Homily for Tuesday, 20 June 2017– Ferial

Tuesday of the 11th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: 2 Corinthians 8:1-9; Psalm 146:2, 5-6ab, 6c-7, 8-9a; Matthew 5:43-48

Is there anybody here who is comfortable speaking about money, especially asking other people to give generously of their hard-earned money, even to worthy causes? I cannot speak for our other priests and staff of St. Kateri; I am only able to speak for myself. But I sense that, whenever we need to ask for added money contributions from St. Kateri parishioners, this is not one of the things we feel most comfortable doing, mostly because we recognize how generous so many of us already are.

In this part of 2 Corinthians from which we hear today, St. Paul is speaking of a collection that was taken up from the other Christian communities of the world to send to the church in Jerusalem, which was extremely poor at the time. St. Paul, like many if not all of us today, felt some unease at having to ask the other Christian communities for money to support Jerusalem.

Yet St. Paul speaks to the Christians of Corinth, a very wealthy church at the time, of the spontaneous generosity of another church, that of Macedonia, toward Jerusalem. Macedonia was neither extremely rich nor extremely poor, although it had its significant challenges and even “a severe test of affliction” from time to time. Despite not having much excess wealth, the Macedonian church begs Paul and his companions “insistently for the favor of taking part” in the collection to help Jerusalem.

My sisters and brothers of St. Kateri, I wonder if we here are more like the Macedonians and less like the Corinthians of St. Paul’s time. There are quite wealthy people, and some quite poor people, in our parish. But most of us are neither extremely wealthy nor extremely poor. We here at mainly “middle class” St. Kateri, as in “middle class” Macedonia of St. Paul’s time, have an opportunity here; a calling here to generosity with the resources we have.

And by resources, I do not mean only money or material wealth. Amid St. Paul’s appeal to Corinth to be like Macedonia, except much wealthier, in supporting Jerusalem, he also sends them Titus, whose mission it was to direct the Jerusalem relief effort; the collection in Corinth. I imagine Titus’ mission in Corinth was a difficult one, unless (and I imagine not) he was the type of person who was comfortable asking people for money.

In a few weeks, we at St. Kateri will welcome a new Parochial Vicar, Fr. Michael, in place of Fr. Morgan who is beloved of many people here, and rightly so. Might Fr. Michael be like St. Kateri’s latest Titus? Not only are we invited to be generous with our material resources, but also with our welcome of a new voice; a new (to us here) priest; a new way of preaching and living the Word of God, and so forth. As the Macedonians were generous toward Jerusalem in a way that was an example to other Christian communities, and as St. Paul called the Corinthians to receive Titus with generosity and love as he was entrusted with a difficult message and mission to them, may we ever be an example to everybody around us, to other parishes, of generosity and love, by “the grace of God.”

Homily for Friday, 25 December 2015– Nativity of the Lord

Readings of the day (for Christmas Mass at Night): Isaiah 9:1-6; Psalm 96:1-2, 2-3, 11-12, 13; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-14

This homily was given at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Parish, Sherwood Park, AB, Canada.

From the prophet Isaiah we hear tonight [this morning]: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness‒ on them light has shone.” And from Luke’s Gospel we hear of shepherds, about to travel to Bethlehem to meet our newborn Saviour, Jesus Christ. These shepherds are “keeping watch over their flocks by night” when their night watch is interrupted by “an angel of the Lord” who announces Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem, “City of David.” Their night watch is interrupted by “the glory of the Lord” that shines “around them.” And we hear from Luke that these shepherds “were terrified” at this light breaking into the darkness surrounding them.

And yet is this not what our celebration of Christmas is all about: light breaking into; interrupting our darkness? Yet, unlike the shepherds outside Bethlehem on the night of Jesus’ birth or the people of Israel of Isaiah’s time, I imagine not many of us are terrified at light taking the place of darkness. In fact we celebrate it; we celebrate him, Jesus Christ, with a joyous song of thanksgiving: “Today is born our Saviour, Christ the Lord”… “A child has been born to us, a son given to us… He is named Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

We celebrate the Birth of “our Saviour, Christ the Lord,” in many ways. We celebrate by gathering together with family and friends. We celebrate by decorating our homes and often our workplaces and public spaces. We celebrate by exchanging gifts. Very importantly we celebrate by gathering here as a community of faith; a People of God to worship. Most of us here are anything but terrified.

