Showing posts with label Teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teaching. Show all posts

Thursday, August 23, 2018

Homily for Friday, 24 August 2018‒ Feast of St. Bartholomew

Friday of the 20th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Revelation 21:9b-14; Psalm 145:10-11, 12-13, 17-18; John 1:45-51

This homily was given at St. James Church, Vernon, BC, Canada.

What is the difference between a disciple and an apostle, and how are these related to each other? Please forgive me for a somewhat academic beginning to my reflection here but, for most of the year, I live in Paris as a doctoral student and, when I am not in Paris, I teach theology courses at St. Joseph’s College at the University of Alberta in Edmonton.

A disciple, from the Greek origin of this word, is a student. We might think of related words like “discipline,” which can mean either the necessary focus on a specific area of study, or the area of study itself. The simplest, most literal meaning of an apostle, again a word of Greek origin, is one who is sent out.

I like to think of my experience as a priest; in ministry; as a Christian as one of combining roles as a disciple and an apostle, a student drawn in to learn from experts and then one who is sent out to serve, to teach, and to draw other people to Jesus Christ. We hear today from John’s Gospel about the encounters between Philip and Nathanael and then Nathanael and Jesus, how Philip and Nathanael combine roles as disciples and apostles.

John introduces Philip to us as a newly-called disciple. He is Jesus’ newest student, and he is a straight-A student! Philip is quick to understand that his role will not only be a passive one as Jesus’ student, but an active one, an apostolic one, of seeking and attracting other disciples to the Lord. And so Philip immediately finds Nathanael, one whose standout characteristic is transparency: “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit,” Jesus says later about Nathanael.

This new student in Jesus’ class, Nathaniel, is the type of person who is honest enough to ask questions that the other students and even the teacher may not want to hear but need to hear, like, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth”? Nathaniel’s question does not faze Philip, who understands Nathanael’s quality of character and fitness to be a disciple and then an apostle. “Come and see,” Philip says to Nathanael. Come and be a disciple of this Jesus of Nazareth, “about whom Moses wrote in the law and also the prophets wrote.”

Nathanael, to his credit, takes up Philip’s invitation to be Jesus’ disciple. He starts, as Philip did, as Jesus’ disciple, at a “come and see” invitation, and Jesus transforms him, as he did Philip, into an apostle: “You will see greater things than these.” It is almost as though Jesus says to Nathaniel, “Not only will you see greater things than what you are experiencing now, but I will send you out to attract still more people to these greater things; to God; to eternal life.”

Jesus and Philip the Apostle extend to us the same invitation as they once did Nathanael: First, “come and see,” and then go, be sent out to attract still more disciples to Christ. Seek out and attract those who will, without deceit, ask a difficult but necessary question in today’s world: “What good can come out of the Church; out of being a Christian today”? And then may we be the good that attracts to Christ good people, disciples who will be formed by Christ through us into apostles; people who will “come and see” and then be sent out ourselves to serve the Lord.

Sunday, July 29, 2018

Homily for Sunday, 29 July 2018

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: 2 Kings 4:42-44; Psalm 145:10-11, 15-16, 17-18; Ephesians 4:1-6; John 6:1-15

This homily was given at St. Joseph's College, Edmonton, AB, Canada. 

How often have we heard the same basic story or account of an event take on variations in smaller details over time, while still preserving the main point or truth, the more often it is re-told? Those of us who are parents, older siblings, aunts, uncles, or otherwise relatives or caregivers to young children: When we read that bedtime story for the fiftieth time, might we not improvise a small variation, or perhaps add voices to various characters in the story, which we had not added the previous forty-nine times we had read the story? I have done this when I have cared for small children, especially now my niece and nephews. Anybody among us who is a teacher: Have we ever varied some details of our teaching, each time we teach the same material, to direct greater attention toward the main point we are teaching? Have teachers ever used this technique with any of us when we have been students?

