Homily for Thursday, 8 June 2017– Ferial

Thursday of the 9th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Tobit 6:10-11, 7:1bcde, 9-17, 8:4-9a; Psalm 128:1-2, 3, 4-5; Mark 12:28-34

How many of us enjoy reading novels? I am more of a non-fiction than fiction reader, even when reading for pleasure, outside of studies or spiritual reading. And yet one of my brother Basilian priests I have lived with in community will often announce, as he is going to bed at night, that he will go and enjoy some of his “trashy novel” before falling asleep. Whether he is actually about to read a novel or the quality of the novel are irrelevant; the humorous effect of the “trashy novel” announcement is what matters.

The Book of Tobit is among a few legend or “novelette”-type books of the Bible. And, if I dare say, although I am no expert on Tobit, the more I read and pray with Tobit, the more this book fascinates me. Certainly Tobit is no “trashy novel”; it is a legendary yet profound story of love, of suffering, of mercy, and of God’s presence in all these events surrounding Tobit, his family, and his people of Israel who are in exile in Babylon.

Today, within the Book of Tobit, we are treated to what I think is one of the Bible’s most beautiful prayers: That of Sarah, daughter of Edna and Raguel, and Tobiah, son of Tobit, as they are about to go to bed on the night of their wedding. If we follow Tobit, we know that Sarah’s and Tobiah’s wedding night was no time for either of them to read themselves to sleep with a “trashy novel.” Sarah had been married seven times before marrying Tobiah. Each time, her husbands had been killed on their wedding night by the “demon Asmodeus.” And so, instead of reading themselves to sleep with novels of dubious quality (or, if this had taken place today, would they have watched television or been surfing the internet on their laptops, tablets, or smartphones?), Sarah and Tobiah pray together. “The angel Raphael,” whose name incidentally means, “God heals,” has already promised to protect Tobiah from meeting the same end as Sarah’s previous seven husbands.

Of course,  I have a special reason to love the prayer of Sarah and Tobiah that we hear today. A week from Saturday my sister Deanna and brother-in-law Tyler will celebrate ten years of marriage. The first reading they chose for their wedding celebration included the prayer of Sarah and Tobiah we hear today.

And so, especially for the married couples, future married couples, and everybody among us still discerning prayerfully a possible vocation to marriage, please let me echo the prayer of Sarah and Tobiah for you, perhaps several times between now and when I go to bed tonight. And I suggest that you pray this prayer for one another: “Blessed are you, O God of our fathers, praised be your name forever and ever.” May our God “who made Adam and… gave him his wife Eve to be his help and support” bless and keep our married couples and those who are engaged or discerning marriage. May they be strengthened and kept healthy and happy for the “noble purpose” of reflecting your face; your mercy; your love to one another in a world that often leaves our married and discerning couples feeling “alone,” against your will for your people, O Lord. “Call down your mercy upon” our current and future married couples, “and allow [them] to live together to a happy old age.”

“Amen, amen.”

Homily for Monday, 5 June 2017‒ Memorial of St. Boniface

Monday of the 9th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Tobit 1:3, 2:1a-8; Psalm 112:1b-2, 3b-4, 5-6; Mark 12:1-12

What do Tobit of the Biblical book named for him and of the first reading we have just heard, St. Boniface, a sister in a religious order, and (I hope and pray) we have in common?

I do not intend this question to be the beginning of a strange riddle. And yet might the Book of Tobit, and the reading we hear today from it, seem a bit strange if not morbid to us? Tobit is written in the form of a legend or “novelette.” I am not sure if anybody here is an expert on the Book of Tobit; I am certainly not. Tobit features “intrigue,  mysterious deaths, passionate love, and [even] a fish who heals.” Among books of the Bible, Tobit is quite a page turner!

Today we hear of a “kinsman” of Tobit and his son Tobiah who is found murdered at the hands of the Assyrian King Sennacherib, the enemy of Tobit’s and Tobiah’s people of Israel. When Tobit hears from Tobiah of the murder, he sets out to bury the person who has been killed. To bury the dead of Israel at the time of Assyrian control over Israel was punishable by death, and so by burying his kinsman Tobit was risking his own life. Also, not only does Tobit but himself in mortal danger by what we Catholics consider one of the corporal works of mercy, burying the dead, but he risks— and receives— mockery by his own people! Tobit’s neighbors say mockingly of him as he buries his dead countryman, “He is still not afraid”!

