Homily for Wednesday, 25 March 2015– Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord

Readings of the day: Isaiah 7:10-14, 8:10; Psalm 40:7-8a, 8b-9, 10, 11; Hebrews 10:4-10; Luke 1:26-38

This homily was given at Bethany House, a shelter for homeless women and children in Rochester, NY, and a ministry of the Sisters of St. Joseph.

“Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you!” This is the angel Gabriel’s greeting to Mary in our Gospel reading today. And yet has anybody here ever thought about how this greeting is not just to Mary, but to us, too?

Gabriel’s greeting to Mary is unnerving for sure. And then Gabriel follows this greeting by announcing to Mary that she “will conceive a child”; not just any child but Jesus, the Savior of the world. Luke’s Gospel gives us a detailed sense of how Mary felt at this announcement, which we celebrate today as the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord. Clearly Mary is afraid: “How can this be?” she asks Gabriel. But we know that Mary’s fear does not stop her from saying her famous “Yes” to God: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.”

One of my favorite hymns, heard more often during Advent, sets the scene of the Annunciation: “The angel Gabriel from heaven came, his wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame. ‘All hail,’ said he, ‘O lowly maiden Mary. Most highly favored lady! Gloria’”! The way this hymn describes the scene of the Annunciation, it is a fearful scene indeed.

How would we respond to Gabriel’s greeting and announcement if we were in Mary’s place? Would we echo her “Yes” to God: “May it be done to me according to your word”? Or would we be more like King Ahaz in our first reading, from Isaiah, who refuses the Lord’s will for him and for Israel? “I will not ask! I will not tempt the LORD!” Ahaz turns away from the Lord’s greeting that is very similar to Gabriel’s message to Mary: “God is with us.”

Do we sense and trust in God’s presence “with us,” especially in crisis situations? How many of us, here at Bethany House, have faced poverty; faced, as Mary did, an unplanned pregnancy; faced homelessness and unemployment or underemployment? And if we have not been among the poor, the homeless, the unemployed and underemployed, or those faced with bringing a child into our world in these circumstances, have we ever taken time to care for people who have; to minister to and with them?

Even (perhaps especially) through crisis situations or in our ministry with those experiencing crisis, God still greets us: “Hail, full of grace”! Will we echo Mary’s “Yes” to a God who saves us; is “with us”; lifts us up; upholds our dignity; makes us “full of grace” even in our most difficult situations? “Behold… Let it be done to me according to your word.”

Homily for Sunday, 21 December 2014

4th Sunday in Advent

Readings of the day: 2 Samuel 7:1-5, 8b-12, 14a, 16; Psalm 89:2-3, 4-5, 27-29; Romans 16:23-27; Luke 1:26-38

Father,
I abandon myself into your hands; do with me what you will.

Whatever you may do, I thank you:

I am ready for all, I accept all.

Let only your will be done in me, and in all your creatures.

I wish no more than this, O Lord.

Into your hands I commend my soul;

I offer it to you with all the love of my heart,

for I love you, Lord,

and so need to give myself,

to surrender myself into your hands,

without reserve, and with boundless confidence,

for you are my Father.

For how many of us is “abandonment” a strange or scary word? It can convey a sense of recklessness, as in “reckless abandon” or avoiding responsibility. Abandon can mean accepting to give our lives for our faith; accepting martyrdom. This was likely the sense of abandon weighing on Charles de Foucauld, the Trappist monk who wrote the prayer I have just shared. Knowing his life was in danger, Charles de Foucauld wrote his “Prayer of Abandonment” not long before armed bandits broke into the desert hermitage where he was living in Tamanrasset, Algeria, kidnapped him and killed him on December 1, 1916. Blessed Charles de Foucauld lived and died in service to God; in service to the Touareg people whose language he learned and wrote down; to whom he brought our Christian faith. He lived and died by the words of his prayer: “Father, I abandon myself into your hands; do with me what you will…”

Can abandonment not have another sense, no less strange or scary? Abandonment can mean, as I think it does in the truest sense of Blessed Charles de Foucauld’s “Prayer of Abandonment,” total self-giving trust in another; total trust in God. This trust is not reckless, but neither is it passive: “We’ll just trust in God and all will be well. We do not need to work to make God’s presence felt in our world.” No, the kind of abandonment of which I speak, the kind of abandonment that is Charles de Foucauld’s example of trust in God, is complete, active, and creative. If, in our Advent journey, anybody here has achieved complete, active and creative abandonment; trust in God, I hope to see you after Mass, because I do not think I have achieved this yet.

