Homily for Thursday, 28 March 2024– Holy Thursday, Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper

Readings of the day: Exodus 12:1-8, 11-14; Psalm 116:1-13, 15-16bc, 17-18; 1 Corinthians 11:24-26; John 13:1-15

There is a legend surrounding Leonardo da Vinci’s painting of “The Last Supper.” Da Vinci took many years to find people to be subjects for the painting of Jesus and each of his apostles. First he found a young, handsome man in his late teens to paint as Jesus.

Seven years later, Leonardo da Vinci had finally found enough subjects, out of hundreds of possible people, to have painted Jesus Christ and eleven of his apostles. The only apostle who remained to find a subject and paint was Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed Jesus. After another long search, da Vinci was told that his ideal subject for Judas Iscariot was a wretched prisoner in a dark dungeon of Rome. So, da Vinci went down into the dungeon and met the prisoner. Da Vinci had made a deal with the authorities that the prisoner could be released from prison and into da Vinci’s care if he agreed to be the figure of Judas Iscariot in the “Last Supper” painting.

When da Vinci finished painting Judas in the likeness of the haggard prisoner, he showed the prisoner his Judas in the “Last Supper.” The prisoner, taken aback, said back to da Vinci, “You don’t recognize me, do you? I’m the man you painted seven years ago as Jesus Christ. O God, I have fallen so low”!

Sisters and brothers in Christ, who has invited us to tonight’s Eucharistic memorial of his Last Supper: Even if our sinful state weakens our ability to recognize another person, or maybe even ourselves—to recognize the likeness and dignity of God with which God created us—God will never fail to recognize us. God will always and forever recognize God’s own image and likeness, God’s beauty as in the young man Leonardo da Vinci first painted as Jesus Christ in the “Last Supper,” in each of us.

God will always welcome us, tonight in a special way and every time we gather to celebrate the Eucharist, to his table in memory of Jesus’ Last Supper. Our God in Jesus Christ once welcomed twelve very imperfect men to eat his final meal with him before he died. One of those Twelve, the head of the apostles Simon Peter, would go on to deny even knowing Jesus, three times, as Jesus was being led to his crucifixion. Another, Judas Iscariot, would betray Jesus to the authorities to have him killed. All the others except “the disciple whom [Jesus] loved”—who stood by Jesus’ cross with the three Marys: Jesus’ mother, “the wife of Clopas,” and Mary Magdalene—would flee the scene of the cross.

All except one of Jesus’ Twelve apostles would fail to recognize Jesus as he was arrested, condemned, crucified to death. But God, in Christ, would recognize them for who they truly were. God recognizes us for who we truly and fundamentally are, sisters and brothers, even when we do not recognize the God-given dignity in one another or sometimes in ourselves or in all creation; even if, like the prisoner Leonardo da Vinci painted as Judas Iscariot, we “have fallen so low” into the wretchedness of sin.

Sin, and the blindness toward the image and likeness of God in each of us that sin causes, is not our original state of being. Our original state of being is one of beauty, blessing, dignity as God intended: “God blessed them and gave them dominion” over creation, the Book of Genesis says of the first people God created, Adam and Eve. This “blessed” state of being is the state God will always recognize in us, even if or when we obscure it, corrupt it by sin. This blessed state is the figure our Lord invites to share his Last Supper, this Eucharistic memorial of his Last Supper, with him.

But what about our sin? Jesus’ Last Supper; Jesus’ Passion, death, and resurrection that follow his Last Supper show us two main ways in which God responds to our sin, our “fall” from the state of divine grace and blessing in which God first created us. First, the events of Jesus’ Last Supper, Passion, death, and resurrection that we will commemorate over these next three days show us that God’s response to our sin will urge us to confront our sinfulness, our woundedness, our betrayals, our denials, our fleeing the scene of the cross. Jesus’ first disciples who confronted their sinfulness would be the first to be restored to God’s grace through these Paschal events: Peter, who would weep immediately at his denial of Jesus and later be able to confess, three times, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you”; Mary Magdalene, who would be the first to tell the beloved disciple and Peter of the empty tomb on Easter morning; the other disciples upon whom the risen Christ would breathe the peace of the Holy Spirit and ask that they forgive as they had been forgiven; Thomas, who would overcome his doubt to make an astounding profession of faith, “My Lord and my God”!

Second, these events of Jesus’ Last Supper, his Passion, death, and resurrection are a continuation (and a fulfillment) of how God has always acted in history toward us, especially in response to our sin, our lack of recognition of our original state of divine blessing. Whenever we have sinned, God has not waited to begin the process of restoring us to his grace and friendship.

