Archive for the ‘Weekday Homilies’ Category

September 8 – Nativity of Mary

September 9, 2009

I once heard a man express why he believed that of all the causes for celebration, birthdays were among the stupidest. I don’t remember his arguments word for word, but they went along these lines…

“Why celebrate a birthday? I mean it’s not as if you’ve done anything to reach that ‘special day,’ besides living for another 365 days and riding the earth another lap around the sun. Your mom was the one who actually did something on the day you were born. All you did was show up. How does merely showing up for another year merit a party?”

He had an interesting argument, but he was entirely missing the point when it comes to why we celebrate birthdays.  It’s not that the person has done any one, big, special thing that makes us celebrate that day.  It is for the countless little things, for all the things which make them who they are for us, this is why we rejoice over them just being around for another year of life. The reason we celebrate birthdays is to celebrate the very fact of a person’s existence, to celebrate who they are, in their own unique and unrepeatable goodness, to celebrate the gift of their presence in our lives.

Today, we celebrate Mary’s birthday. We celebrate the fact that God created her and has given her to us. We celebrate who she is, in her own unique and unrepeatable goodness. We celebrate the gift of her presence in our lives. Today we rejoice over Mary, our mother, our sister, and our close friend, and we wish her a very happy birthday, just for being who she is.

Thursday, 22nd Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

September 3, 2009

Peter has worked hard all night and has nothing to show for it. He’s frustrated and tired. Then Jesus comes along. The two men had met before. Peter met Jesus through his brother. Apparently, Peter had been impressed by this man whom Andrew insisted was the messiah; for when Jesus asks Peter to take the boat from the shore, to give some space for speaking to the crowds, Peter obliges.

How long do you think Jesus spoke out there, sitting in the boat? It probably wasn’t a short while. And when Jesus finishes talking, he turns again to Peter and wants him to go out further, to cast his nets into the deeper waters. Peter thinks it’s pointless, and he says so, but He continues showing a willingness to oblige Jesus.

Peter casts the nets and brings in his biggest catch ever. And here, seeing himself richly blessed, by a great and holy man, Peter hits the limit of his capacity to serve. It’s not that Peter’s too tired or hungry, too busy or lazy. It’s his shame for his sins. Peter’s shame would prevent him from serving Jesus any farther.

Peter turns to Jesus and says, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” It’s the opposite from what we should ask of Jesus when we acknowledge our sinfulness. Jesus tells him, “Do not be afraid. (I will do great things with you.)”

We are not worthy to receive Him, but we are called to His supper and to serve Him all the same. And even with recovering sinners like us, He can do great things.

Wednesday, 22nd Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

September 2, 2009

Notice in today’s Gospel how Jesus does not let the demons speak.

[D]emons also came out from many, shouting, “You are the Son of God.” But [Jesus] rebuked them and did not allow them to speak because they knew that he was the Christ.

Jesus does not allow them to speak, even about the truth of his being the messiah, because demons mix lies within truth.

In the garden, the serpent asked the Eve, “Did God really tell you not to eat from any of the trees in the garden?” No, God hadn’t told them that, but God had told them not to eat from one particular tree, or they would die. The serpent insisted, “You certainly will not die!” and it is true that when they ate of the tree Adam and Eve did not keel over dead right then and there, but the divine life within them did die to be followed by natural deaths many years later.

The book of Acts records how St. Paul once encountered a slave girl who carried a demon. The slave girl used to bring profits to her owners through her fortune-telling. For many days she followed Paul, shouting out, “These people are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation.” Finally, Paul became annoyed, turned, and said to the spirit, “I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her,” and at that moment it left her. Did you catch the lie amidst the truth in what the slave girl’s demon said? “These people are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you ‘a’ way of salvation.”

Demons smuggle lies into the truth. If a man accepts and carries a compass that is just off just a few degrees, he may not notice that anything’s wrong with it until he’s horribly lost. If there are angels helping us throughout our daily lives, encouraging us and prompting us to do good, then there are also demons trying to do the opposite.

Don’t have conversations with demons. They are spirits far more clever than us and they can confuse or discourage us greatly. However, as Christians, we should not be afraid of them. If and when you feel their oppression, make the sign of the cross (for this is an exorcistic gesture) or say, “In the name of our Lord, Jesus Christ, depart from me and go where you can hurt no one.” Such is our authority in Christ, that we too can command spirits. Holy water is helpful, too; it’s power can sometimes make a palpable difference.

