Homilies & Reflection

Homily of Thursday in the Easter Octave (April 8, 2021)

“Silver and gold and do not have, but what I do have I give you.” What does Christianity give us? Plenty of hospitals, dispensaries, orphanages. Meaning, hope, purpose. Most powerfully, most truthfully: God Himself. Life and salvation and transformation and strength and power. And these come from the resurrection of Christ, the resurrection we have talked about this whole week, we will talk about. It makes Christianity a unique religion throughout the world. That Christ claimed to be the Son of God. He died, which is not too difficult, but rose again, and by that power changes all reality. And gives to each of us, his apostles, power. More so insofar as we follow him, imitate him, and become true disciples. A great Russian saint once said that in former times people did experience God more powerfully. But nothing is lacking now, in this much more barren age, than an attempt of each of us to imitate God, to follow him, to pray to him virtuously. And if we did so, then that would change and we would experience God more powerfully. So it’s good to have meaning and purpose, good to have dispensaries, hospitals, and other kinds of nice things. It is good to have society change and be somewhat more moderate, and somewhat more kind and gentle, which is also the result of Christianity. But the thing that Christianity offers the most of is power and life, truth and salvation, and a means of eternal existence, forever and ever.

Homily of Monday, April 6, 2021 (Monday in Easter Octave)

This is from a discourse of Pope John XXIII when he was patriarch of Venice: “Easter is for Holy Church the meeting, the marriage of the Bride with her Bridegroom. The Bridegroom comes forth from his tent which was a tomb, but which he has transformed into a pavilion of victory; and his Bride, Holy Church, sings with heart and voice the hymns of joy and exultation: “This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad!” We rejoice because he has risen again, and because in him we too shall rise. May the Risen Christ remain always with us! Cheered by our hope of ensuring our future resurrection, let us begin once more our race to win the prize of victory, with our gaze fixed on the ‘pioneer and perfecter of our faith’ (Heb 12:2) who for our sake fought with death to give us life. He who rose in triumph, the firstborn of the dead, the Prince of the rulers of the earth, has won and bestowed upon all predestined souls the grace and glory of resurrection.”

Homily for Easter Day (April 4, 2021)

Today we celebrate the Resurrection of Jesus Christ and to mark this event the word “Alleluia” reappears in our liturgy. This one word indicates to us today’s theme and the literally earthshaking event it celebrates: the theme is Joy.

You wouldn’t pick that up from the readings or the Gospel, especially not from the Gospel. That records the immediate reaction of the disciples to the news of the empty tomb. The first to see the empty tomb was Mary Magdalene and the Gospel of Mark tells us the other great women followers of Jesus, those women who cared for the day to day needs of Jesus and his male followers as they traveled like a gypsy caravan from town to town while Jesus preached the coming of the Kingdom of God. The women were astonished and carried the news of the Resurrection to the apostles, who were in hiding, in fear for their own lives. The Apostles did not believe the women; their story seemed like nonsense. So, Peter and John raced to the tomb to see for themselves. John, probably just a teenager, ran faster than the older Peter. Even though John got there first he waited for Peter, and let Peter be the first to enter the empty tomb. Peter, who even though he loved Jesus much, who was a hothead and who, out of fear, had denied he even knew Jesus: he was second to know, to see with his own eyes the empty tomb. And then John, the young man whose whole life was ahead of him, who didn’t know much, who hadn’t seen or experienced much, who only knew that he believed Jesus and loved him as his best friend. He was the third to know and to see. But all they could see was what wasn’t there, there was no body of Jesus in the tomb. The other gospels tell us that Mary Magdalene returned to the tomb after Peter and John left, and Jesus then appeared to her (and that perhaps tells us something about the spiritual acumen of women) only later that day did Jesus himself appear to the apostles, to turn their astonishment into joy.

