Homily of Wednesday, April 29, 2020
Saint Catherine of Sienna lived in Sienna, Italy in the 14th century. She was the child of a large family and decided that she wanted to live as a celibate virgin in honor of our Lord. Her parents didn’t approve of that and gave her trouble, but she finally got them to agree. She lived with a Third Order Dominican, in the family home, and in addition to the chores and work she had to do with the family, she was spending a lot of time in prayer. She eventually became the center of a group of clergy and lay people whom she directed and led. And she also was the advisor of important people, including popes. She is an example of a person who lived both a contemplative and an active life. She was illiterate, but God Himself, she said, taught her to say Latin. One of Dorothy Day’s favorite sayings was a saying of Saint Catherine: “All the way to heaven is heaven, because Jesus said, ‘I am the Way.’” And if you are with Jesus, if you are on the way with Jesu, you are already in heaven. The other thing about Dorothy Day was that she, in the house of hospitality that she ran, would end the day with Vespers and/or Compline, and people said, “Why don’t you say the rosary? Why this strange business of Vespers and Compline” And she said that we generally pray to Jesus, but when we say the office, when we say Vespers or Compline, or the other hours, we pray with Jesus. And another interesting story about Catherine is that, occasionally, when Catherine would say the office, our Lord would come and say it with her.
Homily of Tuesday, April 28, 2020
“I can see Heaven thrown open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God,” proclaimed St. Stephen to a group of people who for millennia had been waiting for this to happen. A people who knew they had been chosen, a people who set apart from the rest of the world since the days of their father Abraham; a people blessed like no other.
Stephen filled with grace and power worked great wonders in front of these people and not one could successfully argue against anything he taught. So, the authorities arrested him under false charges, but he continued his preaching and told them their history in the light of God’s love and mercy, calling them out for their pride which prevented them from seeing this truth. They not only refused to listen, refused to see this truth, they killed the messenger just like their ancestors killed God’s messengers, as Stephen had described; they were a chosen people who seemed believe that being chosen meant they had the right to choose what they wanted to believe. And this sort of pride is what keeps all of us from getting closer to God and the fullness of what He has to offer us.
In our Gospel, Jesus is dealing with a group of people that want Him to “prove” Himself to them – and Jesus tells them of the Eucharist. Of course, they want a bread that gives life and satiates all their needs, but when they find out what that bread truly is, Christ Himself, we will see that most of the His followers will reject Him, unable to accept the truth. Sadly, the majority of people who claim to follow Jesus today still reject the truth of the Eucharist, and survey after survey shows that most Catholics do not believe in the True Presence. Let us not be like those people, but instead choose to be like Stephen: open to grace and the power that comes from Christ.
At the Mass we enter deeply into mystery, the veil between Heaven and Earth is lifted and we participate in Jesus’ self-offering of Himself to our Father. At the Mass, we too can see into Heaven, see Jesus Himself amongst us and receive the Bread from Heaven. Our encounter with our Lord and Savior is real, and the grace upon grace available to us at the Mass does transform us. May St. Stephen intercede for us, so that we too may share in the Truth he both saw and professed, and may the Grace of Jesus help us to walk in his footsteps.
Homily of Sunday, April 26 (Third Sunday of Easter)
Readings: Acts 2:14, 22-33; 1 Peter 1:17-21; Luke 24:13-35
Except for his “bread of life” discourse (Jn 6:48-68) no passage in the Gospels makes the connection between the Eucharist and the bodily Resurrection of Jesus more explicit than his appearance to the disciples on the road to Emmaus. The twenty-fourth chapter of the Gospel of Luke, which contains this account, is a literary masterpiece. Within it, the record of the events on the road to Emmaus is really a masterpiece within a masterpiece. With his death on the cross Jesus’ temporal life came to an end, but not his life itself. During his years of teaching and travel the Gospel narratives remain coherent and sequential in ways that make sense to us. Event follows event, when he is in one place, he is not elsewhere, cause is followed by effect.
Then comes the Easter experience. He who was dead rises to new life in all his physical reality. But he returns, transfigured, to be with his followers for forty mysterious days. Now what is narrated changes remarkably. Events fluctuate back and forth, occurring now here and suddenly there. The Lord appears and disappears, is unrecognizable and yet recognized in as common a gesture as his manner of breaking bread. We know that all this will culminate in the Ascension and then the astounding events of Pentecost. And we know St. Peter will stand before an excited crowd, not speaking about Jesus but from him. To hear Peter speak so boldly and coherently, as in our first reading today, one might think he’s become an entirely different person. The Church presents these joyous events for us in this time after Easter for our encouragement. But for the disciples on the road to Emmaus, Pentecost was still a long way off. Consider the state of their faith. When they spoke they didn’t even refer to Jesus as the Messiah. Instead they reduced him to just a prophet - mighty in deed and word its true – but just a prophet. They had heard word of the Resurrection but they didn’t believe it. They appear to have simply given up and were leaving Jerusalem altogether. “We had hoped”, they say pathetically, “that he was the one to redeem Israel”. Though everything they said was correct, their misery indicated without a doubt that they had grasped the meaning of none of it. Did they still believe in Jesus? …Apparently not.
How did Jesus respond to all this? He forcefully pointed out that they themselves had in their own Scriptures the keys to unlocking the mystery of everything about him. As they walked he described for them the whole of Biblical history beginning with Moses. He demonstrated how it culminated in himself, the Messiah, explaining how it pointed toward a sacrificial love so complete that, by it, the effects of sin would be undone. As they approached the village of Emmaus, the disciples pressed Jesus, still unrecognized, to remain saying: “Stay with us, for its nearly evening…” Jesus agrees. Soon comes the crowning moment. At table with them, Jesus takes bread, says the blessing, breaks it, and gives it to them: exactly the same gestures he used the Last Supper. With this sign Jesus made present again the sacrifice of the cross, the act by which he offered his own body as reparation for the sins of the world. And more: in the breaking of bread he revealed himself as the risen Messiah. Here we, and the disciples, see merged the themes of the sacred banquet and the sacrifice that made that banquet possible.
