Homily for Sunday, 27 December 2015– The Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph

Readings of the day: 1 Samuel 1:20-22, 24-28; Psalm 84:2-3, 5-6, 9-10; Colossians 3:12-21; Luke 2:41-52

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

Are we not right to celebrate the Holy Family, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, as a timeless model of family life? And yet for how many of us does the Holy Family seem like an unrealistic model for our families; our households here to take after?

I think of my own family members; of their gifts and acheivements. I think of all the ways in which being with my family, especially in this Christmas season, brings me great joy and even a sense of awe in their presence. My parents will celebrate forty years of marriage in May. Dad’s logical mind is in constant dialogue with his commitment to deepening his faith; his clear awe of God’s creation in dialogue with his love for science as a retired meterologist. Dad will often say how often he turns to me for the advice of a priest; as or more often, as independent as I can be, I turn to Dad for the advice of a father. Mom has the uncanny ability to discern the character of other people accurately and to bring calm, reason, and listening skills to any conversation. My sister and brother-in-law, both engineers, are two of the most talented mathematicians I know. They have given our family and our world the gift of two beautiful children, my niece and nephew. My brother is the easy-going one; reserved yet humorous, and he is your go-to person if you need your car windows replaced. I was born with neither the mechanically-inclined gene nor the math gene; my talents are elsewhere.

And yet, as far as I know, unlike in the Holy Family, nobody in my family or any of our families here is God. Just think of the disadvantage this would be if one of our family members were God made human! A cartoon of three couples of proud parents on donkeys on their way to Bethlehem circulates on the Internet at this time of year. Each of the donkeys displays a bumper sticker. The first says, “Our son is an honour student.” The second donkey’s bumper sticker reads, “Our son is in medical school.” And on the back of the third donkey, bearing a pregnant Mary with Joseph looking on, says, “Our Son is God”! Those on the other two donkeys scoff, “Well, if it isn’t Joseph and Mary”…

So it is probably fortunate for us that none of us have been tasked with raising the Son of God, as Mary and Joseph were. But for us to take after Jesus, Mary and Joseph in our lives of faith; in our households, our families, may be more realistic than we think. The Holy Family may have more in common with our families here now than we realize at first.

Our Gospel reading today ends with twelve-year-old Jesus returning home with Mary and Joseph to Nazareth, where Luke says he “increased in wisdom and in years, and in favour with God and human beings.” To their joy and relief, Mary and Joseph have just found Jesus safe and sound among the teachers in the Temple of Jerusalem after three days of searching for him in the crowded city during the Passover festival. Is it not a temptation for us, when we speak reverently of Mary and Joseph (as is right of us), to gloss over incidents like this in which Mary and Joseph are anxious, even frantic?  “Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety,” Mary says to Jesus.

Parents here, especially of teenagers or pre-teens: Might you be more likely to relate to Mary’s experience of anxiety than, for instance, those of us without children? At this age, children begin to assert their independence. They need the space to question and to listen as Jesus did in the Temple of Jerusalem; to discern their faith on their own terms; to build a peer group. This in itself does not mean they love you any less as parents. Teenagers and pre-teens: Please do not take this as permission from me to become lost for days at a time. Your parents will never stop worrying about you when you are not with them, even well into your adult years. And Luke’s Gospel does say that, when Jesus returned to Nazareth, he “was obedient to” Joseph and Mary. Here the Son of God models for us obedience. But if you ever become lost, few places are better in which to become lost than a temple or, in this case, a church. May our Church always be a place of welcome for you, young people; young families!

Might we be able to relate in still other ways to the experience of the Holy Family, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph? After Mary and Joseph find Jesus in the Temple, Joseph is not mentioned again in the Gospels. Joseph models for us the prayerful, silent love of a father. And Luke says of Mary that she “treasured all these things in her heart.” Even amid times of anxiety, of being unable to understand why Jesus “must be in [his] Father’s house”; of accompanying Jesus from manger to cross to resurrection to his sending forth of his Holy Spirit who gave birth to our Church, Mary models for us the contemplation; the pondering, treasuring heart of a mother. And so Mary is Mother of God. Mary is our mother.

Mary, Joseph, and Jesus together model for us the gift of attentively hearing; discerning the presence of God in our day-to-day experiences, in particular our experiences of family relationships. I imagine that few if any of us have the “perfect” family. Our families experience anxiety. Our families experience illnesses, even deaths. Our families experience physical distance among members. Our families experience conflict, sometimes to the point of division, stemming from our sin. And still God invites us; our families, through the example of the Holy Family, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, to be holy people; holy families ourselves.

