Salvation Through Christ

(20th Sunday in Ordinary Time-Year A; This homily was given on 16 and 17 August 2014 at St. Brigid Church in Johnston, R.I.; See Romans 11:13-32 and Matthew 15:21-28)

In Christmas 2012 I had the wonderful opportunity of making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land with my dear friends the Franciscan Sisters of the Eucharist.  At one point we were walking through the ruins of the Temple of Jerusalem, of which Christ had prophesied, “there will not be left here one stone upon another, that will not be thrown down” (Matthew 24:2).  

As we continued on our way we came upon a group of Jewish art-history students; they were sitting along the path we were walking on, listening to a lecture about the Temple.  Realizing that we were passing through, they politely shuffled to each side of the walkway to let us by.  Suddenly a young Jewish woman smiled and said, with much kindness and perhaps in an attempt to allay the awkwardness of the moment, “Look, the Christians are parting the Jewish sea!”

The next day I spoke to the sisters about how theologically appropriate that comment was for that brief gathering of Jews and Christians.  The parting of the Red Sea is a remarkable event in Sacred Scripture that Jews and Christians alike both believe and cherish.  In fact, Christians believe that miraculous event is a foreshadowing and a sign of an even greater reality: Baptism.  Baptism?, You might be thinking.  How is Baptism a greater reality than the parting of the Red Sea?

At the Red Sea the People of Israel were being pursued by the Egyptians only to discover that they were completely closed in; in desperation they cried out for the Lord to save them.  Suddenly the waters opened up before them, and the Israelites “went into the midst of the sea on dry ground, the waters being a wall to them on their right hand and on their left” (Exodus 14:22).   As their enemies followed after them the waters closed up again, destroying them and making safe the passage to the Promised Land.

As Christians we believe that this miraculous event, which dramatically portrays the salvation of Israel from certain destruction, is a sign of our own salvation in Jesus Christ.  Jesus Christ, who suffers and dies on the cross to destroy the enemies of sin and death, is raised up to new life on the third day.  When we are baptized into Christ, says St. Paul, we are baptized into His death so that we may walk, even now, in newness of life and share in His resurrection from the dead (see Romans 6:3-11). 

The Rite of Christian Baptism expresses this truth beautifully in the blessing and invocation of God over the water:

Through the waters of the Red Sea you led Israel out of slavery, to be an image of God’s holy people, set free from sin by baptism.

This great message of salvation comes to us first, of course, through the Jews.  In our Gospel this morning Jesus Christ announces that He has come specifically for “the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matthew 15:24).   God reveals His plan of salvation firstly to the Jews.  Unfortunately they did not completely receive Jesus as their Messiah.  To be sure, many of them did.  The Blessed Virgin Mary, a young Jewish girl from Nazareth, received Him tenderly and with great faith.  The Twelve Apostles accepted Him, as did a multitude of disciples throughout the nation of Israel.  But the majority of the Jewish people did not accept Jesus as the Messiah, the Christ.

St. Paul, once a staunch persecutor of the Church, after his conversion would travel from synagogue to synagogue announcing Jesus as the Messiah.  He was often met with resistance and rejection.  In our Second Reading today, in his Letter to the Romans, he is writing to the Gentiles (non-Jewish believers) about this mystery of salvation and speaking specifically to those who have accepted Christ.  He also writes of those who have yet to receive the Anointed One sent by God:

I am speaking to you Gentiles.  Inasmuch as I am the apostle to the Gentiles, I glory in my ministry in order to make my race jealous and thus save some of them.

—Romans 11:13-14

St. Paul was a devout Jew.  He announces here his intention to stir up the Jewish people so that they will want the very graces being poured out mercifully on the Gentiles in the person of Jesus Christ.  Paul’s great desire is that the Jews would see the joy of forgiveness and a vibrant newness of life in these Christian believers and be moved with holy envy! 

At the same time St. Paul is reminding the Christian believers of his day—and also those of our own—that God has not forgotten the Jewish people.  This great message of salvation that came first to them is still extended to the Jews with great love.  “For the gifts and the call of God,” says St. Paul, “are irrevocable” (Romans 11:29).  They will always be the chosen people of God and the Messiah, for whom they long, ever longs for them.

These readings are extremely relevant for our times, when this message of salvation offered by God is so little understood.  We have all heard it said, “there are many different ways to God.”  Frequently people will insist that faith is completely subjective: the Jews follow their own particular faith, Christians follow Jesus and the Gospel, the Muslims follow the Quran, Buddhists follow the teachings of Buddha, etc.  In the end, we hear it said, everyone finds his or her own way to God.

But this is not the Gospel God revealed to the world in history and in time.

This is not the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

This is not the Gospel that the Apostles and martyrs of the Church were willing to die for, nor is it the message that has been transmitted down through the centuries in the Roman Catholic deposit of faith.

In fact, there are not many different ways to God. 

There is only one Way: Jesus Christ.

In St. John’s Gospel Jesus Christ reveals plainly to His disciples: “I am the way and the truth and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). 

Our Lord is not being egocentric; He is not appealing to some kind of religious elitism.  He is simply expressing the most essential truth of our salvation: that He alone has the power to redeem humanity and bring us home to eternal life.

