Caritas Christi Urget Nos

Tag: Discipleship

  • Ss. Simon & Jude, Apostles

    Ss. Simon & Jude, Apostles

    Today’s readings

    Today, we celebrate two apostles who, as often is the case, are relatively unknown except that they were followers of Jesus.  Jude is called Judas in Luke and in the Acts of the Apostles.  Matthew and Mark call him Thaddeus.  We have in the New Testament the letter of Jude, which scholars say is not written by the man whose feast we celebrate today.

    Simon was a Zealot, a member of a radical party that disavowed all ties with the government, holding that Israel should be re-elevated to political greatness under the leadership of God alone.  They also held that any payment of taxes to the Romans was a blasphemy against God.

    Neither of these men held any claim to greatness here on earth; they found their glory in following Christ.  Their joy was, as St. Paul instructs us in his letter to the Ephesians, in their citizenship which was of course in heaven, as it is for all of us.  We are merely passing through this place, and our task while we are hear, as was the task for Simon and Jude and all the apostles, to live for Christ and to live the Gospel.  The reward for them, then, as is for all of us, is in heaven, their and our true home.

    Their message, as the Psalmist says, goes out to all the earth.  Blessed are all of us when we catch that message and live that message, following the way to Christ Jesus.

  • Twenty-eighth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Twenty-eighth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    It was shortly after lunch that I finished this homily, and who could blame me?  With all this talk of “juicy, rich food” and wedding banquets, and even St. Paul saying that he knew what it was like to be well-fed and what it was like to be hungry, whose mind wouldn’t turn to food?  And that’s really okay, because all of us have come here [today / tonight] because we are hungry, but maybe hungry in a different way.

    Many people, when asked why they pick one church over another, say that they do it because it is at that church that they are “spiritually fed.”  And that is certainly one of the tasks of the church, to feed those who hunger with the spiritual food that comes from our Lord Jesus Christ.  And I think that’s the lens through which we have to see this rather curious Gospel parable today.

    When our modern ears hear this parable, there are surely things that seem odd about it, aren’t there?  First of all, as the wedding banquet is finished, the guests have to be summoned to the feast.  But in those days, they probably had received a formal invitation previously, and then had to be let know when the feast was ready.  But then we come to this very curious issue of the invited guests not wishing to attend.  What could possibly be keeping them away.  Even if they weren’t thrilled by the invitation and honored to attend, you’d think they would show up anyway because of who it is that is inviting them.  You would think they would want to keep the king happy.

    And many of us have been in the position of going to some social event because it is expected of us, I am sure.  I myself remember clearly attending events for work in my pre-priesthood days because clients or other VIPs were in the area.  Even in seminary, we were often “invited” to events that really were mandatory, which always used to drive me nuts.  But we can all relate in some way to attending some social event because it is expected of us, and not necessarily because we would choose to be there.

    And that makes what happens next even stranger.  Did they really think they could mistreat and kill the king’s messengers without any kind of consequences?  No king worth his salt would let such a disrespectful challenge to his authority go unpunished.

    But now the banquet is still ready and the guests are well, unavailable shall we say…  So the king sends the messengers out to all the public places in order to invite whomever they find.  And who are they going to find?  Well, probably pretty much what you’d expect: peddlers, butchers, beggars, prostitutes, tax collectors, shop lifters, the physically impaired and sick … in short, not the sort of people you’d expect to find at a king’s wedding banquet.

    So, to me, it’s not all that shocking that one of them is not appropriately dressed for the banquet.  What is shocking is that the rest of them are, right?  Some biblical scholars have suggested that perhaps the king, knowing who was going to show up, may have provided appropriate attire, and that one person refused to put it on.  Certainly if that were true, we could all understand the king throwing that person out.

    Putting the parable in context, the banquet is the kingdom of God.  The distinguished invited guests are the people to whom Jesus addressed the parable: the chief priests and the elders of the people.  These have all rejected the invitation numerous times, and would now make that rejection complete by murdering the messenger, the king’s son, Christ Jesus.  Because of this, God would take the kingdom from them, letting them go on to their destruction, and offer the kingdom to everyone that would come, possibly indicating the Gentiles, but certainly including everyone whose way of life would have been looked down upon by the chief priests and elders: prostitutes, criminals, beggars, the blind and lame.  All of these would be ushered in to the banquet, being given the new beautiful wedding garment which is baptism, of course, and treated to a wonderful banquet, which is the Eucharist.  Those who further reject the king by refusing to don that pristine garment may indeed be cast out, but to everyone who accepts the grace given them, a sumptuous banquet awaits.