And so how might we hear God’s invitation to us, as individuals; as households; as families, to holiness? How might we hear and discern God in our day-to-day experiences and relationships? Besides taking after Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, the most perfect model we have of family life, we might take up the example of Hannah and Samuel, mother-and-son of our reading today from 1 Samuel. The name “Samuel” is Hebrew for “God has heard.” Hannah recognizes that God has heard her prayer for a son. Her grateful response to God is to dedicate Samuel for life to God. “God has heard,” and so Hannah and eventually Samuel, through his mentor Eli, hear God. Hannah and Samuel model for us; for our families the gift of hearing God with gratitude. Their example in the Old Testament sets up for us that of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph in the New Testament.

And how else might we build holy families for our time? Prayerful gratitude is an essential, timeless value of holy families, says the Letter to the Colossians from which we hear this morning: “With gratitude in your hearts sing Psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.” Jesus, Mary and Joseph; Hannah and Samuel prayed with gratitude to God. And God calls us, too, as families and as a Church, to pray with gratitude.

The Letter to the Colossians gives us a long list of other essential values of holy families: “Compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.” And when, in our weakness and sin, we fail to live up to our God-given holiness, Colossians invites us to forgive. Forgiveness (and our honest discernment of our need to be forgiven) is a must for holy families: “As the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.”

Forgiveness is the foundation of love. Forgiveness is the foundation of the “perfect harmony… peace” and “wisdom” to which God calls us through the Letter to the Colossians. Forgiveness is the foundation of unity in our families; our Church; our world. Forgiveness is so often the way to gratitude; to hearing the “Word of God” that dwells “in [us] richly.”

Forgiveness, harmony, peace, wisdom, and gratitude; compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience: These are challenging but not unrealistic values that God asks us to treasure in our hearts and to live out among ourselves and within our families. We have the Holy Family, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph; Hannah and Samuel, and countless saints and holy families through the ages as models of these values on whom to draw. They, and we, the Church, make these gifts of holy families; of the Holy Family, real and active in our world here now, today, forever.

Homily for Wednesday, 24 December 2014– Nativity of the Lord (Anticipated, Mass with Children)

Readings of the day: Isaiah 9:1-6; Psalm 96:1-2, 2-3, 11-12, 13; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-14

[An angel enters the church, looking for his halo.] Halo? Has anybody seen my halo? [Somebody from the congregation gives the angel a fibre-optic Mohawk hairpiece.] Cool hairdo! But it’s not the halo I’m looking for. 

[Another parishioner finds the halo and gives it to the angel, who says to the parishioner with his halo:] Great! You’re the best! How about I ask God to take some time off of purgatory for you?

…Oh, no! My halo is bent and tarnished! That was a long fall from heaven. And my wings: Has anybody seen my wings? [The angel gasps.] I have no wings! How will I get back up to heaven without my wings? This is the last time I try skydiving! But wait: All is not lost. I see a full house of people here tonight, and lots of children. How wonderful! Let’s have all the children come up…

The sign outside says, “St. Kateri, St. Margaret Mary.” It’s close enough to heaven, I guess. Whoa! I’m exhausted. I need to sit down! Thank you to whomever left this chair here at the front of the church. [The angel sits in the chair.]

That’s much better! Now, just before I jumped from heaven, which was clearly a bad idea, God was speaking to us angels about this great plan that God had for all of us; for the earth; for the whole universe.

[God, voiced by choir member:] I warned you not to jump from heaven. I’ll send you a new halo and wings once St. Joseph is finished building them. He’s a bit busy with a baby in Bethlehem right now, so he’ll be a while. You also have a big bill waiting for you from A Wing and a Prayer Angel Outfitters when you get back to heaven!

[Angel:] Yes, I know. Sorry, God. Anyway, God had this great plan to save the world. And it involved this child. Now, I have a question for all the children here at St. Kateri: Who is this child God sent to save the world?

[Once the children answer, “Jesus” or “Christ the Lord,” etc…] That’s right! Well done! Note to self: These St. Kateri children are very smart. I need to ask them harder questions… One: No more jumping from heaven, and two: Ask the children harder questions.