And here’s a final tip for discerning whether a spirit be good or bad, of God or not: From time to time our friends in heaven my correct us or challenge us in our lives as disciples of Christ. But, if you ever feel discouraged or weakened, as if by an accusation or a rebuke, that is not from them. Such condemnation is either coming from of your own, lingering, internal brokenness or from an external oppressor. When one of our heavenly friends corrects or challenges us, they leave us feeling their love and with increased strength to do what is good. Recognizing this difference will help you in receiving grace and peace from God our Father.

Tuesday, 22nd Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

September 1, 2009

According to my very accurate clock, it’s [7:08] in the morning… and you’re here at Church. If you wanted, maybe you could still be sleeping in bed, but you’re here instead. You could be sitting at home, watching the morning shows, or reading something over coffee if you wanted, but instead you’re here. You could be already at work, or on your way there if you wanted, getting an early start to earn an early release, but you’re here at Mass instead. Nobody’s paying you to come here. Nobody’s forcing you to be here. So do you realize why you’re here?

It seems obvious to me that you’re here because you want to dwell in the house of the Lord, all the days of your life. You’re here to gaze, on the loveliness of the Lord and to contemplate in his temple. Though your repeated sins may discourage you, you have the longings of a saint, or at least, a saint under-construction. So be encouraged before Christ, for you, brothers and sisters, are not in darkness. It’s [7:09] in the morning, and you are children of the light and children of the day.

Monday, 22nd Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

August 31, 2009

Why does Saint Paul say that the dead are “fallen asleep?” Are we to think of the dead as unaware and unconscious until the general resurrection? No. We believe that all the saints in heaven are actively alive in Christ.

As the dying St. Dominic said to his religious brothers, “Do not weep, for I shall be more useful to you after my death and I shall help you then more effectively than during my life.” And as St. Therese of Lisieux said in her last conversations, “I want to spend my heaven in doing good on earth.”

The saints continue to cooperate in Christ’s messianic work. The Spirit of the Lord is with the saints, He has anointed them, to bring gifts to the poor, liberty to captives, sight to the blind, freedom to the oppressed, and to make times and seasons acceptable to the Lord.

Though death is not unconsciousness, going to sleep is a fitting image for it. The deceased Christian arrives home from a long-road’s journey. After blisters, sunburns, and dehydration are attended to, not to mention a needed bath (I speak of the business of purgatory), dying begins the Christian traveler’s transition to a lasting, comfortable rest.

Those who have arrived at this home before of us are not cut off from those of us who are still journeying there. As Lumen Gentium and the Catechism says, “the union of the wayfarers with the brethren who sleep in the peace of Christ is in no way interrupted, but on the contrary, according to the constant faith of the Church, this union is reinforced by an exchange of spiritual goods.”

So today, why not ask your favorite saints to provide you with something special for this day’s journey? I suspect that they’re here, waiting, eagerly listening, for us simply to ask for something good.

August 27 – St. Monica

August 27, 2009

Today I would like to tell you a true story, the story of a Catholic woman in a very difficult marriage to a non-Christian husband. Her husband was a man with a hot temper and hostility towards Christianity. He was unfaithful in their marriage, but she remained faithful to him—not out of weakness, but out of an inner-strength.

She bore his faults with patience and persistently sought after his conversion. The daily example of her gentleness and kindness finally had its victory. Her husband became a Christian one year before his death. However, the year after that, she had to face a new burden alone.

The oldest of her three children joined an anti-Catholic religious cult. It started him down a path of sinful pride and many sensual sins. It broke her heart. Then one night, she had a dream.

She was standing on top of a wooden ruler, and she saw a young man coming towards her, surrounded by a glorious halo. Although she felt sad and full of grief, the young man smiled at her joyfully. He asked her for the reason for her sadness and daily tears. (This wasn’t because he didn’t know, but because he had something to tell her—this is the way things happen in visions.) When she answered that her tears were for the lost soul of her son he told her to take heart for, if she looked carefully, she would see that where she was, there also was he. And when she looked, she saw her son standing beside her on the same ruler. Reassured by this dream she continued, for years to come, praying tearful prayers for his conversion.

She even asked the bishop to intervene in winning over her son. He counseled her to be patient, saying, “God’s time will come.” When she persisted in asking, the bishop (perhaps busy with many other things) famously reassured her: “Go now, I beg you; it is impossible that the son of so many tears should perish.”