Jesus’ teaching on the road and this breaking of bread at table – this combination of word and sign – was sacramental in structure. It both expressed and created a new reality. This was the first Eucharist after the Resurrection. Now Jesus, its principle celebrant, fulfilled what he set out to accomplish at the Last Supper. And it opened the eyes of the disciples. The moment they recognized him, he vanished from their sight. In doing so he indicated for them, and for us, the way he would be present after these forty days: in the Sacrament of the Eucharist. In vanishing Jesus disappeared into the mission of the Church. Now the Eucharistic Christ becomes the mission of his disciples; that is us. In him we have been invited to be the Father’s way to others, the way that leads along the path of the Love for our risen Lord. Our Faith is Jesus. All else follows on this single fact. This is the great lesson of Emmaus.
In this time of pandemic many of us are called to receive our Eucharistic Lord into our hearts spiritually. Like his disciples on the road to Emmaus, we may feel dispirited. But unlike them, let’s not give up so easily. Let us hold fast to Jesus Christ, seeking from him the grace of an ever deepening Faith. As we invite him to “stay with us” in Spiritual Communion, let our hearts burn with renewed Love for him, and for each other, knowing that on our Faith, the Faith of others is kindled. The disciples at Emmaus certainly did not realize it, but when they said to Jesus: “Stay with us” their request was to be granted far more abundantly than they could have imagined at the time. For his revealing himself in the breaking of bread was his promise to them, and to us, that “I am with you always, even to the end of time.” (Mt 28:20)
Homily of Thursday, April 23, 2020
Here are two thoughts from Saint Augustine of Hippo. The first from one of his sermons: “Our Lord came down from Life to suffer death. The Bread came down, to hunger; the Way came down, on the way to weariness; the Fountain came down, to thirst. Can you refuse to take the work upon yourself? You must not seek what is for yourself. Seek the truth. That is how you will come to eternity, and there find security.” And the other thought is: “Pray from God the gift to love one another. Love all people, even your enemies, not because they are your brothers and sisters, but that they may become such. Love them in order that you may be at all times on fire with love, whether toward those who have become your brothers and sisters, or toward your enemies, so that by being beloved they may become your brothers and sisters.”
Homily of Wednesday, April 22, 2020
In today’s gospel (john 3:16-21), we see some very important things. First, the absurd love of God for mankind. He so loved the world – that is us – He gave His only Son, His most precious reality – there is nothing higher than His Son. He elects to redeem us, to save us. We also see that it is up to us. He doesn’t condemn us: we condemn ourselves – by our lives, our lack of belief, our sin, our infidelity, and such. He gives all He can give. It is still up to us and our free choosing, for our destiny: free will, free will. And also we can be condemned. Condemnation can in fact happen. It is amazing how often in the gospels our Lord mentions hell, refers to hell. I forget the exact number, but it is a lot – I was surprised how often it is referred to or mentioned directly. In the lives of holy people, saints, there are often visions of the hell, and the spirits of hell. So, for example, in 1917 with Fatima, the children had a vision of hell, and they didn’t forget it. The famous Saint Teresa of Avila, 16th century Spanish Carmelite, she discusses in her autobiography her experiences of hell, and it was truly hellish. If you don’t believe our Lord in the gospels, or the lives of these holy people and saints, there is also something that is more recent, but very popular – these so-called “near death experiences.” Most of these are very, very, very, very positive – they meet their grandmother, their aunt, people they have loved and passed away. They meet God and are filled with an ecstatic joy that can transform them. But a few of these cases are not so happy. They have died, but it is not a very happy experience – it’s a very hellish experience. They still come back transformed, but in a very different way. So, we don’t like hell. Modernists don’t talk about it a great deal. But it’s there; it’s there significantly; it’s clearly in our tradition. So, it can happen to us and those we love. So we should worry about hell. Not because hell should be our destiny. God has done everything possible to make it happen: our salvation, our life, our transformation, our happiness. It is up to us to choose Him, to repent of our evils, to seek the truth. And all who seek the light will find the light. We know that from revelation; we know that from our own experience. If you seek the Light you will find the Light. This world will pass away. It is already passing away, as we see around us. It is fast disappearing. So let’s live in the true light, the true kingdom, the true world. Our Lord came into this world by His Incarnation, for our redemption. The world that is breaking in at every moment, and the one that transforms the world around us. Let us do this, let us pursue it with all intensity. Then we will find our eternal, and present, happiness.
Homily of Tuesday, April 21, 2020
Today we commemorate St Anselm, although Archbishop of Canterbury in England, he was an Italian who had become a monk at a monastery in France. He was a great philosopher and theologian. He famously argued that if you can understand the word God, that proves God exists. He answered the question why did God become man? So that man could become God. In light of this answer we might ask ourselves daily: how have I acted like God? In what loving and creative ways have I used the time and opportunities I have had? Do I recognize that the kingdom of God is here among us? How am I using the opportunities of social distancing to become more Godlike? St Anselm had great thoughts. We have a great destiny if we live up to it.
