Homily for Wednesday, 5 July 2017– Ferial

Wednesday of the 13th week in Ordinary Time

Optional Memorials of St. Anthony Zaccaria and St. Elizabeth of Portugal

Readings of the day: Genesis 21:5, 8-20a; Psalm 34:7-8, 10-11, 12-13; Matthew 8:28-34

“Which of you desires life, and takes delight in prosperous days”? This question is asked in the last verse of our Responsorial Psalm today. Unless somebody is truly not of sound mind, who would not desire life and prosperity, both for him or herself and for one’s nation?

Yesterday we celebrated across this nation a lovely Fourth of July, Independence Day. We have celebrated our nation’s deep desire for life and prosperity. And our first reading today, from Genesis is, at its heart, a story of desire for life and prosperity. Prior to the events of today’s reading, God had promised Abraham that he would be the father of “a great nation”; of descendants to number as the stars. After a long wait—Abraham is already one hundred years old by the time “Isaac [is] born to him”— Abraham finally has a son, Isaac, with his wife Sarah. The problem is that Abraham had also had a son, Ishmael, with the slave Hagar. Could we not imagine that, like Sarah for Isaac, Hagar would have had great dreams for Ishmael: Dreams of “a great nation” of her and his family lineage; dreams of life and prosperity?

But those dreams of Hagar for Ishmael seem to become all but crushed as Hagar is banished through the jealousy of Sarah. Then again, we may ask, why does God not intervene on Hagar’s behalf here? Why does God not defend Hagar and Ishmael against this act of injustice by Sarah against them? If we are troubled by this question, we are not alone. Abraham, Genesis says, “was greatly distressed, especially on account of his son Ishmael.” Instead of defending Hagar and Ishmael, though, God says to Abraham, “Heed the demands of Sarah, no matter what she is asking of you.” Why does God seem to go along and even encourage this injustice of sending Hagar and Ishmael away? Did God not know that Hagar’s and Ishmael’s water supply would quickly run out under the desert heat, putting Ishmael’s life in danger? Of course, God finally intervenes on Hagar’s and Ishmael’s behalf, giving them water, but only when Ishmael is near death from thirst.

Yet almost hidden in the middle of this reading from Genesis is God’s reassurance to Abraham that, as he had promised of Isaac, God “will make a great nation of [Ishmael] also.” God’s justice, it would seem is not always our justice. Here, though, God’s way of assuring justice for Hagar and Ishmael, that Ishmael and Isaac both will give rise to great nations because they are both Abraham’s sons, seems simply bizarre.

Might God’s promise to Hagar and Ishmael, though, be an invitation to us? We rightly celebrate this “great nation”; these United States of America. We, like the Psalmist, desire “life and [take] delight in prosperous days.” But do peoples of other nations not also desire “life and [take] delight in prosperous days”? The invitation to us is to aid peoples of other nations both abroad and those who seek refuge among us, as God came to the aid of Hagar and Ishmael thirsting in the desert, to realize most fully their God-given human dignity; their desire for life; for prosperity; for peace. May we not impede them in their pursuit of life; of prosperity; of peace, desires God has given peoples of other nations just as he has given us.

Homily for Wednesday, 28 June 2017‒ Memorial of St. Irenaeus

Wednesday of the 12th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: 2 Timothy 2:22b-26; Psalm 37:3-4, 5-6, 30-31; John 17:20-26

How might we define glory? Does glory not seem like a somewhat abstract concept? Glory could be what is achieved in military victory or, usually less violently, when we out-argue somebody in a debate. These kinds of concepts of glory are in the background of our readings today on this feast day of St. Irenaeus, second century bishop and martyr. The second letter to Timothy asks us to “avoid foolish and ignorant debates” that only “breed quarrels” and so lead to nobody’s greater glory.

In Jesus’ great “high priestly” prayer from which we hear today in John’s Gospel, our Lord is especially concerned with both God’s and his Apostles’ glory. Jesus prays to God the Father, “I have given them the glory you gave me… I wish that where I am they may also be with me, that they may see my glory that you gave me.”

Of what kind of glory is Jesus speaking? Our glory and our giving glory to God depend first and foremost on one thing: Our unity. And so Jesus prays for his Apostles; for us: “That they may be one, as we are one.” How often do we pause to think and to pray over the beauty and the significance of this prayer? What would our unity look like? Perhaps our unity might show itself as greater unity among Christians, or maybe unity would mean a greater striving for the virtues listed in our first reading, from 2 Timothy: “Pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace”…

In 2 Timothy, unity that gives glory to God is shown through patience and gentleness, even (or maybe especially) with people in error and sin. “Be gentle with everyone,” 2 Timothy says, “able to teach, tolerant, correcting opponents with kindness.” In religious communities like the Basilians, we may refer to the kind of gentle, kind, and sometimes tolerant approach to error as “fraternal correction.” Too swift or too harsh, and correction may drive people away, making them less likely to be convinced of their error or even sin. Too permissive or slow an approach to correction may encourage the error. Neither approach forms consciences; neither approach contributes to our glory or to recognizing God’s glory. And is the line between these two false approaches not perhaps finer than we realize?