We can learn a lot from these three very imperfect, flawed first witnesses to the Resurrection. They are a lot like us. First, we learn that for us to experience that same resurrection that Jesus did we don’t have to be perfect. We don’t have to have led a sinless and saintly life and we don’t have to be rich and powerful and influential. We just have to have love: love for God in Jesus Christ, and also love for our neighbor, because as that later in life quick teenager St. John tells us that … God is love, and whoever lives in love lives in God, and God lives in him or her. Second, although we do have to be heading in the right direction, we learn that we don’t have to be fast. God is not in a hurry. He waits for us always, like the father in the story of the Prodigal Son. He watches us on the roads we travel and waits for us; He comes out to us when we are on our way and He will make everything right once we arrive, or when he intervenes in our lives. Third, we learn we don’t have to understand everything right now. Peter, John and Mary Magdalene all went home from the tomb confused. They had seen the evidence of the Resurrection with their own eyes, but did not understand. Later that day the Risen Jesus came to them to explain it to them. God is so much bigger than us, so much better, so much wiser, and merciful even to those we would condemn, that it is impossible for us to understand all of how he works and why he does what he does. There’s an old Baptist hymn that says: When the saints…us hopefully…are gathered home in the kingdom, we’ll tell the story how we’ve overcome. We will understand it better by and by. For now, we can understand: Joy is the message of Easter.

Pope Francis speaks eloquently about this. He said: Our joy comes from having encountered the person of Jesus, from knowing that with him we are never alone, even at difficult moments, even when our life’s journey comes up against problems and obstacles that seem insurmountable, we accompany, we follow Jesus, but above all we know that he accompanies us. This is our joy, and this is the hope that we must bring to our world. Every Christian, every one of us, is meant to radiate joy, because the Christian knows what has ultimate meaning, because the Christian knows that death… that thing which is the ultimate downer to the orgy of self-satisfaction which so much of modern life has become… that death is NOT the end of it all, but is the beginning of a more perfect life of Justice, Tranquility, the Liberty of the Children of God, and above all of perfect love, unhindered by the material stuff to which our earthly lives are so attached.

All this is made possible by Jesus Christ and is demonstrated to us by His Resurrection, which is God’s promise to us that we will share in His Resurrection to that life, eternal life. If we are not about love and joy, then we are really missing something important, and we do a disservice to GOD, the Gospel and Church. Christians and preachers who shout messages of fire and brimstone, of condemnation, anger and negativity, who induce fear and anxiety, who exude smugness and anticipation of vengeance, who make it seem all about sin, they are far from the Gospel mark of faith, hope, love and joy. Sin happens. Jesus cleaned it up for us. If we know the risen Jesus Christ, no one and no thing can take that joy from us, no one and no thing can separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ, not even death. So let us all exude joy. Let’s make this an Abbey, a community of joy. May our joy be palpable in all our activities, all our work, worship, all our prayers. As we as individuals and as a society perform the corporal and spiritual works of mercy, may we perform them with joy. May we live our lives in such a way that our friends, relatives and neighbors want to know: “What religion do they belong to? Where do they go to Church? They are really happy.” Jesus Christ did not suffer and die for us, did not rise again for us so that we should be anxious, guilt ridden or downcast. For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. It was all for love, to free us from fear and sadness and anxiety so that we might love Christ in and through others. Today we celebrate the attainment of the pinnacle of that love.

When I was a child, at Easter my father would always get my brothers, sister and me new clothes. I was the youngest, so new clothes for me were sometimes new hand-me-downs from my older brothers. But I always got brand new shoes of my own. New shoes to walk in, to walk in during a new year of growth. This joyful Easter Sunday always comes in the Spring. The whole earth is getting new clothes: a new look as flowers come up and the leaves finally bud on the naked trees. While we ourselves may or may not be getting new clothes, we can get a new look on the inside. We can renovate up our faith and trust in God’s love for us, and walk joyfully in Jesus’ footsteps, knowing for sure God has something great in store for us.

May each of us be a source of joy to each other and to our community, our family, our dorm; may we channel our joy to our Church and the world. May our joy in the full meaning of the Resurrection be our participation here and now in this life of the Kingdom of God, Jesus tells us: Look and see, the kingdom of God is all around you. Jesus Christ is risen from the dead. He is really and truly risen. Happy Easter!

Homily for the Easter Vigil (April 3, 2021)

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 recently, I came across a statement. “Let’s just admit it. The Resurrection is unbelievable.” But, of course, we are here because we do 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 rising 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 City. That custom has passed. But today 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; 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.

Tonight, we add one more person to this billion plus Church membership, and we also add to our joy, because a member of our school community will be baptized and confirmed. The body of Christ will welcome Flynn O’Connell as a new member. And we will have a new brother. May the unbelievable joy of Easter permeate every part of his and 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!!!

Homily for the Liturgy of the Passion of the Lord (Good Friday, April 2, 2021).