But how many of us have experienced darkness as a reality deeper than physical, literal darkness? I think that here, in the centre of Alberta, we are somewhat privileged. We live far enough north to experience Christmas as near the shortest day of the year. I am now living and studying in Paris, France, and so on my way home to visit family here I have been keeping a close eye on the weather in the Edmonton area over the last few days, maybe like those shepherds near Bethlehem so many years ago, but for more selfish reasons: I wanted to be prepared for any extreme weather on my way here. Now, I expect cold weather in Alberta at this time of year. But in the corner of my computer screen, a reminder of the shortness of late December days here would stare me back in the face: Sunrise 8:50 am; sunset 4:15 pm. I love you, Alberta; even at your darkest and coldest you are my home; our home!

And still, amid not even seven and a half hours of sunlight each day this time of year, at Christmas we celebrate. The sun is unconquered by darkness. The unconquered Son of God, Jesus Christ, also promises to return. Christ promises once again to break into and interrupt our darkness, as he did more than two thousand years ago, to complete God’s work of our salvation at the end of time.

We celebrate, even though Christmas brings many of us face-to-face not with joy and light, but with our world’s darkness and, for some of us, the darkness in our families and among our loved ones and in our own experiences. Our world faces an unprecedented number of refugees and of people displaced within their own countries by violence and persecution: A record sixty million people worldwide who have been forced to flee their homes! More wars begin than end in our world today. The dignity of all human life; of creation is so often disregarded. This has led even the ever-joyful Pope Francis to lament recently that our world’s violence threatens to reduce our celebration of Christmas to a kind of charade!

But this does not need to be. Our celebration of Christmas, of Christ’s Nativity, has meaning if we renew here and now the Biblical call to welcome refugees and migrants; people who experience physical, mental, or spiritual illness; people who have lost family members or loved ones; people living in poverty; the unemployed; people with disabilities; people who are alone, without family or loved ones with whom to celebrate Christmas; people who are estranged from our Church... This parish, Our Lady of Perpetual Help, is a place where all these people are supported and given dignity. OLPH has sponsored refugee families. Through a wide variety of ministries OLPH supports the economically disadvantaged; the bereaved; those who are alone; those who are searching in their lives of faith. Here the heart of the Christmas message is lived out.

And our celebration of Christmas is meaningful as long as we do our best, knowing our imperfections; even our sin; our darkness, but also the light of God’s grace and mercy, “to live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly,” in St. Paul’s words to Titus. Our Christmas celebration finds meaning in our response to God’s call to welcome all who are on the same pilgrim’s path that we are all on, back to a manger scene in Bethlehem and forward to Christ’s return in glory.

Luke’s Gospel renews this call to us today by the simple remark that, when Jesus was born into our world, Mary and Joseph “laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” There was no place amid the darkness of our world for our Saviour. In fact our world would reject its Saviour. Life that began in a manger would be nailed to a cross, in the greatest act of darkness and sin ever known. Yet even death would not stop Jesus Christ, the Light of our world. The manger, a place beneath human dignity where animals fed, would be transformed into a place where our God entered our world in human flesh from the Virgin Mary’s womb. The cross, a place beneath human dignity where common criminals were publicly tortured and killed, would be transformed into a place where our God gave his very life to save us. Likewise, are we allowing our lives, our experiences of light, goodness, and peace but also of darkness and sin, any experiences we have that are beneath our human dignity, to be places into which Christ is welcome? Are our hearts the “inns” into which Christ enters to transform; to redeem us?

Sure, our lives; our hearts probably are not, even by some of our own standards, fit to welcome the King of the Universe; our God. Fear not! Jesus is not asking us for a five-star hotel. After all, he first entered our world “wrapped… in swaddling clothes,” lying “in a manger.” Even there, in the darkness and stench of a manger, Jesus brought light. Even there, Jesus brought peace. Even there, Jesus calmed the fears of the shepherds who left their flocks and fields at the invitation of an angel, an invitation that left them “terrified” at first, to welcome Jesus into our world. Even there, from a manger, Jesus brought heaven and earth, angels and all “people of good will” to joyful song, a song we still hear in our world today; a song we still hear from the beginning of today’s celebration of our Eucharist: “Glory to God in the highest”!

Glory to Jesus Christ, Light of our world! Do we dare to join in this song of joy? Is our song too much of an interruption; a breaking into our world’s violence, hostility, and darkness for it to bear? Are we in need from time to time for Jesus to interrupt our own darkness with his light; his mercy? Is Jesus Christ; is his Gospel proclaimed and authentically lived in ways that are “self-controlled, upright, and godly” a danger to the security and comfort of some who would prefer to bar his way into our countries; our public spaces; our hearts; our relationships; our lives?