That son, as you may have guessed by now, was the great St. Augustine. And his mother is St. Monica. May her story encourage us to pray and strive for the conversion of our loved ones to the Catholic faith. Remember and take hope: God loves us with a human heart and He cares about your loved ones even more than you do.

Wednesday, 21st Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

August 27, 2009

Today the psalmist reflects on the truth that you just can’t get away from the Spirit of God.  Psalm 139 is good to remember whenever God feels absent.

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I sink to the nether world, you are present there.
If I take the wings of the dawn,
if I settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall guide me…

Have you ever come to Mass with serious doubts that you would get anything worthwhile out of the homily? Maybe you saw this priest or that priest come out, and said to yourself, “oh, him again.” However, we should always approach the homily, and the entire Mass, with a hopeful receptivity to the work of the Spirit.

Is it really possible that the Holy Spirit, who is everywhere, could be completely absent from the priest’s homily? Regardless of whether the priest preaches long or short, with refined style or with bare simplicity, in his first language or not, we should trust that the Holy Spirit will speak something to us through his words as long as we are spiritually open to listening.

Tuesday, 21st Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

August 25, 2009

Jesus said,

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, you hypocrites. You pay tithes of mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier things of the law: judgment and mercy and fidelity. (But) these you should have done, without neglecting the others.”

The Mosaic Law commanded that one tenth of the produce of the land, of the new animals and the harvest, to be given (or tithed) to the priests and the temple. The scribal tradition had apparently extended this law to even the smallest herbs.

Jesus is not criticizing tithing, but rather the focusing on little externals for others to see, rather than on the important things. He is criticizing the practice religion with more interest in appearing holy than in actually and thoroughly being holy.

Have you ever been quietly praying, realized that someone might be seeing you, and then toned down your outward signs of piety? Maybe you wished that you could be invisible, so that nobody could see you, so that you could keep praying as before. We try not to look too holy. It’s good to be humble, and to not be a distraction to another’s prayer, and not to be after the empty praise of men, but how much of our experience, of subduing our outward signs of devotion, is actually really due to fear?

The Pharisees were concerned about other people seeing their acts of devotion so that others would think better of them. But I think our problem is different; we don’t want people to see our devotion, so they won’t think worse of us.

In Jesus’ setting, religious dedication was likely to be admired. Seeing the Pharisees carefully measure out their gifts at the temple an observer might say, “Wow, he even tithes his herbs and spices!  What a righteous son of Abraham!” But in our culture, the opposite of admiration, or contempt, often comes from Christian devotion.  “I heard that he and his wife give 10% to their church every year! Talk about brainwashed, religious kooks!”

If Jesus’ time was disposed to the fault of showy religiosity, ours seems inclined to religious timidity, or cowardice. Consider, how often does the name of Jesus, or the mention of God, leave our lips when we’re outside of Church? Do we pray at home before meals? Good! But what about when we go out to eat at restaurants?

I don’t think that most of us here are in danger of the Pharisees’ sin, of flaunting our piety before others, so much as we are in danger of being ashamed of Christ before men. As Jesus says, “Whoever is ashamed of me and of my words, the Son of Man will be ashamed of when he comes in his glory and in the glory of the Father and of the holy angels.”

We should pray when we eat out at restaurants, just like we do at home. And we would all benefit from more frequent, thoughtful conversations about God and Jesus in our lives. And perhaps, instead of wishing that no one else would see you when you pray, maybe next time we should pray as if we didn’t know that there were people around us at all.

These are just little things, little acts of fidelity, but fidelity is one of the weightier things of the Law.

Thursday, 20th Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

August 20, 2009

It can be important to remember that not every person and deed in the Bible is meant to be emulated as a model for us. Oftentimes the Scriptures are just recording the facts; the misdeeds and sinfulness of humans in need a savior. This is frequently true in the Old Testament where today we see Jephthah vowing to do an evil thing. There is a lot wrong with what Jephthah did.

First of all, human sacrifice was loved by the false gods surrounding and often infecting Israel, but it was absolutely forbidden under the Law of the Lord. Jephthah was disobeying that Law. He vowed to do something evil for the Lord, which is a self-contradiction. Finally, why did Jephthah promise to sacrifice the first person he saw—why did he not offer himself for the sacrifice?

Perhaps it was easy for Jephthah to vow a human sacrifice when he thought it would only cost him a stranger or one of his servants. But to offer his firstborn, or he himself, that was beyond his imagination. In this context, let us ponder and grapple with this strange mystery at the center of our faith:

Jesus Christ, God’s only and unique Son, allowed Himself to be sacrificed by sinners for His Father’s victory; for the salvation of God’s people.