In 2009, the organization, then very British, now it is more expansive, called Intelligence Squared, staged a debate. That’s what they do, primarily, stage debates. You can watch the debate if you wish to on YouTube. That’s where I saw it. About 3 million people, I think, have seen it so far on YouTube. There are probably other platforms you can see it on. They have staged many other debates. This was on a particular topic, a particular statement, both pro and con. The statement was: The Catholic Church is a force for good in the world. That was the statement. The Catholic Church is a force for good in the world. On the anti-side you had two very witty, sharp, British celebrities – Stephen Fry, who has made a lot of comedic realities and is a celebrity. He was described on the side as a “well-known celebrity.” I’d like to think all celebrities are well-known. But a well-known celebrity, a comedian, actor, etc. He mostly does things like P.G. Wodehouse, and that stuff. I like Stephen Fry. He is extremely smart, extremely sharp, extremely intelligent. The other anti-person was Christopher Hitchens, who is now dead unfortunately. Also extremely sharp (also very British) in a very different way than Stephen Fry. So, you have these two debaters, Christopher Hitchens and Stephen Fry, saying the church, the Catholic Church, is not a force for good in the world. And two in support that it is. The two in support of it were Ann Widdecombe, then a member of Parliament, a conservative member of Parliament who became a Catholic in 1993, still living, I believe. And the Catholic Archbishop from Abuja, Nigeria in Africa. I think he may still be there. A very pleasant man. His father was the first Christian in his family. His English was a little broken, I’m afraid, but a very pleasant man, not an unintelligent man. You would expect an archbishop to be intelligent; he was also somewhat intelligent but he had, I have to say, broken English. 

It was a fascinating debate, a kind of sad debate. That is why I don’t watch debates. To have Ann Widdecombe and the Archbishop of Abuja defending the Catholic Church, mostly through history, referring mostly to hospitals and orphanages and whatever. And Hitchens and Fry passionately, extremely passionately, attacking the Catholic Church for lots of things: historical things and more recent things – child abuse, you name it: the kind of standard things you see every day. It was kind of disappointing and sad. That’s why I don’t watch these debates; for a lot of reasons. And there are people in this church today who could have excoriated the Catholic Church far more viciously, far more intelligently, than Fry and Hitchens. And there are those in the church today who could have defended the Catholic Church far more intelligently, far more passionately, then Ann Widdecombe and the Archbishop of Abuja. On the whole, a very disappointing experience, because so much of it was based on ignorance and stupidity. There’s nothing more painful than to see intelligent people who are ignorant or unintelligent. That’s why I don’t watch these debates usually. I did because I thought it was particularly important to do so. It’s also very famous, in any case. 

Now there’s two reasons why the whole idea was a mistake. First, historical judgments are really hard to make; really, really hard to make. If you know history extremely well, there’s nothing more difficult to make then historical judgments, because everything has a context. You can’t discuss the inquisition without the context. You can’t discuss this without the context. You can’t discuss Galileo without the context. And so, a lot of half-truths are said that no one responds to. It would take too long, or you don’t know it perhaps. That’s the first objection. And this is a really difficult thing. The church has done great good, and great evil. There’s no doubt about it. Great good and great evil. And it’s hard to adjudicate which is superior, which is more numerous which is more advanced. Is it a force for good in the world or a force for evil? It’s been a force for both, I think.

But there’s a bigger question that was not discussed very much, though Ann Widdecombe came closest when she said that people received hope from the church; the church offered hope to people in the world, hope of a future life, of a better life, of justice, etc. And there’s a great deal of truth in that. But still it falls far short of what the debate should have been on. They should not have asked the question: Is the Catholic Church a force for good in the world? - but the question: Is Jesus Christ a force of good in the world? Because really it is about who Christ is. Organizations are a mixture of good and bad, as are people good and bad, as are bishops and archbishops and popes: good and bad, individuals and bureaucrats who are good and bad. But Christ is the core of what Christianity is all about. That should have been the question. It should have been the answer. It should have been the whole discussion. Is He a force for good in the world? And I would say yes. Of course, I have a little advantage here, I am on a certain side. 