Homily of Monday, April 20, 2020
A common ice breaker is the question, “If you could have any super power, what would it be?” You can even buy coffee mugs with absurd sayings like, “I teach math, what is your super power?” Math?!?! Generally speaking, Super Hero movies are top earners at the box office and among the highest-ranking TV shows. As a culture, we seemed obsessed with them, and it seems that the best of the best of the super heroes are not naturally gifted, rather they are like Spiderman, Captain Marvel, and Captain America, who are made super by undergoing some unique and life-altering encounter with something enigmatic and unique. Why are we so obsessed with being something more than we are? Why do long to be heroes, and why do we feel called to protect the world from evil? Because we are human and that is our vocation. St Augustine said that our hearts will always be restless until they rest in God. We have a calling to hold fast to Christ: a call to not only dispose oneself to hear a teaching and obediently accepting a commandment. More radically, it involves holding fast to the very person of Jesus, partaking of his life and his destiny, sharing in his free and loving obedience to the will of the Father. And this is what Nicodemus is asking of Jesus and can only be done through Baptism. Following Christ is not an outward imitation, since it touches man at the very depths of his being. Being a follower of Christ means becoming conformed to him who became a servant, even to giving himself on the Cross (cf. Phil 2:5-8). Christ dwells by faith in the heart of the believer (cf. Eph 3:17), and thus the disciple is conformed to the Lord. This is the effect of grace, of the active presence of the Holy Spirit in us. By the work of the Spirit, Baptism radically configures the faithful to Christ in the Paschal Mystery of death and resurrection; it "clothes him" in Christ. Baptism really and truly changes who and what we are. It raises us up to a new level of existing, and to be at a higher level, to be above, which in Latin is the word ‘Super” so we have actually become super men and women and according to the testimony handed on by Paul – Baptism commands us to commemorate in liturgy and in life. So, even though Covid19 makes it impossible for all the Baptized to receive the Eucharist, we all have the power to grow closer to God during this time of isolation. Baptism has given us incredible abilities; may God give us the grace to develop them to their fullest.
Homily of Sunday, April 19, 2020
At the end of the Gospel last week, after Peter and John had seen the empty tomb and believed, the evangelist makes an interesting comment. He says that Peter and John “did not yet understand the Scripture that (Jesus Christ) had to rise from the dead.” Peter and John believed that Jesus Christ had risen, truly risen, but they did not immediately understand the implications of that. That evening, they were in a locked room along with most of the remaining Apostles when Jesus appeared to them for the first time after the resurrection. They rejoice, but there is still no indication that they have understood what the resurrection implies: that Jesus Christ, man and God, has conquered death and sin for us. They stay locked in their room: social distancing not to stop a disease but out of fear of what the people might do to the followers of a man they had just crucified.
A week later, they again meet in the same locked room. This time, there is one additional apostle with them, Thomas, who had demanded physical evidence that what they had seen was the same Jesus Christ who they had followed and who had been crucified when the other apostles told him about it. Jesus again appears. This time, He singles out Thomas and gives him the physical evidence he had wanted: he shows him his wounds. Oddly enough, doubting Thomas is then the first person to indicate a real understanding of the resurrection, of the heart of the Christian faith. He says, “My Lord and my God.” He feels the wounds of the crucified Christ, recognizes the physical nature of the risen Christ, and realizes what has happened: God has become man. Jesus Christ, fully God and fully man, has conquered sin and death. In a certain sense, we could say that St. Thomas in this moment is the first Christian, the first to see the crucifixion through the light of the resurrection, the first to recognize God’s death for the forgiveness of our sins, and the new Creation that Easter brings about. Jesus then invites us to enter into this new creation through His gift of faith: blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe. Liturgically, today’s feast, always accompanied by this Gospel, has had a number of names that each emphasize something different about the nature of our faith, but all point back to the Paschal mystery: the crucifixion and resurrection from the dead that is the heart of the Christian faith.
Regardless of the various informal and official names given throughout history, the one constant title that has been to call today the Octave Day of Easter. An octave is a way of celebrating an important feast by extending the celebration for 8 days, or one week. Today is the eighth day on which we celebrate Easter, the resurrection of Christ, the most important feast in the liturgical year. That importance is emphasized by the octave. Throughout the octave, we add “Celebrating the most sacred day of the Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ in the flesh” to the Roman Canon, or Eucharistic Prayer I because all 8 days are a prolongation of the one annual celebration of Easter.
Another name related to this is “Low Sunday,” the informal name this feast has been known by in much of the English-speaking world. This name might have developed from a corruption of the word “laudes” from a chant used on this feast in Medieval England, but its modern use serves to further emphasize the continuity between today and Easter Sunday: the lower Sunday that comes after the high feast day celebrated a week ago. The Sunday that continues and completes the high feast of Easter.
Every Mass is a re-presentation of the paschal mystery, the death and resurrection of Christ that must be looked at as a single act. Every Sunday is a special commemoration of the resurrection of Christ and his victory over death and sin. Nevertheless, the Paschal Triduum followed by Easter Sunday is a special time because we are commemorating, and participating in a historical event that really happened in a particular place, and at a particular time in the year. This is emphasized by these names that point directly back to Easter. Jesus really did die. He really did rise from the dead. This is the one absolutely, definitive turning point in history. It allows us to separate everything into Before Christ, BC, and Anno Domini, year of the Lord, AD. By calling today the Octave day of Easter or Low Sunday, we are invited to rejoice with the Apostles as they saw their risen Lord, their Messiah and savior come back from the dead for the first time. We are invited to meditate on the physical, bodily but glorious risen man and risen God whose nature was recognized by St. Thomas. We are invited to take up St. Thomas’ words and exclaim “my Lord and my God.”
Another group of titles serves to emphasize the sacramental nature of the Christian life as it is lived by us. The official title of this Sunday until 1970, even though the practice it commemorated had long ended, was Dominica in albis depositis, or the Sunday to remove the white, the day when the white garments put on by those baptized at the Easter Vigil, symbolizing their rebirth and putting on Christ, would be removed. This would have been the end of the long initiation process, when those baptized would now be fully members of the Church, fully part of the body of Christ, celebrating their first Easter. Doing this on the Sunday after Easter would connect the celebration of the baptism done at the Easter Vigil to the entire 8-day celebration of Easter, further emphasizing the connection between the new life that is put on at baptism and the new life that was opened up when Jesus rose from the dead. The only remaining aspect of this is a special prayer added into Eucharistic Prayer 1 for those who have been baptized at the Easter Vigil.