Jesus Christ alone has the power, as God, to take on our humanity and bring our fallen human nature to the cross.  Jesus Christ alone is willing to suffer and die for the forgiveness of our sins.  Jesus Christ alone has the power to lay down His life and the power to take it up again (John 10:18), and we who are baptized into Christ have the power to be raised up again to eternal life with Him. 

You might be reading this now and thinking: That sounds really narrow!  What a narrow-minded way of understanding God and salvation.  And I would agree, because that is precisely the word Christ uses when He describes this way which leads to eternal life:

Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many.  For the gate is narrow and the way is hard, that leads to life, and those who find it are few.

—Matthew 7:13-14

This is not the way God would like the situation to be; it is the way He finds the situation to be.  There are many who move from day to day, without a real and living experience of the awesome presence of God in their lives.  There are many who feel overwhelmed by the guilt and shame that weigh heavily upon them and they long for a different experience of life.  They long for the forgiveness and peace of God.  Truth be told, they long for the mercy and grace that has the power to set their hearts free and flood their souls with light. 

We who have heard this message of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and who walk in this narrow way are called to be that light in this world.  We are called to be that salt which preserves those who have found the God who is constantly searching for them.  How desperately the world needs believers to live their Christian faith with passion and vitality!  How desperately the world we live in needs to see the light of Jesus Christ in us!

This past Monday we heard of the tragic and shocking loss of the comic genius Robin Williams.  In the days that followed so many people tried to make sense of that difficult and painful reality of this troubled soul who chose to take his own life.  Perhaps the saddest attempt is the message posted on the marquee of the Laugh Factory in Los Angeles’s Sunset Boulevard, where Williams did stand-up comedy for years.  It read: 

Robin Williams

Rest in Peace

Make God Laugh

But God is not laughing after that terrible tragedy this past week.  God is not laughing any more than the rest of the people who truly loved Robin Williams are laughing.  This is a troubling and sad moment that really calls for a response of faith and not empty witticisms.   

We do not believe, as the marquee suggests, that everyone who dies, whatever the circumstances, suddenly goes to heaven and laughs with God.  What we believe is that God’s mercy is overwhelming and He is constantly reaching out to us until our final breath, and so in hope we pray for Robin Williams.  We commend his soul to God and ask that—through the mercy of God, through the blood of Christ, through the forgiveness God never ceases to offer until the final moment of life—Robin Williams may one day enjoy the laughter of God in that heavenly kingdom. 

How desperately our secular culture needs God!  More than laughter, more than entertainment, more than an empty and fleeting happiness, what we really need is faith! 

If we look to the Gospel this weekend we discover Christ drawing out the gift of faith in the Canaanite woman and in His own disciples.  This woman comes to Christ, begging for Him to heal her daughter.  Jesus’ response is one of silence.  The disciples ask Him to send her away for she is bothering them!  Christ does not heed their request either . . . It must have been very awkward in that room with all that silence.

Suddenly Christ begins to speak to the woman: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matthew 15:24).  Both the disciples and the Canaanite woman continue to focus on Christ to see where this will lead.  Whatever they thought they knew about Him, He is testing them and helping them to grow in their desire for the things that matter most.  He often does that.

But then the dialogue seems to take a turn for the worse as Jesus say to the woman:  “It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs” (Matthew 15:26).  What a response!  Yet this woman, to our amazement, is undaunted.  She must have sensed the great love with which Christ spoke those surprising words and seen the acceptance in His eyes, because she remains with Him.  She does not hesitate, perhaps with a sly smile of her own, to reply “Please, Lord, for even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters” (Matthew 15:27). 

With that the dialogue comes to its conclusion and Christ finally reveals His hand: “O woman, great is your faith!  Let it be done for you as you wish” (Matthew 15:28), and her daughter, we are told, was immediately healed.  Faith brought healing into the world when Christ had made it strong enough to accomplish that healing.  He often does that, too.

Are we as prepared to persevere in our prayer and in our faith?  When we see the world growing darker in the violence of Iraq and in the persecution of so many innocent children, women and men?  When we see the sorrowful consequences of the choices so many people make in the world, and when some of those choices and consequences are ours, are we willing to seek out Christ and persevere in our faith?  Because however dark the world may grow, Jesus Christ will always seek to draw out light and hope for us and for those around us.  Might we be that light and persevere in our faith, like this Canaanite woman, so that the healing of God and the blessing of God will continue to touch this world, so desperately in need of Jesus Christ, the God of our salvation.

Pie Pellicane Iesu Domine

Catholic Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament 
in Christchurch, New Zealand

Source of photo: dawnethoughts.wordpress.com

(18th Sunday in Ordinary Time-Year A; This homily was given on 3 August 2014 at St. Elizabeth Church in Bristol, R.I.; See Matthew 14:13-21)

What are some of the more popular or well-known images for Christ that we would recognize as Catholics?  Obviously one of the first images that comes to mind is the cross.  Christ has transformed that image—once a threatening symbol of the Roman Empire’s pitiless power—into the most potent expression of God’s total self-gift and love for us.  When we see the cross we are immediately reminded of Jesus Christ and His forgiveness; we are constantly reminded, in the cross of our Lord, of this grace of God offered to us all.