But God knows that being on the right side does not mean you don’t experience things. So what Christ does do, what he supremely does, which we celebrate today on Good Friday, is suffer. And that I do know about, a lot about. Everybody in this room, all of your parents, your grandparents, your friends, have experienced suffering and evil. And you’ll experience a lot more of it before you die, so be ready. Of course, we are never ready, but be ready. Nevertheless. What Christ has done, what God has done in Christ – because Christ is the Son of God, God made man – is to have made suffering and evil, which is a universal (the rich and the poor, the smart and the stupid, the old and the young) experience. And Christ has given to evil and suffering not only value, and a means of transformation, but something much larger, something much more vast. And we celebrate that – insofar as we can celebrate evil and suffering and death and pain – on Good Friday, on this day. Why is it “good”? Not for Jesus, he certainly suffered a great deal on Good Friday. But because by means of that, suffering, all suffering, all evil, has been transformed, has been made very different, has been radicalized, has been elevated to a whole new existence. 

The theologians, at least Thomas Aquinas, which to me count as “theologians”, say the biggest impediment to believe in God is the experience of evil. I think that is so. You know, when you experience suffering or disappointment or whatever –you know: why did mommy die? Why did fluffy die? Why does this eight-year-old have cancer? Etc. You wonder about a good God. You wonder about all these things. Christianity is not deism. Christianity is not, you know, a simple religion. It’s a complex religion. But it has taken the worst thing, the most difficult thing in our experience – and all of you will experience it – suffering and evil, in a very serious way. It makes the cross the symbol of Christianity. Not a Happy Meal, not the Resurrection - Resurrection is important, because without the resurrection you don’t have completion of what the crucifixion is all about. Nonetheless, the cross is itself the symbol of Christianity. As the great powered Claudel one said: Christ did not come to end suffering or to explain it away, but to fill it with his presence. And that’s what’s important. You will suffer. You will suffer in ways you could never have expected. You will wish you were dead. All of you – most of you, I can’t speak for all of you, but most of you. If I knew the things I knew today, I never would have gotten out of bed. If I knew the things I knew today, I never would have lived this long. I would’ve died a long time ago, because if I knew the things I know now, it was really not worth it. It was not worth it not to me in those days, certainly. But Christ did not only give meaning to suffering or give value to evil and suffering, etc. which is nice, that’s good. As Claudel put it, he fills it with his presence. 

You saw in today’s gospel: “I thirst” Our Lord thirsts. We thirst too. What do we thirst for? We thirst for life, what Christ offers through his crucifixion, what Christ offers through our crucifixion, is the fulfillment of life. We want to be alive, we want to be transformed, we want to be fulfilled, we all want our thirst satiated. Christ will do that. Nothing else can; nothing else will; nothing else claims to – well they do often claim, but without making it possible. All these ideologies claim answers to realities they can’t fix. We could have full bellies and still be unhappy. We can have full everything and still be unhappy. There’s more we need and more we want and more we are made, for we are made for God. And only Christ can make that happen. So, we thirst as Christ thirsted and we thirst for him, and he fills our suffering, our evil, with his presence, so we no longer have to thirst. We are satiated, we are made whole, we are full. And so, on this day, certainly know that suffering can be a good of sorts. I never want to say suffering is good, because having suffered a little bit myself, and you will suffer, it’s never good. It’s something you grew up with; it’s something you are transformed by; something to put up with; something that is a way to something else. It’s a means to a different end, but suffering is now given value. Suffering is now given a means of transformation. Suffering can now be filled by something else that is not suffering, it’s not pain, it’s not empty, it’s not darkness: it’s Christ himself. So, the end of this reality is not Good Friday, it’s not Christ dead on the cross, humiliated, degraded, broken. He is broken. But transformed as on Holy Saturday – well, Sunday I guess, really strictly speaking – the Resurrection. We are made for a better life. 

There is a wonderful book, I’ve mentioned it frequently: it’s called Unbroken. It’s a true story of an American airman who was also in 1936 an Olympic runner. It’s a true story that was on the bestseller list for years and years. How he had suffered in the Second World War in the Japanese camps etc., in the Pacific, and how so deeply scarred he came back and he fell apart, basically. And what is so beautiful about the book is not his overcoming difficulty in the first case with the Japanese in the Pacific, with the sharks, and this and that, the beatings, the starvation – which are impressive enough, believe me. But the second half, where he is profoundly broken, profoundly wounded, he is healed by Christ. He is forced to go to this great meeting with Billy Graham in Los Angeles. He’s touched by the power of Christ. He is filled by the power of Christ and he is transformed. And for the rest of his days (many, many decades), he does good, because he has been healed. He is no longer broken. He appeared to be unbroken, but he wasn’t. Because only Christ can truly fix us, only Christ can truly transform us only Christ can truly fill us as we are meant to be filled.
 