And so God had this great plan to save the world: Send a child named Jesus to earth. Now is Jesus an angel? Is Jesus a big strong hero, like a Ninja Turtle or Superman? [No.] Hmm… Is Jesus… the Son of God? [Yes.] Good… I was just making sure we knew this.

All the angels in heaven were thinking, before God said to us that he would send his own Son, that maybe God would send one of us angels to save the world. But did God send an angel? [No.] Then we thought he might send one of the child saints from heaven. There are quite a few children who are saints up there in heaven: St. Agnes, with her little lamb; St. Joan of Arc, who saved France (the English are still mad about that); St. Stanislaus (I hear there’s a church near here named after him. He’s a great kid, all the way from Poland). There are the Holy Innocents. And all of us might be saints someday…

But did God choose any of these children to save the world? No, he chose to send his own Son, Jesus. Did God send Jesus as a grown-up? [No.] So how did God send Jesus? God sent Jesus to us as a little baby all bundled up and lying in a manger.

Now, can anybody here see any problems with God sending the Savior of our world as a little baby in a manger? I can. Animals like horses, cattle, and oxen eat hay out of mangers. And so wouldn’t you think that a manger might be a bit stinky? But [the angel sighs] Mary and Joseph tried and tried to find an inn to have their baby in Bethlehem. But could they find room at the inn? [No.] “So, a manger it will have to be,” Mary and Joseph said. And Jesus was born this morning in a manger, seven pounds, eight ounces. The Blessed Mother and baby are doing fine. And, you know, being born in a manger isn’t too bad. At least, so I hear, the baby Jesus is nice and warm.

And so this is how God saved the world, by sending us his infant Son, Jesus Christ, “in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.”

[God:] Hello, this is God. You have to love those St. Kateri children!

[Angel:] Yes indeed. Aren’t they wonderful? …And so into the story of how you saved the world!

[God:] Listen: Your new wings are ready. St. Joseph did some incredibly fast cribside carpentry while the Virgin Mary was cuddling our Son to sleep tonight. And, get this: St. Joseph will give you your new wings absolutely free as a special Christmas offer… Some assembly required. Flight lessons and battery pack not included. I only have one request: That you proclaim to the people of St. Kateri my message of Christmas joy. It’s the one at the end of the Gospel reading for the Mass tonight. You have the script. Ask the children to say it with you to the people of St. Kateri Parish. See you in heaven soon. Bye.

[Angel:] Great! Thank you, God! Thank you, St. Joseph! I promise never to jump out of heaven again. I’ve got free wings! No, not the Buffalo wings that are famous from around here; no, real angel wings!

Now, children, I need your help. But first, I need to find my script... Oh, no! Where’s my script? Has anybody seen my script? [A child gives the script to the angel.] Thank you so much!

Hmm… So here’s the Christmas message that God wants us to say to the people of St. Kateri. Are you ready to say it nice and loud? Repeat after me: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

And that is the story of how God saved the world through Jesus, his Son.

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 Sunday, 2 February 2014– Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

Readings of the day: Malachi 3:1-4; Psalm 24:7, 8, 9, 10; Hebrews 2:14-18; Luke 2:22-40

Who among us has ever been to an important meeting? Such a meeting could have been through work, or with family, or some other social encounter.

Today, the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord, we have been invited to attend a very important meeting. Every time we come to Mass, we come to meet the Lord in the context of the celebration of the Eucharist. And who here can think of many times outside of the Mass when we have met the Lord, perhaps in prayer or through being with someone we know who stands out to us as holy and Christ-like?

On this Feast of the Presentation of the Lord, we remember and give thanks for the times we meet the Lord in the Eucharist and also in one another; especially the times when our meetings with the Lord have been through unexpected people or events. Let us remember also the meetings that have been upsetting, challenging, or even contentious. Many of us have been through these kinds of meetings!

We remember and give thanks for the Presentation of the Lord Jesus in the Temple of Jerusalem; a meeting with the Lord that, although it happened almost two thousand years ago, may not be as distant as we think from our own experience.

In Eastern Catholic and Orthodox traditions, the Presentation of Jesus of which we hear in today’s Gospel reading from Luke is often simply called “the meeting.” Who are the main invitees to this meeting that occurred forty days after Jesus’ birth?

