Caritas Christi Urget Nos

Category: Sacraments

  • Advent Penance Service

    Advent Penance Service

    Readings: Isaiah 61:1-3, Matthew 9:1-8

    advent-candles-mThis afternoon I was thinking about the fact that people don’t experience things in the same way.  I was in downtown Naperville with my sister, my two nieces and my nephew.  We were out having lunch and doing some Christmas shopping just as the weather was getting pretty nasty.  My sister and I were probably not having as much fun trudging through the snow as Danny and Molly, whose attention I could not get because they were absolutely transfixed by the beauty of the snow.  One person’s hassle is another’s delight – especially when the other ones are three and four years old!

    I know a lot of people who get depressed this time of year.  Probably you do too.  Many people are missing loved ones who are far away from home, or who have passed away.  Some of my friends have a touch of seasonal affective disorder, and so they are depressed when we don’t see the sun as much on cloudy days like today, or when it gets dark so early as it does during this time.  Some people also look back on another year almost finished, and they lament what could have been, or what actually has been.  If there is any reason for being a little depressed at this time of year, it often seems like the joy that other people are experiencing during the Christmas season makes the pain even worse.

    So for whatever reason, many of us experience darkness during this season, when so many seem to be rejoicing in light.  In essence, that’s what Advent is all about.  The season of Advent recognizes the darkness of the world – the physical darkness, sure, but more than that the darkness of a world steeped in sin, a world marred by war and terrorism, an economy decimated by greed, peacefulness wounded by hatred, crime and dangers of all sorts.  This season of Advent also recognizes the darkness of our own lives – sin that has not been confessed, relationships broken by self-interest, personal growth tabled by laziness and fear.

    Advent says that God meets all that darkness head-on.  “Rise and walk.” “Your sins are forgiven.” And just like the paralytic, we are healed not just of our noticeable infirmities, but more so of our inner woundedness.  We, like that paralytic in the Gospel tonight, are completely healed – from the inside out.  The darkness of our world and the darkness of our hearts are absolutely no match for God’s light.  In another place, Isaiah prophesies about this Advent of light: “The light of the moon will be like that of the sun, and the light of the sun will be seven times greater [like the light of seven days].”

    Our Church makes the light present in many ways – indeed, it is the whole purpose of the Church to shine a bright beacon of hope into a dark and lonely world.  We do that in symbolic ways: the progressive lighting of the Advent wreath symbolizes the world becoming lighter and lighter as we approach the birthday of our Savior.  But the Church doesn’t leave it simply in the realm of symbol or theory.  We are here tonight to take on that darkness and shine the light of Christ into every murky corner of our lives.  The Sacrament of Penance reconciles us with those we have wronged, reconciles us with the Church, and reconciles us most importantly with our God.  The darkness of broken relationships is completely banished with the Church’s words of absolution.  Just like the Advent calendars we’ve all had reveal more and more with every door we open, so the Sacrament of Penance brings Christ to fuller view within us whenever we let the light of that sacrament illumine our darkness.

    And so that’s why we’re here tonight.  In our first reading, Isaiah comes to proclaim “a year of favor from the Lord.”  We can receive that favor, that light, by being open to it and accepting it, tonight in a sacramental way.  Tonight we lay before our God everything that is broken in us, we hold up all of our darkness to be illumined by the light of God’s healing mercy.

    The wonderful hymn, “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” speaks of the light that is to come to us:

    O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
    Our spirits by Thine advent here
    Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
    And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
    Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
    Shall come to thee, O Israel.

    Tonight, our sacrament disperses the gloomy clouds of our sin and disperses the dark shadows of death that lurk within us.  The darkness in and around us is no match for the light of Christ.  As we approach Christmas, that light is ever nearer.  Jesus is, as the Gospel of John tells us, “the light that shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

  • CREEDS Retreat Conference II: The Eucharist and the Church

    CREEDS Retreat Conference II: The Eucharist and the Church

    Scriptures: Matthew 26:14-30

    Godspell: “Beautiful City” and “On the Willows”

    The Eucharist is an amazingly complex event.  Ordinary food – bread and wine – become the very body and blood of our Lord and God.  Through the Eucharist we mere creatures are given the opportunity to take part in the very life of God our creator.  That life giving body and blood join to our own flesh and blood and raise us up from the base creatures that we are to become more like our divine Savior.  In some way, we become what we receive.  And each celebration of the Eucharist isn’t merely one of a vast number of disconnected events; instead it is what we call an anamnesis, a re-presentation or remembering taking part in the one event on Calvary that saved us all.

    In this meal, we are fed and we participate in a sacrifice.  We are fed spiritually, given the strength to fight against evil, to reach out to the needy, to live our lives in holiness and grace.  The strength that the Eucharistic food gives us enables us to change our lives, becoming more than we were, becoming more that we might settle for, becoming all that God created us to be.  We participate also in sacrifice, not just any sacrifice, but the one saving sacrifice that reconciled us to God.

    This holy mystery comes about through a similarly complex event, which is to say our celebration of the Mass.  Words are said – “this is my body,” “this is my blood” – the very words Christ himself used when he gave us this amazing sacrament.  These words aren’t magic “hocus pocus” words, because this event is much more than magic.  It’s not a mere change, it’s a re-creation, a re-creation of bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, and a re-creation of ourselves into the disciples God wants us to be.  And it’s much more than just the words: the bread and wine themselves are important, the priest as the minister acts in the person of Christ, the assembled body of believers brings their joys, sorrows, successes, failures, their riches and their poverty, their gifts and their brokenness, and lays all of it before the altar, in a great offering of faith.