Another well-known image of Christ is found in the Chi-Rho.  The Chi-Rho looks like a great big letter “P” with an “X” through its base:

Actually, the “X” comes first and is the Greek letter “Chi” (pronounced “kī”) while the “P” is the Greek letter “Rho” (pronounced “rō”).  These are the first two letters in Christ’s name in Greek: Χριστος.

Christians for centuries would see those two Greek letters and immediately identified them with Jesus Christ.  We still see the Chi-Rho on vestments, engraved in chalices and in Catholic Churches everywhere. 

But perhaps a less known symbol for Christ is one that goes all the way back to the Second Century: the image of the pelican.  Early Christians would see the pelican apparently piercing her own breast with her enormous beak, and then proceeding to feed her young; in actuality, the pelican was clearing its beak of the small fish it had caught, and pressing them against her breast as she then passed them on to her nestlings.  The Christian faithful, nonetheless, saw here an image of Jesus Christ who allows Himself to be pierced so that He can feed us with His own body and blood in the Eucharist. 

If you visit many of the great Gothic cathedrals or magnificent basilicas throughout the world, in splendid marble altar pieces and luminous stained glass arrangements there are images of the pelican. 

In the 13^th Century St. Thomas Aquinas, in his breathtaking Eucharistic hymn Adóro Te Devóte, wrote eloquently of Christ, the good and loving pelican:

Pie pellicáne Iesu Dómine

Me immúndum munda tuo sanguine

Cuius una stilla salvum fácere

Tótum múndum quit ab omni scélere.

O good and loving pelican, Jesus my Lord!

Unclean I am, but cleanse me in Thy Blood;

Of which a single drop, for sinners spilt,

Is ransom for a world’s entire guilt.

In the City of Brussels, in the beautiful Cathedral of Saint Michael and Saint Gudula, there is a quiet sanctuary called Our Lady’s Chapel.  It is dedicated to Our Lady of Deliverance, and there is an impressive altar there held up by two enormous, sculpted pelicans.  One of them is piercing its side with its beak, while the other stretches its head up toward the altar.  Two generous wings, outstretched, support the altar above.  The symbol is clear: Christ allows Himself to be pierced and wounded on the altar of the cross so that He can feed us with His body and blood in the Eucharist.

I mention this image of the pelican because in our Gospel from St. Matthew this weekend we find a poignant expression of Jesus, the good and holy pelican.  St. Matthew tells us that Jesus has just learned of the death of St. John the Baptist.  Remember, John was His cousin; Jesus obviously loved him a great deal.  Having heard of John’s execution, Jesus did the most fitting and expected thing perhaps any one of us would have done, He “withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself” (Matthew 14:13).  He wanted to be alone with God.

Suddenly, though, the crowds who have anticipated His arrival surround Him as He disembarks.  There will be neither silence nor solitude for Christ in this grief-filled hour.  But how remarkable, the response of our Lord!  He does not become frustrated or flustered; He complains not in the least.  Instead we are told that “his heart was moved with pity for them, and he cured their sick” (Matthew 14:14).  In the midst of His own personal loss and from the depths of His vulnerability He loved them and He fed them.  Still fresh from the experience of the death of the Baptist, He who was still wounded reached into the depths of Himself and taught them.  He preached the Gospel of the Kingdom of God to them and they heard Him gladly, all day long.

As the sun begins to set the disciples will size up the situation and recommend that the Master dismiss the crowds.  There are thousands of people and they have nothing physically to eat.  “There is no need for them to go away,” Jesus responds, “You feed them yourselves” (Matthew 14:16).  The disciples were astounded.  Feed them with what?

Nonetheless, they bring to Him the simple offering of two loaves and five fish and Jesus, the good and loving pelican, brings the loaves to His breast and breaks them; He gives thanks to God for these gifts and then He distributes them to His disciples who in turn given them to the hungry crowd.

The great miracle of the Feeding of the Five Thousand, of course, is a foreshadowing of the miracle of our Lord’s body and blood for us in the Eucharist.  On the night before He suffers and dies on the cross Jesus takes bread, exactly as He does here, and he breaks the bread, giving thanks to God and says, “Take this, all of you, and eat of it, for this is my body which will be given up for you.”  He distributes His body and His blood to them at that sacred meal and commands them “Do this in memory of me.”  He who was pierced and wounded on the cross, this good and holy pelican, feeds us with Himself in the bread and wine that becomes His body and His blood for the life of the world. 

The Eucharist is simply the greatest Gift we could ever receive on this earth because it is the very Gift of God Himself in love for us.  But that Gift only comes to us through the hands of unworthy men whom God has chosen to be priests of Jesus Christ.  In every age, consistently and without failure down though the centuries, God has called unworthy men to be consecrated to Him and to participate in the one priesthood of Jesus Christ—to act in persona Christi capitis, in the person of Christ the Head of the Church—as he confects the holy Eucharist in the Sacred Liturgy.  God is calling men now, in our diocese, to answer this call and to become priests of Jesus Christ. 

One of the greatest challenges we face in our culture today, of course, is that it can be increasingly difficult to distinguish that voice and hear the call of God.

Our culture is one predicated on activity, productivity, entertainment and distraction.  As T.S. Eliot put it, we are “distracted from distraction by distraction.”  It can be difficult to tune-in to the voice of God, who speaks in silences and in whispers, but more powerfully and more efficaciously then wind, earthquake and fire (1 Kings 19:9-18).  What God asks of us who are now listening to Him is prayer. 