Homily of the Mass of the Lord's Supper, Thursday, April 1, 2021

This is the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, or the Last Supper, as it is called commonly, which we read about last Sunday in Saint Mark’s Gospel. In Matthew, Mark and Luke, it is clear that that Last Supper was a passover meal, about which we heard in the first lesson. And the center of the passover meal was the passover lamb: spotless, male, a year old. And tonight we celebrate the meal, the Last Supper, of the True Lamb of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, who is foretold, predicted if you like, foretold in the Passover supper of the Jews. They celebrate Passover every year. They are at it now – they’re celebrating it now, as the memorial feast of their being saved from slavery in Egypt and being brought into the presence of God on Mount Sinai. 

Now at the Last Supper, our Lord instituted (or began or started) several things, the most important in a way, was the Mass. That is, what he did that night was the first Mass. He took bread, as we heard last Sunday – and from Saint Paul now – he took bread, broke it, and gave it to his disciples saying, “This is my body.” Then, he took the cup of wine, blessed God, gave it to his disciples saying, “This is my blood.” Now, the church tells us the bread, once the priest says “This is my body,” and the cup, once he says, “This is my blood,” is in fact the body and blood of Christ. It continues to look the same, but the reality is different. If you were ever told or heard that the bread and wine in Mass are merely a symbol of the body and blood of Christ, that is wrong. It is truly the body and blood of Christ. And that is the teaching of the church, right from the beginning. The second aspect of the mass is that it is a sacrifice. That body and blood was offered by Jesus. He knew what he was doing. He knew he was instituting a sacrifice, which at that time had not taken place except that he willed it and yielded to the Father’s will and would do it. When he said, “This is my body given for you” – Given? Given? Hanging on the cross, it was given for our sins to the Father. “This is my blood poured out.” Poured out? When do you pour out blood? At a sacrifice. So, the mass continues, makes present, that sacrifice which was begun, was instituted as I say, in the Last Supper. The other thing he did was to ordain the first priests, when he said to the apostles, “Do this in remembrance of me.” 

That it was a sacrifice is known and present from the earliest times of the church. The great Ignatius of Antioch, a bishop and martyr, who was a disciple of Saint John the Apostle, who wrote this gospel and who may have been, they say (maybe it’s a legend), the boy that Jesus called to himself and stood in the middle of the apostles and said, “Unless you become like this you can’t enter the kingdom.” Well, that may be true or maybe not, but in any case: the Eucharist, he said, is the flesh of Christ that suffered for us, and that the Father has raised by His will. Not a symbol: it is the very flesh that suffered, and on the first Easter was raised. Another witness from the early church, about 200 and some years later, Cyril of Jerusalem, said “Christ himself clearly described the bread to us in the words ‘This is my body’ – who will dare henceforth to dispute it. And since he has emphatically said ‘This is my blood’, who will waver in the slightest and say it is not his blood? So let us partake with the fullest confidence that it is the body and blood of Christ, for the body has been bestowed on you under the figure (as he puts it – under the figure) of bread, and his blood under the figure of wine, so that by partaking of Christ’s body and blood, you may become one body and blood with him.” That’s to us: we become on body and blood with Christ. “This is how we become bearers of Christ (“Christophers” – Christ Bearers), since his body and blood spread throughout our limbs, this is how in the Blessed Peter’s words (as Peter said in his second epistle) we become partakers of the divine nature.” You probably heard that God wants us to partake in the divine nature. That will be greatly and fully experienced in heaven, please God, but even now by partaking of the body and blood of Christ it begins in us. “Do not,” says Saint Cyril of Jerusalem, “then regard the bread and wine as nothing but bread and wine, for they are the body and blood of Christ, as the master (that is Jesus) has proclaimed.” So, your senses suggest otherwise, let faith reassure you. We walk by faith, not by sight.