Some or many of us may know of the legend of St. Boniface, whose feast we celebrate today, and Thor’s oak tree. In the legend, Boniface is mocked by the pagan worshippers of the god Thor in what is now Germany. The pagans say to Boniface that, if he were to cut down Thor’s oak tree as he wishes to build a church dedicated to St. Peter, Thor will strike him dead. And so Boniface takes up their challenge. He cuts down Thor’s tree, aided by a gentle wind in finishing off the great oak, and he builds the church dedicated to St. Peter. The pagans find Boniface still alive, with the church built from the oak tree, and so they ask Boniface for Christian baptism. Boniface, like Tobit, was “not afraid,” whether of mockery or of the non-god Thor.

The sister in a religious order I spoke of at first is my maternal great aunt, Sr. Jeanne d’Arc Brunelle, a Holy Cross Sister who passed away this past November. Aunt Jeanne was a fine teacher (instruction, especially of those of weak or no faith, is for us a spiritual work of mercy). She taught in some of the most dangerous places in the world, like Haiti and Zaire (now the still-dangerous Democratic Republic of the Congo). She had a stint teaching biker gang members recently released from prison in Canada so that they might not return to lives of crime after their prison terms ended. Some of Aunt Jeanne’s greatest friends and protectors were those reformed gangsters! She, like Boniface and Tobit, was “not afraid.”

How do we fit in, then, among the likes of Tobit, St. Boniface, Sr. Jeanne d’Arc? What are we willing to risk to act with mercy; to build up the Church, one another, in our world that is still often chaotic and even violent: Martyrdom, or at least some ridicule; friendship with a few gangsters? Would that more people might mock us, for we are “still not afraid”!

Homily for Saturday, 6 June 2015– Ferial

Saturday of the 9th week in Ordinary Time

Optional Memorial: Our Lady's Saturday

Readings of the day: Tobit 12:1, 12-15, 20;  Responsorial Canticle: Tobit 13:2, 6efgh, 7, 8; Mark 12:38-44

Have you ever been helped or served by somebody and only after the fact found out who acted toward you with kindness? Have you ever done a hidden act of kindness for another person?

To act with kindness toward somebody without revealing to this person (at least not immediately) that you have done something kind toward her or him is difficult. I am not speaking primarily of those who boast to another that they have acted with kindness, as if to say, “Look at me! I was a great help to another person!”

Jesus cautions us in our Gospel reading against this kind of boasting. He condemns “the scribes who like to go around in long robes and accept greetings in the marketplaces, seats of honor in synagogues, and places of honor at banquets”; who “devour the houses of widows and, as a pretext, recite lengthy prayers.” Short of boasting of our kindness and seeking “greetings” and “places of honor,” are not the best acts of kindness those that are hidden? This is not to say that to keep our acts of kindness hidden is easy!

But our readings today give us examples of works of kindness in which the identity of the person acting with kindness is hidden, or at least not recognized at first. Today we near the end of the Old Testament story of Tobit and his family. Tobit’s son, Tobias, is happily married to Sarah. The angel Raphael, in disguise as a man, Azariah, sets up this wedding of Tobias and Sarah by accompanying Tobias to the home of Sarah’s parents Raguel and Edna to ask them to marry Sarah.

But Raphael does not take credit for his gift of company; friendship; even some instances of healing from illness on the journey. Until late in today’s reading; late in the Book of Tobit, Raphael does not even reveal who he is. Instead, when Tobias pays Raphael a handsome “bonus” for traveling with him, Raphael asks Tobias to thank not him but God. “Give [God] the praise and the glory. Before all the living, acknowledge the many good things [God] has done for you.”

And are not most if not all of us familiar with Jesus’ observation of the people contributing to “the temple treasury”? The “many rich people” who “put in large sums” to the temple treasury are not doing anything wrong. Yet, Jesus says, the “poor widow” who puts “in two small coins” makes the greatest contribution of all, because her contribution is hidden.

It is hidden beneath the large sums contributed by the rich who are able to give more. The widow’s contribution is hidden beneath even her poverty. “Poor” is not her true identity; “blessed by God” is. Her true identity is hidden beneath many layers: Her poverty; the wealth of the “many rich people”; cultural and religious expectations of both social classes.