    We could get all caught up in the externals.  We want the best music, the nicest vestments and decorations.  But none of that means anything without the faithful act of the assembly, praying and participating, becoming one with each other and one with God.  Eucharist is thanksgiving for our many blessings, but most of all for the blessing of salvation and grace.  Eucharist is communion with Christ and with our brothers and sisters.  In Godspell, this is symbolized by the players having the face paint washed off before the breaking of bread: what had made them beautiful individuals in the sight of God is now an obstacle to communion, and so it is washed away as they come together as one community.

    This is why we take such care with the Liturgy of the Eucharist.  We carefully prepare the bread and wine.  We pray the words as best we can in both word and song.  We bow before we receive the Body and Blood of our Lord.  We handle the Body of Christ and the Cup of the Blood of Christ with a care reserved for the most precious of gifts, which of course this is.  And when we are done, we meticulously collect and consume every crumb of Christ’s Body and every drop of his Precious Blood.  When I do that, there is a little prayer that the Liturgy has me say quietly: “May I receive these gifts with purity of heart.  May they bring me healing and strength, now and forever.”  Isn’t that wonderful?  Notice how it carefully refers to the tiniest of leftovers as gifts to be received with purity of heart.  Notice how even those fragments have the ability to bring me healing and strength now and forever!

    And what those gifts do for me, they do for all of us.  We become a community strengthened by our participation in the Eucharist and our Communion with God and each other.  The Eucharist is the central act of the Church, because in the Eucharist, we become one and together we accomplish all that Christ wanted for the world: healing the sick, binding up the broken, reaching the lost and the marginalized, meeting the needs of the poor and homeless, helping prisoners find freedom in Christ, defending the infant in the womb, the child on the streets, the elderly on their sick beds, bringing the presence of Christ to the lonely.  As the song says, we can build a beautiful city, but only through our communion with Christ.

    As incredibly complex as the Eucharist and our celebration of it is, we are blessed to be able to celebrate it every day of the week.  I remember in the first week of seminary, one of my friends on Saturday said, “Who wants to go to Mass with me tonight and get it over with?”  You’ve never seen men with such horrified looks on their faces!  That is because, whenever we gather, that is the best part of our day.  Our participation in the Eucharist makes all the rest of our lives possible, but not only possible but also better, more filled with grace.  And so, as the prayer says, may we always receive these incredible gifts with purity of heart.  May they bring us healing and strength, now and forever.

  • CREEDS Retreat Conference III: Salvation through the Cross and Resurrection

    CREEDS Retreat Conference III: Salvation through the Cross and Resurrection

    Scriptures: Matthew 27:33-56; Matthew 28:1-10

    Godspell: “Finale”

    Ask a bunch of church type people what their favorite celebration of the Church year is, and inevitably most of them will tell you that it’s the Paschal Triduum.  That period from the evening of Holy Thursday to the Evening of Holy Saturday, celebrating the giving of the Eucharist and the establishment of the Church on Holy Thursday, observing the memorial of our Lord’s Passion and the Veneration of the Cross on Good Friday, and cutting loose – in a Liturgical way of course – with the Vigil of all vigils – the great Easter Vigil Mass with its service of light, proclamation of the Exsultet, extended Liturgy of the Word, Baptism of catechumens and celebration of the Eucharist – that three-day Day of all Days is by far the most incredible of all the days of the Church year.

    I remember my very first time going to the Easter Vigil Mass.  I was in high school, and a friend of ours was being received into Full Communion with the Church.  I was hooked – the joy of that night was palpable, all the more so in welcoming someone who was a friend into the Church which was my home.  If you’ve been close to anyone received into the Church like that, you know what I mean.

    Typically, the Church lets it all loose on these wonderful days.  We pull out all the stops, have all the best music, exquisite decorations, incense, processions, reverence beyond anything we display all year long.  And for good reason.  As the Exsultet sings,

    This is the night,
    when first you saved our fathers:
    you freed the people of Israel from their slav’ry,
    and led them dry-shod through the sea.

    This is the night,
    when the pillar of fire destroyed the darkness of sin.

    This is night,
    when Christians ev’rywhere,
    washed clean of sin and freed from all defilement,
    are restored to grace and grow together in holiness.

    This is the night,
    when Jesus broke the chains of death
    and rose triumphant from the grave.

    These are the central mysteries of our faith.  Without the Cross and Resurrection, none of the rest of it makes any sense.  Without the gift of salvation, the Incarnation is just an act of divine curiosity or snooping.  Without salvation, even the creation of the world is meaningless.  But salvation was always God’s plan from the very beginning.  There was never a time when God was making it up as he went along.  Age after age, we were sent prophets and given miracles and we constantly turned away from God.  We had created this huge chasm between us and God that kept us apart.  But all those prophets and miracles prepared us for the coming of our God, for the incredible act of divine grace that would re-create the world in astounding ways.

    Many have noted that this was an awfully strange way to save the world.  Certainly our God did not have to debase himself to take on our corrupt human nature, but he did.  He didn’t have to come and take on all our human frailty, walking our walk and living our life, but he did.  He certainly did not have to die our death, the most miserable, humiliating death reserved for the lowest of the low and the commonest of criminals, but he did.  And because he did, God raised him up, destroying death and its miserable chains forever.  Because of this great act, as the Preface to the  Eucharistic Prayer for funerals tells us, “For those who believe in Christ, life is changed, not ended.  When the body of our earthly life dwells in death, we gain an everlasting dwelling place in heaven.”