    Can you imagine the hunger that those beggars, prostitutes, criminals, blind and lame people had?  Think about how filthy were the garments they had to be wearing.  Yet they are all washed clean in the waters of baptism, fed to satisfaction on the Bread of Life.

    If by now you’re thinking that the beggars, prostitutes, criminals, blind and lame are you and me, well, now you’re beginning to understand what Jesus is getting at.  Our sinfulness leaves us impoverished, and hardly worthy to attend the Banquet of the Lord.  It would only be just for our God to leave us off the invitation list.  But our God will do no such thing.  He washes us in the waters of baptism, clothing us in Christ, bringing us to the Banquet, and feeding us beyond our wildest imaginings.  We come here desiring to be spiritually fed, and our God offers us the very best: his own Son’s body and blood.

    [Today we join with our RCIA candidates for full communion, who are themselves answering the king’s invitation tonight.  They are one with us in baptism already, and in the days to come will complete the formation that will bring them along with us to the table of the Lord.  Their presence here stirs our own hearts, reminding us to keep that wedding garment pristine, and approach the Lord’s table with renewed love and devotion.]

    As we come to the Banquet today, we must certainly be overjoyed that our names are on the list.  We have been summoned and the banquet is prepared.  Now we approach the Banquet of the Lord with gratitude for the invitation, which is certainly undeserved, but just as certainly the cause of all our joy.  We sing this joy with our Psalmist today: “Only goodness and kindness follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD for years to come.”

  • Thursday of the Twenty-second Week of Ordinary Time

    Thursday of the Twenty-second Week of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    You may have heard the saying, as I have, that “If you want to hear God laugh, just tell him your plans.” It’s so easy for us in our arrogance to think we have everything all figured out. And then maybe God taps us on the shoulder, or shouts into our ear, and sends us in another direction. We’ve all had that happen so many times in our lives, I am sure. And if we’re open to it, it can be a wonderful experience, but it can also be a wild ride at the least, and traumatic at the greatest. This is the experience Paul is getting at when he says in our first reading, “For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in the eyes of God.”

    Simon and his fellow fishermen must have been thinking that Jesus fell into the foolishness category when he hopped into their boat, after they had been working hard all night long (to no avail, mind you!), and said, “Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.” What foolishness! But something about Jesus made them follow his instructions, he tapped on their shoulders, shouted into their ears, and they did what he said.

    And not only were they rewarded with a great catch of fish, but they were also called to catch people for God’s reign. Talk about God laughing at your plans. They had only ever known fishing, and now they were evangelists, apostles and teachers. And we know how wild a ride it was for them. They never expected the danger that surrounded Jesus in his last days. They never expected to be holed up in an upper room trying to figure out what to do next. They never expected to be martyred, but all of that was what God had in mind for them. And all of it was filled with blessing.

    So what foolishness does God have planned for us today? How will he tap us on the shoulder or shout into our ear? Whatever it is, may he find us all ready to leave everything behind and follow him.

  • Twenty-second Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Twenty-second Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    When I was in high school, I went on our youth group’s senior retreat. On that retreat each of us seniors was given a paperback New Testament in which a verse had been highlighted. They were given out randomly, with trust that the Holy Spirit would speak to us in some way through that verse. That sure worked for me, and I’ll never forget the verse that I received. It was Romans 12:2, from today’s second reading: “Do not conform yourself to this age, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may know what is God’s will, what is good and pleasing and perfect.” I can’t tell you how often since that retreat I’ve gone back to that verse, praying for the transformation of my life and the renewal of my mind, because God’s will can sometimes be so hard for us to discern. But that is the great project of our lives, isn’t it?

    I think Jeremiah, in today’s first reading, expresses the exasperation we sometimes feel when we are trying to discern that will. Sometimes we get to the point where we’d just as soon chuck it all and pretend it just doesn’t matter. But if we do that, we can’t expect even a moment’s peace. Listen to the prophet’s words again:

    I say to myself, I will not mention him,
    I will speak in his name no more.
    But then it becomes like fire burning in my heart,
    imprisoned in my bones;
    I grow weary holding it in, I cannot endure it.

