Homily for Sunday, 14 June 2015

11th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Ezekiel 17:22-24; Psalm 92:2-3, 13-14, 15-16; 2 Corinthians 5:6-10; Mark 4:26-34

Jesus asks us in Mark’s Gospel, “To what shall we compare the Kingdom of God”? Jesus then compares the Kingdom of God to “a mustard seed.” How does the Kingdom of God compare to a tiny mustard seed? Why did Jesus not compare the magnificence of God’s Kingdom to a larger seed or plant than a mustard seed? At least Ezekiel, in our first reading today, compares God’s Kingdom to a mighty cedar tree planted on “a high and lofty mountain” for all to see.

Why a mustard seed? Jesus succeeds here as a teacher and storyteller if only because his comparison between the Kingdom of God and a mustard seed is so unusual. Yes, the little mustard seed in Jesus’ parable grows into “the largest of plants and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the sky can dwell in its shade.” But have you ever been in a desert; seen how mustard grows in a desert? There are more magnificent plants, especially in a desert, than mustard, which grows more as a low shrub than a tall, beautiful tree under the desert heat and in poor soil. Could Jesus’ point have been in the last line of his parable: “So that the birds of the sky can dwell in [the] shade” of the mustard plant? Could Jesus have been trying to emphasize the nurturing, sheltering qualities of the Kingdom of God; the love with which God nurtures us; cares for us in the way a mustard plant shelters birds from the desert heat?

I imagine this could have been Jesus’ intended focus of his parable of the mustard seed. After all, would our taking this focus from the parable of the mustard seed not fit with our experience; our understanding of God as all-good; as the creator who cares for and nurtures all creation; who loves and wants a relationship of love with us? In this way, Jesus’ parable of the mustard seed could easily point us toward God’s goodness. Ezekiel’s image of God’s kingdom as the cedar atop a high mountain could point us toward God’s greatness; God’s power. And can we not imagine our God and God’s Kingdom as both like the mustard seed and like the cedar; both good and great; both nurturing and powerful?

But still: Why a tiny mustard seed to describe God’s Kingdom? Is this Jesus’ unusual way of inviting us to trust in God’s wisdom; to trust in the God who can transform even the most insignificant, like the mustard seed, into something magnificent that serves our good: The mustard plant; the Kingdom of God that shelters us; nurtures us; is our eternal home; our salvation?

What would my ideal image of the Kingdom of God be, if not a mustard seed? Imagine the Kingdom of God as a tomato vine. Why a tomato vine, we may ask? Many of us know Fr. Joe as an expert gardener among the priests of St. Kateri! Just outside the back door of our rectory are Fr. Joe’s tomato vines. They are just beginning to leaf out and to climb up the tomato cages. A few days ago, Fr. Joe and I were returning home from breakfast with friends. As we were about to enter the house, Fr. Joe noticed the first tomato of the season on one of the vines: Only about the diameter of a dime; like a small marble in size and bright green. This tomato has a while to go before it can be picked and eaten. And yet I wish I could do justice in describing Fr. Joe’s joy at seeing this first tomato of the season on his plants. Fr. Joe gave emphatic thanks to God for this promise of an abundant harvest of tomatoes this summer. I could not help but share in Fr. Joe’s joy in this little green tomato!

The Kingdom of God is like a tomato vine. The gardener plants it. The day-to-day growth of the vine up the tomato cage is not noticeable to the gardener who waters it; cares for it; clears weeds from around it. One moment the gardener, if he is Fr. Joe, is praying, seated next to his beautiful garden. The next moment, looking up from his book of prayer, he shifts to a mildly threatening gaze to warn away pesky chipmunks…  One day, with great joy the gardener sees the first little green tomato on one of his vines. He gives thanks; prays to God to continue to sustain its growth.