Yes, but this has yet to stop God in Christ. If Jesus must, he will enter as he has already entered our world in the deepest of darkness to bring us God’s own light. This is why Isaiah proclaims so boldly that  “the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light”; that “those who lived in a land of deep darkness‒ on them light has shone.”

And this is why today, on this Christmas night [morning], we sing just as boldly as of old to welcome the Light that interrupts and breaks through our world’s darkness: “Today is born our Saviour, Christ the Lord”… “A child has been born to us, a son given to us… He is named Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

Homily for Thursday, 25 December 2014– Nativity of the Lord

Readings of the day (for Christmas Mass at Night): Isaiah 9:1-6; Psalm 96:1-2, 2-3, 11-12, 13; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-14

Merry Christmas! “Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.” What is this “good news of great joy” that the angel once proclaimed to shepherds in a field, and that we still proclaim today, more than two thousand years later? Why do we still proclaim this “good news”?

Do not the answers to these questions seem obvious? The “good news of great joy” that the angel proclaimed to the shepherds, of which we hear in our Gospel reading, is the news of the birth of Jesus Christ, Son of God, our Lord. The birth of Jesus is for us the great sign of a promise God made to us long ago, in the prophet Isaiah’s words: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone.”

Why do we continue to proclaim this “good news of great joy” to this day? Is it not because, deep within every one of us, we believe that Jesus’ birth was not just a one-time event over two thousand years ago, but is significant for us here and now? The Son of God’s becoming human and Jesus’ birth has changed our world; has saved our world. “A Savior has been born for you who is Christ and Lord,” the angel says to the shepherds near Bethlehem.

“A Savior has been born” for us. And it is not the first time, nor will it be the last, when God keeps his promise to us, for our salvation; to lift us from darkness; from gloom; from sin; to shine the light of God’s own presence on our world. We wait for the fulfillment; the end goal of God’s promise for our salvation: The return of Jesus Christ among us at the end of time. And yet God is present among us now. God is saving us now. Deep within us, do we not believe this?

This belief is reason enough for us to proclaim, as an angel did more than two thousand years ago, “good news of great joy… for all the people.” I imagine that we all hold this belief deep within us: Jesus’ birth has changed our world; has saved our world. And God is still working in our world here and now to save us. I imagine this because I look out and see all of us here, gathered as one Church to celebrate the birth of our Lord Jesus. Were this event not world-changing; world-saving, would we be here? Surely we would not celebrate the birth of just any baby, for just any reason, over two thousand years in a manger.

We could find many reasons, some justifiable, not to be here. This is perhaps the busiest time of the year, not only at the stores and shopping malls. This is the time of year to receive family and friends; to give and to receive gifts; to prepare our homes by cleaning, cooking, and baking… Many of us will travel or have traveled long distances over these Christmas and New Year holidays. Many of us care for small children or elderly, sick, or homebound relatives, which can make it more difficult for us to attend Mass, even if it is Christmas.

Many of us mourn the loss of loved ones. Many more of us struggle to make ends meet. Still more of us may have been estranged from the Church for a long time; have had bad experiences with Christians; with the Church; with a priest or other leader of the Church. Others have simply drifted away from the Church. Many of us experience broken families and households. Some of us may question: What is the “good news of great joy” we are to proclaim at Christmas? What is the point?

For some of us, our world is mired in as much “darkness” and “gloom” as in Isaiah’s time or Jesus’ time. Nations continue to oppress one another as our Gospel reading says the Romans oppressed Jesus’ homeland in his time. Wars begin or continue. On the streets of our city and our nation there continues to be a divide between rich and poor; racism; violence.

And yet there is something or, better yet, somebody, who draws us, deep down, to this Eucharistic celebration; to “proclaim” once again “good news of great joy… for all… people”: “A Savior has been born” for us. And the birth of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour, has changed our world; has saved our world.

We proclaim this message because we believe it. Who am I to judge what aspect of our celebration has drawn each of us here today? For those of us who, for whatever reason, have been away from the Church, I am not here to judge you either. Let me simply welcome all of us to this celebration; to our proclamation of “good news of great joy.” Christ “has been born for” all of us; has redeemed all of us; has brought all of us, without exception, a chance at salvation.