From the moment Adam and Eve first sinned by eating the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden, God did not wait to promise that the woman’s offspring would crush the serpent, the Satan, the prince of deceit and evil. God would put an end to all evil, all corruption from our original state of divine blessing.

We have heard tonight from Exodus part of the long epic of how God guided the people of Israel through forty years of wandering through the desert wilderness, from slavery under Pharaoh in Egypt to the land God promised them. These people of Israel were so often not exactly worthy to be delivered from slavery, from wandering through the wilderness, as God did for them many times. The people of Israel would sin. They would complain about everything. They would test God. They would worship false gods, not the God constantly working to save them. Yet today we hear the high point of the Exodus story, Israel’s deliverance story: When God struck down the firstborn of Egypt but (literally) passed over the people of Israel, allowing them to live and continue their escape from slavery.

And tonight we have heard the fulfillment of the first Passover through the second, which began with Jesus Christ gathering his disciples for a Last Supper before he died. Jesus gives us in this renewed Passover a new commandment, “an example,” a mandate for us that gives this celebration its old name of Maundy Thursday, mandate Thursday: “That you should also do as I have done for you.”

What has Jesus done for us that is so radical, such a fulfillment of the first Passover, and why has he done this for us? He has started by washing feet, which we will remember in a few moments by replicating in this celebration. John’s Last Supper account starts with Jesus taking the place of a slave before his disciples. This act is startling to his disciples, to Peter, who refuses at first to allow Jesus to lower himself to that level.

But this is only the beginning. Jesus will go so far as to take upon himself all our sin, everything that obscures our view, our recognition of the beauty, the grace, the blessing with which God first created us, and have it nailed to a cross with him on Calvary. Tomorrow we will hear the prophet Isaiah’s foretelling of how, on Good Friday, Jesus accepted being made as one “despised and rejected… as one from whom others hide their faces” and who hold “him of no account.”

Jesus would do none of this for us, for our salvation, because we are worthy. On the contrary! But Jesus once gathered his disciples together for a Last Supper. The next day, “he was crucified, died, and was buried… And on the third day he rose again.” Jesus did all this because, no matter whether we recognize our blessedness, our beauty, the image and likeness of God that we all bear, how much God loves each and all of us (so that he, God in Jesus Christ, would die for us!), God will always recognize all this in us. To Jesus, we will always be like the figure Leonardo da Vinci painted as Jesus. We will always be, as maybe one of my favourite Psalm in the Bible (Psalm 8) begins by describing us, “little less than gods.”

And, through this celebration of Holy Thursday of the Lord’s Supper, Jesus only asks of us two things: First, remember what he has done for us on this night. And, second, do as he does: “Do this in remembrance of me”… “You should also do as I have done to you.” We remember and we do for one another as Jesus has done for us when we remember our blessedness, God’s love for us. We remember and fulfill Jesus’ Last Supper commandment to us when we recognize ourselves and one another as Jesus recognizes us perfectly. We remember and fulfill Jesus’ Last Supper commandment when we act on what we recognize, most fundamentally, in ourselves and one another: A people blessed from the first moments of our creation; a people created in and bearing God’s image and likeness (as in a da Vinci painting, but much more beautiful!); a people called to take, eat, and drink of this Last Supper of friendship, of salvation, of God’s self-emptying, of the blessing of our Lord.

Homily for Sunday, 22 February 2015

1st Sunday in Lent

Readings of the day: Genesis 9:8-15; Psalm 25:4-5, 6-7, 8-9; 1 Peter 3:18-22; Mark 1:12-15

What are some of the things we do during Lent? Maybe Lent is a time for us to focus more deeply on prayer. Maybe during Lent we might commit more intently to ministry to and with the poor; the sick; the elderly; the homeless; the homebound; others in need. Maybe the Lenten discipline of abstaining especially from meat on Fridays may help us to grow spiritually. Then again, meat-free Lenten Fridays are a light penance for me. I look forward in particular to our parish’s Fish Fry every Friday during Lent. I like fish, but even more I enjoy meeting and being with all of us, the people of St. Kateri Parish. And I enjoy supporting our parish’s Boy Scouts by whose generosity we have our Fish Fry every Friday during Lent.

Maybe during Lent we might give up something other than just meat on Fridays, like sweets, coffee, or social media… One year, before I became a Basilian, my roommates suggested that I give up puns for Lent. This was a heavy penance for me; my roommates probably lamented that it was only for forty days!