    We all of us have to come to the point where we realize that what we want to do in our lives doesn’t matter so much as what God wants us to do. Because that’s the only way we’ll ever find true peace with God and true peace with ourselves. We can try, as Jeremiah did, to hide from God’s will, holding back from what we really feel called to do. We can give in to the fear that keeps us from becoming what we were meant to be. We can try to live our lives as if God really doesn’t matter to us. But then, eventually, we will become weary of holding it in. And then we have two possible responses: either give in to God’s will, or give in to despair and disappointment and accept that unfulfilled potential is what we were meant for.

    Given that choice, I’ll pick doing Gods will, thank you very much! And in giving in to God’s will, we may well be duped, and yes, we may even have let ourselves be duped. Because God’s will is too strong for us, and we cannot overcome it. Just ask St. Augustine, whose feast we celebrated this past Thursday. He was well-off, intelligent, enjoying the pleasures of the world, and had no interest in the religion that his mother, St. Monica, lived. But eventually, through the prayers of his mother and the grace of God, Augustine realized he could not go on with the sham his life had become. In his famous Confessions, he writes of the beauty that he had missed by being so caught up in the things of this world:

    Late have I loved you,
    O Beauty ever ancient, ever new,
    late have I loved you!

    You were within me, but I was outside,
    and it was there that I searched for you.
    In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created.

    You were with me, but I was not with you.
    Created things kept me from you;
    yet if they had not been in you they would not have been at all.

    You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness.
    You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness.
    You breathed your fragrance on me;
    I drew in breath and now I pant for you.

    I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more.
    You touched me, and I burned for your peace.

    Jesus lays this all on the table for us in today’s Gospel. We have to stop, like Peter, thinking as people do and start thinking as God does. And when we do that, it’s not going to be pretty. We’re going to have to take up our cross and follow Jesus, which is surely going to mean some suffering, and definitely some sacrifice. But if we would save our lives, we have to be willing to lay them down, to give them up, to be duped by our God whose wisdom is so far beyond our own understanding.

    So how do you know if something is God’s will for you? This is the rubber-meets-the-road question for all of us in the life of discipleship. The art of discernment is something that takes a lifetime to perfect, and indeed may well be completely imperfect until that day when we meet our God in the heavenly kingdom. But until that great day, we disciples are called to practice. And so, here are some principles of discernment that work for me. They are adapted from various sources in the Church.

    First, pray. Trying to discern God’s will outside the context of a relationship with God makes no sense whatsoever. If you want to know what God’s will in your life is, then ask him. And be ready to listen. Take the time to listen. Find a way to be silent, whether it’s by sitting in front of the Blessed Sacrament or taking a long walk. Pray, and then be silent.

    Second, look to the saints. It is highly unlikely that God will call you to do something that hasn’t been modeled in the life of his holy ones. We were meant to look to the saints for inspiration, guidance and intercession – that’s why we have saints in the Church. So if a particular saint’s story has meaning for you, reflect on that, and see if God is calling you to something as a result of that.

    Third, look to the Scriptures and to the Church’s Liturgy. We are a people meant to be formed by the Word of God and by the Sacraments. We are called as Christian disciples to live the Gospel. We are all sent forth in peace to love and serve the Lord. Our experience of worship is meant to inspire us and to lead us in being Eucharist in the week ahead.

    Fourth, seek counsel from every wise person (Tobit 4:18a). Many people in our lives know us better than we know ourselves. Check with someone you trust spiritually to see if you’re on track or off base. Sometimes a pair of fresh eyes on our discernment can be so helpful.

    Finally, be willing to be duped by God. Jeremiah complained about it, but ultimately he was willing – he let himself be duped. And so maybe what we’re called to do is something we have no idea how it will turn out. That’s okay. We aren’t always given the big picture. But being part of that big picture can be the biggest thrill of our lives. And as Jeremiah tells us, we can’t silence it anyway, so we might as well give ourselves over to it.

    Clearly, our Liturgy today is calling us to open ourselves up to God’s plan in our lives, whatever that plan might be. We’re all being asked to move in some direction, closer to our God. It can be frustrating, even scary, to be searching in that direction. But the rewards are clear: “Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” May our quiet moments of the week ahead find us renewing our minds and searching for what is truly good and pleasing and perfect.