    I think Godspell appropriately gets the earth-shattering nature of the Cross, but pretty much soft-pedals the Resurrection.  As the Gospel readings show us, both events included violent earthquakes.  That’s because in those two events, everything changed – everything.  But the movie does make a strong point that even though God died – and make no mistake, God did die on that Cross – even though God died, God lives forever through the Resurrection: “Long live God!”  Curiously the singing at the end of the movie moves from “Oh God, you’re dead” to “Long live God” to “Prepare ye the way of the Lord” to “Day by Day.”  I think that’s interesting, and I think there’s something very right about it.

    In the Resurrection, Christ lives forever, paving the way for us to do the same.  And because he lives forever, we need to prepare the way for the Lord day after day after day, or “Day by Day,” if you will.  The end of the movie mimics the rather cyclical nature of our Church year.  And it is very true that the Salvation event, the Paschal Mystery, brings us back to the Advent of Christ in whole new ways.  Preparing the way of the Lord is not something we do just in the four weeks of Advent.  It is the project of a lifetime, the project of the ages of the Church, a project to be lived out day by day as we see God more clearly, love him more dearly and follow him more nearly.

    At my mom’s house we have one very simple ornament for the Christmas Tree.  Among all the others, you’ll find it hanging on a back branch to remind us of the truth of it all.  It’s a nail, a spike really, hung from a green ribbon.  It reminds us that at Christmas we celebrate something that doesn’t get wrapped up until the Easter days.  The wood of the Christmas tree and the wood of the manger become the wood of the Cross.  Birth leads to death leads to Resurrection leads to re-creation.  All things are made new.  The misery of a dark world is replaced by Christ, the light of the world.  The grace of this wonderful mystery makes possible our flame of faith.  The Exsultet says of that flame:

    May the Morning Star which never sets
    find this flame still burning:
    Christ, that Morning Star,
    who came back from the dead,
    and shed his peaceful light on all mankind,
    your Son, who lives and reigns for ever and ever. Amen.

  • Sixteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Sixteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today's readings

    Sometimes, as St. Paul reminds the Romans today, we do not know how to pray as we ought.  In fact, learning how to pray as we ought is a discipline that takes a lifetime to perfect.  The saints have done it, and maybe you even know some living saints whose prayer is pretty close to the way we ought to do it.  But for the rest of us, prayer is a discipline that takes hard work and constant attention.  It’s a good thing then, that the work and attention it requires is so joy-filled and rewarding.

    But no, we don’t know how to pray as we ought, do we?  I remember back when I was in college, all the way through probably my early thirties.  I thought I had the prayer thing all figured out.  When we’re young, sometimes we’re misled that way.  Of course, I was off the mark by a lot, but that’s to be expected.  So I have a confession to make, and it cannot leave this room, okay?  My confession is that I always thought I never had to go to confession because:

    • I never did anything all that bad … or
    • The stuff I did was so bad that the priest would be shocked … or
    • God already knows my sins, so why do I have to tell him and a priest about them? … or
    • God has long forgotten my sins, so why bring them up again?

    Maybe you’ve heard these arguments, or others like them before.  Maybe those arguments have even come from your own lips.  But sticking to my own confession here, I made all of these arguments myself at one time or another.  And like a lot of people who grew up in my day, I didn’t go to confession hardly ever at all.  But then, fast forward to about my mid-thirties, during a time when I was having a crisis of faith.  I was trying to figure out at the time if I would stay in the Catholic Church, or whether I’d go join Willow Creek along with some of my friends.  I had gone to a few of their services and found them inspiring, and was seriously giving thought to joining that church.

    I prayed about it and really felt that God told me that he didn’t care which Church I was in, as long as I was committed to it.  But there were some obstacles to my joining Willow Creek.  One of them is that I would have to be rebaptized, which I think the Scriptures tell us is totally off-base.  The other is that they only had communion once a month, and it wasn’t actually Jesus but only a symbol, and that didn’t work for me.  But we’ll bracket those two obstacles for now – they are the stuff of other homilies.  The issue that finally settled it for me was my long-neglected friend Confession.

    During a sermon on one of the nights, one of the elders of the Church, who apparently was an ex-Catholic, talked about his experience of Confession as a child.  He talked about the terrifying dark box he had to go into, and how he had to tell all his sins to someone who didn’t really have any authority (apparently he missed Jesus’ the passing on of the keys to the kingdom to St. Peter in Scripture, but we’ll leave that alone).  And finally he said something like “after that, I got a penance and the priest said something that I guess was supposed to wipe my sins away.”  It was very condescending and really flew in the face of what I believed about the Sacrament of Penance, even though I had not gone to confession in years.

    To make a long story short, that really tugged on me, and I finally decided to stay in the Catholic Church (well, obviously, right?).  But God’s call to make sure I committed to the Church I chose stayed with me, and I knew that meant I had to go to Confession.  So I went to a Penance Service at my church and went to a priest that I knew there.  I confessed I hadn’t been to Confession in years, and I’ll never forget what he said: “Welcome back.”  That confirmed for me that the Sacrament of Penance was incredibly important to my prayer life – to any prayer life, and it’s been part of me ever since.

