Homily for Thursday, 20 June 2019

Readings of the day: 2 Corinthians 11:1-11; Psalm 111:1b-2, 3-4, 7-8; Matthew 6:7-15

Thursday of the 11th week in Ordinary Time

“Please put up with me”: Am I underestimating the probability of success in beginning an important message or trying to convince somebody with such a plea? Well, we know from the fairly spread of the Christian faith in the time of St. Paul, especially in large cities of the then-Roman Empire like Corinth that developed thriving Christian communities even under intermittent persecution from Rome and some Jewish leaders, that St. Paul was quite successful and convincing in spreading our faith.

I think it is important for us to remember that these Corinthians of St. Paul’s time were especially difficult people to bring to the Christian faith. Corinth was a rich city and proud of it, thanks to its possession of not one but two ports on the Mediterranean Sea, which allowed for increased trade by sea and therefore wealth to enter the city. Change, especially conversion from one faith, Greco-Roman paganism, to another, Christianity, is a tough sell when all is going so well for a city the way it was for first-century Corinth.

Scripture scholars often refer to St. Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians as his “tearful letter.” St. Paul pleaded with the Corinthians in bringing them to the Christian faith to the point of tears, out of a deep love for them, like no other people or city to which he wrote and ministered. To the Corinthians especially, St. Paul’s message, his preaching of a poor, humble Christ who freely accepted death on a cross to save us was, we could say, a religious culture shock.

In wealthy cities like Corinth, one paid handsomely to study under an elite teacher. This clashed, as we hear from 2 Corinthians today, with St. Paul’s preaching of “the Gospel” to the Corinthians “free of charge.” No self-respecting teacher or preacher in an ancient Greek city like Corinth would have taught or preached “free of charge” as St. Paul did, not only to a few wealthy students but to the whole city and to the world. Yet St. Paul’s strategy, along with pleading with the Corinthians to “put up with” him, worked splendidly anyway, no doubt by the grace of the Holy Spirit.

If we reflect on St. Paul’s loving pleading with the Corinthians to the point of tears, “Please put up with me,” what are the messages we find most difficult to accept today in our lives? Have we ever had difficulty accepting change even when change is necessary or right?

Maybe we have difficulty hearing somebody and accepting her or his message when this person differs from us politically or in understanding of the Church and its mission, for example, or when another person does not share our Christian faith or moral understanding at all. Maybe as difficult for many of us (if I have heard accurately from some of us here at St. Kateri Parish) is the impending change in leadership in this parish after anywhere from nine to forty-three years of Basilian leadership here.

I pray that we at St. Kateri will not only “put up with” but come to love St. Kateri’s new pastor when he begins here next week. I pray that everybody who leads, who prays, and who loves in this parish will continue to lead, pray, and grow in love with a new pastor and vicars, as the Corinthians went from putting up with St. Paul in his time to leading, praying, and genuinely loving him and one another for the growth and unity of the Church.

Homily for Monday, 23 February 2015‒ Monday of the First Week of Lent

Readings of the day: Leviticus 19:1-2, 11-18; Psalm 19:8, 9, 10, 15; Matthew 25:31-46

How many sets of commandments do we know of in the Bible? Most if not all of us know of the Ten Commandments. In fact there are two sets; two very similar versions of the Ten Commandments in the Old Testament, one in the Book of Exodus and the other in the Book of Deuteronomy.

Are not most if not all of us familiar with Jesus’ distillation of all the Old Testament commandments, the Law and the prophets, down to two commandments: Love God and love neighbor?

Our first reading today from Leviticus presents us with a series of commandments. These commandments in Leviticus are similar in style to the Ten Commandments. We hear them as a series of laws against particular actions: “You shall not…” After every few laws is the divine emphasis: “I am the LORD.” If we love God and believe that God is the beginning and end of these commandments, we will keep these commandments.

Without changing the substance of the many Old Testament commandments or the sense that God is their beginning and end, Jesus simplifies them while framing them in a positive way: “You shall” in place of “you shall not.” We hear this simplification and positive re-framing of commandments in our Gospel reading today.

But let us not be taken off guard by the simplicity; the positive, even inviting, tone of Jesus’ words. Are there not still stark consequences to acting in favor or against what Jesus teaches? Jesus words are still commandments that we are urged to follow. They are every bit as significant as the Old Testament commands of “you shall not.”

Jesus, as in Leviticus (although perhaps more clearly than in our Old Testament reading), bases his teachings on pressing social concerns. Who are the most vulnerable in Jesus’ time; those most in need of protection? They are “the hungry… the thirsty… the stranger… the naked… the ill” and those “in prison.” The manner in which we act toward these most in need is the manner in which we act toward Christ himself.

Who are the most vulnerable; the most in need in our time? Perhaps they are the unborn; small children; the elderly; the poor person; the person working for a minimum wage that does not suffice to feed, clothe, and shelter her or his family members; the sick; the person with disabilities; the homebound.