All these Lenten activities are excellent, especially if they help to deepen our relationships with one another and with God: Works of mercy and justice; increased commitment to prayer; abstaining from meat on Fridays during Lent, and possibly giving up something else we enjoy but that is not essential to us. But, even if we do all these activities during Lent, what if we were to focus simply on remembering more profoundly God’s loving kindness; God’s saving, sustaining presence in our everyday lives?

The people of ancient Israel; the people of the Bible had a special word for God’s loving, kind action toward us and our responsibility, in light of God’s loving kindness toward us, to act with loving kindness toward one another. This word is “covenant.” 

Several times we hear this word, “covenant,” in our first reading today from the Book of Genesis. God calls “Noah and… his sons” out of the ark after the Great Flood, and then immediately makes a covenant with them and “every living creature” that has survived the flood. “I will establish my covenant with you,” God says to all who were on the ark. The rainbow will be “the sign… for all ages to come of the covenant between” God and Noah “and every living creature” for all time. Nothing, especially no flood, will ever destroy this new covenant God has made with all creation. “I will recall the covenant I have made,” God promises.

But what is a covenant? Is it some kind of contract? Perhaps we might understand a covenant as a contract. Many of the Biblical covenants between God and the people are written like contracts: God makes a promise to bless and to save the people; the people are responsible for keeping God’s commandments; for remaining faithful to their end of the bargain with God in return. If the people fail to remain faithful to God, they may incur a curse or destruction, like a forty-day flood!

But a covenant is more than just a contract. Imagine us signing on a line for the following: Divine parts and labor: Salvation of humankind and all creation. Cost: Infinity dollars, plus applicable taxes and unwavering faithfulness to God’s commandments; ark building materials sold separately; available while supplies last.

Fortunately for us, a covenant is more than this. But what is a covenant, among ourselves or between us and God, if not merely a contract? We might look to the sacraments as signs of what covenant means, especially for us as Christians. Sacraments are signs to us, much like the rainbow was to Noah, of God’s loving and kind presence to us; God’s saving and sustaining care for all of creation.

Do any of us remember when, a few years ago, concern about legal re-definition of marriage and the rate of marriage breakdown in this country led our sisters and brothers in some Protestant traditions to enter into so-called “covenant marriages”? Their concern was that our society understands marriage too much as a limited, breakable legal contract and not enough as an unbreakable covenant bond; a sign of something even more than wife and husband give to one another in a marriage. We might call this “something more” God’s presence; sustenance; strength; grace; loving kindness. “Covenant marriages” (I think rightly) struck at our social reduction of marriage to a mere contract. My concern is that they fell into this same trap of reducing marriage to a mere contract and so have not really solved this ongoing social problem.

Is not marriage a covenant relationship, not only a one-time contract offer on the wedding day but lived throughout a married couple’s life together? The same might be said of all our Church’s sacraments: They are visible signs of our relationship with God and with one another. Our sacraments are visible signs of God’s present, loving, and saving kindness toward us and all creation. Here we celebrate together one of these visible signs of God’s presence and loving kindness; of covenant relationship, our Eucharist.

In the same way, our second reading from the First Letter of Peter speaks to us of baptism in terms of covenant. “A few persons… were saved by water”; by the flood in Noah’s time. Now we are all offered salvation in Jesus Christ by baptism into Christ’s suffering, death, and resurrection. Baptism is not just a one-time contract with God. It is our entrance into covenant relationship with God and with one another, the Church. It is our entrance into the life of “the Kingdom of God” that our Gospel reading today says is “at hand,” here and now. We enter into this relationship with God and with one another in baptism and in every sacrament; a relationship through which God’s loving kindness is made present through our community of faith.

Baptism, like any sacrament, is not a mere contract. It is more than a contract. Indeed, I think a covenant relationship is more difficult for us to maintain, let alone to understand, than an ordinary contract. All is well if we honor the terms of a contract. And if we do not honor the terms of a contract, we may pay a penalty. In Biblical terms, we might (although I believe instances of this are rare) be cursed or destroyed. 

Try as we might, we cannot break the covenant we have now with God; the covenant God has made with all of creation. But what can we do to honor this covenant relationship with God and with one another? What does God invite us to do to honor this covenant?

God invites us simply to remember our covenant relationship with him and with one another; to remember that God is always faithful to this relationship: “I will recall the covenant I have made,” God promises. God invites us to remember and to be confident in God’s mercy for the times we fail to live up to the same covenant.

This remembrance of covenant is the high point of our Mass. We hear the words of Jesus in our Eucharistic Prayer: “Do this in remembrance of me.” And then our Eucharistic Prayer continues in remembrance of “the saving Passion of [God’s] Son, his wondrous Resurrection and Ascension into heaven” and our looking “forward to his second coming.”

