Ordinary Time 25 - September 24, 2017

Homily for Ordinary Time 25

September 24, 2017

Life is Christ…the Rest is Just Details

 

            Have you ever seen those tee-shirts or bumper stickers that say “Baseball is life, the rest is just details” or “Basketball is life” or “Underwater basket weaving is life…the rest is just details.” I guess that was more of a ‘90s thing, but you can still see them around. When I see people wearing that shirt, I wonder what their family thinks because that shirt means that baseball is the center of their life and the family is just an afterthought!

            Would St. Paul wear a shirt like that? Golf is life? Fishing is life? Nascar is life and the rest is just details? I think St. Paul would put on a shirt the same thing he says in his letter today: “Jesus Christ is life – the rest is just details.”

            Life is Christ and death is gain – these words of St. Paul challenge us. Can we say them ourselves? That our life is equal to Jesus? That death is something to desire because it means union with God? Can we say that – or do we relegate Jesus to just one of the many details of our life, along with such obligations as bills and doctor’s appointments and homework?

            This is why I find the example of the martyrs to be so compelling. Since Christianity was founded, over 50 million men, women, and children have shed their blood for Jesus Christ. People from every walk of life have been martyred for Christ: every country, every century – children as young as 6 or 7 and elderly people up to 90; married men and women, schoolchildren, priests, nuns, and single people; rich and poor, strong and weak, and everyone in between – have been willing to shed their blood for Jesus Christ. For them, life truly is Christ and death is gain!

            I’d like to tell you the story of one of my favorite martyrs, a young man named St. Jose Sanchez del Rio. (story here: https://www.tfpstudentaction.org/blog/jose-sanchez-del-rio-hero-for-christ-the-king )

            My own conversion happened, in large part, because of the martyrs. I remember walking into the Coliseum when I was fourteen years old, realizing that right there on that spot over 10,000 men, women, and children died for Christ. Why did I not take my own faith more seriously, if they were willing to die for it? I realized that I needed to start to imitate them, and make Jesus Christ the center of my life.

            So how do we imitate the martyrs and truly make Jesus Christ the center of our life? Here are three practical suggestions:

            First, pray daily. And I don’t just mean recite words. I mean speak to the Lord from your heart, seek Him in His Word, spend time with Him. We can’t say that “life is Christ” if our time and energy is not dedicated to Him. Ten minutes per day will change your life. If you do not pray daily, you do not have Jesus at the center of your life!

            Second, seek holiness. We cannot love Jesus if we are not seeking to imitate Jesus, and Jesus is perfect. This doesn’t mean that we are always going to be perfect people – even Christians sin and miss the mark – but it does mean that every day, we seek to make a little progress in living more like Jesus: being more loving, more pure, more patient, more holy, more transformed by His grace. So, seek holiness.

            Third, live differently. When Jesus is the center of our life, that changes everything – the music we listen to, the movies we watch, the jokes we find funny, the parties we attend, the friends we spend time with. If our lives are exactly the same as people without faith, then Jesus is not the center of our lives – He’s more like an unimportant detail! Our faith must change us: our lifestyle, our choices must reflect our faith in Him.

            Pray daily, seek holiness, live differently. Is Jesus just an unimportant detail, or can you say with St. Paul that “life is Christ”?

Ordinary Time 24 - September 17, 2017

Homily for Ordinary Time 24

September 17, 2017

The Freedom of Being a Slave of God

 

            I have always been inspired by people in recovery programs. I’ve been to a couple Alcoholics Anonymous meetings as part of my seminary training and am always amazed at the courage these people have. I think part of what I admire about those in recovery is that many of them are so nonjudgmental about others – they know their profound weakness, and thus they are more apt to forgive the weaknesses of others.

            And isn’t that what makes forgiveness easy - When we realize how much we ourselves have been forgiven for? Let’s dive deeply into this Gospel to see that played out.

            The King, God, calls each of His servants to settle accounts. At the moment of our death, all of us will be judged – we call this the “particular judgment” and it is the moment when our lives will be revealed to us. We will see ourselves as God sees us, and we will see what kind of person we have become – loving or selfish, pure or lustful, greedy or generous. In a sense, we settle accounts with God each time we examine our consciences – we look at who we are, warts and all, and lay them before the mercy of God in confession.