Saint John tells us that at the Last Supper, Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. And the church emphasizes that in a big way at this Mass tonight, because it is an underlining by our Lord of the second great commandment: you shall love your neighbor as yourself. The first, remember, is to love God with your whole heart and soul and strength. Love your neighbor as yourself: Jesus shows to what extent that love should and can go. Now, washing the feet when you entered in Jerusalem or any place, I guess, in Palestine at that time, the roads were dirty, dusty. If you were walking in sandals or simple shoes, your feet got dirty. So when you entered a house you, a Jew, washed your feet. As we might go wash our hands, they washed their feet. You washed your feet yourself. If you had a non-Jewish slave, he could do it. But the Jews consider this job so menial, so very, very lowly, that if you owned Jewish slave, you could not make him do that service for another person. So that is why Peter is upset. He said, “You’re washing my feet? No.” And that is the very instinct that our Lord is trying to crush. No, he says, I am going to, because you are going to have to do things like that. He says you don’t understand it now, but you will. That is another thing about your religion: you may not understand it now, but in time you may. And that is what we have to do, you and I: we have to learn to live the first and the second commandments. The early pagans said about Christians: “See how these Christians love one another.” Could you say that today? Could you say it of us? See how these Christians, these Catholics, love one another. There are people, saints, an obvious great example of the last century was Mother Teresa of Calcutta. She had a nice job as a nun and a teacher, and she gave it all up to work with the lowest of the low. So, it can be done. For most of us, as John Henry Newman said, Jesus shows us the way and we spend our lives trying to learn the way. 

So those are the lessons of the Mass. And this is the lesson, the washing of the feet, is the lesson of this particular mass in a big way. And they will sing the hymn “Ubi Caritas et Amor,” which means where charity and love are – there is God. If you listen to the whole text, if you see the whole text in English, it is worth pondering. If you want to know how to get God in your life: where love and charity are, there is God.

Homily of Wednesday, March 31, 2021 (Wednesday of Holy Week)

“It would be better for that man if he had never been born.”  A terrible, terrible saying for Judas to hear. But I suppose it is a warning to us. These are some thoughts from Saint Augustine: “As we are very soon going to celebrate the passion of the crucified Lord, we should also make a cross for ourselves out of the curbing of the pleasures of the flesh, as the apostle says: But those who are Jesus Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and lust. On this cross, indeed, the question ought to hang continually throughout the whole of this life, which is spent in the midst of trials and temptations. The time, you see, doesn’t come in this life for pulling out the nails, which it says in the psalm, Let my flesh be transfixed with nails by the fear of you. Flesh means the lust of the flesh; the nails are the commandments of justice; with these the fear of the Lord transfixes those, and crucifies us as a sacrifice acceptable to him. That’s why, again, the apostle says, And so I beseech you, brothers, by the compassion of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy, pleasing to God.
    So this cross, on which the servant of God is not only put to confusion, but in fact glories in it, saying, But far be it from me to glory except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world; this cross, I repeat, is not just meant for forty days, but for the whole of this life…" (Sermon 205). Well all of that reminds us that Saint Benedict says that the monk's life should be always lenten, something lenten about it, in its character.

Homily of Monday, March 29, 2021 (Monday of Holy Week)

“The poor you will always have with you.” Never were truer words spoken by Our Lord. Of course, poverty is relative: some have more, some have less. People are different. One could equally say the world is an infinity of all those things: pain, suffering, death, etc. What he world needs most of, what we should do our best to make the world a better place, what the world needs most is Jesus Christ Himself. In other words, there will always be poverty, some degree of poverty. There will be some degree of pain, of suffering, of evil, death, etc. But God, in the person we call Jesus Christ, makes all things doable, makes all things transformable, makes all things bearable. The best thing we can do for people is to give them Christ. We should try to make this a better place, we should try to help our neighbors, etc. But we should not forget the one thing necessary; never forget the one thing necessary. There is never enough. There is always more suffering, there is always more evil, there is always more poverty, there is always more something. Only Christ is truly infinite. So let us give the world Christ, and everything else will follow.

Reflections for the Portsmouth Institute Lenten Series
Sunday, March 28, 2021

Palm Sunday gives us an awful lot to think about.