We hear of Mary and Joseph, of Simeon and Anna, and of the infant Jesus at “the meeting” in the Temple. Since the earliest centuries of the Christian Church, some of you may know, Mary has been called “God bearer” for having carried God’s Son in her womb. Even fewer of us may know, and I learned within this past week, that Simeon is called “God receiver” in many of these same Eastern Christian traditions because Jesus was presented to and blessed by him in the Temple.

When we think of bearers, or carriers, and receivers (especially those who are football fans) we might think of another significant meeting; the great celebration of sport happening this weekend: the Super Bowl. You have my blessing and my prayers for a safe, fun celebration tomorrow/tonight should you be about to partake in… this much less important celebration than the Mass, of course… Go Broncos!

More significantly, though, let us return to the first meeting between “God bearer,” Mary, and “God receiver,” Simeon. Mary, along with Joseph, arrives for the meeting to present Jesus in the Temple. Mary and Joseph also present “two turtledoves or… young pigeons.” Although, as Luke says, this would have been an acceptable offering under the Law of Moses for a poor family upon presenting their newborn child, it would have been an unexpectedly simple offering for a couple presenting, say the Son of God. Wealthier families would usually offer a lamb at the presentation of a child.

Imagine this as though someone wealthy were to arrive at a formal business meeting unkempt and in shabby clothes. This might be expected attire for a poor person. And yet this is how Mary and Joseph have, to this point, shown up for important meetings of which we hear in our Gospels: First in a stable in Bethlehem, when they met the Magi at the Epiphany, and now at the Temple of Jerusalem with Simeon and Anna. Many people, not realizing that they were in the presence of God in the flesh, would probably have dismissed Mary, Joseph, and Jesus as just another poor family.

Fortunately, Mary the “God bearer,” Joseph, and Jesus meet Simeon the “God receiver,” an old man disarming in his simplicity, and Anna. How many would have recognized Simeon, a man whom Luke says was “righteous and devout”; a man in whom “the Holy Spirit” dwelt, as any more than a poor, elderly man? How many would recognize Anna as a “prophetess”; as more than an elderly woman who spent her time in the Temple? How many Simeons and Annas; Marys and Josephs do we recognize among us today?

How are we also called to be “God bearers” and “God receivers”; devout and yet humble; recognizing holy events and people who bring the presence of God into our midst?

The “God bearer” meets the “God receiver,” and then something even more remarkable happens: Simeon recognizes that this child Jesus is God in human flesh. He has the once-in-a lifetime chance to meet his God; our God; to cradle the Savior of the world in his arms!

To be sure, the beauty of this moment does not overcome the unsettling turn that this meeting in the Temple then takes. This child is to bring contradiction. Jesus will bring “the fall and rise of many in Israel,” Simeon prophesies. His greatest disciple, Mary, will suffer most deeply as her Son is rejected; mocked; humiliated; put to death on a cross!

And yet how many of us have ever avoided confrontation? How many of us have resisted doing or saying what is most true or most just, for fear of being “a sign of contradiction” as our Lord was; for fear of standing up for our faith; for fear of ridicule? I am not saying that we should be counter-cultural and divisive for the sake of being counter-cultural and divisive. There is much to celebrate in our culture, for example Americans’ industriousness and generosity that is admired here and abroad, which partisan squabbling too often prevents from shining forth.

Mary, importantly, does not avoid the confrontation and contradiction that her Son will cause, nor does she go looking for it. She does not storm out of this meeting upset, as I wonder if she were tempted to do, but she remains and ponders Simeon’s words. Years later, she will be there at the foot of the cross, “God bearer” to the end: “And you yourself a sword shall pierce.”

For now, Mary, Joseph, and Jesus will go back to everyday life in Nazareth as the child grows. Simeon sends the Holy Family and himself on their way with a prayer that I would recommend for any meeting. Indeed, since the ordained and religious and many laypeople pray Simeon’s prayer at night before going to sleep, I would recommend this for all Christians as a prayer to end our day.

Last week, my father asked me if I knew of a suitable prayer for an upcoming meeting in the parish where I grew up near Edmonton, Canada. Dad is a captain of ushers in our parish and prayer leader for his next meeting. I did not immediately think of this when Dad asked me for a prayer for his meeting. But imagine this prayer at a parish meeting; and even more if it were prayed every day, as we recognize that every day and at all times we are “God bearers” after Mary and “God receivers” after Simeon.

And so let us make Simeon’s last prayer our own, as we recognize that every day for us is a meeting; an invitation to encounter our God:

Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace, according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you prepared in the sight of all the peoples: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.