More recently, in 2000, St. John Paul II, following the visions of St. Faustina Kowalska, a Polish nun, gave today’s feast the title of Divine Mercy Sunday. Thus, it is a day to commemorate the forgiveness of our sins that was effected through the cross and resurrection of Jesus, and of special indulgence for going to the sacrament of Confession and receiving Holy Communion. This may seem unrelated to Easter, but it is directly tied into the mystery of the forgiveness of our sins. Through the devotional practice of the novena of the chaplet of Divine Mercy, starting on Good Friday, the day when Jesus Christ was crucified for our sins, we pray that God grant us his mercy over nine days, ending yesterday. As all things on Good Friday, it is Easter Sunday, the resurrection from the dead, that allows us to start to make sense of it, as happened with the Apostles.
In the sacraments, we see and directly access Christ Himself. We put him on, like the white robe at baptism. We participate with Him in his death and resurrection and receive individual forgiveness for our particular sins, especially those that have most separated us from Him through the sacrament of Confession. We become Him, and become more fully integrated into the body of Christ by receiving Him in the Eucharist. Like Peter and John at the empty tomb, and the Apostles in the locked room, we sometimes have to stand back in wonder and awe at what God has given us, at what Jesus Christ has done for us. Like what St. Thomas saw, in the sacraments, there is a physical presence behind which we are invited to recognize Christ - to say “my Lord and my God.”
This brings us to the last major, informal title for this day: Quasi modo Sunday. Like Laetare and Gaudete Sundays, this is a name given by the opening of the text for the introit. This introit, like the second reading, comes from the first letter of St. Peter. This introit translates as, “Like newborn infants, you must desire the rational milk without deceit, that you may grow to salvation in Him. Alleluia.” Especially through the sacraments of Baptism and Confession, we are given a renewed innocence that gives us an opportunity to live in a new way, the way of holiness: a way of life fitting for one who has put on Christ, and the way that leads to salvation. By living holy lives, nourished by prayer and the sacraments, not just our words, but our lives themselves can also say, “my Lord and my God.”
On a bit of an aside, at least for me the sacramental life is difficult to discuss during a time of social distancing; a time when many dioceses throughout the world have felt the need to limit access to the sacraments because of the Coronavirus pandemic; a time when spiritual communion and perfect contrition have often had to imperfectly substitute for the sacraments; a time when viewing the Mass on tv or a computer has had to substitute for the whole community participating in the sacrifice of the Mass together. It is important at this time to emphasize that God does not withhold from us the grace we need and that we pray for just because illness, or global pandemic as in our case, prevents us from directly accessing Him in the sacraments. Nevertheless, the normal form would be to approach Him within the context of Christ’s body, the Church, through the sacraments that He established for us. In the meantime, we must take this lack of an Ecclesiastical life, and the pandemic and social distancing, as some of the trials through which our faith is tested and proven genuine that St. Peter mentions in his first letter.
So, in summary, Happy Octave Day, Happy Low Sunday, Happy Dominica in Albis, Happy Quasi modo Sunday, Happy Divine Mercy Sunday, or, as they all point to and depend on: Happy Easter.
Homily of Saturday, April 18, 2020
Our Gospel today ends with Jesus telling the apostles, “Go into the whole world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature” (Mk 16:15). Vatican II broke radical new ground with the teaching that the three Christian vocations: lay, clerical, and consecrated, are not exclusively ordered to the sanctification of the individuals who embrace them. Rather, all three vocations are to share in the task that the Church receives from the Lord, namely, the responsibility of transforming the entire world; of “proclaiming the Gospel to every creature”. According to the divine plan for the Church, consecrated persons, especially those of the monastic state, position themselves first and primarily by their centered devotion to the Gospel. Proceeding from this center, we monks, for whom monastic labora is education, proclaim the Gospel by our open witness to the primacy of Christ. Like Peter and John in today’s first reading it is impossible for us not to speak about what we have seen and heard. We accomplish this through both our teaching and by the witness of our clear and visible monastic presence in society. As Pope Paul VI famously put it back in 1975: “Modern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if he does listen to teachers at all, it is because they are witnesses.”
Today we are being challenged to teach and witness to the Gospel through new approaches and technologies. At moments like this it is good remind ourselves of our perennial orientation. Saint Benedict stands at the origin of the unique contribution that monastic life has made to the transformation of culture. For more than 1,500 years, it has been the prerogative of Western monks, by their devotion to education, to witness that all learning is oriented beyond secular studies; that learning itself, in fact, allows one to approach God. This broke radical new ground when it was first embraced by monasteries in the 7th century, like the teachings of Vatican II in the 60’s. It has once again become radical ground in need of being broken today for the sake of an atrophied and secularized culture; societies bent on discarding thier roots, and relentlessly declining toward a condition where the state remains the only principle of organization for human life. Monastic life imbued with an apostolic spirit and apostolic activity derived from Gospel values is what the world today most desperately needs, and is in many places crying for. We know that God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. (Jn 3:17) May the Lord remind us often that as monks who are educators, we still stand at the spiritual center of this most crucial work, and may he strengthen us for this arduous mission.
Homily of Friday, April 17, 2020
There is no salvation in anyone else. So spoke Saint Peter in today’s first reading (Acts 4:1-12). He has healed the cripple and is arrested by the Sanhedrin and brought before them. And he’s asked by what power, by what name, has he done these things, these healings, and so on. He says in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, the Nazorean, he has done all of this. There’s no salvation in anyone else. What does it mean to be saved? It sort of means something in the future, that we will be with God for eternity in paradise. But it is also for the present, in our very concrete world. Peter says that the cripple has been saved, and he has been healed. Salvation therefore is not just for some future salvation for eternal life, but a present condition, of transformation, of healing, being made whole, being free from terror or set free from some other dangers or difficulties. And it’s that salvation you should remember in our day to day life. And the power of the Name, the power of the Name. When God saves, it is not just “pie in the sky when we die”: it’s here and now in our present difficulties. It is physical; it is spiritual; it is emotional; it is everything. Because God saves the whole person, body and soul, here and now. Only by the name of Jesus Christ can you truly be saved. Only through his Name can we truly be saved. No other means is sufficient, no other means will be complete, total, final. Let us every day hope on the Name of the Lord, Jesus Christ our Lord. And we will experience the power that comes from the Name – and by what power, by what Name to do this. The power in the Name is awesome. The power in the Name is very intense. The power in the Name is everything. Let us every day call upon the power of Jesus Christ, to heal us of our difficulties, free us from temptations and trials and dangers. To make us whole, to make us happy, to make us transformed. Heaven begins now, salvation begins now – body and soul, in this present world. And then to eternity.