We celebrate today Jesus’ triumphant entrance into Jerusalem, and the crowd hailing him as the Messiah, the promised son of David who will bring freedom to his people. What he had in mind and what they had in mind were two different things. In the Gospel of Palms, speaking of the colt they were to bring for him to ride, we hear Jesus tell his disciples, “If anyone should say to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ reply, ‘The Master has need of it and will send it back here at once.’” This is the first thing that strikes me. God leaves it up to us to take care of the needs of the body of Christ, in the Church, and the other places that Christ lives… in the bodies of our neighbors. And what we give of ourselves to care for those needs is sent back to us, multiplied by a hundred, as Jesus tells us in the Gospel of Mark (10:30). Flawed and weak as we are, God needs us to do his work.

I saw a meme a week ago that really struck me: It said: How cool is it that the same God who created the mountains and oceans and galaxies looked at you and thought the world needed one of you too. Well, God had a reason for that. But not only did he think the world needed you, as we hear all this week, God suffered and died for you, yes…you personally. That’s worth thinking about and remembering every day, not just during Holy Week. And it’s especially worth remembering when He asks us for our colt which we have safely tied up to satisfy our own wants and needs. Jesus rides this colt into Jerusalem to the cheers of the crowd. But as you heard or will hear in today’s Gospel, this triumph was not the end of the story. Later this week, as the Gospels tell us, the crowd turns on Jesus and demands his death. That is one of the problems with following or listening to a crowd, as the unbelieving philosopher Jean Paul Sartre and psychologists point out. It makes us inauthentic, not ourselves, and do things we would not otherwise do. Those people who hailed Jesus on Palm Sunday were either cowed into silence or joined the hostile crowd whose expectations Jesus did not meet on their schedule. Popularity and fame is ephemeral.

So, the story of Holy Week is a downhill slide from today’s triumph right into the abyss of death, which is the destiny of every human being, rich or poor, powerful or powerless, famous or unknown. If you would follow Jesus Christ you must know that whatever triumphs our life brings us, there is always the trial of the cross. There is a lot of irony in Palm Sunday’s main Gospel, the passion according to St Mark. We hear Peter’s proud assertion, “Even though all should have their faith shaken, mine will not be.” A few hours later we hear him humiliated by a young woman to whom he denies even knowing Jesus.

In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus warned this executive committee of his Apostles: “Watch and pray that you may not undergo the test. Their test and our tests are not like tests in school. They don’t show up on a schedule we can know in advance, just like we don’t know when Jesus will need to use our colt. There’s no syllabus we can study; no way to cram. These life tests show what we are made of, but we should already know what we are made of just as Jesus tells the disciples: the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. And the last words in the Gospel of the 3rd Sunday of Lent…Jesus did not need anyone to testify about human nature. He himself understood it well.

Like Peter, we are prone to be a little too self-confident, a little too sure that our spirit can always control our flesh. The value of a good honest examination of conscience is that shows us how wrong we are about that, or at least where we are wrong. We are sinners. Peter, James and John didn’t know what to say, and neither do we, although we are prone to make excuses. The Gospel says, “They could not keep their eyes open and did not know what to answer him.” We too have a hard time keeping our eyes open. And even when they are, we might not see what God sees. Our eyes are made of flesh too. We hear in the Gospel today that Judas, who had a position of trust in Jesus’ group of disciples, betrayed Jesus to his enemies with a gesture of friendship. The flesh is deceptive.

In the Gospel of Palms, we hear Jesus acclaimed king. In the Mass’ Gospel, Jesus is criminally accused of claiming to be a king. Pilate is concerned to get to the bottom of this claim. The title was physically attached to the cross, which we recognize as Jesus’ earthly throne. In the life of our world today, Palm Sunday is behind us. All people of faith carry a cross today. Whether it is from Noah Yuval Hariri or Richard Dawkins, Stephen Hawking, Friedrich Nietzsche or Karl Marx, religion and believers are the objects of derision by popular elites, present and past. The essence of our faith is to look past the illusions of triumph and success today, to look beyond the passion and death coming at us, and to fix our eyes upon the Resurrection. The practice of our faith is look to and keep our eyes focused beyond this world, not easy when we have to live in this world. Life is short, no matter how old you live to be. I cannot believe how very quickly I arrived at my age of 71; according to actuarial tables, my expiration date was 4 years ago. How quickly the 24 years have passed since I became a monk. A big part of me is still back in high school, but here is the rest of me. If the next 24 years pass as quickly, I’ll be 95 in a short time, the age at which my father passed into eternity. The average life expectancy is increasing, the maximum age limit is reputed to be 125. But the earthly year is still a short 365 days, and a few more years just adds up to some more days. 