What makes this divine sacrifice so different from Jephthah’s? Why is the one glorious and the other abominable?

Jephthah’s sacrifice was pointless and unnecessary, it was not needed to save God’s people. God fully planned to lead Israel to victory over the Ammonites even before, and without, Jephthah’s evil vow. On the other hand, the divine self-offering was necessary to save God’s people. (For His part, Jesus’ total self-offering, even to the point to death, was not a “necessary evil,” but a necessary good.) Theologians speculate and debate about whether our redemption could have come about under different circumstances, but Jesus spoke more than once during His life of the necessity that He go up to Jerusalem, to suffer and die, for our salvation.

Another importance difference is that Jephthah intentionally killed his innocent daughter (which is the definition of murder) by his own hand. The Father did not murder His Son, nor did the Son commit suicide. Jesus was killed by sinners.  The Father and Son permitted this, endured this, and made of this the perfect sacrifice for the salvation of the world.

We can imagine these words of the psalm as coming from Christ, but not as coming from Jephthah:

“Sacrifice or oblation you wished not,
but ears open to obedience you gave me.
Burnt offerings and sin-offerings you sought not;
then I said, ‘Behold, I come.’”

While Jephthah transgressed the Law by his sacrifice, Jesus uniquely and perfectly fulfilled it, at great personal cost to Himself. Christ is the model we should emmulate.

Wednesday, 20th Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

August 19, 2009

Today’s readings give us two lessons about service:

In the first reading we hear an allegory of the forest trees coming to their most prominent members, asking each one to lead them. But every tree declines, asking “why would I want to give up my comfortable glory to serve like that?” As a last resort, they ask the buckthorn tree. This last tree is something of a large bush, and not good for very much. The buckthorn agrees and rules as a tyrant over them.

What is the lesson for us here? If we Catholics are not willing to sacrifice our some of our comfortable glory for the social needs of others, we should expect bad things to come. As Pope Paul VI said, “If you want peace, work for justice.”

The second lesson is from the Gospel, where we hear the parable most likely to offend an American’s sense of justice. We hear that the last laborers work a little and receive the same pay as the first. But the landowner is right to say that he has robbed no one. The first laborers receive the full wage which they agreed was fair and just at the beginning of the day.

What is the lesson here for us in our service? Serving Christ is work, but it should not make us feel deprived.  It should make us feel enriched. If we come to the end of the day’s labors feeling bitterness at our Landlord we are in need of an open and honest conversation with Him.

Tuesday, 20th Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

August 18, 2009

Jesus said, “For men [by themselves, salvation] is impossible, but for God all things are possible.” Evidence of this truth is seen in Gideon, whom the Lord this morning asks to save Israel.

Like Mary at the Annunciation, a messenger assures him, “The Lord is with you.”  But Gideon asks, “Please, my lord, how can I save Israel?” “I shall be with you,” the Lord says to him.

Gideon presents his strange visitor with a meal of unleavened bread and of young goat’s meat. He is directed to pour the broth of meat juices upon it. The juice flows over the bread and the meat and onto the ground, like Christ’s blood flowing over His flesh and down to the foot of the cross. Gideon sees the wondrous sacrifice and realizes that the presence and the power of God are in his midst.

After overcoming his hesitancies, Gideon listens to the Lord God as his military advisor, and using just 300 men, armed with lanterns in one hand and trumpet horns in the other, routs a hoard of Israel’s enemies.

God works no overwhelming miracles for Gideon. He never causes Gideon’s enemies to be swallowed up by earthquakes, or by balls of fire from heaven, or by tidal waves. Instead, God only uses little signs to reassure Gideon, to teach him to trust, and to listen to the still small voice of the Lord. In this way, Gideon becomes an effective instrument in fulfilling God’s plans. We can learn from Gideon, because the Lord prefers to work in the same way with us and through us: little signs, strengthen our trust, teach us to listen, and to fulfill God’s plans.

Gideon’s story is one of my favorites in the Old Testament. Unfortunately, you’re not going to hear any more of it after today because our lectionary skips beyond it. But the rest of Gideon’s fascinating story waits for you in the book of Judges, chapters 6 and 7.

Tuesday, 19th Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

August 17, 2009

The disciples ask, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” Jesus says, “Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the Kingdom of heaven.” In fact, Jesus teaches us, becoming humble is essential to entering into His kingdom.

So what is humility?