We pray that God will continue to call men to the priesthood of Jesus Christ here in our time in this place.  We pray that those whom God is already calling will have the courage to say, “Yes,” to this call and to be formed in the heart of Christ, in the heart of the Church.  We pray that men will continue to offer themselves generously in sacrifice and as instruments of grace in our often self-centered world, in imitation of Jesus the good and holy pelican.  May God continue to bless our diocese with priests who will offer up to God that one sacrifice of Jesus Christ, His body and His blood on the altar.  For it is His body alone which heals and saves us, and His blood,

Of which a single drop, for sinners spilt,

Is ransom for a world’s entire guilt. 

The Wedding at Cana: They Have No Wine!

The Wedding at Cana- Paolo Veronese (1528-1588)

(Wednesday of the Novena of La Festa di Maria Santissima 2014; This homily was given on 16 July 2014 at St. Mary Church in Cranston, R.I.; See John 2:1-11)

Have you been to any really good weddings lately?  Chances are you have not, at least according to the U.S. Census Bureau’s 2012 American Community Survey.  According to that survey, Rhode Island was third from the bottom in the entire country on the percentage of married couples.  We are the most Catholic state in the nation, per capita, and yet we rank 48 out of the 50 states when it comes to people choosing to marry.  That is not a very encouraging statistic, and while the situation seems somewhat dire, we can come back to that.

For now let us look at our Gospel for tonight’s Novena Mass, The Wedding Feast at Cana.  Now there was a situation that was dire!  This young couple had gathered all their family and friends to celebrate their union together.  They even had Christ, the Blessed Virgin Mary and the first Christian disciples.  Quite a “who’s who” for tying the knot!  But suddenly the entire event is about to take a turn for the worse when the wine starts running low.  Imagine a great Italian wedding when the wine runs out.  Quando il vino é finito, la festa é finita!  When the wine runs out the feast is over! 

Weddings in Palestine at the time of Christ would usually take place over the course of several days; they were a major cultural event.  Without any more wine it would have ended in a disaster, and yet almost no one noticed that impending crisis… except the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Our Blessed Mother, Maria Santissima della Civita, always notices us and intercedes for our needs.  Whatever our circumstances here tonight or whatever the needs are that concern us, Mary sees us; the Blessed Mother brings our needs to Christ.

They have no wine.

—John 2:3

Our Lady brings the needs of that newly married couple to the attention of Jesus and, as we well know, He changes the water into wine.  Christ reveals Himself in this, His first miracle, the first sign announcing that He is the Messiah, the Christ of God.  St. John tells us that here, “his disciples began to believe in him” (John 2:11).  What had started out as a dire situation becomes, with the intercession of Our Lady, a tremendous outpouring of Divine grace. 

But St. John the Evangelist is communicating so much more than even the miraculous power of Christ.  He tells us that the water was originally contained in six stone jars that were used “for Jewish ceremonial washings” (John 2:6).   These ceremonial jars are reminiscent of the old covenant, the way of relating with God established by the Mosaic Law.  Central to that law was the sacrificial dispensation, the offering up of bulls, goats and lambs in atonement for sins and in thanksgiving to the God who saves.  The sacrifices offered up by the priest were central to the way the people related to God.

Jesus Christ comes to establish an entirely New Covenant, written not in the Mosaic Law and in the blood of bulls and lambs but established on the altar of the cross and written in His own blood, shed for love of us.  Christ changes the water into wine, revealing that as wine is so much more substantial than water, even so the New Covenant is the super substantial and eternal covenant in which we have become united to the living God.  Now that is a miracle to behold!

Christ will pour out His love for us from the cross, offering His body and His precious blood for the forgiveness of our sins and to establish an eternal covenant with God.  On the night before He dies He institutes the sacrament of this self-offering in the Eucharist, the bread and wine that becomes the Body and the Blood of Christ.  In all of the Sacraments of the Church, Christ will give new life, new vitality, new hope.  This is the water changed into wine and distributed to the Church down through the centuries! 

But how sad, that in our time and in the culture we live in, there is a turning away from the Sacraments of the Church.  God’s people no longer come as frequently to His feast to partake of the wine that is life in Jesus Christ.

• Rhode Island is third from the last in percentage of marriages celebrated in the United States.  What a dire situation, that in the most Catholic state in the country the most foundational relationship and union for the transmission of the Gospel is found wanting.

• Holy Orders finds a parallel to Marriage in this same regard.  This year the Diocese of Providence has not ordained a single man to the priesthood.  Now, to be clear, we have 21 outstanding men studying for the priesthood of Jesus Christ for the Diocese of Providence.  These men, in a few short years, will be doing great priestly ministry in our parishes.  We are doing better than many dioceses and we thank God for each one of these fine men. Yet without a single ordination in the year 2014, the Lord would call our attention to the need for prayer and sacrifice so that those whom God is calling to the priesthood even now will have the grace and the courage to say, “Yes.”

• The Eucharist.  Fewer Catholics are seeking the Lord in the Sacrament of the Eucharist on Sundays.  Mass attendance is down in many places as the radical secularization of our culture continues to have a profound effect on the religious fervor and priorities of those who consider themselves to be Catholic.