It is only a little green tomato on a short vine. It is vulnerable to being eaten by animals or damaged by insects. It must be protected from a late frost. It is far from ripe. And yet this little green tomato is God’s promise of a fruitful harvest. By the end of the season the tomato plants will be weighed down by big, red, ripe, delicious tomatoes. They give shelter to many small creatures, including, I am sure, a few pesky chipmunks… These tomatoes will help to give yet more joy to the gardener. They will nourish him and those who live with him or are our guests at table for the work of the Kingdom of God; of service to this, our parish, and to God. These seeds that give rise to shoots, then vines, then little green tomatoes that ripen and are harvested seem insignificant. But with trust in God, love for those who will benefit and be nourished by his harvest, and hours of hard work, the gardener faithfully tends these tomato plants.

In the words of our second reading, from St. Paul’s second Letter to the Corinthians, the gardener’s work is an exercise in walking (and nurturing the plants) “by faith and not by sight.” The gardener’s work is one of patience. The gardener trusts in and becomes a source of God’s great wisdom, the gift of God’s Holy Spirit that brings about a fruitful harvest; the Kingdom of God; our salvation, all from apparently insignificant beginnings, like little green tomatoes... or mustard seeds in the desert, or mighty cedar trees on mountaintops, which themselves begin as small shoots.

“To what shall we compare the Kingdom of God”? Unlike Fr. Joe, gardening has never been my strength. Neither, maybe, is composing and speaking in parables. But whether we imagine the Kingdom of God as a mustard seed planted in the desert, a mighty cedar tree on a mountain, or a tomato vine in Irondequoit, is the point of all these parables not the same?

God invites us to trust in God’s wisdom. The wisdom of God brings about a great harvest from insignificant beginnings. God’s wisdom brings about our salvation; our experience of the fullness of the Kingdom of God. And, here and now, God loves us; wants a relationship of love with us. God gives us just enough of God’s own wisdom, here and now, that we can co-operate with God in building and nurturing God’s Kingdom.

We are called to co-operate, guided by the wisdom of God the Holy Spirit, in building and nurturing a kingdom of kindness; of patience (except perhaps with pesky chipmunks!); of joy even in the small beginnings of what we are promised will be: Fullness of the Kingdom of God; our salvation, whatever image we have of this. And all this from a tiny mustard seed, a cedar shoot or, if you will, little green tomatoes…

Homily for Monday, 28 July 2014– Ferial

Monday of the 17th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Jeremiah 13:1-11; Responsorial Canticle: Deuteronomy 32:18-19, 20, 21; Matthew 13:31-35

How many of us have ever heard sayings like, “Don’t worry about the small stuff”? Jesus’ parables in our Gospel reading are all about the “small stuff.” On the one hand, Jesus invites us by his parable of the mustard seed to be concerned with the small details; with the small but nevertheless significant contributions we make to building God’s kingdom.

Jesus compares “the kingdom of heaven” to “a mustard seed… the smallest of all the seeds” that blossoms into a magnificent plant on which the “birds of the sky come and dwell in its branches.” What are our small seeds that we contribute to building God’s kingdom on earth? Are they small acts or words of kindness? Are they a smile toward somebody who needs her or his spirit lifted? Is our tiny seed a word of welcome to a visitor to our parish community or someone who joins us for Mass from another of the churches within our parish?

On the other hand, while our small acts of kindness are important toward the building of God’s kingdom, Jesus calls us by his parable of the yeast not to overestimate what we contribute. The building of the kingdom of heaven still requires a large measure of God’s grace and (usually) only a small measure of our good works; just a pinch of yeast for the three measures of wheat flour for the batch to turn out correctly.

God’s grace and our good works, each in their proper proportions, that is, a large part of divine grace for every small part of our good works, are both necessary for building the kingdom of heaven. We cannot neglect that we need the grace of God and yet we are called not to neglect the small but significant role our good works play in bringing the kingdom of heaven on earth to its fullness.

If we neglect either our need for God’s grace or the small but significant contribution our good works; our kindness; our welcome; our acts of mercy toward one another make toward building the kingdom of heaven on earth, as our Responsorial Canticle says, we forget “God who gave [us] birth”; God who made us for himself; God who made us co-creators with him of the kingdom of heaven. Those who forget either our need for God’s grace or for our good works become, in the stark and somewhat disgusting image provided by Jeremiah in our first reading, like a rotten loincloth.