    Why is it so important?  Well yes, it’s because we all mess up here and there in little and big ways every day.  By doing that, we separate ourselves from God and the Church and we need to be brought back.  But more than that, the Sacrament of Penance puts us close to God in the most intimate way possible: by experiencing his mercy.  The Wisdom writer in our first reading today makes this clear: “you gave your children good ground for hope that you would permit repentance for their sins.”  And it is that hope that we so much need, isn’t it?  Because we are in a world that sometimes causes us to let go of hope, to lose sight of hope, and finally to give up on hope.  The joy-filled Sacrament of Penance gives us that sacramental encounter with God’s hope which is a hope that nothing can destroy.

    So what about you?  How long has it been since your last Confession?  If it’s been a long time, what is it that is keeping you away?  I encourage you to go back soon, and in order to make that easier, here is Fr. Pat’s consumer’s guide to the Sacrament of Penance:

    1. If you have been away a long time, say that to the priest when you go in.  Tell him, “Father it’s been years since my last confession, and I might need some help to do this right.”  If he doesn’t welcome you back and fall all over himself trying to help you make a good confession, you have my permission to get up and leave and go find a priest who is more welcoming.  Because it is my job to help you make a good confession, it is my job to make sure the experience is meaningful for you, it is my job to make you want to come back, and I take that very seriously.
    2. Tell the priest whatever sins you can remember.  Don’t worry if you forget one or two, you can always confess them later if they still bother you.  If there’s something that you think there’s no way you can say, say it anyway.  We have heard just about everything, and we are not there to judge you.  Our presence in the Sacrament is to help you find the way to God’s mercy, nothing more than that.
    3. Sometimes people feel like they can’t go to a priest they know because maybe the priest will think less of them after it’s over.  Well, that would be true if I had never sinned, but let me tell you, I have plenty of my own sins, and I am humbled whenever I hear another person’s confession.  Because I am a sinner too, I am more motivated than you could possibly imagine to help you find God’s mercy.  I am always so humbled that people come to me and unburden themselves to find God’s mercy.  I couldn’t possibly think poorly of you for confessing whatever was on your heart.  If anything, I would think more of you.
    4. People sometimes worry that a priest will remember their sins.  As you know, we are not permitted, under penalty of excommunication, to reveal anything you say in Confession, or even to confirm or deny that you have spoken with us in Confession.   But we also pray for the grace of forgetfulness.  This is a grace that God grants us: because God has forgotten your sins, we do too.  The last time I told a group of people this, someone came to me afterward and said, “Father, I’m so relieved to hear that forgetfulness is a grace – I thought I was losing my mind!”  But seriously, God forgets your sins, and we do too.

    The Psalmist has the right words for us today: “You, O LORD, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger,
    abounding in kindness and fidelity.”  If you haven’t had a sacramental experience of that in a while, I urge you to do it soon.  We’re here every Saturday from 4-4:45pm.  If you need to see us at another time, you can always make an appointment with me or Fr. Ted.  We are here to put you in touch with God’s mercy, and, as Jesus says in the long form of today’s Gospel, to help you become one of t hose who “will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.”
     

  • Fifteenth Sunday: Rite of Acceptance into the Order of Catechumens

    Fifteenth Sunday: Rite of Acceptance into the Order of Catechumens

    This was the alternate homily that I gave at 10:45 Mass, during which we accepted a young man into the Order of Catechumens.

     

    In the ancient Church, there were several so-called orders within the assembly.  The main group or order was, of course, the believers.  These had been baptized and had come to accept Jesus Christ, to live within the Church and celebrate the sacraments.  Other orders included the Order of Widows, those women whose husbands had died and had no supporting family members.  These women were taken care of by the community, and in turn served the community as they were able. Another order was the Order of Penitents.  These people had sinned publicly, usually through some violation of the sixth commandment, and were unable to partake of the sacramental life of the Church.  They usually confessed their sins, and were given a lengthy penance to accomplish, and then were reunited with the Church on Holy Thursday.
    The other order, which we still have today, is the Order of Catechumens.  These are unbaptized people who desired to become one with the Church and live the life of faith.  This is the order into which we accept Aaron today.  His search for Truth has led him here to us, and we have accepted him in our ritual.  This rite of acceptance into the Order of Catechumens is one that symbolizes a kind of first official step for Aaron.  He has been inquiring into the faith and now wishes to join us.  His formation will continue in the months to come, and he will be baptized, receive Confirmation and First Eucharist at the Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday night.  

    We are blessed to have Aaron with us today, because his presence indicates that our faith is alive and vibrant.  His presence shows us that God still searches for his people, calling them out of darkness into his own wonderful light.  As he continues to journey toward baptism, he will be with us in the assembly, being dismissed with candidates for Full Communion, until that day when they can all join us at the Table of the Eucharist.  

    We accept Aaron publicly today, not just for his benefit, but also for ours, and for two very specific reasons.  First, we as a community have a responsibility to bring the faith to all people until the day of the Lord’s return.  It’s not just the RCIA team and catechists, not just the priests and staff, but the entire community that makes this happen.  Our faith must be a witness to Aaron and to others that Christ is alive among us and longs to lead us all to salvation.

    Second, we have a need to grow in our own faith.  Every day, we come up against new obstacles, new darkness, and our faith must shine light into all of these situations.  We have a need to come to know our Lord Jesus in more intimate and meaningful ways.  And so Aaron isn’t journeying in faith alone here; we are all journeying and growing with him.