Homily of Thursday, April 16, 2020.
This is from a discourse given by Pope Saint John XXIII, when he was Patriarch of Venice. “The Lord’s Passion and his Resurrection show us that there are two lives, one which we barely live, the other for which we long. Is not Jesus, who deemed to bear his poor earthly life for our sake, able to give us the life we desire? He wants us to believe this, to believe in his love for us, and in his eagerness to share with us his own riches, that once he chose to share our problems. It is because we all have to die that he chose to die too. We all know this already. Our end is our beginning, birth is death. This is common knowledge and clear for all to see in our own sphere. sphere is this earth; the sphere of the angels is heaven. Our Lord came from one sphere to the other: from the realm of life to the realm of death, from the land of bliss to the land of toil and sorrow. He came to bring us his gifts and to bear with patience our sufferings; to bring us his gift in secret, and publicly to bear our ancient lot. To show himself as a man and to conceal his divinity. To appear in the flesh while the divine word was hidden from our eyes. The word was hidden, but it was not silent. It taught us how to endure in patience."
Homily of Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Our Gospel raises an interesting question: “Why didn’t Mary recognize Jesus?” There are two answers. The first one is quite practical; she remembers Jesus as she saw him, as he was being laid in the tomb, and that memory was horribly gruesome. His flogged body would have been half torn to shreds, the crown of thorns covered his face in blood, and he would have been covered in dirt and spittle from the mocking crowd. The blood loss would have turned him greyish white. The nails that pierced the nerves in his hands and feet inflicted such an incredible amount of agony that the Romans had to come up with a new word to describe the pain: excruciating (“out of the cross”). Mary would only have known or expected this Jesus in the tomb. The second reason Mary would not have recognized Jesus was because it was the dawn of a new age, foretold since the Fall of Adam and Eve. Man had entered into an era where reconciliation with God was now possible through the Glorified Christ, who had summarized the Law as love of God and neighbor, and through the inseparable unity of the love command attested by his very life: his mission culminates in the Cross of our Redemption (cf. Jn 3:14-15), the sign of his indivisible love for the Father and for humanity (cf. Jn 13:1). Mary was the first to see the perfection that real Love brings about and to which all can share. So now we must face the deeper question this Gospel raises: “Will we recognize Jesus?” Yes, we should, because He has called us by our names too. It is in the baptism Saint Peter calls us to in our first reading, and this is why during Easter Vigil or Easter Sunday Mass we renew our vows: because in this sacrament not only does the Holy Spirit begin to dwell within us, but we are infused with the theological virtues. Within us is Hope, so we do not despair at the empty tomb. Rather, we rejoice in knowing that Kingdom is now open to us. We have Faith, so we can more clearly see the Truth of Christ speaking to us in new forms that are unexpected. Charity, the most important of the virtues, helps us begin here on earth to share in the incredible Triune Love of God, and is the source of our evangelizing Jesus to others. Jesus has truly risen indeed. Alleluia, Alleluia.
Homily of Monday within the Octave of Easter, April 13, 2020
The Gospel accounts of the events surrounding the resurrection this week are just filled with people who don’t understand what the heck is going on. We too don’t understand a lot of the aspects of our own faith. And what can we do about it? Well, of course, first of all we can pray. We pray for the Lord to enlighten our minds, to show us things that we do not see at present. And we do this trying to remain alert at all times of His presence in our lives. This is the prayer without ceasing that the prophets and saints speak about, and prayer is always answered. The second thing we do, or can do, or should do, is we act. It brings a very vital circle, a strong circle between understanding and action, in terms of doing something. Today’s account of Mary Magdalene and the other Mary hurrying to tell the apostles is a great example of exactly this. They most certainly did not understand what was going on, and in this account, as well as in at least one other account of Mary Magdalene running to tell the other apostles, we can certainly imagine this lady not just sashaying along at a fast walk, like in some Bible story picture book, but tearing the Dickens right out of that garden as fast as she could down that hill, back into the city to find the apostles, up and down the streets, where are they… And running at top speed as fast as she possibly could. And imagine this run, Mary Magdalene’s run after the resurrection, as being something worth imitating. That’s something where you kind of go fast: she tore out of there as fast as she could, and it must’ve been a very impressive sight to see as she was tearing along. In this case it’s a very great example of the fact, I think, that when we don’t understand, when our understanding is insufficient, we take action. We take action in faith, unlike what the scribes and Pharisees did by lying and paying people off, pretending it didn’t happen. Because something happened. I don’t get it, but I am going to move with this. This is what Mary Magdalene and the other Mary did – moved with it. And sure enough, there, on the path, was Jesus. Their understanding increased because they took action. I think if we put into practice in our daily lives what little of our faith we do understand, our comprehension does grow, precisely because of the action. Pope St. John Paul II wrote in his writings on the acting person of being people who act, and not being people who are simply acted upon; people who do things, take action. Mary Magdalene is a very, very good example of this today. Mary Magdalene remains a very good sample of this ascending cyclical relationship between understanding and acting – not just sitting and pretending things didn’t happen, but moving with the events.
Homily of the Easter Vigil, April 11, 2020
We just heard St Paul’s words to the Romans: If we have died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him. We know that Christ, raised from the dead, dies no more; death no longer has power over him (Romans 6). St Paul also wrote to the Corinthians: If Christ has not been raised, your faith is vain; you are still in your sins. Then those who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are the most pitiable people of all (1 Cor 15; 17-20). As I was googling around this week, I came across a statement: “Let’s just admit it. The Resurrection is unbelievable.” But of course we are here because we believe. This belief sets us apart from everyone else in the world. Everyone else in the world believes in the golden rule, in not killing-stealing-lying. Everyone wants peace and justice and something they define as salvation or liberation. We, however, believe that Jesus became a human being like us so we humans could become just like God. That is something of a higher order. His very real human death was followed by the resurrection of his glorious body. And this was to show us not only his divine nature but also what is in store for us. And nothing can prove this to the 21st century. Only faith and trust can convince us.