• The Sacrament of Reconciliation.  Every priest will tell you how remarkably beautiful it is to bring God’s forgiveness to those who seek Him.  Yet every priest could also tell you of how many times he has sat alone in the confessional reading or praying the rosary, waiting for souls to come to God for that forgiveness.  So few practicing Catholics today acknowledge the need even to receive forgiveness for grave sins, so few seek out that absolution, that restoration of new life for the soul. 

These are signs of our culture’s radical secularization, a world in which people find themselves bored with the things of God, the very things which should be sustaining them and giving them new life.  They seek it elsewhere, in television and on the internet, in distractions of a thousand different kinds, and yet they find themselves dissatisfied, disappointed and unfulfilled.

They have no wine!

However dire the situation might seem from a faith perspective, we can count on the Blessed Virgin Mary to notice our needs, and in her love for us she brings those needs to Christ.  They have no wine, Jesus!  They have no vitality!  They do not have what they need most of all, because, Jesus, my Son, they do not have you!

Friends in Christ, if we do not find vitality in the Body and the Blood of Christ then we will not find vitality at all!  If we do not find love and new life in the Sacrament of Matrimony then we will not find love and new life at all!  If we do not find satisfaction and hope in the Sacrament of Reconciliation with God then we simply will not find satisfaction and hope at all! 

We need God.  We need Jesus Christ.  We need more wine!  The Blessed Virgin Mary knows what we need, and she calls out to us especially now to turn once again to Jesus Christ so that we can receive it.

If you have ever been to the Louvre in Paris, France then you probably know that one of the most popular pieces in that museum is the Mona Lisa.  Painted in the early Sixteenth Century by Leonardo da Vinci, it is one of the most famous works of art in the world.  It is also one of the smallest.  People that neither know nor care for art in general will flock to that little painting because our culture has told them, “If you go to the Louvre, then you’ve got to see the Mona Lisa.”  They will stand in that enormous room, shoulder-to-shoulder, just to snap a picture of that painting with their smartphone.   

Yet if you are standing in the midst of that crowd of people, looking at the Mona Lisa, and suddenly turn 180° you will find, covering the entire length of the back wall of that room, the largest painting in the Louvre.  It is an enormous Sixteenth Century piece, called "The Wedding at Cana" by Paolo Veronese.  It is breathtaking in size, beauty and in its detailed depiction of that miracle we listened to in our Gospel this evening.  Unfortunately, few people in that museum turn around from the Mona Lisa to look at it.

Our Lady calls out to us today, like she does in every age, to turn around.  She intercedes for us so that we might turn away from the things that distract us and keep us from fulfillment, and turn towards the Sacraments and the source of vitality that comes to us in the person of Jesus Christ.  May we drink deeply of that wine and truly experience that abundant life flowing from the cross on Calvary and leading us headlong into the Kingdom of God. 

God Comes to Us

Sunrise on the Sea of Galilee

(14th Sunday in Ordinary Time-Year A; This homily was given on 6 July 2014 at St. Timothy Church in Warwick, R.I. and at Our Lady of Fatima Church in Cumberland, R.I.; See Zechariah 9: 9-10 and Matthew 11:25-30)

There is a specific, fundamental dimension of our Christian faith that separates us from nearly all other major world religions.  We see it clearly in our first reading this morning from the Old Testament, and certainly in the Gospel for this weekend, as well.  Negatively speaking, we do not believe that our faith is primarily a search for God or a quest to live as well as possible on this earth in preparation for heaven.  We are not, in fact, striving to make progress in this life as we move towards God, who waits somewhere in heaven to meet us in the end. 

No, what we believe is precisely the opposite.  What we believe instead, and what makes our religion and our faith distinct, is that God comes to us. 

God, who knows that we could never ultimately find Him and make our way to Him by ourselves, instead comes to us in great mercy, with remarkable gentleness and breathtaking humility. God reveals Himself, makes Himself known.  In our deepest need, our loneliest moments and in those many experiences when we are never quite expecting it, God comes near and seeks us out.  He finds us, and begins to guide us home.

In the first reading this weekend we listen to the words of the prophet Zechariah.  Zechariah is writing to the people of Israel just after the Babylonian exile.  Our reading takes place after one of the darkest moments in their nation’s history.  They had flagged in their commitment to the covenant of God; they were no longer faithful to the covenant relationship that God had made with them.  He had sent to them prophet after prophet, urging them to return to fidelity and to faith.  When they refused to listen He allowed them to be carried off captive to the Land of Babylon.

They had lost everything.  The City of Jerusalem was in ruins and the Temple was destroyed.  The Promised Land, where they had forged a new life with God and had made a new beginning, had become nothing more than a memory.  They resided in Babylon for years and many of them had died there.  Finally they are returning home and perhaps wondering how they will find God or even if such a possibility exists for them.  They had failed Him; perhaps they felt as if God would now abandon them forever. 

Suddenly the prophet Zechariah, at the outset of the restoration of the city, announces:

Thus says the Lord: Rejoice heartily, O daughter Zion, shout for joy, O Daughter Jerusalem!  See, your king shall come to you; a just savior is he, meek and riding on an ass, on a colt, the foal of an ass.