    Just like that seed that found its rootedness in the good soil, so too may our own faith, and Aaron’s, take root in the good soil of instruction and prayer and earnest longing for Christ.  May God’s Word go forth from us and never return to God void, but instead achieve the end for which he sent it, yielding a harvest of a hundred or sixty or even thirty fold.

  • Untitled post 713

    "Cherish God’s vocation in you.
    Let it be constant,
    efficacious,
    and loving."

    —Mary Ward 

  • Tenth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Tenth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today's readings

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    So Jesus goes over to Matthew, who, at that time, was anything but a saint.  He was sitting at the customs post, collecting the required taxes.  He was a Jew acting as a representative of the Roman occupation government.  He didn’t have a fan club, to say the least.  It wasn’t just that he was a tax collector – probably that would have been bad enough, but it was also that he was an employee of the Roman oppression government.  It was almost like he was giving up his heritage.  This is the Matthew who Jesus approaches and gives a fairly simple, two-word command:  “follow me.”

    We could be in wonder about why Jesus would pick such a man, and plenty of homily time has been spent examining that issue, I think.  What has me in wonder these days is Matthew’s response.  “And he got up and followed him.”  That’s it.  He left the table, didn’t even clock out, left all the money there, and took off to follow Jesus.  He didn’t cash out the register or finish up with the customer he was working with, or even take a minute to record the current transaction in a spreadsheet.  He followed right then and there.  He left his whole considerable livelihood behind.  And that livelihood was as rich as he wanted to make it, since all he had to return to Rome was the tax that was prescribed.  Anything else was his to keep.  But on the strength of a two-word command, he gets up and leaves his responsibilities to his employers, his family, and all he ever knew behind.

    What was it that caused him to do such a thing?  It certainly wasn’t some kind of solidly-worded argumentation or beautiful preaching or rhetoric, because all Jesus said to him was “follow me.”  So did he know Jesus before this?  Had he indeed heard him preach before and experienced a stirring in his heart?  Had he witnessed one of Jesus’ miracles and always wanted the opportunity to know more about this man?  Was there something going on in Matthew’s life that was calling him to make a change?  Was he unmotivated by his current situation or had he felt God tugging at his heart?  Of course, we don’t know the answers to any of these questions.  All we do know is that Jesus said “follow me” and Matthew did.  Simple as that.

    Yesterday I was at the Cathedral of St. Raymond in Joliet, for priesthood ordinations for our diocese.  Three young men were ordained for service to the Church of Joliet.  They, of course, looked elated, and had an excitement that I clearly remember myself.  This past week, I received a letter from a young woman I knew from the parish where I served my internship back in my third year of seminary.  She has finished her first year of formation for service as a Dominican nun.  Her letter told me about the richness of her experience of formation, including classes, prayer and ministry experiences.  Just a couple of weeks ago, we celebrated the forty years of wonderful service that Fr. Ted has given our diocese, including his work for the last six years at our parish.  In his homily at his celebration Mass, he reflected on the many experiences he had over the last forty years, and said that if he had it to do over again, he would enter the priesthood again “in a heartbeat.”  Later this year, we will have the opportunity to celebrate the fifty years of service that Sr. Anne Hyzy has given as a nun.  She is a woman whose faith and spirituality have been a beacon for so many of us, and we look forward to celebrating her anniversary.  And just this past week, I celebrated my second anniversary as a priest.  So this has been a time when I have had the opportunity to reflect a bit on God’s call.

    What is it that gets any of us to respond to that call: “follow me?”  Because – and let’s be very clear about this – every one of us gets that call in some way, shape or form, at some point in our lives.  We are called to rich vocational lives in so many different ways.  Some are called to be priests, deacons or religious.  Some are called to the married life and give of their lives as parents.  Some are called to the single life, sacrificing the promiscuity and worldliness of our current culture to be a witness to God’s power in the world.  We may be church workers, or doctors, or lawyers, or construction workers, or grocery store clerks, or any of a million different things.  But the one thing that unites us – our baptism – also unites us in its effect: we are all called by our baptism to do something specific, something heroic, something very significant for Christ.  To all of us – every one of us without exception – Christ is saying: “follow me.”

    In a perfect world, it should be enough for us that God has forgiven us of our sins and made us one with him in baptism.  It should be enough for us that Jesus says, despite the myriad of ways that we are unworthy of any kind of call, “follow me.”  It should be enough that we are forgiven, and graced, and called, and loved to respond just like Matthew did, giving it all over so that we can follow the Lord wherever it is that he is leading us.  But lots of times, that isn’t enough.  Because we are sinful people who are afraid of commitment or are too bogged down in the world, or have turned away for so many reasons.  Sometimes, it takes a while for that “follow me” call to work its way through our hardened hearts and restless spirits.  I should know: it took thirty-six years for me.

    So what about you?  Is there a customs post that you need to walk away from?  Is there a call to “follow me” that you’ve been hearing from the Lord for some time now that you have not had the courage to answer?  Because I think the real question is not what is it about Jesus that would make someone follow him with just a simple command.   No.  The real question is, what is it about us that would turn down the life of grace and happiness and adventure and joy that Jesus has in store for us? I can’t possibly imagine how terrible it would have been to say “no” to Jesus at this point in my life.  I always tell people that if you really want to be really happy, then you have to do what God is calling you to do.  Nothing else will make you that happy.  And I should know, because the last two years of my life have been the most wonderful I can remember.

    Jesus comes to all of us today, in the busy-ness of our lives.  Right in the middle of taking the customs tax from a traveler, we are called: “follow me.”  What does that call look like for you?  Are you ready to get up and follow him, without another word being spoken?  If you’ve been on the fence, consider this homily the sign you’ve been looking for.  God is calling.  “Follow me.” 

