Homily for Friday, 27 March 2015‒ Friday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Readings of the day: Jeremiah 20:10-13; Psalm 18:2-3a, 3bc-4, 5-6, 7; John 10:31-42

Who here has ever felt stressed, or even distressed? What causes our stress or even distress? Perhaps our distress is from the loss of a loved one; the loss of employment; living in poverty; severe or terminal illness or that of a loved one; our own guilt; strife in our families and marriages; unrest in the world; our children or grandchildren not attending Mass; not being baptized or receiving the other sacraments…

As a priest I am privileged to hear of our many joys as people of faith. I also hear much of what brings us stress and distress. Often, when people speak to me of their stress and distress, I also sense a kind of guilt, especially if somebody’s stress or distress is accompanied by anger; even more if this person is angry at God.

Holy Week begins in just two days. Increasingly in our readings at Mass we hear of stress and distress of the people in our Scriptures. This will continue and intensify as we journey through Holy Week next week. Today the prophet Jeremiah is being denounced; terrorized; betrayed even by the people he once counted as friends. Jesus is in danger of being stoned to death for claiming (rightly) to be God. And the author of our Psalm today is also distressed by his “enemies.”

But what do Jeremiah, Jesus, the Psalmist, and we have in common? I think we have in common the invitation to be honest with one another and with God. If we are joyful, speak of our joy to one another; pray in joy and thanksgiving to God. If we are stressed or distressed, find an outlet for this stress or distress, too: A trusted friend; a family member; a priest; God. But might some of us be thinking: “Nobody likes a complainer? Is it ever right to complain to God in prayer; to be angry with God?”

Over the past several days, even weeks, I have reminded a few people, even myself sometimes, of the value of an effective complaint! Well over half of the Psalms are psalms of lament. The prophets complain often; we hear one of Jeremiah’s bitter laments today. As Jesus hangs on the cross (we will hear this on Palm Sunday, this weekend), he speaks the words of Psalm 22, one of the deepest laments in all of Scripture: “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me”?

And so I think it is sometimes appropriate, even to be encouraged, to complain, even to God. Are we not a culture averse to complaining? One of my favorite books about this is Walter Bruggemann’s The Costly Loss of Lament. What a costly loss indeed if we lose the trust in God and in one another necessary to complain effectively when we need to do so!

I am convinced that a good lament arises from trust in one another; trust in God. Listen again to our Psalm response today, so trusting in God’s deliverance from distress: “In my distress I called upon the LORD, and he answered me.”

Yes, lament when necessary in times of distress. Raise your joys and your distress to God, as an act of honesty; an act of trust in one another and in our God.

Homily for Wednesday, 30 July 2014– Ferial

Wednesday of the 17th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Jeremiah 15:10, 16-21; Psalm 59:2-3, 4, 10-11, 17, 18; Matthew 13:44-46

Which are some of the most dangerous jobs we can think of? Our firefighters and police officers work in situations that can become dangerous. Just this week, I was relating a story from my first time serving as a Basilian in Colombia, traveling through high passes in the Andes on a bus trip over roads with hairpin turns built into cliff faces. I would not want the job these bus drivers have! As we near the hundredth anniversary of the beginning of World War I, we might remember those who serve in areas of armed conflict; those who are in harm’s way; peacekeepers and peacemakers.

This past week in the Democrat and Chronicle, there was a story of a baker who keeps his shop open in Gaza, risking his own life amid the bombardments there to feed both Israelis and Palestinians; donating loaves of bread to those who cannot afford to buy them. This baker has an extremely dangerous job, and yet I find his selfless courage in facing the distinct possibility of death astounding.

Now, how many of us might consider being a prophet as one of the most dangerous jobs possible? We hear today how Jeremiah accepts God’s call to be a prophet to the people of Israel, and so finds himself in a line of work that puts him in constant danger of being cursed, hated, hurt, or even killed. Nevertheless, Jeremiah finds joy in knowing that he is doing the work to which God has called him. He says, in the hymn that makes up our first reading today: “When I found your words, I devoured them; they became my joy and the happiness of my heart.”

And yet Jeremiah expresses fear. He knows that to be a prophet will probably lead to his death, and so he laments to God. But, as with any good lament in Scripture, Jeremiah only complains of the danger in which prophecy has put him because he trusts in God. In one breath, he laments even being born: “Woe to me, mother, that you gave me birth!” How is it, God, that you have called me to be your prophet when I could have sought a much less dangerous job; one that was not a risk to my life? And then, in another breath, Jeremiah speaks of his deep trust in God: “Though they fight against you, they shall not prevail, for I am with you to deliver and rescue you, says the LORD.”

How deep is our trust in God, when our lives are not as imperiled as Jeremiah’s was and as the lives of many prophets and missionaries for our faith still are today?

The prophet Jeremiah is for us a model of courage; a model of trust in God even when his life is at risk. Let us be mindful today of all whose work is especially dangerous; those who face this danger with selflessness; with courage; with trust in God.

Homily for Thursday, 17 July 2014– Ferial

Thursday of the 15th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Isaiah 26:7-9, 12, 16-19; Psalm 102:13-14ab, 15, 16-18, 19-21; Matthew 11:28-30

When we think of God, do we think of a God who is up in heaven; who rules over us and all creation from afar; who is powerful, or do we think primarily of a God who is with us; who cares for us; who is merciful toward us, especially in times of need?

In a beautiful way, our readings today speak of our God who is both powerful creator and ruler over creation (and over us) and who cares for and is with us always.

Both our first reading, from Isaiah, and our Psalm today take the form of laments, or complaints. Old Testament laments often begin with the reasons why God is to be trusted to deliver the people from whatever afflicts them. In the case of Isaiah, the prophet has prophesied that the people of Israel will be exiled from their homeland. Israel will be reprimanded for having made alliances with more powerful nations around it in an attempt to ward off invasion and exile, and therefore not having trusted first in God to deliver and to sustain Israel.

And so Isaiah prays the hymn we hear today; a lament in which Isaiah recognizes that God is at once powerful‒ God will allow Israel to suffer exile for its trust in neighboring nations over God, but also has power to bring Israel back from exile after a time‒ and as caring; merciful; ever-present to the people. Isaiah’s hymn, his lament to God, on the one hand speaks of God the ruler; the judge over creation: “When your judgment dawns upon the earth, the world’s inhabitants learn justice.” On the other hand, Isaiah appeals to the merciful; ever-present God. Isaiah describes God in maternal images. By God’s mercy, when we are at our most powerless, even “the land of shades gives birth.”

On the one hand, God is like a mother to us, who in the words of our Psalm “will arise and have mercy on” us, God’s people. The merciful; present; caring God hears “the prayer of the destitute,” while on the other hand the same God abides over us “forever”; looks “down from his holy height” with power and majesty.

In our Gospel reading, Jesus also takes up the image of God as both powerful and merciful; majestic ruler from afar and ever-present to lift our burdens. Jesus’ image of God is that of yoked oxen. We are invited to become yoked with Jesus who, as divine and human, lends us God’s strength (compared to that of oxen) and yet is “meek and humble of heart”; merciful; with us always; like us in all but sin.

When we think of God, then, is God more the strong, majestic ruler and judge from on high or the God who is intimately with us; the God of mercy? In truth, our God in whom we trust and to whom we pray is both the powerful ruler and judge from on high and the merciful God who is with us always.