  • Twenty-first Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Twenty-first Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today’s readings

    Back when I was selling computers, they always taught us that one of the first good rules of sales was never to ask a question to which you didn’t already know the answer. I think teachers get taught that principle as well. I can’t help but think that Jesus’ question to the disciples in today’s Gospel falls under that heading. Because Jesus certainly knew who he was. But, as often happens in our interactions with Jesus, there’s something more going on. And to figure out what that something more is, all you have to do is go back to the Gospels the last couple of weeks and see in them that Jesus is thirsting for people’s faith. He was thirsting for faith from Peter when he called him to walk on the water. He was quenched by the faith of the Canaanite woman last week as she persisted in her request that Jesus heal her daughter. And now he thirsts for the disciples’ faith – and ours too – as he asks us the 64 thousand dollar question: “Who do you say that I am?”

    He actually starts with kind of a soft-ball question. “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And they recount all the obvious and probably much-discussed options of the time. If there were bloggers and talk radio people and CNN in that first century, they too might have said “John the Baptist” or “Elijah” or “Jeremiah” or “one of the prophets.” So this is an easy question for the disciples to answer. But when he gets to the extra credit question, “But who do you say that I am?” there’s a lot more silence. And, as often happens with the disciples, it’s the impetuous Peter who blurts out the right answer, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Very good, Peter, you have been paying attention. So now you will be given the rather ominous blessing of being the rock on which Jesus will build his Church.

    And that blessing is ominous. Because it will require much of Peter. But to be honest, Peter’s answer to Jesus’ question will itself require much of Peter. You see, it’s not just a liturgical formula or a scriptural title or even a profession of faith in the formal sense that Jesus is looking for here. He is looking for something that goes quite a bit deeper, something that comes from the heart, something integrated into Peter’s life. He is looking for faith not just spoken but faith lived, and that’s why Peter’s answer is so dangerous. If he is really convinced that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the living God” then that conviction has to show itself in the way Peter lives. He can’t just believe that and keep it under his hat. If Jesus really is the One who is coming into the world, the Promised One of all generations, the salvation of the world, then Peter has to proclaim it from the rooftops. And some people are just not going to want to hear it.

    So I’m very sorry to tell you all this, but we have all gathered here on a very dangerous Sunday. We too, you know, are being asked today, “But who do you say that I am?” And Jesus isn’t asking us just to recite the Creed, the Profession of Faith. That’s too easy; we do it all the time. He doesn’t want to know what you learned at Bible Study or Small Christian Community. Those things are nice, but Jesus isn’t going for what’s in your head. Jesus is calling all of us today to dig deep, to really say what it is that we believe about him by the way that we act and the things that we do and the life that we live. It’s the dangerous question for us, too, because what we believe about Jesus has to show forth in action and not just word. Our life has to be a testament to our faith in God. And if we cannot answer that question out of our faith today, if we are not prepared to live the consequences of our belief, then we have a lot of thinking to do today.

    Because if we really believe – really believe – that Jesus is who he says he is, then we cannot just sit on the news either. Like Peter, we are going to have to proclaim it in word and deed. In our homes, in our workplaces, in our schools, in our communities – we must be certain that everyone knows that we are Christians and we’re proud of it. That doesn’t mean that we need to interject a faith lesson into every conversation or badger people with the Gospel. But it does mean that we have to live that Gospel. In St. Francis’s words, “Proclaim the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words.” People absolutely need to be able to tell by looking at our lives that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God. If they can’t, then our faith is as tepid as the Pharisees’ and that’s nothing to be proud of, as we well know.

    Every part of our Liturgy has consequences for us believers. “The Body of Christ. Amen.” When we hear that proclamation and respond with our “Amen,” we are saying “yes, that’s what I believe.” And if we believe that, if we are then filled with the Body of Christ by receiving Holy Communion, then we have made a statement that has consequences. If we truly become what we receive, then how does that change the way that we work, the way that we interact with others? “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.” “Thanks be to God.” If we accept that command, then what? What does it mean to love and serve the Lord? Does it mean that we just do some kind of ministry here at Mass? Absolutely not. The first word in the command is “Go” and that means we have to love and serve the Lord in our daily lives, in our business negotiations, in our community meetings, in our interactions with peers or the way that we mentor those who work for us.