            Then the King, God, finds a servant who owes a huge amount. Let’s be real – all of us owe God a huge amount. “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” Modern Americans like to think, “Oh, I’m not that bad, I’m a pretty good person.” Perhaps you haven’t committed murder – but have you murdered someone else’s reputation through gossip? Perhaps you haven’t committed adultery, but have you committed adultery by looking at a woman with lust? Perhaps you haven’t committed felonies, but we tell lies, take God’s name in vain, allow ourselves to be distracted in prayer, put money and pleasure and popularity before God…all have sinned, no exceptions! (Except Jesus and Mary, of course!).

            We’d like to think those sins aren’t all that bad, but consider this: God has given each one of us enough grace to become a great saint. Why are we not great saints? What graces have we rejected? Many of us have been blessed to have good parents, good examples of faith in our life, maybe attended Catholic school and come to the Eucharist frequently – but we have wasted many of these graces because we are not committed to truly, ardently, with our whole heart and soul, following the Lord. So we are all in debt to God, in a debt that we cannot pay.

            So the King threatens to sell the man and his family and possessions. But sell them to whom? And why? He threatens to sell him into slavery! This is one of the results of sin – sin causes us to be slaves. Consider: the first time you tell a lie, it’s difficult and you feel guilty. But the second time, it’s a bit easier, and the third time, it’s easier still, until soon we find that it’s actually difficult to tell the truth! All sin is like that – it causes vices (morally bad habits) that are hard to break – slavery! We become a slave to our senses, a slave to our pride, a slave to the devil, a slave to the world.

            So what does the servant do? He begs for mercy, and it is granted. Mercy is freely given, but it always comes at a cost. The mercy we receive, the forgiveness we receive, came at the price of the blood of the Son of God. Jesus died so we could receive mercy. He paid the price we could not pay; He paid back our debt with His life. We must never forget the price He paid!

Consider this: if you were standing in the street and a bus was about to hit you, and then someone jumped in front of the bus and pushed you out of the way but died in your place, would you be grateful? Yes! Would you think about them every day? Yes! Would you try to live a life that honored them? Yes! This is precisely what Jesus Christ did for you, in nailing your sins to the Cross so that you could experience mercy.

So instead of being sold into further slavery, this servant is now the slave of the merciful king. The word used for servant is “doulos” which in Greek is often translated slave. But wait? Didn’t the King free him from slavery?

Here is the paradox: we are only truly free when we are slaves of God. This echoes what St. Paul writes about in the second reading: “Both in life and death we are the Lord’s.” We belong to Him – we are not supposed to use our freedom for pleasure and selfishness, but our freedom is meant to be given away in love for God. This is a paradox that people cannot understand if they do not sincerely love the Lord, because to worldly people it looks like religion is meant to crimp our freedom. I remember once when I was a young seminarian in a parish assignment, I happened to be back in the sacristy (where the priest vests for Mass) with a groom on his wedding day. The bride was late (aren’t they all?), so we started chatting, and he asked me how long it would be until I became a priest. I told him I still had six years to go. He looked at me with pity and said, “Ah, so six more years of fun! You can sow your wild oats, get drunk, and party until you become a priest.” I was like, “Wait, what??” He thought that serving the Lord meant boredom and slavery - when in reality, sin leads to boredom and slavery – serving the Lord is incredible freedom, because in the Lord I am free to become the best version of myself, to truly be fulfilled and joyful. In the Lord, I am not a slave to any of the empty pleasures of this passing world!

To sum up: we recognize that Christ has forgiven us of a debt we could not pay, by nailing it to His Cross. We have received mercy and freedom – as now we are not slaves of this world, but we belong to Christ!