“Whatever you did for one of these least… of mine, you did for me.” Jesus’ commandment still stands today: Protect those most in need as though they were Christ. Most if not all of us do well at heeding these teachings of Jesus. Some if not all of us have had experiences in which our actions toward those most in need, or at least our intention behind them, are in need of some purification: Am I acting for my own gain, or because I see Christ in the other person, or a bit of both?

Lent is the great time for this kind of purification of both action and intention; of praying for the strength to follow God’s commandments, especially for the benefit of “the least of [our] brothers” and sisters.

Homily for Thursday, 19 June 2014– Ferial

Thursday of the 11th week in Ordinary Time 

Readings of the day: Sirach 48:1-14; Psalm 97:1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 7; Matthew 6:7-15

Do any of us have a loved one, a relative, a colleague, or friend of whose accomplishments we are very proud?

Before I became a Basilian, I was a microbiology lab technician for three and a half years after graduating from college. One significant job I had in the lab was to teach co-op students who came to our lab from various universities in Western Canada basic lab techniques of industrial and environmental microbiology. I would also help to guide these students’ co-op term projects in the lab, proofread their co-op project reports, and critique their final oral presentations. Several students who worked in our lab could essentially work independently of me and the other technicians; their laboratory skills were often remarkable, and they would sometimes teach me as much as or more than I taught them.

Now, as a Basilian, I can say the same of our men in formation for religious life and priesthood; people with deep faith and spirituality who inspire me and teach me as much as or more than I teach or inspire them. These are people who have made me very proud; very grateful for the gifts of God being fostered through family members; friends; colleagues; people of St. Kateri Parish; my Basilian confrères.

The Book of Sirach, from which we hear today in our first reading, speaks of Elijah and of his successor prophet, Elisha. Sirach lists the impressive array of accomplishments of Elijah in great detail. Then, more briefly but just as strongly, Sirach emphasizes that Elisha was everything Elijah was and more: “Then Elisha, filled with the twofold portion of [Elijah’s] spirit, wrought many marvels by his mere word.”

Elijah was so great a prophet and so righteous that our Scriptures say that he was “enveloped in [a] whirlwind”; brought to heaven perhaps without having died, on a chariot of fire, in an impressive display of God’s power! And then Elisha received “a twofold portion” of the spirit of Elijah. Imagine a prophet twice as powerful as the amazing Elijah!

I imagine that, if Elijah were teaching Elisha the basics of prophecy; preparing his hand-picked and anointed successor to be able to prophesy on his own; proofreading and critiquing his end-of-term report, Elijah would have been extremely proud of Elisha.

And so we remember the people we have encountered of whom we have been very proud. We remember the people who, it would seem, have received a “twofold portion” of our spirit; who have received ultimately the Holy Spirit of God himself, the same Holy Spirit we have all received in baptism and confirmation, who through us works marvels beyond our imagination. And we are invited to pray in gratitude for God’s gifts in those people who make us very proud of what they have accomplished.

Homily for Wednesday, 18 June 2014– Ferial

Wednesday of the 11th week in Ordinary Time 

Readings of the day: 2 Kings 2:1, 6-14; Psalm 31:20, 21, 24; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18

Has anyone here, in moments of excitement over our accomplishments, ever listed off these accomplishments to another person in conversation? Then, has anyone here stopped momentarily and then added a phrase like (one of my favorites I admit), “I don’t mean to boast, but…”?

To be aware of and even to speak with joy about our accomplishments and our talents to other people and in prayer to God are not necessarily bad things. There is no shame in taking some pride in our accomplishments and talents, even aloud, as long as we first give thanks to God who gives us these talents; who gives the ability to accomplish sometimes extraordinary deeds.

And yet how often do we reflect that we live in a competitive social environment that encourages us to take credit for our accomplishments; our talents, often without giving due credit and glory to God, the source of these gifts; accomplishments; talents; of everything that is good?

“I don’t mean to boast, but I give alms, I pray regularly, and I fast.” Can we not imagine the early followers of Jesus addressed in Matthew speaking these words? Have we ever spoken similar words? Jesus’ response to them and to us is, “Take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them… Your Father who sees in secret”; “who sees what is hidden will repay you.”

We have and we will have opportunities “to perform righteous deeds” in public, where other “people may see them.” I imagine that we have and we will have opportunities in which it is appropriate to be proud of our righteous actions and even to give voice to this pride when speaking with other people. This, in and of itself, is not wrong.

But Jesus reminds us in our Gospel reading today of the great grace in doing quietly, “in secret,” what is right; what is God-like. We are encouraged perhaps to perform a so-called “random act of kindness” toward another; a deed that the other person to whom we are intentionally kind does not expect; cannot repay, or does not even know who did it. We are encouraged by Jesus to run counter to our culture that puts pride for accomplishments and talents; that puts competitiveness on display, even to excess. We are encouraged to give glory to God by the witness of our lives; our quiet acts of kindness and mercy especially.

I don’t mean to boast, but I think that, in light of today’s Gospel, Jesus would allow us to boast with quiet gratitude in our God who is good to us, who repays our acts of kindness toward one another in due time, and who makes possible all that we do that is good.