    So if we really believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God, then our lives just became a whole lot more complicated. We may have to give up some of our habits and vices, we may have to make a concerted effort to be more aware of Christ in our daily lives, we may have to learn to treat other people as the Body of Christ. We may have to do all this preaching in a hostile environment, because sometimes people don’t want to hear the Good News. And this is dangerous, because if we really believe, then we have to preach anyway. Peter did, and it eventually led him to the cross. What will it require of us?

    So I don’t know just how dangerous this will be for me or for you. I’m not even sure how we will all answer the question right now. But one thing is for sure, all of us sitting here today have the same one-question test that Peter and the disciples had. Who do you say that the Son of Man is?

  • Feast of St. James, Apostle

    Feast of St. James, Apostle

    Today's readings

    “Can you drink the chalice of which I am going to drink?”

    What does that even mean for us?  We know what Jesus’ chalice was like: it led him through sorrow, and abandonment, and ultimately to the cross.  If we have ever been in a situation in which we have felt intense grief, or felt abandoned, or had to stand by and watch the death of one that we loved, well then, we know a little bit of what that chalice is going to taste like.

    Being a disciple is messy business.  It means that it’s not all the glory, pomp and circumstance.  It means that our faith sometimes has to move from the mountaintop experiences down into the valleys of despair.  It means that there are times when we will be in situations that are frustrating, infuriating, debilitating, grievous and horrible.  We will have to drink a very bitter chalice indeed.  And Jesus wasn’t just talking to John and James when he said “My chalice you will indeed drink.”  That’s the cup reserved for all of us who would be his disciples.

    Very clearly those words of St. Paul ring true for us:

    We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained;
    perplexed, but not driven to despair;
    persecuted, but not abandoned;
    struck down, but not destroyed;
    always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus,
    so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our body.
    For we who live are constantly being given up to death
    for the sake of Jesus,
    so that the life of Jesus may be manifested in our mortal flesh.

    But what is unspoken here but clearly implied is the grace.  Those who abandon their lives to take up the cross, wherever that leads them, will always have at their disposal the grace to live a life that is joyful in the face of affliction, confident in the midst of uncertainty, whole in the midst of destruction.  There is nothing that the world or its evils can throw at us that cannot be ultimately overcome by the grace of God.  We will still have to live through sadness at times, but that sadness can never and must never overtake the joy we have in Christ.

    Like St. James and his brother John, we are all called to drink from the chalice which Jesus drank. That means that we will always bear the dying of Jesus in our own bodies. We can't explain why bad things happen to good people, but we can explain how good people handle bad situations well: they handle it well because they know Christ and live in Christ every day of their lives. Sometimes the chalice we will have to drink will be unpleasant, distasteful and full of sorrow. But with God's grace, our drinking of those cups can be a sacrament of the presence of God in the world.

    Everyone who is great among us must be a servant, and whoever wishes to be first among us must be our slave. St. James knew how to do that and still thrive in his mission. May we all be that same kind of sacrament for the world.

  • Tenth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Tenth Sunday of Ordinary Time

    Today's readings

    [display_podcast]

    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.” 

  • Wednesday of the Ninth Week of Ordinary Time

    Wednesday of the Ninth Week of Ordinary Time

    Today's readings

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    When I read St. Paul’s message to Timothy in our first reading last night, I resonated with the spirit of his message.  St. Paul reminds Timothy of his calling and of the authority that was given him when St. Paul laid hands on him.  The life that Timothy was called to lead as a consequence of that anointing was one that would be challenging, but blessed.  He would have to bear his share of hardship for the Gospel, but St. Paul tells him never to be ashamed of it.  Whatever is to befall them, St. Paul’s confidence is in the Lord: “For I know him in whom I have believed,” he says, “and I am confident that he is able to guard what has been entrusted to me until that day.”

    That got me thinking about my own ordination as a priest, which was two years ago yesterday.  I clearly remember the words that Bishop Imesch spoke when he handed me the chalice and paten that I use for Mass to this day.  He said, “Receive the oblation of the holy people, to be offered to God.  Understand what you do, imitate what you celebrate, and conform your life to the mystery of the Lord’s cross.”  I think those very words would be words that St. Paul would understand.  “Understand what you do” seems easy enough, until it gets to the second instruction: “imitate what you celebrate.”  What I celebrate here is a sacrificial moment, and if I am to imitate that, then my life must be basically sacrificial.  That’s what is meant by the third instruction in what the bishop said to me: “and conform your life to the mystery of the Lord’s cross.”