  • Fourth Sunday of Easter: Following the Good Shepherd

    Fourth Sunday of Easter: Following the Good Shepherd

    Today's readings

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    Every year on the Fourth Sunday of Easter, we celebrate “Good Shepherd Sunday.”  And every year on this Sunday, I protest inwardly about how awful it is to be compared to sheep!  I think a lot of priests look forward to preaching on this day, but for me the analogy just doesn’t seem to work.  Maybe that’s because I didn’t grow up in the time and place Jesus was preaching.  They might have been more prone to get the point than people in our modern time and suburban place.  I mean, you don’t see a lot of sheep around Naperville, do you?  I think the reason I protest against this whole sheep metaphor is because it is usually preached as encouraging a kind of blind acceptance of what we’re being taught.  Sheep are usually thought of as animals who accept whatever they’re being told blindly, because they are not able to think for themselves.  That’s what makes me kind of bristle at the whole idea of being compared to sheep.  I don’t think we’re supposed to check our brains at the door when it comes to living our faith.  I can’t imagine God wanting us to do that since he created our ability to think and gifted us with free will.So I’m thinking that this is not the picture we are supposed to be getting from these readings, and that the problem here is that your preacher doesn’t really know anything helpful about sheep that would explain the analogy.  So I read a commentary about this reading, and I think it helps sort out the analogy that Jesus is making here.  In Jesus’ day, the shepherds would gather several flocks in the same fenced-enclosure. The sheepfold might be constructed in a pasture using brush and sticks; or, it would adjoin a wall of a house and have makeshift walls for the other sides. Owners of small flocks of sheep would have combined them in the secure enclosure at night.  Someone – the gatekeeper – would then guard the flocks. The "gate" would have been a simple entrance, but the gatekeeper might even stretch out across the opening and literally be the "gate." The shepherds would arrive early in the morning and be admitted by the gatekeeper. They would call out to their sheep and the members of the flock recognize the voice of their own shepherd, and that shepherd would “lead them out.”  The shepherd then walks in front of the flock and they follow. (Jude Sicilliano, OP)So then, I think the point that Jesus is making is that sheep know their shepherd’s voice and they follow him.  This shepherd is one who takes care of them and leads them, keeping them safe.  So maybe sheep aren’t so dumb after all.  Their ability to know their shepherd’s voice helps bring them to the place where they belong, and their desire to follow the shepherd keeps them safe, keeps them from stumbling off the path into who knows what kind of dangerous situations.
    It pains me to say this, but you know, maybe we need to be a little more like sheep after all.  I for one find that I am often distracted by the plethora of competing voices out there, so much so that it can be hard at times to hear the voice of Jesus our Good Shepherd.  Some of the distracting voices that we are subjected to include:
    •    voices of temptation that call us to covet more than we need or embroil us in heartbreaking addictions;
    •    voices of intolerance that call us to accept war and terrorism as legitimate ways to deal with disputes;
    •    voices of self-importance that call us to turn our back on God or trick us into thinking that we don’t really need God;
    •    voices of isolation that divorce us from family and community
    •    voices of apathy that divorce us from our world, the needy, and the marginalized
    •    voices of discouragement that lead us to give up on ourselves or on others, or that convince us that our efforts don’t really matter

    And these are just a few, aren’t they?  There are so many voices out there that can distract us from our Shepherd, so many enticing things to drag us off the path to God.  And we follow them all the time.  All these voices diminish our life, lead us away from our families, communities, church, even God.  Even if we follow them in the hopes of leading a more exciting life, we may find that the momentary thrill of turning away from the Good Shepherd only leaves us feeling diminished and alone.  The only way to a more exciting, fulfilling life is to follow Jesus who “came so that [we] might have life and have it more abundantly.”

    So does this mean we have to leave our brains at the door, and follow blindly?  No.  Of course not.  Following those other competing voices out there is what requires blind acceptance.  The thinking person follows the Good Shepherd, and faces the many challenges of life not with some kind of delirious, unthinking, debilitating faith, but instead with a faith that is informed by Scripture, upheld by Tradition, and nourished in the Eucharist.  The most abundant life we can have is a life in Christ.

    On this Good Shepherd Sunday, the Church also asks us to pray for vocations.  Because without people dedicated to their vocation – whatever it may be – so many people will never hear the Gospel, never hear the Shepherd’s voice. We know that every person has a vocation. Every person is called on by God to do something specific with their life that will bring not only them, but also others around them, to salvation. Parents help to bring their children to salvation by raising them in the faith. Spouses bring their husbands and wives to salvation by upholding their faith and living for each other in good times and in bad.  Teachers help bring students to salvation by educating them and helping them to develop their God-given talents. Business people bring others to salvation by living lives of integrity and witness to their faith by conducting business fairly and with justice and concern for the needy. The list goes on. Every vocation, every authentic vocation, calls the disciple to do what God created them for, and helps God to bring salvation to the whole world.

    Six years ago on this very Sunday, I was struggling with my vocation. I knew that God was calling me to give up my comfortable life and go to seminary to study for the priesthood. But I did not want to go. I had heard the Shepherd’s voice but was in some ways choosing to ignore it.  I was already doing what I wanted to do with my life and thought it was going pretty well. But on some level, I knew that life as a disciple required me to do what God wanted, and not necessarily what I wanted. There was an open house that day at the Diocesan Vocations Office. I wasn’t interested in going – at all. And that day, the celebrant, who is now one of my brother priests, preached on vocations and made the point that living as a disciple meant that at some point we have to stop asking the question, “what do I want to do with my life?” and start asking, “what does God want me to do with my life?” And I knew that God wanted me to go to that open house that day, so I did. Four months later, I was in seminary.