But the birth of Jesus Christ is just the beginning of God’s saving work. God is saving us now; is changing our world now; saving our world and us now. Our Christmas proclamation of “good news of great joy” brings with it a challenging invitation to all of us: To participate in God’s work of our salvation that is at work in our midst now.

How might we participate in God’s work of salvation, here and now? How might we participate in bringing God’s work of salvation toward its goal, when Jesus Christ returns at the end of time? Our second reading, from the Letter to Titus, gives us some idea of how we might participate in God’s work of our own salvation. “Live temperately, justly, and devoutly in this age, as we await” Christ’s return.

Be “eager to do good,” we hear from the Letter to Titus. Build peace from the smallest of our actions to the greatest; from our hearts, to our homes, to our nation, to our world. Be kind to one another. Act and speak against divisiveness; gossip; any form of violence in speech or action. Protect and nurture life, from the yet to be born to the elderly and the sick in their last days. Encourage one another when we see one another acting faithfully, rightly, and justly. Pray for one another; we are participants in God’s work of salvation together.

Above all, “do not be afraid,” even if participation in God’s work of our salvation seems daunting. “Do not be afraid”: God’s work of our salvation, in which we participate; which we celebrate here today, is only beginning. It has begun with the proclamation of angels to shepherds near Bethlehem over two thousand years ago: “Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people… For today in the city of David a Savior has been born for you who is Christ and Lord.”

Today, in this city of Rochester; in this St. Kateri Parish and around the world, we ring out anew this same proclamation. We make it our own proclamation of “good news of great joy” by our words; our actions; our being here, participating in this celebration. Why? We proclaim this “good news of great joy” because, deep within us, we believe it. We participate in it. Through us, God’s people; Christ’s people, God is overcoming the darkness and gloom with light and salvation.

Beginning with the birth of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, and continuing through us until Jesus Christ returns in glory at the end of time, God has changed our world; has saved our world; is changing us; is saving us.

Homily for Monday, 10 November 2014– Memorial of St. Leo the Great

Monday of the 32nd Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Titus 1:1-9; Psalm 24:1b-2, 3-4ab, 5-6; Luke 17:1-6

What are essential qualities of a disciple of Jesus Christ; of a leader of disciples of Jesus Christ; a leader of the Church?

St. Paul lists several qualities for which Titus is to look in leaders of the Church. Our first reading is a kind of checklist of “must have” qualities of presbyters, the elders of a Christian community; people similar to our priests and experienced and faithful laypeople today. St. Paul presents a similar checklist of “must have” and “must not have” qualities of bishops.

I admit that this beginning of the Letter to Titus is a challenging message for me as a priest to hear. It is a good examination of conscience for me.

Our Gospel reading today from Luke asks only one thing, not only of leaders in the Church but for all of us disciples of Jesus Christ: Forgive one another, repeatedly if necessary. “If [somebody] wrongs you seven times in one day and returns to you seven times saying, ‘I am sorry,’ you should forgive him” or her.

Somehow I feel that this one essential quality of a Christian disciple, being forgiving, is the most difficult to live up to. I would prefer to be able to consult a checklist of qualities of a priest as in the Letter to Titus! Is it not even more difficult to forgive someone who has wronged us when the sincerity of their repentance is questionable? Is forgiveness not more difficult when the person who has wronged us is close to us: a friend; a co-worker; a parishioner; a priest; a family member?

In the confessional and beyond, I hear of many sins. But most distressing for me to hear is not sins that people have committed (sins can be absolved) but, on a few occasions, a lack of forgiveness. The “millstone… around” the necks of many faithful to which Jesus refers in our Gospel reading may be just this: A lack of forgiveness toward those who have wronged us; often toward ourselves.

Let me say this: If you have a millstone; if you are suffering because of sin for which you need to forgive yourself or another; if you have been dragging your millstone along for weeks, months, or years, I want your millstone! I want to start a collection of our millstones so that, by the grace and mercy of God and through the ministry of the Church I and my brother priests can absolve them; destroy these millstones; grant forgiveness; relieve suffering.

I ask one more thing of all of us here: Prayer. Pray for me; for my brother priests; for deacons; for Bishop Matano, Bishop Emeritus Clark, and their brother bishops together with Pope Francis and Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI. Pray for all leaders of our Church. Pray for one another, so that together we can be the most effective ministers of God’s forgiveness possible. Let us unburden one another of our millstones. The forgiveness our Gospel asks of us may be the most essential of all qualities of a leader of the Church and of any disciple of Jesus Christ.