Homily for Sunday, 28 July 2019

Readings of the day: Genesis 18:20-32; Psalm 138:1-2, 2-3, 6-7, 7-8; Colossians 2:12-14; Luke 11:1-13

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time

This homily was given at St. Alphonsus Parish and St. Joseph's College, University of Alberta, Edmonton, AB, Canada.

“How is your prayer life? How do you most like to pray”?

These are questions I frequently ask people of faith in the course of my ministry as a priest. These are questions I frequently ask myself. When I ask these questions, often I observe that people to whom I ask these questions wonder what precisely I am asking: Do I mean to ask the time of day at which people prefer to pray, or whether people tend to prefer “formula” prayers like the Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be, the rosary, prayers at mealtime, or devotional prayers to particular saints, or simply free verse? Do I mean to leave my intent of these kinds of questions open to interpretation? (Usually I do, in fact, like to leave these questions a bit open-ended).

Is prayer not somewhat of a delicate subject for many of us? Many experts on prayer (if there are such people) suggest that there is no single right or wrong way to pray. Those of us familiar with the Baltimore Catechism of the 1940s may remember its definition of prayer as “a lifting of the mind and heart to God.” More recent prayer “experts” like the late Jesuit Fr. Thomas Green, whose book Opening to God and its sequel Weeds among the Wheat I highly recommend for anybody interested in deepening your prayer experience, reflect on difficulties with definitions of prayer like that of the Baltimore Catechism. The definition of prayer in the Baltimore Catechism, “a lifting of the mind and heart to God,” is well and good, but can lead us, Fr. Green says, to place undue emphasis on our own efforts at prayer over God’s effort to reveal God’s self to us in our prayer. And so prayer is difficult if impossible to define, except maybe as an act of attentive listening to God without trying to limit God; an act of Opening to God that is easier said than done.

In this context of attentive listening to God, Opening to God, I would like to connect this difficulty, if impossibility, in defining prayer to what we hear today from Luke’s Gospel. Luke begins by placing Jesus and his disciples at prayer “in a certain place”; a nondescript, undefined place. In this place, which the usually-detailed Luke does not even name, Jesus’ disciples ask him: “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.”

But how did John teach his disciples to pray? The trouble for us is that, at least in the Bible, there is no account of how John the Baptist taught his disciples to pray. We know from elsewhere in the Gospels that John had disciples, people following him, and that John’s and Jesus’ disciples were not mutually exclusive groups; some of John’s disciples were probably also Jesus’ disciples, and Jesus’ disciples also John’s disciples. We know from the Gospels that John preached a message of justice and repentance in anticipation of the Messiah, Jesus, but the Gospels never explicitly speak of John the Baptist teaching his disciples to pray.

“Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples”: When Jesus’ disciples ask him this, Jesus gives them, and ultimately us, the Lord’s Prayer or the Our Father. Now, neither Jesus nor the Gospel writers seem to be too fussy about the exact formula of this prayer, the Our Father. Who here noticed that the wording of the Our Father we have heard in today’s Gospel reading is not exactly the formulation of this prayer we are used to praying, whether privately or together, say, at Mass? The form of the Our Father we are more used to is from Matthew’s, not Luke’s, Gospel. We might presume that these differences between forms of the Our Father in Matthew and Luke are due to one form being older than the other (Luke’s version of the Our Father is shorter, so it is probably older than Matthew’s). We might presume that these differences are due to differences in the needs of the early Christian communities Matthew and Luke were trying to reach with their messages: Luke, for instance, focuses more on the social needs and challenges of his community, whereas Matthew focuses more on the spiritual good and cohesion of his community.

This is all fine, but how does this meet our needs; the spiritual and social needs of our community of faith here? If Jesus were standing among us here, and we were to ask him to “teach us to pray,” what prayer would he teach us? Would Jesus prayer be a particular formula, to be prayed at particular times of day, or for a specific amount of time every day, or would Jesus ask us simply to pray from our hearts; to lift our hearts and minds to God as the Baltimore Catechism says, however we see fit, at least when we pray in private?