Thankfully, I cannot think of anyone, here or anytime or anywhere in my experience, who would merit such a disgusting comparison! And so our readings today should give us hope. I have seen, and we see it among ourselves here in our parish community, how we are a “mustard seed” people; a people that is yeast to the “three measures of wheat flour” that is God’s grace. We are a people who knows our need for God’s grace as well as our small but significant role to play in bringing the Kingdom of heaven on earth to its fullness.

Homily for Sunday, 20 July 2014

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Wisdom 12:13, 16-19; Psalm 86:5-6, 9-10, 15-16; Romans 8:26-27; Matthew 13:24-43

Who among us enjoys gardening or farming knows someone who is a gardener or farmer? Who among us enjoys baking?

We have in our Gospel reading today from Matthew a God of many interests. Our Gospel presents us in three parables with God the farmer who sows wheat in a field, God the gardener whose crop of choice is mustard, and God the baker who introduces yeast into a batch of bread to leaven it.

The problem with these three activities, farming, gardening, and baking, is that their finished products can be unpredictable.

God the farmer sows wheat in a field. Has anyone here who has gardened ever tried, seemingly in vain, to keep a garden or a farm free of weeds? Each year, my parents grow a large vegetable garden. This garden is surrounded by an open field that is mostly clover and dandelions. The seeds of these weeds, along with those of even more infamous chickweed and Canadian thistle, are constantly blown into the garden, and so weeding the garden is a constant effort. At our house now, Fr. Joe is the gardener extraordinaire.[1] I know from living with him how much effort Fr. Joe puts into clearing weeds from his beautiful gardens.

I would enjoy gardening if it were not for having to clear weeds. I would like to adopt God’s strategy: leave the weeding to harvest time, pick the crop and the weeds together, and then sort the crop from the weeds, keeping the crop and throwing away the weeds. And yet this approach to gardening by me would be due to laziness; for God it is the approach of patience and mercy.

The weeds among the wheat in Jesus’ parable are “the children of the evil one”; of “the enemy”; the devil who sows weeds among “the children of the kingdom” so that the good crop and the weeds become undistinguishable from each other until harvest time, the time of God’s kingdom brought to its fullness. But we inhibit the final wheat crop, the Kingdom of heaven, from coming to its fullness if we pull up the weeds too early.

What will be of God’s wheat field, our world, in the meantime is somewhat unpredictable. Will there be more wheat than weeds; more good than evil or not? We cannot know this until harvest; until the end of time. God, in his patience and mercy, invites us to live with and even to nurture this unpredictability; to tend the field lovingly so that wheat and weeds grow up together.

God is not the typical gardener or farmer. And so would we not question God’s gardening techniques: God, why allow the weeds to grow up alongside the wheat? Why allow evil in the world and here in our nation and in our city? Why allow war, violence, poverty, and hunger to persist? Why not uproot these weeds immediately? What kind of farmer is our God anyway?

God is not much better as a gardener than as a wheat farmer. God the gardener would plant a mustard seed in the middle of his garden. If the seed grows, it will become a large bush and the ‘birds of the sky [will] come and dwell in its branches.’” This is great; just what we need, God. The birds will come and dwell in the branches of this giant bush that was once a tiny seed. Birds make a mess of gardens. They make noise. They carry seeds that grow into more weeds…

God the gardener; God who is patient and merciful; God who is “lenient” and whose might is justice as our first reading from the Book of Wisdom says, invites us to live with the unpredictable. God invites us to be confident that in the end, when the Kingdom of heaven reaches its fullness, evil will be no more. The weeds will be destroyed. The good crop, the Kingdom of heaven, that we pray to come in the Our Father during every Mass will come to fruition and will thrive. We do not know exactly how this will happen, but we are invited to live with this unpredictability; with the unknown. We are invited to be confident that, with our co-operation in tending and nourishing God’s garden; God’s growing Kingdom on earth, this garden will produce a bumper crop of goodness; of patience; of mercy.