—Zechariah 9:9

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, in their writing of the Gospels, will rightly see a direct connection here with the entrance of Jesus Christ as the Messiah entering the City of Jerusalem just before His passion.  God comes to us.  In our darkest hour and our deepest need, He comes to us.  In great gentleness and deep humility, He comes into our lives and creates a new beginning and a restoration of hope.

Such is the case in the Gospel of St. Matthew this morning.  Jesus finds a people worn, weary and heavily burdened.  Who among us could not identify with that!  He sees a people struggling to practice their faith and overwhelmed with the challenges of life.  He does not wait for them to figure everything out and make their way to Him.  No, He walks directly into their lives—literally God stands in their midst—and beckons:  Come to me!

Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves.  For my yoke is easy and my burden light.

—Matthew 11: 28-30

God does not have the time for us to figure everything out and make our way to Him.  He comes directly into our lives, with gentleness and humility, and creates a new beginning for us.  He joins Himself to us with great love and teaches us how to walk with Him in this life and journey with Him to eternal life. 

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me . . . A yoke is a farm instrument—in Jesus’ time it was made out of wood—which usually joined together two oxen and allowed them to work in tandem as they plowed a field and worked the land.  Jesus is inviting us to walk with Him, to learn from Him, to discover Him anew in our lives.  He alone can give us rest, meaning and purpose.

This is the great lesson we find in the lives of all the saints.   St. Peter and St. Paul, St. Augustine, St. Teresa of Avila, and countless others; they all came to the end of themselves and discovered that without Christ they could do nothing.  Every one of the saints had to declare spiritual bankruptcy before God and acknowledge that they were in desperate need of a savior.  They all took Christ up on His offer, took the Savior seriously and joined themselves to Him.  Will we?

Because we are all—every single one of us—called to be saints.  We are all called to holiness of life and eternal bliss with Christ.  And no matter how far we may feel from Him or how weary we become with the challenges and difficulties of daily life, there is always hope of that reality.  No matter how lost we may feel at any time in our lives, we can count on this: He will find us.  He will come to us.  He will invite us to be joined more intimately to Himself.

Jesus Christ comes to us here, now.  Whenever the Gospel is proclaimed, it is Christ who speaks to us.  Whenever we gather together for the Eucharist, it is Christ who make Himself present in His body and His blood.  He comes to us this morning, in great gentleness and breathtaking humility, in the humblest manner under the auspices of bread and wine that will become our God, present: body and blood, soul and divinity.

He comes to us today and invites us to Himself:

Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves.  For my yoke is easy and my burden light.

—Matthew 11: 28-30 

Ss. Peter and Paul: Called, Strengthened, Sanctified

(Solemnity of Ss. Peter and Paul-Year A; This homily was given 27 June 2014 at St. Joseph Church, West Warwick, R.I. and 28 June 2014 at St. Sebastian Church in Providence, R.I.; See Galatians 1:11-20 and John 21:15-19)

This weekend we celebrate the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, patron saints of the Diocese of Providence and the two great pillars upon which Christ would build His Church.  In the City of Rome, which was consecrated by the blood of Saints Peter and Paul and the first Christian martyrs, there are two magnificent statues, just outside St. Peter’s Basilica: St. Peter, clutching firmly the keys of the kingdom, and St. Paul, holding majestically the sword which symbolizes the instrument of his martyrdom.  These men proclaimed the message of the Gospel with boldness; they stood witness before governors and kings; they were fearless in the face of danger.  In a world as hard as stone these men were a bulwark of strength and a force to be reckoned with.

But Sacred Scripture and the two great Apostles themselves are quick to remind us that this was not always the case.  We know from many passages in the New Testament that Peter the Fisherman was stubborn and proud.  Worse still, he denied the Lord three times. 

The Gospel for the vigil Mass of this solemnity tells us of Jesus’ threefold restoration of that heartbreaking denial: “Peter, do you love me?”  The third time Jesus asks him that question, we are told, Peter was grieved.  He did not yet realize that Jesus was giving him another chance, an opportunity to make amends.  Jesus would teach him, in that moment, that forgiveness, restoration and mercy must be translated into fidelity and fruitful service:

Simon, Son of John, do you love me? . . . Feed my sheep.

—John 21:17

We see the same mystery at work in the Apostle, St. Paul.  He tells us in his own words: “I persecuted the Church beyond measure and tried to destroy it” (Galatians 1:13).  In the Acts of the Apostles we read how he was present at the stoning of St. Stephen.  He held the coats of the men who did it and approved of the killing!  In his letter to St. Timothy he tells us, “I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and an arrogant man” (1 Timothy 1:13). 

These men had weaknesses.  They were not perfect.  They were not strangers to failure and the discouragement that come from a life marked by moments of regret.

But God called them. 

Jesus Christ called these men, personally, and consecrated them to Himself.  He strengthened them in that consecration and he made them holy through countless moments of trial, suffering, joy, prayer, and faithful service in His Church.  They were weak men, but God made them strong.  They were not perfect, but God perfected them and made them holy, and they became the great Apostles that we celebrate this weekend.

This is the context I would like to call our attention to as I ask you—plead with you—to pray for priestly vocations in the Diocese of Providence.  We are in need of priestly vocations in our diocese, but not just that God would give us many more men to be ordained to the priesthood.  What we need desperately in these times are men like St. Peter and St. Paul; men who, though weak and imperfect, can be made perfect and become holy through their consecration to Jesus Christ.

