela, dans le même Évangile de St. Luc, l’archange Gabriel apparaît à Zacharie, le père de Jean le Baptiste, et puis à Marie le jour de l’Annonciation. Il communique à chacun un message similaire à celui aux bergers le soir de la Nativité : « sois sans crainte ».

Après cette Messe de la veille de Noël passée, avant le renvoi des fidèles, j’ai relié d’une manière spontanée ces messages de l’ange dans le récit de l’enfance de St. Luc à notre ministère avec Retrouvaille. J’ai surtout remarqué que, dans Retrouvaille, on a des couples qu’on appelle « couples anges », qui s’occupent des besoins matériaux des participants aux Week-end et aux Post Week-end Retrouvaille. Je ne savais pas, quand je parlais après cette Messe de Noël à propos de nos « couples anges », qu’il y avait dans cette congrégation-là un couple d’une des équipes animatrices de Retrouvaille à Edmonton. Il suffit de dire qu’ils étaient bien ravis que j’eusse fait référence à Retrouvaille pendant cette Messe ! J’avais simplement dit que le mot « ange » signifie « messager » et que nous, comme l’ange de l’Évangile ou bien les couples anges de Retrouvaille, avons maintenant le rôle de messagers, proclamant leur message d’espérance à notre monde d’aujourd’hui : « ne craignez pas, car voici que je vous annonce une bonne nouvelle ».

Alors quelle est la bonne nouvelle qu’on proclame à travers ce mouvement Retrouvaille ?  On le sait bien : On rencontrera et on accompagnera au cours de ce Week-end et des Post Week-end suivants des couples qui ont peur ; des couples qui craignent avoir perdu la confiance et l’amour dans leur mariages. C’est à nous, chers frères et sœurs de l’Équipe Retrouvaille France, d’être des messagers— des « anges », d’une manière— à ces couples qu’on accompagnera au cours de ces prochaines semaines du même message que Dieu a proclamé à travers ces archanges avant de prendre chair dans notre monde : « ne craignez pas ».

Eh, bien, comment peut-on proclamer ce message de confiance, d’espérance, et de joie : « ne craignez pas » ; Dieu vient encore prendre chair dans notre monde, au sein de nos mariages ; au sein de notre Église et de ce ministère particulier qu’on appelle Retrouvaille. On pourrait penser à ce que signifie les noms des trois archanges qu’on célèbre aujourd’hui : Gabriel, « Dieu est ma force », Raphaël, « Dieu guérit », et Michel, « celui qui est comme Dieu ». Nous sommes maintenant Gabriel, Raphaël, et Michel dans notre monde et pour les couples mariés qui se trouvent en difficulté. Nous sommes aujourd’hui les messagers de Dieu qui dit à ces couples : « ne craignez pas », Dieu vous donnera sa force ; sa confiance ; son courage ; son amour pour reconstruire vos mariages. « Ne craignez pas » : Invitez Dieu à prendre chair dans vos vies et vos mariages, puisque Dieu est un Dieu de guérison et de pardon. « Ne craignez pas », vous qui êtes comme Dieu, qui a institué le mariage, signe de son règne éternel à être vécu entre une femme et un homme, crées à l’image de Dieu, pour donner la vie au monde.

« Ne craignez pas ». C’est toujours et pour toujours notre message. Dieu est amour, et nous donne une image puissante de son amour dans notre Évangile d’aujourd’hui, de St. Jean : les anges qui montent et qui descendent « au dessus du Fils de l’homme » ; les anges qui sont le lien de l’amour de Dieu entre le ciel et la terre. Chers sœurs et frères, nous sommes ces anges-là pour des personnes et des couples mariés qui auront sans doute besoin d’entendre notre message ; le message de Dieu que nous proclamons : Dieu donne la force. Dieu guérit. Nous sommes « comme Dieu », crées à l’image de Dieu. Notre Dieu est amour et nous a fait pour aimer. Alors « ne craignez pas, car voici que je vous annonce une bonne nouvelle ».

Homily for Wednesday, 12 July 2017– Ferial

Wednesday of the 14th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Genesis 41:55-57, 42:5-7a, 17-24a; Psalm 33:2-3, 10-11, 18-19; Matthew 10:1-7

Has anybody here ever seen a real shepherd? Today as well as yesterday, in Matthew’s Gospel we hear Jesus using the image of a shepherd to describe his own ministry; his activity, as well as, in the case of today’s Gospel reading, that of his Apostles. After choosing his twelve Apostles by name, Jesus sends them out with these instructions: “Do not go into pagan territory or enter a Samaritan town. Go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

Living and worshipping as we are in the middle of a major city like Edmonton, the image of a shepherd that Jesus offers of himself and his Apostles may not resonate with us, unless we have had past experience on a farm with sheep or other livestock. Few of us have likely had this experience.

Yet we still speak fairly commonly in English in shepherding metaphors. We have phrases like “the black sheep” to describe somebody who does not fit into a community, a family, or other social group. And in our Gospel reading today Jesus speaks of “the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

Why does Jesus, according to Matthew, restrict his Apostles from ministering among the pagans or Samaritans, asking them to “go… to the lost sheep of Israel” only? This is hard to say. I speculate that perhaps Jesus knows the risk of his Apostles; those who minister in his name taking on more in their ministry than they could reasonably handle. Jesus asks his Apostles; asks us to remain focused in our mission. This mission we are given is to contribute to God’s work of salvation in our little corner of the universe, and to trust that our contribution, small though it may be, means something, and that ultimately it is Jesus Christ, not us, who is the Saviour of this universe.

To minister among “the lost sheep of the house of Israel” is still a fairly daunting mission, though, even if we stay focused on our little part of God’s universal mission of salvation as Jesus asks us to do. Who are “the lost sheep of the house of Israel”; of our communities, our households, our Church today? Are each of us not in part shepherds after Jesus Christ and his Apostles, and also at times “the lost sheep”?

Could we not all think of somebody we know, if not ourselves, who struggle with their faith? Perhaps we know somebody does not believe or does not even understand well in order to live a difficult moral teaching of our faith. These are the people whom Jesus asks us to find and, in Pope Francis’ oft-used words, to accompany. May we not shut sinners out of the Church and out of access to God’s grace through the sacraments!

“Go rather to the lost sheep.” In a beautiful reflection on the Fall event in Genesis 3, Jean Vanier once remarked that God’s first words to Adam and Eve after they eat the forbidden fruit are not, “You’re bad,” but “Where are you”? Our mission to find and accompany the lost sheep means to ask this same question of one another that God has been asking us since the beginning, “Where are you”? It is in answering this question, in finding and accompanying the lost sheep, that we will be saved.