St. Irenaeus, whom we remember today, is not often remembered as a patient, gentle, or kind corrector of the errors of his day. One of his most famous writings is the Treatise Against Heresies. But Irenaeus did have a gentle, kind, and even tolerant side. Within his Treatise Against Heresies, Irenaeus encourages a cautious approach against heresy as against lesser errors. He says that now “we receive a certain portion of [God’s] Spirit” and are “little by little” made “accustomed to receive and bear God.”

This “little by little” approach resembles that of 2 Timothy and of Jesus himself. Irenaeus also says in Against Heresies that “the glory of God is the human person fully alive.” To become “fully alive”; to be perfected for heaven, takes us a lifetime. If we follow Jesus, 2 Timothy, and St. Irenaeus, it would seem that our journey to being “fully alive”; to meeting the fullness of God’s glory in our unity, is a journey taken “little by little.”

Homily for Thursday, 3 September 2015– Memorial of St. Gregory the Great

Thursday of the 22nd Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Colossians 1:9-14; Psalm 98:2-3ab, 3cd-4, 5-6; Luke 5:1-11

What are some of the emotions and images that run through our Gospel reading today, from Luke? Luke’s Gospel gives us today a lively account of Jesus’ call of his first Apostles, the fishermen Peter, James, and John.

We begin with emptiness: An empty boat “belonging to Simon” that Jesus enters while “the fishermen” are on shore “washing their nets; the empty nets of the fishermen after a long, fruitless night of fishing. This emptiness is filled: Jesus enters Simon’s boat. From this waterborne “pulpit” Jesus teaches the crowds, filling them with the Word of God. Jesus asks Simon Peter, James, and John to “put out into deep water and lower [their] nets for a catch.” And their nets, too, are filled, with a miraculous catch of fish.

We begin with a wide range of emotions; perhaps everyday distractions. What were the crowds thinking when they arrived at the shore of the Lake of Gennesaret to listen to Jesus? What were their concerns, both material and spiritual? Did they have questions for Jesus about their faith? Were they simply trying to make an honorable living; trying to care for their family and other loved ones? Peter, James, and John feel deep frustration: “We have worked hard all night and have caught nothing.” But this Jesus is not a complete stranger to the fishermen; Simon Peter calls Jesus “Master.” And so Simon takes Jesus up on his invitation to “put out into the deep.” And he, James, and John are rewarded with a great catch of fish. For a moment, this miracle only increases their fear; their insecurity; their sense of their own weakness. “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man,” Simon Peter says to Jesus. But this fear gives way to a trust in Jesus almost as astonishing as the initial catch of fish: “They left everything and followed” Jesus.

Do these vivid shifts in images and emotions not seem to be a lot for us to absorb in a short episode of our Gospel? And yet I think the liveliness of our Gospel reading shows us something of who we are as human; as Christian disciples. We are alive, and our experience of Jesus Christ in the Word of God; in our Eucharist; in our love for one another and works of kindness and justice makes us all the more alive.

This brings us to the heart of our Gospel reading today. Jesus says “to Simon: ‘Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching men.’” This saying is especially strange in the original Greek of Luke’s Gospel. Jesus’ words to Peter are closer in meaning to “from now on you will be catching people who are alive.”

Only if we are alive can we experience the images and emotions the people in Jesus’ time; Jesus’ first Apostles did: Concerns of everyday life; fear; insecurity; the effects of our human weakness and sin; all this giving way to trust; to following Jesus without reserve. And because we are alive; because we are human Jesus calls us, too, to trust; to put aside fear enough to work with him in his mission; to be fishers of others who are as alive as we are.

Homily for Friday, 15 May 2015– Friday of the Sixth Week of Easter

Readings of the day: Acts 18:9-18; Psalm 47:2-3, 4-5, 6-7; John 16:20-23

Have any of us noticed how, in these last few days of the Easter season, especially now between the Solemnity of the Lord’s Ascension and Pentecost (the Sunday after next), our daily readings have become dark; troubling?

Today the Acts of the Apostles speaks of Paul being brought once again to trial, this time before Gallio, the Roman “proconsul of Achaia” in Corinth. Is our Gospel reading today not especially ominous? Jesus speaks of his upcoming death, a painful experience for both him and for his disciples: “Amen, amen, I say to you, you will weep and mourn, while the world rejoices.”