For the past three years I have served the Church as the rector of the Seminary of Our Lady of Providence, helping to form men for the priesthood.  Just this week I celebrated my 10^th anniversary of priesthood.  The priesthood is the joy and passion of my life.  And so I can speak from experience when I share with you that God does not choose the elite, the strong, the perfect.  God calls the weak, the imperfect, and those who are all too aware of their faults and failings, and then it is His desire, His plan, His daily work to strengthen them in their consecration to Jesus Christ.  God sanctifies those whom He calls—often times through trials, sufferings, humiliations, service, prayer, sacrifice and faith—and He forms them in the heart of Jesus Christ the Great High Priest.  That is what we need to pray for when we plead with the Lord for priestly vocations.

This year is the first time in the Diocese of Providence since 1944 that we will not have any ordinations to the priesthood.   For three years I have been sharing with people in parishes throughout the diocese that we have 26 rooms in the seminary and they are all full.  This year is the first year that I will not be able to say that.  We will have several empty rooms this formation year, several places that remind us of the need to be vigilant in prayer for priestly vocations. 

But not just any men.  Not just 100 men in the next 10 years, or 12 men to enter the seminary next year.  What the Church needs, what the people of God deserve, is men who are aware of their own weaknesses, who are surrendered to the work of God and the building up of the Kingdom of God, who in their consecration to Jesus Christ in the priestly office can be strengthened and made holy as priests of Jesus Christ.

Which leads me to a story of another patron saint, St. John Vianney, the patron saint of parish priests.  In the late 18^th century, the nation of France underwent one of the bloodiest revolutions the world had ever seen.  It left in its wake a country devastated and a Church disintegrated and dispersed. 

The attempt to abolish religion from public life had failed miserably, and now the people were suffering the consequences.  In the midst of this crisis, a young man named John Vianney felt God calling him to the priesthood.

Despite his reputation for great sanctity, no bishop wanted him.  He was what we would refer to today as “academically challenged,” and when one bishop finally did accept him, he assigned Vianney to a small parish in the obscure village of Ars, where it was hoped that he wouldn’t do too much damage!

St. John Vianney looked around him and saw a weary and worn out people, many of who no longer practiced their faith.  He would often pray: “Lord, I am willing to suffer anything at all, only convert my people.  That is all I ask.” 

Many years went by, and eventually things did begin to change.  It was slow at first, but eventually people began to come back to Church.  Before long, the entire village was converted, and many became convinced that their parish priest was a saint.

 

At that time the most remarkable thing began to happen.  People from all over France started to make pilgrimages to that small village.  Thousands of people came there to attend Mass and to have their confession heard by this simple and unimpressive priest.  He was known at times to sit in the confessional for 18 hours in a day.  Eighteen hours!  Not only Ars, but all of France was being converted. 

There is a remarkable story that one day the devil himself confronted John Vianney and shouted at him through a possessed person:

Vianney!  If there were three of you in all of France,

my kingdom would be destroyed!

Satan was not all that concerned with the thousands of Catholic priests serving throughout France at that time.  But he was really concerned, even thoroughly frustrated, with this one.

We need priests in the Diocese of Providence, men who perhaps have their own weaknesses and challenges to face, but nonetheless men who in their consecration to Christ can be strengthened and set firm in proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  We do not need dozens of men each year; we do not need a hundred men in the next ten years.  

Maybe we only need three.  Maybe we just need three men, like Peter the Fisherman from Galilee, or Paul the tentmaker from Tarsus, or John Vianney in the little village of Ars.

May God grant the Church, in our lifetime, men of faith, men who love the Church, men of prayer and fidelity to the teachings of Jesus Christ, so that He may strengthen them in their consecration to Him, sanctify them in holiness of life, and send them out to destroy the kingdom of evil and build the Kingdom of God.  

God and Human Freedom: The Heart of the Matter

(6^th Sunday in Ordinary Time-Year A; This homily was given 15 and 16 February, 2014 at Holy Apostles Church, in Cranston, R.I. and 16 February, 2014 at St. Luke’s Church in Barrington, R.I.; See Book of Sirach 15:15-20, Romans 7:19-25 and Matthew 5:17-37)

The Scriptures for this weekend allow us to reflect more deeply on one of the most awesome, beautiful and powerful gifts we possess as human beings: the gift of freedom.   The saints and theologians teach us that freedom is one of the qualities that make us most like God.  The animals act by instinct, but we live by the decisions that we make, using our God-given freedom in creative choices that imitate God Himself.

It is freedom that makes the possibility of love so terrifying.  I could choose to offer myself in friendship and love to another person who is under no obligation whatsoever to receive or return that love.  Truth be told, many people never reach out to those around them simply because it is such a risk, because it leaves them so vulnerable…But isn’t that also what makes friendship and love so exhilarating, so fulfilling?   When our gift of love is freely received and freely returned, or when we choose to accept the friendship of another person and return it, it bears fruit in joy and new life.  Freedom is that powerful.

More than love, however, our freedom and the decisions that we make in many ways define us.   When we choose the good and make decisions based on God’s loving plan for our lives then we become more and more the men and women God always created us to be.  We become even more free and begin to experience the joy and peace that are the natural fruits of freedom exercised well. 