We heard in this Gospel that Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalene, and then the other disciples on the third day after his death. We are also told that later he appeared to 500 people at once. All this testimony was written down. There were no cameras, no video, none of the things we use today to document important events. But we have the reliable testimony of those honest people who say they saw the risen Jesus with their own eyes. Some skeptics think they lied, but why would they? There were in those times in Palestine other leaders, healers and false Messiahs that had more followers and more power than Jesus ever did during his life. And they met with death and failure just as Jesus appeared to on Good Friday. But none of their loyal followers attempted to prolong their liberation or religious movements with myths of the resurrection of their heroes. Jesus’ contemporaries were pretty fuzzy and even unsure about eternal life, if they didn’t deny it altogether. So we stand out because we believe the otherwise unbelievable. The testimony of the truthful witnesses is true.
But perhaps the more convincing argument for the Resurrection is the experience of Jesus by the faithful in his Church.
So many saints, those canonized with a capital S, and others known only to God, have mystically experienced this risen Jesus. When I was a child it was a custom on Easter to wear new clothes to add to the festivity. That was probably never the case in monasteries. But there was that informal Easter Parade in New York. That custom has passed. But we can put on a new attitude, one of contagious joy. That is what knowing that Jesus Christ is truly risen from the dead and is alive right now is meant to make us experience. Joy in the certain knowledge through our faith, our trust and our love; knowledge that despite all the personal Good Fridays we may endure in life, God IS with us, God is on our side in life’s struggles and that if we keep the faith, we too will rise. That joy and knowledge is what drew people to the church and caused it to grow from the small group of Jesus followers to 1.2 billion people today.
May the unbelievable joy of Easter permeate every part of our lives and overflow to all those around us. Thank you for the unbelievable joy you bring to my life. Jesus is alive in Portsmouth Abbey, on Aquidneck Island, in Rhode Island, in the United States of America, in all of our world. Jesus is Risen. Happy Easter !!!
Something strange is happening—there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear.
He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, he who is both God and the son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won him the victory. At the sight of him Adam, the first man he had created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone: “My Lord be with you all.” Christ answered him: “And with your spirit.” He took him by the hand and raised him up, saying: “Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light.”
I am your God, who for your sake have become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by my own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in my image.Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated.
For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home is above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Jews in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden.
See on my face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in my image. On my back see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of sin that weighs upon your back. See my hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree.
I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side for you who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell. The sword that pierced me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you.
Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am life itself am now one with you. I appointed cherubim to guard you as slaves are guarded, but now I make them worship you as God. The throne formed by cherubim awaits you, its bearers swift and eager. The bridal chamber is adorned, the banquet is ready, the eternal dwelling places are prepared, the treasure houses of all good things lie open. The kingdom of heaven has been prepared for you from all eternity.
Homily of Good Friday, April 10, 2020
Christianity – such a crude, crass, vulgar, materialistic religion – so thought the refined philosophers, the sensitive souls, the educated elites of the ancient world. The idea of God becoming a man was offensive to them, repugnant. It was so physical, so carnal, so materialistic. The idea that God could be crucified, which we commemorate today in this Good Friday service, was an even more horrific idea to them. To them, and to their modern realities, the present day folk who find the idea of Christianity so crass, crude, vulgar, and materialistic. Yet it is the essence of our faith, that God became man, defining human nature in its fullness, in every way but sin – because sin is a defect of our nature, and not a fulfillment of our nature.
And that’s a major difference between Christianity and other world religions. They all try to deal with evil, and the mystery of suffering and death, but none takes it on so strongly and so intensely as Christianity. God Himself entered the human condition. He lived, He died, He suffered, and He suffered in a very horrific way. We just heard about it, in the description of the crucifixion of our Lord. He’s been there; He’s done that. He’s done all that we could possibly experience. And that’s a great boon to us. We can accept the idea of a God who allows suffering for a higher purpose, but it is still a difficult thing, a very difficult thing. For God Himself has suffered, humiliated, degraded, insulted, been scourged, crowned with thorns, etc. He has gone to such a level of desolation, of degradation, of hurt, of pain, that is for us a great release. Because he’s been there, in ways we can’t even imagine ourselves falling into. He’s experienced all that we have experienced, and much, much more. And that changes everything.
As a great French writer once said, God did not become man to end suffering, but to transform it, give it meaning, purpose, a higher reality, a transformed power, to make sense of the things we experience in this world. Theologians tell us that any act of the God-man is of infinite value. He did not have to suffer as he did this Good Friday. A sigh; cutting his finger; exhaustion; the smallest thing, the most minor thing would be sufficient to gain all the grace, infinite grace, to make possible our redemption. But such grace is meaningless to us, does not touch us, affect us, move us. What He did in His passion does move us. What He did in His passion does touch our souls powerfully. So the grace that He has won for us by His life, death, and resurrection can come to us easily, at least more easily (there is a thing called free will, after all). He has been there, He has suffered everything possible, and He has conquered all things. He knows us and knows our most intimate difficulties, our most powerful sufferings. And He can be with us, even now with all these realities, to give meaning and purpose, to be the conqueror of all suffering, of all pain, of all death. And that is an enormous comfort, that is an enormous reality.
Our God became man, our God was crucified. That’s a shocking thing, and a consoling thing. Let us meditate on this great event, the mystery of our Lord’s passion. Let it transform our lives, and let our own sufferings and difficulties and temptations and trials be transformed by uniting ourselves to the passion of our Lord. God became man, that we may become as gods, children of God: transformed, deified, elevated, supernaturalized. Even the material order will be supernaturalized, and it begins, in a sense, today – in our acceptance of our physicality, of His physicality, and how the God-man’s physicality can make possible our transformation.
