Saturday, July 22, 2017

Homily for Thursday, 20 July 2017– Ferial

Thursday of the 15th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Exodus 3:13-20; Psalm 105:1, 5, 8-9, 24-25, 26-27; Matthew 11:28-30

Imagine somebody standing before us here now and saying, “God has sent me to you.” Would we not at least want to know the name of the person who would dare to stand before us and introduce him or herself to us in this way? Might we also want to know the name; the identity of this God who supposedly had sent this person to us?

In the reading we hear today from Exodus, Moses has a keen sense that this is exactly how the people of Israel will respond if he were to stand before them, as God asks him to do, and say, “The God of our ancestors has sent me to you.” Moses says to God that, if he stands before the Israelites and says this to them, they will ask what the name of this “God of [their] ancestors” is.

And God replies to Moses that, if they ask who this “God of our ancestors” is who has given Moses the authority to address them in this way; the authority to lead them eventually out of Egypt and back to their homeland, Moses is to reveal this as God’s name to the people of Israel: “I AM WHO I AM.”

What kind of name is this? I do not want to sift through the volumes and history of scholarly analysis of this and other divine names in our Scriptures. If I did this, we could be here all day and, as much as we enjoy the Mass, otherwise I do not think we would be here on this or any other ordinary weekday, many of us work or have lives to carry on outside this place. Besides, for some scholars of our Eucharistic celebration (and I think, in a way, they are right), the most important part of the Mass is its last: “Go, the Mass is ended.”

But what, in basic terms, do we make of this curious name God gives to Moses to give to the people of Israel; the name God reveals to us: “I AM WHO I AM”?

At the heart of God’s revelation of his identity to the people, to us, is “I AM.” Maybe we have heard this said: God is not “I was,” the God who set creation in motion and then left us to our own devices. God is not “I will be,” although we believe in the future fulfillment of God’s promise of salvation of the created universe at the end of time. No, God reveals himself to us as “I AM WHO I AM.” God reveals himself to us as always, eternally, present.

This is the name God asks us, as God asked Moses, to reveal to our world somehow by the way we live as Christians, with love above all, or what we call “charity” or what Scripture calls (loosely translated) “loving kindness.” This is how we make God present in our world now: “I AM WHO I AM,” from our worship here to our sending forth from here, “Go, the Mass is ended.” Go and live in such a way that reveals God eternally present among us as “I AM.”

Sunday, July 16, 2017

Homily for Sunday, 16 July 2017

15th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Isaiah 55:10-11; Psalm 65:10-11, 12-13, 14; Romans 8:18-23; Matthew 13:1-23

This homily was given at St. Joseph’s College of the University of Alberta, Edmonton, AB, Canada

Have any of us ever tried to place ourselves within the scene of Jesus’ parable of the sower, or within any other Biblical scene for that matter? This imagining of ourselves “on scene” of a Biblical story or event is one of my favourite methods of praying with the Bible, one probably most famously pioneered by St. Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Jesuit order. Ignatius calls this method of placing ourselves within a Biblical scene; taking in our surroundings with our senses— hearing, sight, touch, smell, and taste— contemplation. It is a form of Lectio divina, a Latin term meaning literally “divine reading” with which some of us may be familiar.

The purpose of Lectio divina, whether Ignatian contemplation or several other forms is to lead us from an initial reading of a Biblical passage, an event or story, into a progressively deeper and more prayerful focus on the passage we are reading and hearing. Our attention may be drawn, more and more, to a single word or short phrase within the passage. In Lectio divina, I think, we are eventually drawn toward asking ourselves two questions the more we pray over a Biblical passage: What is the word or short phrase that attracts my attention, and why? What am I sensing, with my human senses of hearing, sight, touch, smell, and taste, when I feel attracted or perhaps confused, or maybe downright discomforted by a part of the passage over which I am praying? Why do I feel this way?

With these two questions in mind, let us return to Jesus’ parable of the sower that we hear today in Matthew’s Gospel. Imagine being “on scene,” as one person among the great crowds hearing Jesus as he preaches this parable of the sower that has become particularly familiar to us. Are many of us not able to recite the parable of the sower almost by rote?

“A sower went out to sow,” Jesus begins. Almost automatically, we might continue the parable: There are several types of soil or surfaces onto which the seed, which we may safely assume is the word of God, may fall. “Some seeds [fall] on the path.” Others fall “on rocky ground.” Still other seed falls “among thorns.” Finally, some seed falls “on good soil” and brings forth a great yield; a crop one “hundredfold [or] sixty [or] thirty” times what was initially sown. Only the seed that falls “on good soil” thrives in this way. The seed that falls “on the path” becomes food for the birds. The seed sown “on rocky ground” is unable to take root and so it withers and dies. The seed sown “among thorns” is choked out.