    What about you? Are you doing what God wants you to do with your life? Maybe your answer won’t require such a radical change as mine did. Maybe it means you renew your commitment to your family, your work, your life as a disciple. But if you’re a young person out there and have only been thinking about what’s going to make you successful and bring in lots of money so you can retire at age 35, maybe God is to
    day asking you to stop thinking only of yourself and put your life’s work at the service of the Gospel. Maybe you’re being called on to be a teacher, or a police officer, or a health care professional. And maybe, just maybe, God is calling you to enter the priesthood or religious life. On this day of prayer for vocations, I’m just asking you to pray that God would make his plans for your life clear to you, and that you would promise God to do what he asks of you. I can tell you first hand that nothing, absolutely nothing, will give you a more abundant life. 

  • The Easter Vigil

    The Easter Vigil

    Today’s readings

    EasterVigil

    Next Sunday, I will have the wonderful privilege of baptizing my brand-new niece Katie. This past Thursday, I anointed a parishioner who is very close to death. On Monday, I will preside at the funeral of my mother’s aunt who was over 90 years old. This past year has been a roller coaster of emotions for me, rejoicing here in ministry at St. Raphael’s and burying my own beloved father. I thought about all of these things this week as I prepared for this Holy Vigil. It is always so amazing for me to see Christ’s presence in all the stages of life, from birth to death, in good times and in bad.

    Did you hear what we prayed at the very beginning of tonight’s vigil? Listen again: “Christ yesterday and today, the beginning and the end, Alpha and Omega, all time belongs to him, and all ages, to him be glory and power through every age forever. Amen.” And these are important, even brave words for us to offer on this most holy night. Because it is certainly the position of our world that time is to be endured, that it is fleeting, and that it ultimately meaningless. But tonight’s vigil proclaims that all time is holy, sanctified by our God who has walked with us through our yesterdays, remains with us today, and forges on with us toward our tomorrows. There is not a single moment of our life, not a single moment of our history that is not holy because every moment has been, is now, and always will be imbued with the presence of our God who is holiness itself.

    As we have walked through Lent, and especially through this Holy Week, there is even a temptation, I think, to come to think that the world, and especially human history, was a creative experiment that went horribly wrong, that God sent his Son to clean up the mess only to have him killed for it, and then in a last move of desperation raised him up out of the grave. But that’s not what we’ve gathered to celebrate tonight. Salvation was not some kind of dumb luck or happy accident. The salvation of the world had been part of God’s creative plan all along. Humanity, given the grace of free will had, and has, certainly gone astray. But God did not create us simply to follow our own devices and end up in hell. He created us for himself, and so sent his Son Jesus to walk our walk, to die our death, and to rise up over it all in the everlasting promise of eternal life. That’s what we celebrate on this most holy of all nights.

    Our world would have us believe that everything is futile and that the only possible way to endure this world is to cultivate a kind of cynical apathy that divorces us from our God, our loved ones, our communities and our world. We are conditioned to believe that time, and life itself, is meaningless, that there is nothing worth living for, and certainly nothing worth dying for. But tonight’s vigil debunks all of that. Tonight we are assured by our God that our present is no less redeemable than was our past, nor is it any less filled with promise than is our future.

    Tonight we have heard stories of our salvation. Each of our readings has been a stop in the history of God’s love for us. God’s plan for salvation, and his sanctification of time, began back at the beginning of it all. Each of the days was hallowed with precious creation, and all of it was created and pronounced good. Then Abraham’s faithfulness and righteousness earned us a future as bright as a zillion twinkling stars. Later, as Moses and the Israelites stood trapped by the waters of the red sea, God’s providence made a way for them and cut off their pursuers, making the future safe for those God calls his own. Keeping all of that in mind, the prophet Baruch sings of the wisdom that God makes known to us, extolling the greatness of God who leads his people in understanding and splendor. St. Paul rejoices in the baptism that has washed away the stains of sin as we have died and risen with Christ, and has brought us into a new life that leads ultimately to God’s kingdom. And finally, our Gospel tonight tells us not to be afraid, to go forth into the Galilee of our future and expect to see the Lord.

    We Christians have been spared the necessity of a cynical view of the world and its people. Our gift has been and always is the promise that Jesus Christ is with us always, even until the end of the world. And so, just as God sanctified all of time through his interventions of salvation, so too he has sanctified our lives through the interventions of Sacrament. We are a sacramental people, purified and reborn in baptism, fed and strengthened in the Eucharist, and in Confirmation, set on fire to burn brightly and light up our world. Tonight we celebrate these three Sacraments of Initiation, all of us recalling and renewing our baptism, Kelli being Confirmed in the faith, and all of us strengthened with the Eucharist, Kelli for the very first time tonight.

    These days of Lent have been a sanctifying journey for our sister Kelli who joins us in faith tonight, but it has been no less sanctifying for all of us, as we have celebrated the Stations of the Cross together, gathered for fish fries, attended our parish mission, spent time before the Eucharist in our Forty Hours Devotion, and so much more. Christ has definitely sanctified this Lenten time for all of us, and has now brought us to the fullness of this hour, when he rises over sin and death to bring us all to the promise of life eternal.