The basic structure of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes account we hear today from John’s Gospel is old and frequently-repeated. Even within the Gospels, the multiplication of the loaves and fishes appears twice each in Matthew and Mark, once in Luke, and once in John. It must have been especially memorable among the earliest disciples of Jesus, because this is the only one of Jesus’ miracles to figure in all four Biblical Gospels. And yet, each time it appears in the Gospels, some details of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes differ slightly from other accounts of the same event: In two variations of the account, four thousand men, in addition to women and children are fed; in others, Jesus feeds five thousand. In two accounts, the disciples bring seven loaves and “a few small fish,” whereas other versions specify five loaves and two fish. John’s Gospel has not Jesus’ disciples but a boy bring the loaves and fish to Jesus.

And this multiplication of food motif is not limited to the Gospels. We hear of a similar event today in the second Book of Kings, in which Elisha orders his servant to feed “a hundred people” with the “twenty loaves of barley and fresh ears of grain in his sack.” I wonder: When Jesus multiplied the loaves and fishes to feed thousands, would the people he fed have said, “Wait, is this not like what Elisha did years ago, only there are more people here than when Elisha fed the hundred, and today Jesus started with fewer loaves than Elisha did, and a few fish”?

Would the people Jesus fed have recognized him through the multiplication as a kind of prophetic miracle-worker, like Elisha but maybe even greater than him? With the many repetitions in the Gospels of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes, would Jesus have multiplied the loaves and fishes only once, or several times, whenever he had great crowds following him who had become tired and hungry and were out of food? Why the differences in detail of this multiplication of food motif, from 2 Kings to the Gospels, and from one Gospel to another? Are these differences in detail, while maintaining the basic structure of the story each time, due to the different Biblical authors arranging and then re-telling this event in their own way and each for their own purpose or to their own particular audiences?

I would answer “Yes” to all these questions, but then what does it matter if details change from one account of a feeding of the multitudes to the next, as long as a central truth or message is present across the many versions of this story? And if there is a central truth or message across all the repetitions of this multiplication of food event in our Scriptures, what is it?

Let me suggest that a key starting point for us in drawing a consistent central message; a central truth from the multiplication and feeding episodes in 2 Kings and in John is that both events begin with a free gift from God. In both cases, even what appears to be insufficient food for the size of the crowd is already God’s gift to the people; to us, before the food is miraculously multiplied.

If we think in logical, mathematical terms, might we be tempted to question why, in 2 Kings, twenty loaves would not be enough for one hundred people? After all, this would be one-fifth of a loaf per person. Depending on how large and dense the loaves were, should this not have been enough to satisfy one hundred people? And yet, in John’s multiplication of the loaves and fishes, we have the opposite problem if we think mathematically: Five loaves and two fish would give each of the five thousand people one-thousandth of a loaf of bread and one-twenty-five-hundredth of a fish… Unless they were big fish, it would seem that God was being mighty stingy with the people following Jesus that day!

But, if we think in these mathematical terms, we lose track of the key truth of both multiplication and feeding accounts: Both are centered not on the multiplication and feeding actions of Elisha and then Jesus, but on God’s free gift that is present beforehand, so that the multiplication of food and feeding of the people can take place at all.

In the historical context of 2 Kings, the man who brings “food from the first fruits to Elisha” is most likely somebody concerned with bringing an amount of food, the “twenty loaves of barley and fresh ears of grain,” set by the religious custom of Israel as the appropriate amount of one’s food stores for a sacrifice to God. Somebody recognized as godly, like Elisha, would be the ideal person to offer the servant’s food sacrifice to God.

Surprisingly to Elisha’s servant and maybe to us, though, Elisha asks his servant not to offer his food, which in fact is God’s gift to him, back to God through Elisha as a burnt sacrifice, but to the hundred hungry people. Only when Elisha’s servant trusts God enough to obey Elisha does the initially small amount of food the servant had been carrying become more than enough to feed the one hundred people. In other words, whenever we receive a free gift from another person, or especially from God, we are given the responsibility in turn to use this gift for the greatest good possible, not only for ourselves or in religious devotion or worship (as good as devotion and worship are), but for one another, especially those most vulnerable and in need of our material goods, our presence, and our service.