I think we hear a clue to the answer to these questions from the rest of our Gospel reading as well as our first reading, from Genesis, and our Psalm today. As soon as Jesus teaches his disciples the Our Father, he goes on to tell a strange parable in today’s Gospel. The friend in Jesus’ parable, who is asked for “three loaves of bread” at midnight—Luke does not say why anybody would ask a friend for “three loaves of bread” at midnight—Jesus says will eventually give the person who asks for the bread what he asks for, not so much “because he is his friend” but “because of his persistence.” And if any of our human friends might be convinced by our persistence to give us what we need, even when meeting our needs is inconvenient for our friend, Jesus asks us to imagine “how much more… the heavenly Father [will] give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him”!

I interpret from this that there is never really an inconvenient time to pray to God for what we need. Jesus does not give us a correct formula with which to pray, but only asks us to pray persistently: “Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.”

If we go back to the Book of Genesis, to our first reading today, we find a model of persistence in Abraham. In fact, please allow me to introduce to us, as a model for our prayer, Abraham the Pest! Abraham the Pest probably knew as well as anybody the wickedness of Sodom and Gomorrah, so it could not have been much of a surprise to Abraham when the LORD revealed to him his plan to destroy these cities. Yet Abraham knew, as the LORD had to have known, that there were at least a few righteous people among the wicked of Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham’s own nephew, Lot, and Lot’s family were among these righteous. So Abraham the Pest begins to bargain with God: “Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city… Suppose five of the fifty righteous are lacking? Will you destroy the whole city for lack of five”? “Suppose forty [righteous] are found there”… Thirty… Twenty… Ten… Okay, just my nephew and his family, please, unless Lot’s wife looks back at the burning city, then I will accept that you turn her into a pillar of salt”  (but that is another story).

How might God have responded to Abraham’s persistent bargaining to save anybody righteous among the wicked inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah? I try to imagine God’s tone of voice with Abraham as The Pest bargains with God: “Alright, Abraham, I suppose I have given you my blessing to be the pest you are. Note to self: Create limits on persistence of future humans when they pray. No, wait, it is too late; I have already created the ‘pest gene’ in all Abraham’s descendants, who are to number as the stars. What was I thinking? Alright, Abe, you win, you big pest! I will save the righteous people of Sodom and Gomorrah, even if there are only a few of them”!

Our Psalm today gives us a guide for when our persistence in prayer, our being a pest like Abraham to God, pays off: Give thanks to God for when God answers our prayer. “I give you thanks, O Lord… On the day I called, you answered me,” we pray with the Psalmist. Give thanks to God when God does not give us exactly what we asked for, but gives us something even better, or when God helps us to endure suffering, because in Christ God took the suffering and evil of our world on himself on the cross to redeem it, so says the Letter to the Colossians to us today.

What does all this say about how we should pray? I think, first of all, we are invited to pray with the likes of Abraham the Pest, our Father in Persistent Faith; of Thomas Green the Contemplative; of John the Baptist; of Jesus our Saviour. Pray for our needs and for the needs of one another, especially the least well off. Listen attentively without imposing limits on God. And, when our prayer, the “lifting of [our] mind and heart to God,” is answered, give thanks that “on the day” we call, God answers us.

Homily for Wednesday, 8 August 2018– Memorial of St. Dominic

Wednesday of the 18th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Jeremiah 31:1-7; Responsorial Canticle: Jeremiah 31:10, 11-12ab, 13; Matthew 15:21-28

Does today’s Gospel reading from Matthew trouble us or raise any questions for us?

I wonder, for instance, why, even before Jesus tries to dismiss the Canaanite woman whose “daughter is tormented by a demon,” he simply ignores her. Why, then, when the Canaanite woman refuses to go away when Jesus ignores her, does Jesus seem to insult her? Why would Jesus call the woman a dog, a slur possibly directed at non-Jews in Israel at the time? If Jesus’ mission were truly to open the possibility of salvation to all people and all nations, why does he argue, against his own disciples, that he “was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel”? Does Jesus act this way toward the woman simply to test her faith, when he knows in the end how great the woman’s faith is, and that he will heal her daughter? Are Jesus’ words in fact his, or did Matthew or a later editor of Matthew adjust the scenario just enough to be in keeping with the broader concern of Matthew’s Gospel for coherence of his faith community? (By the way, ancient writers would occasionally adjust texts in this way to fit an overall message; they were not as concerned with exact factual, historical accuracy as we are today).