I’ll close with a powerful witness of forgiveness and mercy: St. Rita of Cascia. Born in Italy in the 1300s, Rita was married at the age of 12 to a wealthy but abusive man. She had two sons, but her husband’s bad temper made him a lot of enemies. He was finally murdered by an enemy, but at his funeral, Rita (now a widow with two young sons) publicly forgave his murderers and forgave him for all of the abuse he put her through. Her sons, though, grew up to follow in their father’s footsteps, and as young men they made a plan to revenge their father’s death by killing his murderers. Rita heard of the plan and prayed that God would take her sons before they were able to carry out their revenge. Shortly after, both of her sons got sick with dysentery, reconciled to God, and died. She realized that “both in life and death” her life, her husband’s life, and even her son’s lives belonged to God alone. She knew of Christ’s merciful love for her, so she was able to forgive her husband and his murderers, surrendering her sons to the mercy of God. She is now a saint in the Church!

May we all know that we have been forgiven of so much by the Lord – and with this realization, extend that same forgiveness to others.

Homily for Ordinary Time 23 - September 10, 2017

Homily for Ordinary Time 23

September 10, 2017

What Does Your Love Look Like?

 

            Thomas Vander Woude was an ordinary Catholic man – a husband, a father of seven children, a diligent employee, a volunteer at his church in Virginia, a basketball coach…and a hero.

            In September of 2008, he was working in his yard with his youngest son, when he heard a shout. Turning around, he saw that his twenty-year-old son, who has Down’s syndrome, had fallen through a 2’x2’ hole into their septic tank, where he was quickly drowning in sewage. Without a second thought, Thomas jumped in and began to try to rescue his son.

            Neighbors heard the commotion and ran over to help. Initially Thomas was able to keep both of them afloat, but it took a while to pull the large disabled man to safety. By the time the young man had been rescued, Thomas had succumbed to the sewage and drowned.

            Over two thousand people, seventy priests and a bishop attended his funeral, because they wanted to see what love looks like when it’s lived out in a radical way. Because this “love one another” that Paul talks about in today’s second reading is anything but a lofty ideal or a warm fuzzy feeling – no, this love has a cost – the cost of sacrifice.

            This past spring I had to chaperone the eighth grade dance at Trinity Middle School (talk about awkward!). But as I was listening to the songs, I noticed that most of the songs sang about love – but every single time, love was a feeling. “Can you feel the love tonight” and songs like that. But love-as-emotion has disfigured our understanding of what love truly is.

            Pope St. John Paul II defined love as “giving oneself” – it’s not about what one gets from but what one gives to the other. St. Thomas Aquinas says that love is “willing the good of the other”. It is, essentially, an others-centered choice. Does my action benefit another person? Do my words build them up? Do my choices help them to flourish? This is how we understand what love is – it must be proven in deeds.

            When priests hear confessions of little kids, most of the times the sins end up being remarkably similar – “I hit my brother, I disobeyed my mom, I told a lie.” I always ask kids, “Do you love your mom? Do you love your siblings?” And of course they say yes. I then tell them, “If you love them, have you proven that love with your actions? It’s not enough to say you love your mom, you have to obey her. It’s not enough to say you love your siblings, you have to share your toys with them, say kind things, and treat them fairly.” Usually they look quite intrigued with the idea that love has to be backed up with deeds of sacrifice!

            Love even sometimes means correcting someone who has strayed from the right path. Our world often says that if you love someone you can never challenge them or correct them, but that you have to approve of every choice they make. But Christ offers a different view – He says in the Gospel that sometimes the loving choice is to actually correct a friend or family member who has strayed from the right path.

            This makes sense, after all. If love is “choosing the good of another,” then we should always want our loved ones (and even our enemies!) to pursue the highest good. We know that people are happiest when they are in a right relationship with Christ, in the state of grace and avoiding sin, so if we love someone we ought to desire their growth in holiness! This, at times, requires us to speak up – with love, patience, and kindness.

            Consider, you who are parents, the times you speak up to your children. Parents don’t watch their little toddlers heading to a hot stove and say, “Well, it’s a free country, he can choose what he wants.” Of course not! We correct them, not to curtail their freedom, but to help them choose the right path, because we love them. In the same way, Jesus makes it clear that love sometimes involves bringing people back to the right path, as long as our corrections are given out of love.