Homily of Holy Thursday, April 9, 2020
Today, the church celebrates at this time the Mass of the Last Supper. At the Last Supper, Jesus ordained the first priests when he said to them: “Do this in remembrance of me.” He was ordaining them to offer his body and blood, a living sacrifice, for the forgiveness of sins. We must be clear that in the Mass, as at that last supper, the bread and wine truly become, as then they truly became, the body and blood of Christ – when the priest says, “This is my body; this is the chalice of my blood.” The mass is not a symbol, it is not a memorial meal, it is Christ our priest truly among us. Hear what John Chrysostom, the great bishop of Constantinople in the fourth century, said: “We must reverence God everywhere. We must not contradict him even if what he says seems contrary to our reason and intelligence. This ought to be our behavior at the Eucharistic mysteries too. We must not confine our attention to what the senses can experience but hold fast to his word, for his word cannot deceive.” Leo XIII, at the turn of the twentieth century, said: “There is no doubt that in the mystery of the eucharist alone, all supernatural reality is contained in a unique way.” And on that statement, this one of Thomas Merton, a man of the twentieth century certainly, said: “Christianity is more than a doctrine. It is Christ Himself, living in those whom He has united to Himself in one Mystical Body. It is the Mystery by which the incarnation of the Word of God continues and extends itself throughout the history of the world, reaching into the lives and souls of all men, until the final completion of God’s plan. Christianity is the re-establishment of all things in Christ (Eph. 1:10).”
Now Christ lives and acts in men and women by faith, and by the sacraments of faith. The greatest of all the sacraments, the crown of the whole Christian life on earth, is the sacrament of charity, the Blessed Eucharist, in which Christ not only gives us grace, but actually gives us Himself. For in this most holy sacrament, Jesus Christ Himself is truly and substantially present, and remains present as long as the consecrated species of bread and wine continue in existence. The blessed Eucharist is therefore the very heart of Christianity, since it contains Christ Himself and since it is the chief means by which Christ mystically unites the faithful to Himself in one body. But also, as in this gospel we just heard, our Lord teaches us that to take part in His sacrificial meal is to commit ourselves to His commandment of love. He says: “Love one another as I have loved you.” That love is not an emotion; it is not a sentiment: it is active. All the saints teach the same lesson. Saint Paul says: “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the Law of Christ.” Saint John says: “God is love, and he who loves is born of God, and knows God.” Saint James says: “If the poor man is hungry and cold, and you give him only words, what good is that.” And Saint Benedict says: “Honor all men, and love one another with a pure love.”
Homily of Wednesday, April 8, 2020
Betrayal. Most people have experienced it, I think – betrayal. Perhaps by an individual or by a group; by an institution, or a movement. Betrayal happens. It can be very disillusioning. We can become very cynical, and trust no one, believe no one. It’s all a fraud; it’s all a lie. Betrayal. So it is good to know that even our Lord experienced betrayal. We have in today’s gospel the betrayal of Judas. But it is not just Judas who has betrayed the Lord. It is his own disciples, we know, who will betray him, by fleeing, or denying him in some cases. And we ourselves, by our own infidelity, by our sin, we betray the Lord too. Yet knowing all of this, of Judas, his disciples, and of us, for whom he gives his whole existence in this life and in this world, he continued on to do the will of the Father, to suffer the passion, and to rise from the dead. So, betrayal happens, infidelity. That should not disillusion us, break us, to make us cynical, but to redouble our efforts, knowing that God is always faithful, that Christ is always faithful, and to follow His will, and the victory His will will bring us.
Homily of Monday of Holy Week, April 6, 2020
This is from a sermon of Saint Augustine in which he touches on today’s gospel (John 12:1-11). He said: “Now Jesus was a table with Lazarus and the others, and Martha, Lazarus’ sister served. But Mary, Lazarus’ other sister, took a pound of ointment of great price and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair, and the house was filled with the fragrance of the ointment.” St Augustine said: “We have heard the fact, now let us seek out the mystery. O soul, if you wish to be faithful with Mary and anoint the feet of our Lord with precious ointment, that ointment was justice. The name for the ointment, “pistices,” is reminiscent of the word in Greek for “faith.” But this does not exhaust its meaning, and it greets well with a mystic interpretation. You are striving after justice. Saint Paul says the just man lives by faith. Therefore, anoint the feet of Jesus by living correctly. Keep the commandments, follow in the footsteps of our Lord. Dry them, dry his feet, with your hair. If you have a superabundance of goods, give to the poor, then you have dried the feet of our Lord with hair which is considered as superfluous to you, but is necessary for the Lord’s feet. Perhaps the feet of the Lord here on earth are in need. For concerning whom, if not its members, will He speak at the end: “Because you did it to one of my least ones, you did it to me... You have given of things superfluous to you, but you have satisfied my feet.” The house was filled with the fragrance. The world is enriched with a good character, for a good reputation is a good fragrance. Those who live in wickedness and are called Christians harm Christ. And concerning such it has been said that through them the name of the Lord is blasphemed. It is through such men that the name of God is blasphemed. Through good men the name of the Lord is praised. Here is the apostle, Saint Paul, who says we are the good fragrance of Christ in every place. Let us be so by good deeds and by faith.
Homily for Palm Sunday, April 5, 2020
On the first Palm Sunday, crowds joyfully welcomed Jesus to Jerusalem, welcomed the Son of David to the city of David. We celebrate this Palm Sunday with the benefit of hindsight, knowing what it events it set in motion. I suppose it is common for a Catholic Christian at some point in his or her life to wish or imagine themselves living back then when Jesus walked this earth. Of course we imagine ourselves to be on the right side of the story, on Jesus side.