But the opposite is also true: the more we choose to live contrary to the way God created us, when we choose sin and reject the love that God has offered us, our lives often become more constricted.  Many times we can become imprisoned in our own failures and in the regret that follows from an abuse of freedom that had originally promised much but in the end delivered very little.

This is the mystery of freedom that the Old Testament sage, Ben Sirach, is introducing to us this weekend.  He says:

If you choose you can keep the commandments, they will save you; if you trust in God, you too shall live; he has set before you fire and water; to whichever you choose, stretch forth your hand.  Before man are life and death, good and evil, whichever he chooses shall be given him.

—Sirach 15:15-17

How astonishing, the power that is on display here!  What becomes clear in Sirach’s description, however, is that the power is not found in the fire or in the water.  It is not found in life or in death; the power is not in what is good or in what is evil.  The power revealed here is found in us.   The power to choose good or evil is in us; the power to enter life or inherit death rests deep within the human heart.

In our Gospel for this weekend, Jesus Christ is calling our attention to the commandments, for sure, and also to the consequences of choosing good or evil.  But what He is most adamant about in this 5^th Chapter of St. Matthew’s Gospel is the situation of the heart.

You have heard that it was said to your ancestors, ‘You shall not kill; and whoever kills will be liable to judgment.’  But I say to you, whoever is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment…

You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’  But I say to you, everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart.

—Matthew 5:21-22; 27-28

Like Sirach before Him, Jesus Christ teaches us clearly that murder and adultery are not things outside of the person, as if they possessed some kind of mystical power to ruin us.  No, murder and adultery begin deep within the human heart.  It is the heart that is sick from original sin, and the choices and decisions for sin that follow us all throughout our lives.  The anger, lust, selfishness, pride, envy; these are the things that corrupt the heart and turn us away from God, from each other and from the eternal life that God desperately longs to give us.  

The heart is broken.   If we are to make any choices at all for love, for life and for God, then it is the heart—above all else—that needs to be healed.

St. Paul, in his Letter to the Romans, mediates on this very mystery and the agonizing struggle to choose what is right and true:

For I do not do the good I want but the evil I do not want is what I do…when I want to do the right, evil lies close at hand.  For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin which dwells in my members.  Wretched man that I am!  Who will deliver me from this body of death?  Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!

—Romans 7:19-25

That is St. Paul’s answer, his solution, his saving grace: Jesus Christ!  “Thanks be to God, through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

We are healed and our hearts are restored by freedom.  We are set free by a decision, a choice...  But not yours, and not mine.  We are healed and made whole by the freedom and the decision of God to send His only begotten Son to save us.  We are chosen by God, even when He knew the world would not accept Him, and even when He understood that His offer of love would be rejected and His body would be nailed to the cross.  He chose to love us anyway, and to offer us the forgiveness and mercy that we so desperately need and the healing that we long for deep within our hearts.

Receiving that love, that mercy, is the one choice above all other choices that begins to transform our souls and sets us free to live our lives entirely for God.  Choosing the mercy of God we begin to grow in the grace and favor of a love that never leaves us, and a God who lives within us, teaching us to make the decisions and choices that will lead to true life and eternal bliss. 

But we must make the conscious and persistent choice to accept and embrace that mercy; we must be willing to admit that we need it.

The late Archbishop Fulton Sheen would often say that sin is not the worst thing in the world.  The worst thing in the world is the denial of sin.  He once received a phone call from a woman whose brother was dying in the hospital.  She described her brother not simply as a bad man, but as an evil man.  He was a very rough character.  Over 20 priests had been in to see him on his deathbed, and he had thrown them all out!  As a last resort, his sister asked Fulton Sheen for help.

Realizing that he would fare no better than the other priests, Sheen stayed only 15 seconds on his first visit, and said nothing.  The next day he came back and stayed for 20 seconds.  Again he said nothing.  After 40 days he was finally staying for up to 15 minutes a visit, and it was then that he finally broke the silence:  “William,” he said, “you are going to die tonight.”

“I know,” was the man’s reply. 

“I am sure you want to make your peace with God,” Sheen said to him. 

“No, I do not.  Get out.”

Realizing that he wasn’t going to get through, Fulton Sheen agreed to leave, but before he did he went over to the man and said to him, “Just one thing.  Promise me that before you die tonight, you will say, ‘Jesus, have mercy’.”  He said, “I will not.  Now get out.”

Later that night, one of the nurses called Fulton Sheen to tell him that the man had died, and she said that he had died well.  “Why would you say that,” he asked.  She said, “Because from the moment you left the room, he began to say, ‘Jesus, have mercy,’ and didn’t stop until the moment he died.”

Jesus Christ invites us today to receive His mercy and forgiveness.  We do not have to wait until we are on our deathbed to recognize that it is time to be reconciled to God.  We do not need to commit the sin of murder or adultery to see that we are desperately in need of the mercy of Jesus Christ. 

Here in the Eucharist may we make that choice for Him that has the power to heal the brokenness and sorrow that a lifetime of poor decisions and bad choices have left in their wake.  Here, as Jesus Christ offers Himself to us, may we respond in our hearts, “Jesus, have mercy.”  And may we never cease to offer that prayer to Him until our earthly journey is complete.