    Sometimes it’s hard for all of us to know that whatever our call may be, it will involve sacrifices.  Every single vocation necessarily requires that, because nothing authentic can ever be just about us.  We have to lay down our lives in love every single day because that’s what Jesus did for us.  Some days, as I tell the couples getting married here when I preach the homily for them, that may be hard work.  But it is always our hope that every day, whether it’s easy or difficult, it will be the greatest joy of our lives.  That’s why St. Paul tells Timothy that he should not be ashamed of his testimony to the Lord.  That’s why the bishop told me to conform my life to the mystery of the Lord’s cross.  Because none of us will ever regret anything we’ve sacrificed for love.

     

  • Thursday of the Seventh Week of Easter

    Thursday of the Seventh Week of Easter

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    Sometimes we get an idea and it seems well, a little uncomfortable.  We may well have had a call or even a gentle moving from the Lord, and are afraid to act on it.  Today’s Scriptures speak to those of us who are sometimes hesitant to do what the Lord is calling on us to do.

     

    I think St. Paul must have been exhausted by this point in his life.  As we hear of him in our reading from Acts today, he is saved from one angry mob, only to learn he is to go to another.  Out of the frying pan and into the fire.  He has borne witness to Christ in Jerusalem, but now he has to go and do it all over again in Rome.  And underneath it all, he knows there is a good chance he is going to die.

     

    In the Gospel today, Jesus prays for all of his disciples, and also for all those who “will believe in me through their word.”  And that, of course, includes all of us.  He prays that we would be unified and would be protected from anything or anyone who might seek to divide us from each other, or even from God.  He says that we are a gift to him, and that he wishes us to be where he will be for all eternity.

     

    What we see in our Liturgy today is that God keeps safe the ones he loves.  If he calls us to do something, he will sustain us through it.  Maybe we’ll have to witness to Jesus all over again or we’ll have to defend our faith against people in our community or workplace or school who just don’t understand.  We might well feel hesitant at these times, but we can and must go forward, acting on God’s call.  When we do that, we can make our own prayer in the words of the Psalm today: “Keep me safe, O God; you are my hope.”

     

  • Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord

    Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord

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    ascension-iconCan you imagine what was going through the disicples’ minds as they stood there watching the Ascension of the Lord?  Think about all that they’ve been through.  Three years following this Jesus whose words were compelling and whose miracles were amazing and whose way of life was uplifting.  But still, there was something about him that they just never seemed to get.  He had no problem claiming to be the Christ, the Anointed One, and so their strong cultural definition of the Messiah was something they projected onto Jesus, but time after time it just never fit.  Then he gets arrested, tried in a farce of a proceeding, put to death like a common criminal and buried for three days.  After that, he is no longer in the tomb, but has risen from the dead and appeared to them many times.  Now they’re gathered forty days later, and he promises the gift of the Holy Spirit.  They breathlessly ask the question that has always been on their minds, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?”  They still don’t get it.

     

    And so Jesus promises them the Holy Spirit again, and ascends into the sky.  Can you imagine it?  It’s like a roller coaster of emotions for them.  Their heads had to be spinning, they had to be completely lost as to what to do now.  First he was dead and buried, then he came back, and now he’s gone again.  What on earth are they to do now?  Well, the two mysterious men dressed in white garments have all the advice they’re going to get: “Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky?  This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven will return in the same way as you have seen him going into heaven.”

     

    Which only leaves a whole lot more questions, and their basic questions still unanswered.  When will he return?  When will he restore the kingdom?  What is it the Holy Spirit is going to do for them?  Well, soon enough they find out, of course, and we’ll talk about that next week.  For now, it’s enough for us to see what this feast of the Ascension means for us.  I think it makes three points that we must be ready to fold into our faith life.