And if we have difficulty living with the unpredictable; trusting that God will bring about the fullness of the Kingdom of heaven in time, a kingdom free of evil; a garden free of weeds and noisy, messy birds, we could always turn to God the baker. Wait, maybe this is not such a great idea...

In his parable of the yeast that we hear today, Jesus gives us a kind of recipe for the Kingdom of heaven: ““The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed with three measures of wheat flour until the whole batch was leavened.” The problem with this recipe is that, while we know to add “three measures of wheat flour,” God does not say how much yeast to add. To all among us who have ever baked: Do you not hate incomplete recipes?

There is, without doubt, a danger in adding too much yeast. I am reminded of my own experiments with my mother’s old (and somewhat temperamental) bread machine growing up. If I added even slightly too much yeast to the pot, the rising ingredients would overflow from the inside of the machine and make a mess of the kitchen counter.

God the baker; God the farmer; God the gardener invites us to live with this unpredictability in the process of bringing about the fullness of the Kingdom of heaven. If we trust in God’s patience and mercy, God the farmer will in time sort out good from evil; the wheat from the weeds. God will overcome the weeds; the evil; the sin of the world, once for all. God the gardener is, after all, a God who can transform a tiny mustard seed into a magnificent bush that gives shade; gives life. And so maybe, after a few spectacular messes in the kitchen, by the grace of God the baker we will eventually find out the exact amount of yeast needed to bake the perfect loaf of bread…

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[1] Fr. Joseph Trovato, CSB, is a priest of the Congregation of St. Basil living at St. Kateri Tekakwitha Parish, Irondequoit, NY.

Homily for Friday, 31 January 2013– Memorial of St. John Bosco

Friday of the 3rd week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: 2 Samuel 11:1-4a, 5-10a, 13-17; Psalm 51:3-4, 5-6a, 6bcd-7, 10-11; Mark 4:26-34

When you hear a story like that of David having Uriah slain and then taking Bathsheba as his wife, do you ever think, “What a horrible thing to do?” Does this natural indignant feeling even progress toward hoping that God will exact retribution on people like David?

Let us think about this, since from time to time our society and individuals in it react similarly toward some of its worst and most violent criminals, and even some of its more minor sinners: “How could such a sin be forgiven?” or “This person must be punished,” or even “This criminal deserves to die.”

I ask, especially if anyone here has ever been a victim of crime or knows someone who has, that you not understand me to mean that I am against correction of evil or especially of criminal behavior. Even David does not escape from the consequences of his actions. The child he and Bathsheba conceive dies, if you will pardon me for giving away a central event in tomorrow’s first reading! And yet David is given the chance to repent, and he does. Then, as we know from the rest of the story, the key point is that God builds the kingdom of Israel upon David the repentant sinner.  

God gives us the chance to repent; to echo the Psalmist: “Be merciful, O Lord, for we have sinned”; to say at the very beginning of our Mass, “Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.” Then God builds God’s kingdom upon us.

This building of God’s kingdom upon repentant sinners is only possible if God is not primarily a God of retribution but a God of patience; a God of forgiveness; a God who allows the mustard seed of goodness and faith of which Jesus speaks in our Gospel parable today to grow into a strong plant in which others can take shelter under our own branches of patience and forgiveness.

God’s patience and forgiveness was the example of St. John Bosco, whose feast day we celebrate today. St. John Bosco, a patron of the Basilians and founder of the Salesians, is known for his work among the poor youth, the street children, including convicted criminals of nineteenth century Turin.

Don Bosco’s motto was one of patience and forgiveness: “Not with blows, but with charity and gentleness must you draw these friends to the path of virtue.” For rejecting retribution and punishment in favor of patience and forgiveness; “charity and gentleness,” St. John Bosco was thought insane by many. Some tried unsuccessfully to block his canonization for this reason.

“Not with blows,” not with retribution, “but with charity and gentleness”; patience and forgiveness: On this foundation God is building God’s kingdom upon us, repentant sinners every one.