Jesus explains later that “the path” onto which some of the seed falls represents the people who hear “the word of the Kingdom,” God’s word, but do “not understand it,” and so are vulnerable to Satan, “the evil one,” who “snatches away” this seed; this word of God that is sown but not understood. The “rocky ground” represents the people who at first receive God’s word “with joy,” but “fall away” as soon as adversity, “trouble or persecution,” strikes. These people have not taken God’s word to heart, where it is able to take root and thrive. Other people fall prey to “the cares of the world and the lure of wealth,” and so God’s word, competing against worldly priorities made into our gods; our idols, is choked out much like seed sown “among thorns.” The “good soil” stands for “those who [hear] the word and [understand] it” and so the seed “bears fruit” by the way these people hear, pray over, and live out God’s word.

But, in this whole long parable and just-as-long explanation of it that Jesus offers us, might anybody here have noticed that Jesus never says where any of his hearers; where we stand with respect to his parable. Jesus does not (or not yet, anyway) judge the quality of our “soil”; of our hearts for hearing, understanding, and living by God’s word. Jesus does not point out the unfortunate soul in the front row and say, “You, how rocky a heart you have”! He does not single out the wealthy person, or the person feeling guilty about something he or she said or did, and is trying to hide him or herself in the middle of the crowd so not to be seen. “You with the thorny heart: Do you really expect my word to thrive in there? Shame on you”!

“Now, there we go, you who sit anywhere but the front row at Mass, like a good, stereotypical Catholic: There is a humble person with ‘good soil.’ My word will surely take root and thrive in your heart”… But no, Jesus does not say this! He would not insult our intelligence in this way. Instead, Jesus honours our conscience. In honouring our conscience, though, Jesus leaves it up to us to discern, that is to think, sense, and pray over carefully, where we stand with respect to his parable of the sower. What kind of “soil” are we? Are we really the “good soil” we would like to be, or are our hearts at times more like the path, the rocky ground, or the patch of thorns in which God’s word cannot thrive?

Here I think Jesus, through his parable of the sower, is leading us in an examination of conscience. When we think of an examination of conscience, how many of us think of generating a “laundry list” of our failures; our sins since a particular point in time, maybe since our last confession? This is only part of an examination of conscience. Essentially, to make an examination of conscience is not only an occasional, even daily, accounting for our failures; our sins. It is to think, sense (with our senses, if we remember St. Ignatius’ way of placing ourselves within a Biblical scene, story, or event), and pray constantly, not only occasionally, over two questions: Where am I in this scene, story, event, my own successes, failures, and so forth? And where is God in all this; in my own life?

How good of quality is my “soil,” and how is God continuing to sow God’s word in me; in us, even when our soil is not sometimes of the best quality; when we are not fully disposed and attentive to understanding God’s word; even when we are conscious of having sinned? In this sense, our examination of conscience is connected to our “divine reading” of Scripture; to placing ourselves within these events, stories, and parables of the Bible and allowing the Bible to enlighten our own lives. St. Ignatius calls this form of “divine reading” (Lectio divina) contemplation, but he also calls it the examen. St. Ignatius’ examen is a key and constant part of his famously intense Spiritual Exercises that some of us may know or have undertaken.

Engage in this “divine reading” of Scripture. Place ourselves “on scene” in the Bible’s events, stories, and parables. This is the examen in Ignatius’ words, the examination of conscience to which we are called. It is a constant rather than occasional process and, I will admit, not an easy one. Of what quality is my “soil”; my disposition to receive and live the word of God; the word of God’s “kingdom”? How does God continue to sow in us, sometimes in spite of our less-than-ideal “soil” conditions? And then how are we called to be sowers in turn of God’s “word of the Kingdom”?

We are able to answer these questions; to examine our consciences well; to allow God to increase the quality of our “soil”— our hearts— for receiving his word; to sow God’s word in turn to our world, only if we are able to sense God’s word with our human senses. Jesus invites us to place ourselves “on scene”: Let anyone with eyes see; with hands and feet and a body touch; with a nose smell; with a mouth taste…

“Let anyone with ears listen”!

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Homily for Wednesday, 12 July 2017– Ferial

Wednesday of the 14th week in Ordinary Time

Readings of the day: Genesis 41:55-57, 42:5-7a, 17-24a; Psalm 33:2-3, 10-11, 18-19; Matthew 10:1-7

Has anybody here ever seen a real shepherd? Today as well as yesterday, in Matthew’s Gospel we hear Jesus using the image of a shepherd to describe his own ministry; his activity, as well as, in the case of today’s Gospel reading, that of his Apostles. After choosing his twelve Apostles by name, Jesus sends them out with these instructions: “Do not go into pagan territory or enter a Samaritan town. Go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

Living and worshipping as we are in the middle of a major city like Edmonton, the image of a shepherd that Jesus offers of himself and his Apostles may not resonate with us, unless we have had past experience on a farm with sheep or other livestock. Few of us have likely had this experience.