            So what does love look like for you? For Thomas Vander Woude, who I spoke about in the beginning, love looked like jumping into a septic tank to save his son. For you, love will look different – it might look like doing the dishes without being asked, holding back an uncharitable remark, using your money and possessions for generosity instead of self-indulgence, sitting with the lonely kid at the lunch table, smiling at the person who cut you off in traffic, praying for your difficult mother-in-law, speaking up to the family member who is making self-destructive choices. Love is real when it takes sacrifice, when it costs something, when it is proven in actions. What will your love look like today?

Ordinary Time 22 - September 3, 2017

Homily for September 3, 2017

Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Character Over Comfort

 

            The Carmelite religious order was supposed to be an order of priests and nuns who practiced fasting, penance, and intense prayer – but by the 16^th century, they had become very lax. Instead of praying, they spent their time in idle gossip; instead of fasting, they practiced gluttony amidst considerable wealth. A reform had to be initiated, and a young nun with a powerful personality, St. Theresa of Avila, felt called by the Holy Spirit to begin reforming the Carmelite order.

            But of course no one likes to be told that they are wrong, so she faced opposition everywhere she went. Many Carmelite monasteries refused to welcome her; abbesses fought with her; the other nuns gossiped about her. In all, it was a difficult mission!

            One day she was riding a horse to get to another monastery, praying desperately and frustrated about her mission. As the horse was crossing a river, it got startled and bucked, throwing St. Theresa of Avila into the river, fully clothed. As she got up, soaked and covered in mud, she famously prayed aloud, “Lord, if this is how You treat Your friends, it’s no wonder You have so few!”

            Many people expect God to make their life easier. Back in 2005, two researchers studied the spiritual lives of American teenagers, and they concluded that most teens thought that God’s job was to make them feel good. They called this “moralistic therapeutic deism” – basically the belief that God exists, but He doesn’t interfere with us on a daily basis unless we need Him to solve some problem or take away some pain.

            Sadly, though, many adults treat God in the same way. God, why don’t you heal my mother? God, why am I out of a job? God, take away all my suffering…and then when He doesn’t we often start to question if God exists, if He cares, if He loves us.

            But what if making life easy isn’t God’s job? In today’s Gospel, Peter wants Jesus to choose the easy way – “Lord, since you really are the Messiah, just bypass the Cross! What good does suffering entail?” But Jesus rebukes Peter and then proceeds to reveal the truth – that following Him will, necessarily, involve suffering.

            The Protestant pastor Rick Warren said, “God is more interested in your character than your comfort.” In other words, the goal of life is not to live an easy, suffering-free life. The goal of life is to be transformed into Christ. And often, that transformation comes through suffering.

            I hope we can all point to the good that has come from a difficult situation. I know that from some of my greatest suffering, I matured a lot, grew in compassion and humility, and learned to trust God more. It’s never easy, but it is the only path to becoming holy.

            Consider this example – how is a statue carved from marble? Think about Michaelangelo’s “David” or the “Pieta”. It’s necessary to chip away all of the pieces of marble that are not part of the statue. But what if the marble block could talk and feel? It would say, “Stop! Stop this hammering, this chipping! It hurts! Look, I am losing so much – nothing good can come from this! Too much pain, too much loss!” And yet, when it is finished, it becomes a work of art.

            In the same way, the Father wants to form us into the image of Christ. But to do that, He needs to strip away all that is not Christ – all our selfishness, immaturities, pride, the lies we’ve grown to believe. This takes a complete reorientation of our life, though – to see everything through the lens of “is this making me more like Christ?” This suffering, that disappointment, this pleasure, that relationship – is it making me more like Christ? Because, in the end, isn’t that all that matters?

            The Cross is not an end in itself, just like death on the Cross was not the end for Jesus. For Jesus, the Cross led to the Resurrection, just as for us, suffering can lead to Jesus coming to life in and through us – if we unite our suffering to Christ’s, trust God through the storm, and learn the lessons of holiness that He wants to teach us.

            So do not seek an easy life. Seek a REAL life – one that comes from letting God form you, so that you become like Christ.