All these are good questions about this strange and even troubling Gospel reading. But I wonder if, instead of directing our primary attention toward Jesus’ harsh actions or words toward the Canaanite woman, we might want to pay closer attention to the woman’s boldness. The Canaanite woman persists boldly, and even ends with a clever retort to Jesus’ slight against her: “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”

If any of us were in the Canaanite woman’s place, would we have had the boldness or presence of mind to confront Jesus like this? Since I am not by nature especially confrontational, I doubt I would have had the boldness of the Canaanite woman in her position to stand up to Jesus.

As secularized as our culture is, do we not still have a significant deference to authority built into our culture? And anybody in our culture who is of religious faith (including all of us, otherwise I do not think we would be here) certainly has great reverence, rightly, for the authority of God; of Jesus. I think, then, that most of us would probably have difficulty confronting Jesus as the Canaanite woman did, even if we were put off or insulted by something he said or did.

The Canaanite woman teaches us, I think, something about clever and timely boldness. She persists in pleading with Jesus for healing for her daughter, despite being ignored and then insulted (even if Jesus’ snub of the Canaanite woman were deliberately to test her faith). She is finally praised by Jesus for the quality of her faith, which would have been a challenge to his Jewish disciples should they have presumed that the woman’s non-Jewish status made her automatically inferior in faith to them.

While we are right to maintain reverence for God, the Canaanite woman shows us nevertheless to be bold, even with God. Ask, persistently if necessary, for what we need most. Persistence will purify our prayer, so that we in turn discern what we need most from God; what we need to ask of God most persistently and boldly.

Homily for Sunday, 24 July 2016

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Genesis 18:20-32; Psalm 138:1-2, 2-3, 6-7, 7-8; Colossians 2:12-14; Luke 11:1-13

This homily was given at the Monastery of the Carmel of St. Joseph near Spruce Grove, AB, Canada.

Please allow me to ask a couple of personal questions, and please do not answer aloud or even by a show of hands, but keep your answers between yourselves and God. First, has anybody here ever known somebody else to be a real pest to you? This person could be a co-worker; a relative; somebody in your family; a neighbour; somebody you hardly know and do not really want to know any better. For those of us here in consecrated religious life, the pest could be somebody in our religious community. Children among us: How often have you felt pestered by your brother or sister (if you have brothers or sisters); by another kid at school; by somebody else? This pest in your life may ask endless questions or make unreasonable demands. He or she gets under your skin. The pest will not simply give up and go away!

My second question is this: How many of us have ever been a pest to somebody? I have asked us to keep our answers to these questions between ourselves and God. But I must say that I am guilty as charged of having been a pest on a few occasions. As the eldest of three siblings in my family (I have one younger sister and one younger brother) and as a member of a religious community of priests, I have had many opportunities to be a pest. Sometimes the temptation is irresistible!

And sometimes to be a pest is fine. My sisters and brothers in Christ, today we hear first from the Word of God, from Genesis, the story of Abraham the Pest. Abraham is one of the finest pests in Scripture! God is on the receiving end of Abraham’s persistence “by the oaks of Mamre.” We have heard that all this begins with God’s plan to destroy the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah for their great wickedness.

I suppose that God did not need to tell Abraham that he was about to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. Why invite the trouble; the endless questions? Just go and destroy those wicked cities! Yet God relents. Way to go, God; now Abraham the Pest is sure never to leave you alone! But God has a purpose in allowing Abraham to question him about Sodom and Gomorrah. God, even at his fire-and-brimstone best, is not consumed with anger or bent on destruction. God is our God of mercy; of “loving kindness”; of true justice through and through. This event in Genesis is not about the nature of Sodom’s or Gomorrah’s sin (of which, despite longstanding speculation, scholarly and not, nobody is really sure) but first about God’s merciful love. Destruction is God’s last resort.

Long before our current concept developed of “innocent until proven guilty,” God applies this principle by going “to see whether” the people of Sodom and Gomorrah have done as they are accused of doing. By doing this, God allows Abraham the chance to plead with him: “Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city; will you then sweep away the place and not forgive it for the fifty righteous who are in it”?