Likewise, for us to be seen doing acts of kindness is not wrong. Sometimes to keep our kindness entirely hidden is difficult if impossible. So what does God ask of us? At least (after the example today of Raphael), give thanks to God for the opportunities we have to act kindly. And, if we have the opportunity to act kindly toward somebody in a hidden way, take this opportunity.

Homily for Thursday, 4 June 2015– Ferial

Thursday of the 9th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Tobit 6:10-11, 7:1bcde,  9-17, 8:4-9a; Psalm 128:1-2, 3, 4-5; Mark 12:28-34

If you were able to pray for anything you could imagine, for what would you pray?

Our Gospel reading today, from Mark, centers on the most important of Jewish prayers. It is called “Shema” in Hebrew for its first words, “Shema Yisrael”: Hear, O Israel, the LORD is God and the LORD is one. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.” To this commandment to love God with our entire being Jesus joins the commandment, also from the Jewish Law, to love our neighbor, one another, with our entire being, too.

We can understand these commandments, as Jesus recites them to the scribe, just as they are, as commandments. But they are also a prayer. Jesus invites the scribe, who is already “not far from the Kingdom of God,” to deepen his ownership of this prayer, the Shema, for himself. Love God and neighbor with your entire being. To pray this will help us better to practice it. Hear, O Israel, the LORD is God and the LORD is one. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength… Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Our first reading, from Tobit, is actually a collection of several prayers. The angel Raphael leads Tobiah to the home of Raguel. There, Tobiah asks to marry Raguel’s daughter Sarah. Our reading gives us some prior background to Tobiah’s request to marry Sarah. Raguel’s daughter Sarah has been married seven previous times and, each time, her husband has died on the night of the wedding. And so we can understand if Raguel, not to mention Raguel’s wife, Edna, Sarah and, perhaps most of all, Tobias, were afraid of the same happening to Tobias!

And so how do Raguel, Edna, Sarah, and Tobias overcome their fear? They pray. After giving Tobiah the macabre history of Sarah’s seven previous husbands, he prays for Tobiah and Sarah: “She is yours today and ever after. And tonight, son, may the Lord of heaven prosper you both. May he grant you mercy and peace.” Edna prays over Sarah, “May the Lord grant you joy in place of your grief.”

And then we hear the most  magnificent prayer of all in our first reading: The prayer of Tobiah and Sarah for each other. They acknowledge God’s will in creation for woman and man; for marriage, that they be each other’s “love and support.” “Call down your mercy on me and on her, and allow us to live together to a happy old age.”

Tobiah and Sarah, Raguel, and Edna could have prayed for anybody; for anything, and they choose to pray for a happy marriage for Tobiah and Sarah, one that pleases God and is based on love of one another. This strange reading is also meaningful to me because part of it, the prayer of Tobiah and Sarah we hear, was the first reading chosen by my sister Deanna and brother-in-law Tyler for their wedding.

The scribe in Mark’s Gospel, too, could have prayed for anything; anybody, yet Jesus invites him to pray that he might deepen his love of God and neighbor. For what or for whom are we invited to pray?

Homily for Monday, 1 June 2015‒ Memorial of St. Justin Martyr

Monday of the 9th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Tobit 1:3, 2:1a-8; Psalm 112:1b-2, 3b-4, 5-6; Mark 12:1-12

This Mass was offered in memory of my maternal grandmother, Simone Salt. May she rest in peace.

Why do good people suffer? This question does not have an easy answer, even for us as people of faith.

Today we celebrate the feast of St. Justin, a martyr of Rome almost two hundred years before the Roman Empire tolerated Christianity and then made it its official religion. St. Justin’s goal in his teaching and beautiful writings was to convince people of other faiths (Jews and pagans alike) of the truth of the Christian faith; that Christ is the Son of God by pointing to the way Christians lived. His way of teaching by conversation is called the “moral apology” or defense of the moral rightness of Christian faith. St. Justin, a good and faithful man, a saint, suffered greatly for his gentle way of teaching and was eventually killed for his faith.

Our opening prayer of today’s Mass speaks of “the folly of the Cross” that “wondrously taught St. Justin the Martyr the surpassing knowledge of Jesus Christ.” Why do good people like St. Justin suffer? Why are there more martyrs within the last century than in all previous centuries of Christian history combined?