“Now humility is nothing but truth,” says St. Vincent de Paul, “while pride is nothing but lying.” He says, “The reason why God is so great a lover of humility,  is because he is the great lover of truth.”

Now humility is not about believing we are garbage. It’s a lie to say we’re of little worth. Even the seemingly least person among us is attended to by angels and bears a likeness to the God whom those angels ceaselessly worship. We are of great worth, but to be humble we need to know where our true treasure is.

We must abandon over-confidence in our own faulty and limited powers and trust in our reliable Rock—“how faultless are his deeds, how right all his ways.” In Christ, our Rock, we are secure; and as G.K. Chesterton notes, “It is always the secure who are humble.”

To strip away our illusions and to know our true treasure let’s pray today for the two gifts which it is said God always promptly gives whenever we prayer for them: Humility and Faith.

We can be leery of praying for humility, because when you pray for humility, humility shows up. I myself cannot recall a time when my prayer for humility was not answered by the end of the next day. But let’s have courage, and not allow our entry into Christ’s Kingdom be delayed by our disordered self-love or timidity.

What Moses said before the Israelites on the edge of the Promised Land is just as true for us: “It is the Lord who marches before you; he will be with you and will never fail you.  So do not fear or be dismayed.”

Thursday, 19th Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

August 17, 2009

Today we heard the parable of the debt-ridden servant. You and I, of course, are the first servant with the unpayable debt. The debt of our sins. And the Lord, our King, has taken the loss, upon Himself, to gratuitously forgive our debt. But, at our judgment, He will receive important testimony about how we have treated those who have owed us much lesser personal debts.

This is why some Christians pray, “forgive us our debts and we forgive our debtors,” while we pray, “forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

Who is it that you’re not sure you’ve forgiven?

Remember this:  To forgive another’s sin is not to say that the wrong wasn’t wrong, and it is not trying convince yourself that the hurt doesn’t hurt. If you can pray for the good of your offenders, you have a forgiving heart.

Wednesday, 18th Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

August 17, 2009

St. Therese of Lisieux says, “We obtain from [God] as much as we hope for.” Today’s readings show this to be true.

On the very edge of Canaan, the Promised Land, the Hebrews lose all hope, and thereby they lose the land that the Lord wanted to give them. The Lord wanted to fight along their side, but they became so discouraged that they were unwilling to even go to the battle. They obtained from God as much as they hoped for, and died in the desert. They gave Lord nothing to work with, and there was nothing for the Lord to do but to let others to take their place.

The Canaanite woman in the Gospel is another story. She hopes against hope, and wins from our seemingly reluctant Lord her daughter’s healing. St. John of the Cross says: “The more the soul hopes, the more it attains.”

So let’s be bold.  Let’s hope and strive for bigger things than we do already. And let’s see how much the Lord can do with what we offer Him.

Thursday, 17th Week in Ordinary Time—Year I

August 17, 2009

In the daytime, the Hebrews saw the cloud of the Lord over the meeting tent. But at night, fire was seen in the cloud. In the daytime, the cloud above the meeting tent seemed to invite communion. But at night, the cloud seemed to threaten.

Was there always fire in the cloud, night and day? I suspect that there was, even though it could only be seen in the night, for God appeared to Moses in the burning bush as fire, and as the letter to the Hebrews says, “our God is a consuming fire.” The cloud itself did not change. The difference was one of perspective, whether you looked at the presence of God from within the light, or in darkness.

The same thing may apply for vastly different experiences of heaven and hell. In the parable about the end of this age, Jesus describes how the good and bad fish will be sorted out, as Wisconsin fishermen separate carp from bass, muskie, & trout. The bad will be separated from the good.  In this way, after the judgment, the wicked will no long be able to cause harm to the saints. The good will be gathered together. The bad will be widely scattered.

For the saints, God’s presence will be as the welcoming, mysterious cloud; but for the condemned, even the outermost reaches of God’s presence will be a fiery furnace. There will be no escaping Him, for nowhere in the universe is there a perfect hiding place from God. Our God is a consuming fire of goodness, truth, justice, and love.

Forever frustrated and angry, the wicked will long to be farther and farther from Him, for this movement away from Him has defined their lives on Earth. But for the saints, the goodness, truth, justice, and love belonging to God will be like home. For in their lives, the saints, like the psalmist, prefer the house of God to dwelling in the tents of the wicked.

So Christian disciples, yearn and pine for the courts of the Lord. Continue to follow the cloud of His presence, and He will lead to your promised home.