In Advent, do we not begin with anticipation?  Is not Advent is a time of anticipating the celebration of Christmas; of when God first sent his Son, Jesus Christ, among us in a manger in Bethlehem? In Advent we also anticipate in a more focused way the return of Jesus Christ at the end of time. If we move beyond anticipation in our Advent journey, we may be able to prepare more actively for the Christ. Our preparation to receive Christ may mean deeper examination of conscience; of where God is in our lives; building peace and mending broken relationships; attention to prayer; to opportunities for kindness and mercy toward one another; penance for the times we have fallen short in our preparation for our Christ. Our Advent preparation may lead us to profound joy, shown especially when we light the rose candle on our Advent wreath! But the goal of our Advent journey, complete, active, and creative abandonment into God’s hands, to God’s will, is a most difficult and scary goal to meet.

What do I mean by complete, active, and creative abandonment into God’s hands? This is the example of abandonment; trust in God given us by the Blessed Virgin Mary in our Gospel reading today from Luke. “May it be done to me according to your word,” Mary says to God through the angel Gabriel.

Luke’s Gospel says that Mary “was deeply troubled at” Gabriel’s announcement: She was to bear and give birth to the Son of God. And yet do we not still, at least sometimes, think little beyond the beautiful, peaceful aspects of this event (and so, I think, it is right that we be taken up by the beauty of this Advent and Christmas time)?

Gabriel visits Mary to say that she will bear Jesus, the Son of God. Mary agrees to God’s plan announced by Gabriel. Joseph silently trusts in God; also abandons himself to the will of God; to God’s plan for our salvation in which he, too, is now a part. We end up with a cute little baby, Jesus, in swaddling clothes in a manger on Christmas morning.

But how often do we think of how scary these events we celebrate, the Annunciation; the Birth of Jesus, must have been to Mary and to Joseph? The lifetime of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus was troubled, with the Romans exerting a reign of terror over Israel. No one, I am sure, would have wanted to find themselves expecting a baby they had not planned for, then or now, even if this baby were conceived by “the Holy Spirit”… and then to travel a great distance by donkey and on foot, only to find no room in the inn and to give birth in a stable. Imagine this!

And yet Joseph abandons himself to God; trusts in God’s plan through Mary; silently takes Mary as his wife and cares for Jesus as though he were his own son. Mary speaks the words of abandonment that change our world; that save us and our world, even amid the fear she must have been feeling: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.”

Would we be capable of this same abandonment to God’s will as Mary and Joseph were? Or would we attempt to limit God in our times of fear? Would we try to limit God by political ideology; by wanting to plan each aspect of our lives to a fault (I can be bad for this); by believing, as a society, in God, as long as our God interferes as little as possible in our lives; by our well-meaning plans and actions, like those of King David in our first reading from 2 Samuel, that are still subtle attempts to limit God…

But what does God do with our attempts to limit him? Consider David’s experience: David knows that God will give him anything he wishes. “The LORD is with you,” the prophet Nathan says, giving his blessing on God’s behalf to David’s plan to build a temple, a permanent house of God in place of the Ark of the Covenant. But then God asks David: “Should you build me a house to dwell in”? God has created our universe. God has created us to be the house for God to dwell in. It is futile to try to contain God; to “put God in a box,” even if this were possible.

And so, like David, we have a choice: Abandon ourselves into God’s hands; trust in God, or not. Do not most of us desire to abandon ourselves to God, and yet do so imperfectly? Let us not worry; in this way our imperfect abandonment to God is part of being human. And yet we have the example of abandonment of Mary and Joseph; of Blessed Charles de Foucauld; of many saints; of people as human as we are. Their trust in God is an invitation to us to the same complete, active, and creative abandonment in our lives; to pray and to ponder in the times when this abandonment scares us: “May it be done to me according to your word,” in our Blessed Mother’s words. Or, in the words of Blessed Charles de Foucauld:

Father,
I abandon myself into your hands; do with me what you will.

Whatever you may do, I thank you:

I am ready for all, I accept all.

Let only your will be done in me, and in all your creatures.

I wish no more than this, O Lord.

Into your hands I commend my soul;

I offer it to you with all the love of my heart,

for I love you, Lord,

and so need to give myself,

to surrender myself into your hands,

without reserve, and with boundless confidence,

for you are my Father.

Homily for Friday, 19 December 2014– Ferial

Friday of the 3rd Week in Advent

Readings of the day: Judges 13:2-7, 24-25a; Psalm 71:3-4a, 5-6ab, 16-17; Luke 1:5-25

Do we see a pattern here? God sends an angel to a “barren” woman, unable to conceive a child due to age or other reasons. The woman becomes pregnant. The woman’s child is a key figure in God’s plans for us; for the world.