Yet we still speak fairly commonly in English in shepherding metaphors. We have phrases like “the black sheep” to describe somebody who does not fit into a community, a family, or other social group. And in our Gospel reading today Jesus speaks of “the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

Why does Jesus, according to Matthew, restrict his Apostles from ministering among the pagans or Samaritans, asking them to “go… to the lost sheep of Israel” only? This is hard to say. I speculate that perhaps Jesus knows the risk of his Apostles; those who minister in his name taking on more in their ministry than they could reasonably handle. Jesus asks his Apostles; asks us to remain focused in our mission. This mission we are given is to contribute to God’s work of salvation in our little corner of the universe, and to trust that our contribution, small though it may be, means something, and that ultimately it is Jesus Christ, not us, who is the Saviour of this universe.

To minister among “the lost sheep of the house of Israel” is still a fairly daunting mission, though, even if we stay focused on our little part of God’s universal mission of salvation as Jesus asks us to do. Who are “the lost sheep of the house of Israel”; of our communities, our households, our Church today? Are each of us not in part shepherds after Jesus Christ and his Apostles, and also at times “the lost sheep”?

Could we not all think of somebody we know, if not ourselves, who struggle with their faith? Perhaps we know somebody does not believe or does not even understand well in order to live a difficult moral teaching of our faith. These are the people whom Jesus asks us to find and, in Pope Francis’ oft-used words, to accompany. May we not shut sinners out of the Church and out of access to God’s grace through the sacraments!

“Go rather to the lost sheep.” In a beautiful reflection on the Fall event in Genesis 3, Jean Vanier once remarked that God’s first words to Adam and Eve after they eat the forbidden fruit are not, “You’re bad,” but “Where are you”? Our mission to find and accompany the lost sheep means to ask this same question of one another that God has been asking us since the beginning, “Where are you”? It is in answering this question, in finding and accompanying the lost sheep, that we will be saved.

Homily for Tuesday, 11 July 2017– Memorial of St. Benedict

Readings of the day: Genesis 32:23-33; Psalm 17:1b, 2-3, 6-7ab, 8b, 15; Matthew 9:32-38

Tuesday of the 14th week in Ordinary Time

Is there anybody here who has ever wrestled or who enjoys wrestling? I must admit that wrestling is not my favourite sport. Yet today we hear in our readings the continued story of Jacob. We hear about Jesus’ confrontation with the mute man with a demon, and we celebrate this feast day of St. Benedict of Nursia, the sixth-century abbot whose Rule is the basis for life in many religious orders to this day. Jacob, Jesus, and Benedict were all expert wrestlers.

Of course, they were not wrestlers in the sense of the sport we are familiar with today. They are wrestlers in a spiritual sense, at least in the case of Jesus and St. Benedict. But do we not have to admit that each were involved in some epic wrestling matches? Even if we, like Jacob, were quite confident in our wrestling abilities, how many of us would dare to wrestle with God? Talk about a heavyweight class matchup! I wonder what our best chance would be against an opponent as powerful as God. Would we opt for Greco-Roman wrestling, or maybe freestyle? Or maybe we might try oil wrestling, which I understand is the national sport of Turkey, or beach wrestling (yes, this is actually a type of wrestling)? In any case, I do not think many of us would stand much of a chance in a wrestling match against God!

But Jacob holds his own. This wrestling match goes on all night, “until daybreak.” And then, in the upset for the ages, Jacob actually wins his match against God, disguised as a man in our reading from Genesis. Sure, Jacob ends up with a dislocated hip, but this is not bad for somebody who has just emerged from an all-night wrestling match against God! Jacob gets a blessing from God after his victory. We know that God is a good sport; even if he dislocates your hip, he will give you a blessing, especially if you ask as Jacob did. Jacob also gets a new name, Israel, which, Genesis tells us, means one who has wrestled or “striven with God.” And in memory of Jacob’s unprecedented victory, his having “seen God face to face” and lived, the people of Israel no longer eat “the thigh muscle that is on the hip socket” of animals.

Jesus’ wrestling match with the mute demoniac is described more briefly in Matthew’s Gospel than Jacob’s match with God is in Genesis. But it is as much or more of a classic match as that of Jacob. In fact, this match between God and demonic forces, against Satan himself, is still going on. God has promised us that he will win this match.

But God, through Jesus Christ, has asked for our help. We might follow the example of St. Benedict, who saw the Christian life as a participation in a spiritual battle; a wrestling match. The Rule of St. Benedict says, “When you begin a good work, earnestly pray to God to bring it to perfection.” St. Benedict invites us to prayer. Jesus invites us to the harvest, and to pray for more “labourers” to join the harvest. They, along with Jacob, invite us to wrestle with God and with demons. The best part is that, if we accept this invitation to wrestle, we are guaranteed victory.