    And it is this very night that cleanses our world from all the stains of sin and death and lights up the darkness. The Exsultet, the Easter Proclamation that I sang when we entered Church tonight tells us: “Of this night, Scripture says, ‘The night will be clear as day: it will become my light, my joy.’ The power of this holy night dispels all evil, washes guilt away, restores lost innocence, brings mourners joy; it casts out hatred, brings us peace, and humbles earthly pride.” What a gift this night is, not just to us gathered here in this church, not just to all the Catholics gathered together throughout the world on this holy night, but to all people in every time and place. Our world needs the light and our time needs the presence of Christ, and our history needs salvation. Blessed be God who never leaves his people without the great hope of his abiding presence!

    And so, having come through this hour to be sanctified in this vigil, we will shortly be sent forth to help sanctify our own time and place. Brightened by this beautiful vigil, we now become a flame to light up our darkened world. That is our ministry in the world. That is our call as believers. That is our vocation as disciples. “May the Morning Star, which never sets, find this flame still burning: Christ, that Morning Star, who came back from the dead, and shed his peaceful light on all humankind, [the Son of God] who lives and reigns forever and ever. Amen.”

  • Forty Hours Devotion: Closing Mass of Thanksgiving

    Forty Hours Devotion: Closing Mass of Thanksgiving

    Readings: Sirach 50:22-24; Mark 5:18-20 [display_podcast]

    Have you ever had an experience that was so wonderful you just never wanted it to end? Maybe you were on a vacation and the place where you spent your time was really beautiful, and you had all kinds of fun, you got to swim and do all sorts of really great activities, and your whole family had a really good time. Or maybe you were at a party and all your best friends were there, and the food was delicious, and there was great music and games. Or maybe you went to a movie that was the best you’ve ever seen: the jokes were funny and the story was great and the filming was top-notch. You can probably think of other examples, too, of experiences that were so wonderful.

    When we have these kinds of experiences, we don’t want them to ever come to an end, do we? We wish we could stay on vacation forever, or we want to have a party like that every week, or we wish we could stay and watch the movie over and over and over. The man in the gospel who had been cured of evil spirits had an experience sort of like that, only a billion times better!

    He had lived his whole life plagued by evil spirits. They got him into trouble, made him sick, got him injured, and probably made everyone around him think he was crazy and were afraid of him. His life had to be lonely because his behavior, instigated by those nasty demons, pushed people away. So just imagine what an incredible relief it had to be for him when Jesus came along, and with just a few words, cast the many demons that were in the man into a herd of swine, who ran over a cliff and drowned! The man was able to walk around and act normal, and be healed of all the sickness that was in him. Can you imagine how wonderful that was for him?

    Well, it was so wonderful, that in the Gospel reading we have today, he asks Jesus if he can stay with him forever. And that’s completely understandable because how would he ever want such a wonderful experience to end?

    We’ve come to the end now, of our Forty Hours Devotion. It has been a wonderful time of grace for all of us. We have had beautiful Masses and prayer services. You all got to spend time with Fr. Nathan and learn new ways to pray. We have had opportunities to come to Reconciliation and start our spiritual life all over again, new in the Spirit. We have had the opportunity to see the Lord and come into his presence in a very special way. This has been a beautiful time of prayer and there has been such an incredible spirit of quiet and reverence in the whole building. We have truly been so blessed to have these Forty Hours to pray together and to be with our Lord together. We wish, in lots of ways, that it would never end. We’d like to sit in our Lord’s presence forever.

    Except that’s not what our Lord wants for us. He loves it when we are here and spend time with him. But he doesn’t want us to sit here forever. He wants us instead to go back into our school, back into our workplaces, back into our families and our communities, and to be his presence to others.

    Because the Lord is with us in all sorts of ways. Of course, he is uniquely present to us in the Blessed Sacrament, in the Eucharist we adore which is the same Eucharist we receive at Mass. But he is also present to us in one another. And when we look at someone, we are called to see Christ in them in much the same way as we see Christ in the Eucharist. If we spend our time here looking at our Lord in Adoration and then go out of church and ignore his presence in other people, then we have wasted our time. Adoration teaches us to see our God. To see him present in the Eucharist, yes, but also to see him at work in our world and present in each person he puts in our lives. Even the people who irritate us beyond belief!

    And just as we respect and reverence Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, we absolutely have to respect and reverence Jesus present in each other. So now we have to treat each other with dignity and honor, and love them no matter what. And if we cannot see the good in someone, we have to pray to see Christ in them. Because there is nothing good in anyone than is better than Christ in them.

    This is a Mass of Thanksgiving. So as we offer our gifts today, we must also offer our thanks. We thank all of the committee who worked so hard to plan these hours, and to plan the prayer. We thank everyone who read at Masses or prayer services, everyone who sang or distributed the Eucharist, or put together worship aids or prayer books on the tables our back. We thank all those who stayed up late or got up early to adore the Lord. We thank those who were present all day long, and those who could only come for an hour. We thank those who could not come at all, but supported all of us with prayers.

    But most of all, we thank God. We thank God for being present to us in the Eucharist. We thank God for giving us the grace of these Forty Hours. We thank God who is nearer to us than our own hearts, and who never fails to show up when we call on him. We thank God who works great wonders everywhere: here and in our own hearts. And we thank God for all the blessings we’ve yet to see, the blessings he will give us as his presence continues to grow in our midst. Thank God!