Our use of the gifts we receive for the greatest good, especially of one another, necessitates growth in trust toward the gift-giver, in this case God. As we pray in our Psalm response today, God opens his “hand to feed us; [to] satisfy all our needs.” And although God could feed and satisfy us all by himself, God chooses to give us the freedom and the ability to receive God’s gifts and then to make them even more abundant for one another. We then become the gift from God to one another.

This movement from initial gift or “first fruits,” to the gift recipient trusting in God, to the gift being multiplied beyond our wildest imagination, to our becoming the gift is shown as much in our reading from John today as in 2 Kings. In John’s Gospel, the Apostles Philip and Andrew take the place of Elisha’s servant of 2 Kings. Philip and then Andrew size up the crowd and their amount of food. Of course, the amount of food is too little for the size of the crowd, until Jesus rhetorically and yet ever-so-gently draws Philip and Andrew beyond their purely logical thinking toward trust that God will miraculously satisfy the five thousand people. And then Jesus makes Philip, Andrew, and his other disciples his greatest gift to the people. Jesus gives his disciples a central part in his miracle: “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.”

Insofar as we trust in God to “satisfy all our needs” and ultimately to bring us to salvation, God gives us a part in his sustaining, saving miracle of which this Eucharistic celebration is a sign, a sacrament. In this way, God sends us forth to be his gift, to gather in the abundance, so that nothing and nobody may be lost.

Monday, July 23, 2018

Homily for Monday, 23 July 2018– Ferial

Monday of the 16th Week in Ordinary Time


Optional Memorial of St. Bridget of Sweden

Readings of the day: Micah 6:1-4, 6-8; Psalm 50:5-6, 8-9, 16bc-17, 21, 23; Matthew 8:18-22

This homily was given at the Kateri House Women's Residence Chapel at St. Joseph's College, Edmonton, AB, Canada.


What is the minimal requirement for something, anything?

I am now into my third summer here at St. Joseph’s College as a sessional instructor. A significant part of any course outline I prepare details the minimal requirements for the course: Which courses students must complete, if any, before taking my course, the assignments required in the course and what percentage of the final grade each assignment is worth, and so forth.

Today, the prophet Micah imagines the people of Israel complaining to God that they do not know what God expects of them. Micah structures this section of his book as a trial speech or dialogue, in which God is the defendant and the people of Israel are the plaintiffs. The people of Israel, in Micah’s time, are being overrun by more powerful nations surrounding Israel and, as Micah and other prophets warn Israel, are about to be overtaken completely and taken into exile in Babylon.

But Israel protests to God through Micah: You say we must change our ways; that our sacrifices of “burnt offerings, with calves a year old” are not enough to stave off conquest and exile. What, then, God, do you require of us? What is required to pass this course, and how much is the final exam worth?

In these kinds of trial speeches, which are fairly common in the prophetic books of the Bible, an important feature is that, when the plaintiff begins by presenting the case against the defendant, in this case God, immediately the defendant has a chance to defend himself. In our reading today from Micah, God does just that against the charge of being unclear to the people of Israel as to God’s ethical expectations of them in order not to be exiled to Babylon.

We hear God say essentially through Micah that he has done everything to uphold and save the people of Israel in their worst moments in history, and now the onus is on Israel to behave ethically, especially by defending the dignity of the most vulnerable and in need of this land, Israel, God has given them. “I brought you up from the land of Egypt, and redeemed you from the house of slavery; and I sent before you Moses, Aaron, and Miriam,” God pleads with the people of Israel. What more could Israel want from God?

As an instructor, if I were challenged on clarity of requirements in my course, I might be tempted to say to a student: “The requirements for the course are in the syllabus. Please download and read it”! Might we imagine God saying, “The ethical requirements to avoid exile have been made clear by the example of my relationship, called a covenant, with you in history.”

And yet, as in many prophetic trial speeches and like a good instructor in class, God patiently and repeatedly answers the people’s questions as to what is required of them: “To do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.” God is our living example of justice, kindness, and humility; of doing more than what is minimally required of us. God is just, kind, and humble (which is always poignant to me, because how often do we think of God as humble?). God’s lived example to us of how to behave ethically is better than any course outline on paper could ever be.