Might we point to questions like these and wonder at the folly of when good people suffer? These questions have no easy answers. Our readings today speak to this same question. We are introduced to Tobit, who has been exiled to Nineveh, in our first reading today. Tobit searches for one of his own people who has been murdered, so that he can give him a dignified burial.

Would we not think that Tobit’s profound act of mercy would be praised? But instead Tobit is mocked both by the Ninevites and by his own people of Israel. To contact the dead physically would bring Tobit ritual impurity. Worse yet, his own life is endangered because he dares to bury a person who has been murdered. Why do good people like Tobit suffer?

Jesus’ parable of the tenants in our Gospel reading is the ultimate example of a good person experiencing suffering. After sending several servants into a vineyard and seeing them mistreated by the vineyard’s tenants, the vineyard owner sends in his own son. Instead of respecting the vineyard owner’s son as hoped, they plot to kill him and seize the inheritance!

We know that, in Jesus’ parable, God is the vineyard owner. Jesus is the innocent Son who is killed. Why does the innocent Son, Jesus, suffer? The Swiss Reformed theologian Karl Barth once said that the only way to make sense of suffering by innocent people is that Christ suffered and died for us. And yet why do some experience extreme poverty? Why are so many in our world threatened and killed for their faith? Why natural disasters that claim many lives? Why do young children experience terrible illnesses, and their families who care for them suffer also? Why did my grandmother, Simone, for whom we pray in this Mass, suffer for years in near-silence with dementia?

We have no easy answers. But God’s promise is that, by uniting ourselves to the “folly of” Christ’s Cross, our suffering is made temporary. We gain “surpassing knowledge” of Christ’s suffering for us. And we who share in Christ’s suffering will also have a share in his resurrection.

Homily for Monday, 29 September 2014– Feast of Sts. Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael

Monday of the 26th Week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Revelation 12:7-12ab; Psalm 138:1-2ab, 2cde-3, 4-5; John 1:47-51

Who are angels? What is their purpose? Today we celebrate the feast of three of the most important angels, or archangels, Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. But are not angels somewhat mysterious creatures to us? None of us has ever seen an angel; they are spiritual beings.

We might be familiar with the prayer to St. Michael, based loosely on our first reading today from the Book of Revelation:

St. Michael the Archangel,

defend us in battle.

Be our defense against the wickedness

and snares of the devil.

May God rebuke him,

we humbly pray, and do thou,

O Prince of the heavenly hosts,

by the power of God,

thrust into hell Satan,

and all the evil spirits,

who prowl about the world

seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

The Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael are rarely mentioned in Scripture. Michael is named five times: three times in Daniel, once in Revelation, and once in the Letter of Jude. Gabriel is named four times, twice each in Daniel and the Gospel of Luke. Raphael is named a whopping twenty-eight times, all in the Book of Tobit!

But what is the purpose of angels, and specifically of these three Archangels? By the well-known prayer to St. Michael and his mention in books of the Bible written in times of crisis (these “apocalyptic” books project struggles against occupying powers, Babylon in Daniel; Rome in Revelation, on a cosmic scale: heaven versus hell; God versus Satan), we can associate Michael with defense in times of crisis and battle. Is anyone here named Michael here? If your name is Michael, you may be interested to know that your name is a rhetorical question in Hebrew: “Who is like God”? Of course we know the answer to this question, or do we? No one is like God except God, we could answer. But then all of us are created in God’s image and likeness. All of us in this sense are like God. And yet Jesus Christ alone is at once fully human and fully God. “Who is like God?” Michael stands in place of God, in our defense against Satan or any force that could degrade our God-given dignity; our being in God’s image and likeness.

Gabriel is associated both with crises and battles, like Michael, and with the Incarnation, Jesus becoming human in Mary’s womb. Gabriel means “God is my strength.” How does St. Gabriel give us God’s strength; the strength to say “yes” to God as Mary did to bring our Savior into the world?

Raphael heals the cataracts from Tobit’s eyes in the Book of Tobit. His name means “God has healed.” St. Raphael shows us the healing power of God.

The word “angel” itself means “messenger of God.” A messenger is important, but never more important than the message. For us, God is the message, pointed to by the angels. Jesus Christ, God’s Son, like us in all but sin, is God’s message in human flesh, pointed to by St. Gabriel. We celebrate Sts. Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, along with all the angels, as God’s messengers. In special ways they show us God’s strength, God’s healing, and who is like God.