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 Wednesday, 22 April 2015– Wednesday of the Third Week of Easter

Readings of the day: Acts 8:1b-8; Psalm 66:1-3a, 4-5, 6-7a; John 6:35-40

Has anybody ever experienced somebody who is joyful, even when this person is experiencing great suffering or distress?

Ever since my first time serving as a Basilian in Cali, Colombia, seven years ago, the Easter season has brought to my mind many experiences there of people who showed great joy amid the suffering and distress of deep poverty. My first Palm Sunday in Colombia was especially moving. We Basilians were carrying bundles of palm branches we had cut through the poorest neighborhood of the parish we serve in Cali. Along the way, children left their shelters (often made of scrap metal or even cardboard) three; four; five; six at a time to embrace us and greet us with bright smiles. These children showed so much joy and gratitude for the service of the Basilians in their neighbourhood; their parish. This remains one of my most moving moments of my life as a Basilian: Great joy amid such great distress; suffering; poverty!

I see similar joy amid suffering and distress when I minister with the poor in our own inner city of Rochester: House of Mercy, Bethany House with the Sisters of St. Joseph… On Easter Sunday at Sanctuary Village, a tent city relocated to a loading dock, over one hundred fifty people, most homeless, joined us in worship with lively song to greet our risen Lord. How beautiful, this joy amid homelessness; poverty; hunger! I also see this joy amid suffering when I visit the sick in hospitals and homes; when I anoint the sick with blessed oil.

This joy amid suffering; distress; persecution is the experience of the people in our first reading today, from the Acts of the Apostles. The persecution led by Saul (who would later be converted and become the great St. Paul) had “scattered” all but the Apostles “throughout the countryside of Judea and Samaria.” Facing persecution, the Apostles do not give up their ministry. We hear in Acts especially of the ministry of the Apostle Philip: Preaching, healing the sick and those with “unclean spirits.” And we hear of how the people responded to Philip’s ministry in Samaria: “There was great joy in that city.”

The people of Samaria recognized the presence of Christ risen in the Apostles, even amid great suffering; distress; persecution. They recognized and hoped in the presence of the Lord who says in John’s Gospel to us today: “I am the bread of life… This is the will of my Father, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have eternal life, and I shall raise him on the last day.” They recognized and hoped in the signs of eternal life that were already with them in the Apostles’ loving service. Our Psalm response today was the song of these people, even amid their suffering: “Let all the earth cry out to God with joy”!

And the risen Christ invites us to make this song our own, by serving especially amid those who suffer; who are sick; dying; homeless; displaced; persecuted. Many of us know already, I am confident, how, when we serve with joy, we receive joy, even from people who suffer; people in distress; people whose only gift (but what a gift!) to us is joy.

Homily for Wednesday, 8 April 2015– Wednesday in the Octave of Easter

Readings of the day: Acts 3:1-10; Psalm 105:1-2, 3-4, 6-7, 8-9; Luke 24:13-35

How often do we pause and reflect on where Jesus Christ has been present in our lives during any particular day?

During one retreat I attended while in seminary in Toronto, the sister who led the retreat proposed that we retreatants reflect on two instances when God was present to us during that day. Now, a few years later, I still enjoy taking this short time to pray and reflect, every day, on when Jesus has been present in my life today. I think that this can even be a worthwhile examination of conscience, daily or for instance when we are preparing for the sacrament of reconciliation. Yes, to be mindful of our faults and even sins is important, especially when preparing for reconciliation, but it may be just as important and powerful to ask simply and prayerfully: When has Jesus; when has God been especially present to me today?

When have I immediately recognized Christ present in one of these events of this day? When have I had a moment like that of the man healed at “the Beautiful Gate” of the temple by Peter and John, when it is clear that somebody has acted in our favor “in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean”? These could be great instances of healing; of forgiveness; of comfort, or they could be (as often they are in my daily experience) small instances: The smile or laughter of a child; a kind greeting; somebody going out of her or his way to anticipate another’s need, and so forth.

And when have I not recognized Christ present in an event in my life, sometimes until much later? In these instances, what caused me to recognize Christ in that event when I finally did? When have we been like the disciples on the Road to Emmaus in today’s Gospel reading, conversing with Christ as though he were a stranger? Perhaps we have encountered Christ in this way when we have been grieving or upset, or even depressed.

The disciples on the Road to Emmaus met the risen Jesus as a stranger on this road. They had been grieving the horrible death of “the one” they had hoped would “redeem Israel”; the Christ; the Messiah. This stranger, Jesus, challenges the disciples sharply for being “foolish” and “slow of heart.”

But even more significantly the disciples invite Jesus to “stay with” them just long enough for them to recognize who he is. And how do the disciples recognize Jesus when finally they do? Luke says to us that Jesus “opened the Scriptures to” them and “was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.”

Jesus “was made known to them” in the same way he is made known to us: In the Word of God and in our Eucharist, which many of us are blessed to partake in almost daily. How is the risen Jesus made known to us in our everyday events? Jesus is made known to us in our prayer. Jesus is made known to us in our kindness toward one another. Jesus is made known to us by a simple moment of joy; a smile; acts of compassion. Jesus is made known to us here “in the breaking of the bread.”

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 Friday, 5 December 2014– Ferial

Friday of the 1st Week in Advent

Readings of the day: Isaiah 29:17-24; Psalm 27:1, 4, 13-14; Matthew 9:27-31

Before restoring their sight, Jesus asks the two blind men in our Gospel reading today, “Do you believe that I can do this”? Is it not remarkable how readily the men answer, “Yes”?

I wonder how many people today would immediately answer “yes” if they were suffering some other affliction or illness and someone who could relieve their suffering asked, “Do you believe that I can do this”?

We know some people who would and who have had such faith and trust, not only in Jesus, but in doctors, nurses, and others to relieve their suffering. But do some people not give into despair, especially if they have been waiting for relief; for healing for a long time to no avail? If somebody were to say to another who had been suffering for a long time, “Do you believe that I can do this; that I can relieve your suffering,” would we not understand if the response by the person suffering were cautious or even cynical: “I have tried everything; gone to many doctors, and you say you can heal me immediately”?

And yet this is what Jesus asks of the blind men: “Do you believe that I can do this”? Remarkably, they immediately answer Jesus, “yes,” and they see again.

This scene in Matthew’s Gospel and our Advent season are an invitation to us to trust in God’s power to heal; to save. Our first reading, from Isaiah, also invites us to the same trust. In “a very little while,” Isaiah says, “the deaf shall hear…; the blind shall see”; evil and tyranny will be no more; the people will keep God’s commandments; revere God and love one another.

We could become cynical at this message. We could point to all the suffering and pain in the world and wonder why God has yet to act to alleviate this suffering. Or we could, as many of us do even amid their own suffering, notice as Isaiah says, “the work of [God’s] hands” already “in [our] midst.” Even better, we could be God’s hands of healing and alleviation of suffering in our world through our prayer, through our words, and through our actions.

God is already working in the world to heal; to save us. God gave us his only Son about two thousand years ago through a young woman, Mary, who also said yes to God’s prompting: “I will save the world through my Son, Jesus Christ. Do you believe I can do this?”

“Yes.”

We, too, are invited to say “yes.” We believe that God can do this; that God heals; God alleviates our suffering; God saves; that God is already doing all this. We say “yes” because we believe and we are here to show that God works through us. We are God’s hands in our midst; especially in the midst of people who are in need; who suffer. Yes, God, we believe you can do this because you are healing and saving us already, through your Son, through your Spirit, and through us.