We remember covenant, not a mere contract. We remember; we celebrate; we live this covenant with God and as one community of faith. We remember especially through our sacraments: Visible signs of covenant; visible signs of God’s loving kindness; of God’s sustaining, caring, saving presence to us and to all of creation.

Homily for Saturday, 15 November 2014– Memorial Mass, Holy Sepulchre Cemetery

Readings of the day: Wisdom 3:1-6, 9; Psalm 23; Colossians 3:1-4; Luke 23:44-49, 24:1-6

This homily was given during the monthly memorial Mass at the Christ our Light Mausoleum Chapel of Holy Sepulchre Cemetery, Rochester, NY.

“Why do you search for the Living One among the dead”?

Whenever I hear these words from Luke’s Gospel, spoken by the “two men in dazzling garments” at the tomb of Jesus to the women who had gone with burial spices for Jesus’ body, I am always deeply moved. How would the women at Jesus’ tomb have responded to the men’s presence and to these words? How would we respond, if we were in the women’s place?

In one word, our Gospel reading captures the women’s reaction to encountering the “two men in dazzling garments”: The women are “terrified.” Their terror is understandable; they had just witnessed our Lord’s horrible suffering and death on a cross. They had stood “at a distance watching everything.” This was the end for somebody they had considered Lord and friend.

I wonder if they were any less terrified after the men’s words that came next: “He is not here; he has been raised up.” What the men say is incredible; the dead do not simply rise from their tombs in the flesh! But then, while the women; these first witnesses to Jesus’ resurrection are terrified and probably unconvinced that Jesus “has been raised up,” the men ask the women to do something. What do the men ask the women to do? “Remember what he said to you while he was still in Galilee.” Remember how Jesus said that he would suffer, die, and rise again.

“Remember.”

Is this not why we are here in this chapel of Christ our Light Mausoleum; here at Holy Sepulchre for our monthly memorial Mass? We remember. Most if not all of us remember a loved one who has gone to God before us; perhaps a loved one buried here in this place. It is a tremendous act of courage to be here amid the sadness; the confusion; even the terror of death to remember. For your courage I and the Church thank you; we pray for you, for your consolation. And at the same time we remember…

We remember that “first day of the week, at dawn,” when the women at Jesus’ tomb heard the news from the “two men in dazzling garments”: “He is not here; he has been raised up.” We do not remember Jesus’ resurrection because it was a one-time event. We remember because in Jesus’ resurrection is the same promise of resurrection to eternal life for every one of us. These are the words we will hear in a few moments at the beginning of our Eucharistic prayer, as gifts of bread and wine are brought to the altar to be transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ: “In [Christ] the hope of blessed resurrection has dawned, that those saddened by the certainty of dying might be consoled by the promise of immortality to come.” Christ’s resurrection is our hope of resurrection. That first “dawn,” “the first day of the week,” is our first dawn, our promise of eternal life with our loving God. This is why we are here. We remember.

We remember, in the words of our first reading from the Book of Wisdom, our loved ones who are loved by God; who have gone to be with our loving God. We remember that “they are at peace.” We remember that are loved ones are among “those who trust in” God. What does the Book of Wisdom say about our loved ones who have trusted in God; who await their resurrection from the dead? Wisdom says that “those who trust in him shall understand truth, and the faithful shall abide with him in love, because grace and mercy are with his holy ones, and his care is with his elect.” This we remember.

While we celebrate the entry of our loved ones into eternal life and hope for the same eternal life for ourselves, we remember in the words of St. Paul to the Colossians: Our beloved have been “raised up in company with Christ” and “when Christ our life appears,” we “shall appear with him in glory.” Remember…

Let us remember, as we celebrate our departed loved ones with this memorial Mass, the act of courage that has brought us here. We remember the Lord who “is our shepherd… from death into life” as we pray this response to our Psalm. Let us remember this amid our sadness; our loss; our grieving, when we “walk in the dark valley.” God is with us. Our loved ones are with God, whose “rod and staff give [us] courage” in these difficult times.

We are not a people who “search for the Living One among the dead.” We remember that our Lord Jesus “is not here; he has been raised up.” Our loved ones have also “been raised up.” We, too, will be “raised up” after our Lord Jesus Christ. This is the promise given to us by our Lord “while he was still in Galilee”; while he walked this earth among us. We do not “search for the Living One among the dead.” We are here, the living ones among the living ones, in the real presence of the Living One; those raised from the dead together with those awaiting the same promise of resurrection. This is why we are gathered here. This is the purpose of our memorial Mass.

We remember.