In our first reading, from Judges, the woman is the wife of Manoah. She gives birth to Samson, who is to “begin the deliverance of Israel from the power of the Philistines.” In our Gospel reading, God’s angel is named: Gabriel. And Gabriel appears to Zechariah, a temple priest whose wife, Elizabeth, like Manoah’s wife, is “barren.” Elizabeth bears John the Baptist, herald of our Lord Jesus Christ, another child conceived during an angelic visitation…

Now, who here would empathize with Zechariah, who is confused when Gabriel says to him that his wife Elizabeth “will bear… a son”? Poor Zechariah is silenced until John’s birth. Could this be because he did not trust that God could do anything, even make the barren conceive life? We cannot fully know why Zechariah was silenced, but I can empathize with him in his confusion at Elizabeth’s conception of John.

God seems to have a habit of making the barren able to conceive. After a few instances of this, God, this habit becomes somewhat strange and scary!

But there is something perhaps scarier than God sending an angel to somebody who is not able to conceive; is not expecting to conceive, to say to this person that she will bear a child and that this child will be significant. What is it?

Imagine (and please pray over) this: Are there any situations in our lives that are barren; that are lifeless? Perhaps it is a broken relationship, especially with someone we love. Perhaps it is difficulty finding calm and peace in our lives, even at prayer. Perhaps our barrenness is something that weighs on our conscience; sin that God invites us to lay down before God’s mercy, especially in the sacraments of reconciliation and the Eucharist. Let us remember the words of Elizabeth at the end of our Gospel reading; trust God to take away any “disgrace before others” and before God that we might be feeling. Perhaps some of us share literally in the pain of Manoah’s wife or of Elizabeth: Inability to conceive of a child when you wish to do so. I pray for you especially as I hear and preach on our readings today.

To bring to light any situations in our lives that are barren; that are lifeless is perhaps most scary; even worse than an angel announcing a pregnancy to somebody who cannot conceive. To bring to light situations like these, our pain, our sin, our struggles in faith, makes us vulnerable. But may we know that God wishes to heal these situations in our lives. God loves us deeply. This Advent, God invites us to bring before him any situations of lifelessness; barrenness, that even when we are beyond any expectation, God may bring life to our lives where we need it most.

Homily for Monday, 29 September 2014– Feast of Sts. Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael

Monday of the 26th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Revelation 12:7-12ab; Psalm 138:1-2ab, 2cde-3, 4-5; John 1:47-51

Who are angels? What is their purpose? Today we celebrate the feast of three of the most important angels, or archangels, Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. But are not angels somewhat mysterious creatures to us? None of us has ever seen an angel; they are spiritual beings.

We might be familiar with the prayer to St. Michael, based loosely on our first reading today from the Book of Revelation:

St. Michael the Archangel,

defend us in battle.

Be our defense against the wickedness

and snares of the devil.

May God rebuke him,

we humbly pray, and do thou,

O Prince of the heavenly hosts,

by the power of God,

thrust into hell Satan,

and all the evil spirits,

who prowl about the world

seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

The Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael are rarely mentioned in Scripture. Michael is named five times: three times in Daniel, once in Revelation, and once in the Letter of Jude. Gabriel is named four times, twice each in Daniel and the Gospel of Luke. Raphael is named a whopping twenty-eight times, all in the Book of Tobit!

But what is the purpose of angels, and specifically of these three Archangels? By the well-known prayer to St. Michael and his mention in books of the Bible written in times of crisis (these “apocalyptic” books project struggles against occupying powers, Babylon in Daniel; Rome in Revelation, on a cosmic scale: heaven versus hell; God versus Satan), we can associate Michael with defense in times of crisis and battle. Is anyone here named Michael here? If your name is Michael, you may be interested to know that your name is a rhetorical question in Hebrew: “Who is like God”? Of course we know the answer to this question, or do we? No one is like God except God, we could answer. But then all of us are created in God’s image and likeness. All of us in this sense are like God. And yet Jesus Christ alone is at once fully human and fully God. “Who is like God?” Michael stands in place of God, in our defense against Satan or any force that could degrade our God-given dignity; our being in God’s image and likeness.

Gabriel is associated both with crises and battles, like Michael, and with the Incarnation, Jesus becoming human in Mary’s womb. Gabriel means “God is my strength.” How does St. Gabriel give us God’s strength; the strength to say “yes” to God as Mary did to bring our Savior into the world?

Raphael heals the cataracts from Tobit’s eyes in the Book of Tobit. His name means “God has healed.” St. Raphael shows us the healing power of God.

The word “angel” itself means “messenger of God.” A messenger is important, but never more important than the message. For us, God is the message, pointed to by the angels. Jesus Christ, God’s Son, like us in all but sin, is God’s message in human flesh, pointed to by St. Gabriel. We celebrate Sts. Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, along with all the angels, as God’s messengers. In special ways they show us God’s strength, God’s healing, and who is like God.