God must admit that Abraham has a good point here. To find fifty righteous people, even in cities as wicked as Sodom and Gomorrah, would be somewhat easy. But then Abraham persists: “What if there are only forty-five righteous people in Sodom and Gomorrah”?

We might imagine God responding, “Fine. I will spare the city if only forty-five righteous people are there, but do not push your luck”! And so what does Abraham do? He pushes his luck further, of course: “Suppose forty are found there.” “Fine,” God says, “hold the brimstone.”

“Suppose thirty are found there.” “Fine,” God sighs, “I’m having trouble finding my flamethrower anyway.”

“Suppose twenty are found there.” God responds, “Abraham, what did I say about not pushing your luck? But, yes, no problem, I will not destroy Sodom and Gomorrah if you know of twenty righteous people there. Now go away and do not bother me anymore”!

This does not deter Abraham the Pest: “Oh, do not let the LORD be angry if I speak just once more.” “What is it”?! God growls at Abraham, “I said not to bother me anymore about Sodom and Gomorrah! Then again, I’ve promised you everything else: A son; descendants to outnumber the stars… I kind of like you. In fact I love you dearly, even though you are such a pest! What do you want”?

“S-s- suppose ten are found there…” Abraham trembles. “Done,” God says, “for the sake of ten I will not destroy it… Now will you go relax under the oaks of Mamre and stop pestering me”? “Deal,” says Abraham.

… If we have such a great example of how to be a pest as Abraham in the Old Testament, can we not imagine that, in the Gospels, to be a pest would be raised to a fine art form? Jesus gives his disciples; gives us a prayer, the Our Father, the Lord’s Prayer, that is an acknowledgement of the holiness of God’s name, “Father, hallowed be your name,” followed by a series of petitions. We ask God for things in this prayer: “Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, as we forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

Might we understand the Our Father, especially in light of the rest of today’s Gospel reading, as Jesus’ teaching on how to pester God effectively? The Our Father is not meant to be prayed only once. We pray it together every time we gather to celebrate our Eucharist. And many of us pray the Our Father multiple times a day. God wants us to pester him!

Now God invites us to join in the long tradition of pestering him effectively. Abraham, our father in faith, is also our father in persistence. Jesus was persistent. So were Jesus’ disciples, and so are we invited to be.

Jesus gives us a story, exaggerated for humorous effect, of the man who “at midnight” asks his friend for “three loaves of bread” because his “friend… has arrived.” The man is able to get “whatever he needs” in the end, Jesus says, if only “because of his persistence.” And then we hear from Jesus through Luke another memorable saying: “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.”

Only here Jesus is no longer exaggerating. God will answer our prayer; our petition. God may not answer our prayer in exactly the way we expect, or even the first time we ask. But often, I think, God wants us to keep asking; to be persistent; to ask in a variety of ways for what we desire so to give us a chance to purify our desires. What, ultimately, do we all desire? I think the answer to this question is eternal life; salvation.

Our salvation is worth pestering God about, as are other desires of ours that lead us in the direction of salvation; of eternal life; of stronger relationship with God and one another. St. Paul, another of the Bible’s most brilliant pests, says this in his Letter to the Colossians: Do not be afraid to ask God to be saved; to ask God for forgiveness; for the strength to forgive others. Even “when [we] were dead in trespasses,” we were never beyond God’s saving love, kindness, and mercy.

Our God, Paul adds, has already anticipated our persistent prayer; our ultimate desire to be saved: “He forgave us all our trespasses… He set this aside, nailing it to the cross.” If Abraham were effective in pestering God to save Sodom and Gomorrah “for the sake of” only ten righteous people, now we have a chance to be saved because of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ; because of this action of the one and only truly Righteous One.

And so it is worth our while to pester God. Pray with persistence. Knock on God’s door at midnight, saying, “Our friends have arrived and we need bread for the great celebration of your merciful presence; the sacrament of salvation we call Eucharist.” And, with persistence, our desires will be purified, to lead us more directly to God; to salvation. After all, God began working on satisfying this ultimate desire of ours before we ever asked.