We’ve all heard that question: What would Jesus do? As we commemorate the events of Holy Week, it would be good to ask, with an honest look at how we are & think every day, what we do, what motivates us…What would I do if I was there? It’s easy to imagine ourselves on side of the road on Palm Sunday, cheering for Jesus and waving palm branches. If not for all this social distancing, we’d be processing around the church today doing just that. That’s easy. But later this week, things change. We heard the full story in the Gospel of the Passion read today; what would we do in the garden late Thursday night when that mob suddenly came out of the dark and arrested Jesus? Would we be the one to defend Jesus, or one of those who ran away? What would we do later at the high priests’ house if, alone and surrounded by enemies, the Romans and their servants identified us, as one of his followers? If we were in the crowd on Friday, Would we cry for Barabbas? Would we shout “Crucify him!”? Would we mock him, strike him with reeds? On his path to Calvary, would we step in to help carry the cross or look the other way? Would we do better than Peter and the other Apostles, Jesus’ closest friends and companions?
We know today many things from the benefit of hindsight and the revelation of faith that the apostles did not have then, but we also know that our own sins inexorably brought about Jesus’ suffering and death. From the benefit of hindsight, we know how appropriate and just was the adulation of Jesus by the crowd on that first Palm Sunday. So today, knowing that we have sinned in the past and knowing we will sin again in the future, let us adore Him, thank Him and pray...
Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.
The critical moments of Lent, the Triduum for which we have been preparing, are almost upon us. And in the Gospel readings for this Tuesday and Wednesday, the villain in the drama appears exposed, although we have the foreshadowing on Monday, when he complains about wasting all that expensive oil on Jesus. Judas was only revealed as traitor at the last moment. The Gospels, and the whole Church for 2000 years, with hindsight impute base motives and dishonesty to him. But I’m rather sure it was not that simple. Like the other Apostles, Judas would have been called, personally invited by Jesus, to join him with hope for his conversion. You can be sure when Judas signed on with Jesus, Judas loved Him just as much as Peter did. But Judas trusted too much in himself, his thinking and judgment, the way he would have done things if he were God. He was selfish and self-centered. But of course the other apostles were too; and in the Gospels we see them constantly bruising their egos against the hard reality of Jesus and his unworldly ways.
Yet something went radically wrong with Judas. Instead of being turned into a new creation by his association with Jesus and His community, he hardened and his love soured into anger, cynicism and perhaps hatred. Ultimately he didn’t have the love that Peter had for Jesus the person; Peter, who from love rushed in where angels fear to tread and made a fool of himself so often, as we will hear, cutting off a servant’s ear and a few hours later denying Jesus in front of other common servants. Judas’ love was not for the person but for what Jesus could do for him, and for the downtrodden nation. And when Judas perceived those dreams of his betrayed, he betrayed Jesus.
You and I may never know if we have all it takes to be a Peter, who honestly stumbled, or a John who never wavered. But we can have, can work on one necessary thing… selfless love. It’s not easy, but it’s doable. Jesus is our model, our guide. But Judas, Peter and John and prove that we too have what it takes to be any of them. What and who they were was brought out by the crisis of Jesus’ arrest, trial and crucifixion.
We, this nation and indeed the world, are right now in the midst of a crisis. And this crisis brings out what and who we and our leaders are. It is bringing out the best and the worst in humanity, and we haven’t seen it all yet. But this crisis requires of us faith, hope and charity…selfless love modeled on the behavior of Jesus himself. The simple act of social distancing is an act of charity, as buying up all the toilet paper and hand sanitizer you can and refusing to distance or quarantine is pure selfishness, and betrays the whole community. This is not complicated. What is required of us now is to act Christ-like, or Judas-like. But that, of course, is our choice every day, crisis or not. May our Lenten prayer and penance, may our reverent observance of the Triduum this Holy Week, bind us closer to the person of Jesus Christ in a more genuine, selfless love that overflows to everyone in this world. In that way Jesus’ love will save us in more ways than one.
Homily of Thursday, April 2, 2020
In the time of our Lord, in the ancient world, death was a common reality – a very, very, very common reality. And not just for the poor. The rich, the well fed, the well-connected died also very, very frequently. It was part of daily life. Death was part of life, as death is part of life. So they were under no illusions as we have today, as the great Descartes once wrote, that we are masters and possessors of nature. We are not masters and possessors of nature, as events of today show. So our Lord spoke, as he did in today’s gospel, that if we follow his word, if we keep his word, we will never see death – it had real power, and affected people very profoundly. He does offer true life, eternal life, life forever and ever. And that is true now as then. We have come to the illusion, for many of us, that we do control nature, that we are the masters and possessors of nature. And we’ve done wonderful things, extraordinary things. We are God’s gift to common creation, we are in the image of the great Lord Himself, his intelligence and power and creativity. But this world is not enough. It was never meant to be enough, never meant to be our end. Eternity with God is our end. And at moments like this, and in seasons like this, the season of Lent, with a reflection, a self-awareness, we come to a conclusion about who we really are and what our nature really is, of what we are made for, and what we are not made for. Let’s use this opportunity of Lent, let’s use the conditions of our present time, to reflect upon our eternal destiny – and to follow our eternal destiny.
Homily of Wednesday, April 1, 2020
This is from the writings of Abbes Jean-Marie Howe. She says: “The ultimate goal of our monastic life is sanctity. When I speak of sanctity, however, I do not mean the perfecting of self. Sanctity is not of this earth. It is of another order, an order that human means cannot obtain. The road we need for this other order is the way of kenosis, the Greek word meaning “emptying,” the death which must precede new life. Without this emptying, there can be no transformation, just as without death, there cannot be new life. And since transformation is the dynamism of monastic life, kenosis is not only essential to it, but actually inherent in it. In choosing to live in a monastery, the person implicitly chooses to participate in the mystery of Christ, which leads through the cross into the life of resurrection. It must be clearly stated that this passage is made possible only by the power of God. We do not enter into a higher order, we are drawn into it. All of this is merely commentary on what Saint Paul says: ‘Have this mind among yourselves,’ Saint Paul says, ‘which was in Christ Jesus, who though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God something to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him, and bestowed on him the name which is above every name.”