Would we not think that, during the Easter season, our readings would be somewhat more uplifting? Why must we hear amid such a joyful season of these events of deep pain and suffering: Apostles like Paul arrested, facing trial and eventual death for their faith; Jesus preparing his disciples for his own death?

Our readings, I think, remind us that we live in an “in-between” time; a time of transition. We live in a time that is an intermingling of joy and sorrow; of order and chaos; of new life and death. In our Church’s liturgical year, we are between Jesus’ Ascension into heaven, a joyful event but also a kind of death; joy mingled with sorrow because Jesus is no longer here on earth, and Pentecost, the Holy Spirit’s descent upon the Apostles and the birth of the Church. Each of us is between birth and death.

Our baptism marks both death and resurrection in Christ, again sorrow and joy mingled together. Jesus speaks of the experience of childbirth. Anyone who has brought a child into the world or witnessed a birth: Can you not relate to the intermingling of pain and joy of which Jesus speaks? The events of our world today are often troubling: natural and human-made disaster; disease; war; extremism… And yet we see signs of hope.

How many of us have experienced the loss of a loved one and yet remember forever with fondness and joy the goodness of your loved one? How many of us have experienced severe illness or that of a loved one, and yet amid illness perhaps experienced perseverance with joy by the sick person and those who care for her or him?

In these and many more ways, we experience an in-between time; joy intermingled with sorrow; life with death; wellness with illness; order with chaos. And in this in-between time, our readings today encourage us. “Do not be afraid,” Paul hears and we hear in Acts. “You will grieve, but your grief will become joy,” Jesus says in John’s Gospel, “so you… are now in anguish. But I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy away from you.”

Take courage; “do not be afraid.” This is not to deny suffering; pain; sorrow; even death. These are part of the in-between time we are living. But they are temporary. Christ will reign victorious over all these realities. This is our hope; our reason, in this in-between time, to be here; to continue to persevere in faith; to live with joy. And “no one will take [our] joy away from” us. 

Homily for Wednesday, 15 April 2015– Wednesday of the Second Week of Easter

Readings of the day: Acts 5:17-26; Psalm 34:2-3, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9; John 3:16-21

How many among us have ever taken on a task or become involved in a way of life from which we were confident that something good would result, but we were unsure where it would lead?

This is the situation in which Jesus’ first Apostles find themselves in today’s reading we hear from Acts. This group; this movement has been founded by Jesus Christ; filled with the Holy Spirit; commissioned to preach and to live the way Christ lived. But to this point the way these Apostles live has no name besides the fairly nondescript “the way.” And then, we hear today, they are imprisoned for their efforts. The religious authorities of the day, the Sanhedrin or class of temple priests in Israel, must have been concerned about this group of adherents to Jesus; to a movement these authorities had tried to stifle by having Jesus crucified.

To a point, can we not empathize with the Jewish religious authorities of this time? Have we not all heard of political and even religious movements in our world that lack a focus but nevertheless seem to draw followers and even cause trouble among groups of people; seem often lead to violence in regions of our world? I see the Sanhedrin of the earliest Apostles’ time as concerned with precisely this kind of unrest in Israel.

Of course, we know in hindsight that this Jesus movement would lead to great good; would develop a focus, inspired by the Holy Spirit. But today, in our first reading from Acts, we hear just the beginning of our Christian story. The first Apostles have been imprisoned, but are set free by an “angel of the Lord.”

And what is the instruction to the Apostles by the angel as they are released from prison? “Go and take your place in the temple area, and tell the people everything about this life.” Here the Jesus movement, long before we became known as “Christians,” is given its first name; its first focus: “This life.” I wonder: How reminiscent, for the Apostles, were these words of the angel to Jesus’ words; to how they knew Jesus: “I am the way and the truth and the life”… “I have come so that you might have life and have it abundantly”?

What is “this life” about which the angel speaks? Here was the first focus of the first Apostles, and our focus now: Preach and do what is most life-giving in the name of Jesus Christ. Build a world in which nobody is in need of basic necessities of life; a world of kindness. Build a world ready to forgive our failings freely; to heal “the wounds of sin and division.”

The most life-giving action will depend on the circumstances of our lives. For some of us, this will mean caring especially for those who are poor; sick; unemployed; underemployed; homeless; refugees or migrants… For many of us this might mean making a special effort to be kind or to pray for somebody difficult to us, or enjoying time with our wives; husbands; children; relatives, or simply a smile; a random act of kindness…

“This life”: Here is our focus, that we might all have life in the name of the risen Christ.