     

    First, Christ promises us that he will be with us always.  And that’s just what Jesus says to the disciples – and to us! – in the very last words of the very last verse of the very last chapter of Matthew’s Gospel: “And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”  With that, of course, he ascends out of their sight, and so that must have been a confusing promise for the disciples to hear – at least right now.  But this is such an essential point of faith for us to get.  Just as the first disciples continued to know Christ’s presence in their gathering, in their worshipping, and in their serving, so we continue to know Christ’s presence in those same ways. 

     

    We believe that Christ is present whenever we gather in his name.  He said as much to us in another place: “Wherever two or more are gathered in my name, I am there in their midst.” (Matthew 18:20)  We reverence the presence of Christ in one another and can feel him present among us as we pray.  The song we have sung this year – “You’re the only Jesus” – celebrates that we may well be the person who introduces someone else to Christ, that they will come to know Christ as they come to experience our love and care for them.  Christ is present when we gather.

     

    We believe that Christ is present when we worship.  The Word of God, as it is proclaimed in the Church, is not just a nice story or an interesting precept for life.  We believe that God is present in the very proclaiming of the Word itself.  And so at times we may hear the Scriptures and experience a stirring in our heart that leads us to a new way of thinking or acting.  This is because Christ is present – in a sacramental way – in the proclamation of the Word.  And the Sacraments themselves make Christ present when we celebrate them in worship, and we experience that in a special way when we celebrate the Eucharist and receive the body and blood of our Lord in Communion.  We have celebrated that in a special way this weekend with our children who have received First Eucharist.  But we celebrate that every time we gather for Mass, whether it be our First Eucharist or our 3,492nd Eucharist!  Christ is present to us when we worship.

     

    We believe that Christ is present when we serve.  Deep down, we know that the really great things we do are never the result of our own efforts alone.  It’s the Holy Spirit who has prompted us to act or serve or move or speak in certain way.  That same Spirit gives us strength and talent and ability and energy we would never know on our own.  When we serve authentically, aware of the presence of the Holy Spirit, we know that Christ is present.  So it’s not us feeding the hungry, it’s Christ.  It’s not us proclaiming the Word, it’s Christ.  It’s not us leading a religious education class, it’s Christ.  It’s not us doing any of this, it’s always Christ, whose hands and feet and lips we have become by the virtue of our baptism.  Christ is present when we serve in his name.

     

    Jesus promised to be with us always, and through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit among us, we find him present in our gathering, in our worshipping, and in our serving.  Jesus is with us in our ordinary and extraordinary moments.  Jesus is present in us just as surely as is the breath of life.  And today he promises that that presence will never end, that he will be with us to the end of time.

     

    The second application of the Ascension to our lives is that Jesus has gone to heaven to prepare a place for us.  Now, clearly he wasn’t returning to heaven to put a fresh coat of paint on the walls or polish the gold-covered streets.  He goes to heaven to pave the way, because we had lost the way, affected as we all are by original sin and by the sins of our life.  Since we did not know the way, he prepares it for us, opening the door, so to speak, and greeting us.  So we believers who have forged a relationsh
    ip with our Lord can now look to him to see how to get to that heavenly reward.  All we have to do is follow, and we will find ourselves in that place God intended for us from the beginning. 

     

    And the third application of this feast in our lives is that the Christian Mission has been entrusted to our hands.  Christ has ascended into heaven, he has returned to the Father.  So on this feast of the Ascension of the Lord, we can be like the disciples, standing there staring blankly into the heavens, or we can start to live our lives with the expectation of the Lord’s return, as the disciples were told by the two men dressed in white.  Now it’s time for us to take up the Cross, to preach the Word in our words and actions, and to witness to the joy of Christ’s presence among us.  If people are ever going to come to know Christ, if they are ever going to be challenged to grow in their faith, if they are ever going to know that there is something greater than themselves, well most likely they’re going to come to know all of that in us.  We have to be transparent in our preaching and our living so that people won’t be caught up on us, but will come through us to see Jesus, to see the Father, to experience the Spirit.  We are the ones commanded to “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…”  As Cardinal George is fond of saying, the Church does not have a mission … the mission has a Church, and we the Church have to take up that mission and run with it.  It is entrusted to us now.

     

    And so today, in the words of the Psalmist, God mounts his throne to shouts of joy.  We are joyous in living our life as Christians, assured of God’s abiding presence until the end of time, looking forward to our heavenly reward, and living the mission for all to see.  A blare of trumpets for the Lord!