As we think of Jesus triumph on this one day, as we go thru the events of the 7 days of Holy Week, we must remember that God has something infinitely better in store for us. But to enjoy that we must not listen to the crowds. We must listen to our heart, our deepest aspirations, and there we will hear God and know the way to fully enter into the salvation that Jesus has won and prepared for us. To listen to our heart is not always easy. Like so much of us, there is a shallow shell around our heart. That’s why the Shadow asked, “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?” And the prophet Jeremiah lamented, “The heart is deceitful above all things” We must go deep and break through the self-protective shell around our hearts, to the heart of flesh where the Holy Spirit moves, there, where our treasure is. Jesus promises us, pure of heart, we will see God.

Holy Week is here for us to become more holy, for our hearts to be purified as we Hail Jesus as king, as we allow the King of the Universe to wash our feet, as we watch and wait with anxiety in Gethsemane, as we experience betrayal and abandonment, endure false accusations and humiliation with stoic patience. As we walk the way of the cross, with Jesus, reviled King of the Jews, we become holier, more like him. And it all begins when we turn over our colt for his use.

Over 20 centuries more than 10,000 men and women have so excelled in resemblance to Christ that we remember them and the Church recognizes them as saints them as saints because people like you and I have recognized their heroic virtue. This Holy Week in our school, 10 students will describe for their peers the lives of ten of these saints from the 20th century, who began to walk the way of the cross. In this way they hope to inspire in their fellow students the desire to aspire to sanctity. The youngest of these 10 saints was 14 years old, another was 15. All of us, of course are called to become saints. And the wonderful multiplicity of these 10,000 lives shows us how possible it is for anyone how such different lives in different places, in different times, within different cultures, can conform to the life of Christ. Somewhere in those 10,000 lives is someone who can inspire you in a unique and powerful way. That’s why the Church has always encouraged reading the lives of the saints.

I’ll mention one that I find particularly inspiring: St. Charles de Foucauld, who died in 1916. He was canonized last year by Pope Francis last year, but he has been inspiring people for the last century. Born into an aristocratic French family, he rejected the Catholic faith in which he was raised and began to live a dissolute life. He then became a soldier and served in Morocco and Algeria. But his encounter with devout Muslims in North Africa helped rekindle his faith. He wrote: “Islam shook me profoundly, the sight of their faith, of these people living in God’s constant presence, afforded me a glimpse into something greater and truer than earthly preoccupations.” So, Charles became a Trappist monk in Bethlehem and eventually a hermit among the Tuareg in southern Algeria, where he was eventually killed in the struggle between the native North Africans and the French colonial power. In our time when many inside and outside the Church promote the idea of a “clash of civilizations” between Islam and Christianity, St. Charles de Foucauld shows us that it is not “other” religions which we need to battle against, but our own indifference, lukewarmness and lack of faith. His life demonstrates the quiet power of the integrity of witnessing to Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior.

So I’ll end this Lenten series of reflections with a prayer of his, a prayer I can imagine Jesus himself saying not just in the Garden of Gethsemane, but every day of his human life, and so it is a good prayer for us. “Father, I abandon myself into your hands; do with me what you will. Whatever you may do, I thank you: I am ready for all, I accept all. Let only your will be done in me, and in all your creatures – I wish no more than this, O Lord. Into your hands I commend my soul: I offer it to you with all the love of my heart, for I love you, Lord, and so need to give myself, to surrender myself into your hands without reserve, and with boundless confidence, for you are my Father. Amen.
 

Homily of Palm Sunday, Masses for the School (March 27-28, 2021)

We celebrate today Jesus’ triumphant entrance into Jerusalem, and the crowd hailing him as the Messiah, the promised son of David who will bring freedom to his people. What Jesus had in mind and what the crowd had in mind were two different things. But as you heard or will hear in today’s Gospel, this triumph was not the end of the story. Later this week, as the Gospels tell us, the crowd turns on Jesus and demands his death. That is one of the problems with following or listening to a crowd, as the unbelieving philosopher Jean Paul Sartre and psychologists point out. It makes us inauthentic, not ourselves, and do things we would not otherwise do. Those people who hailed Jesus on Palm Sunday were either cowed into silence or they joined the hostile crowd whose expectations Jesus did not meet on their schedule. Popularity and fame is ephemeral. So the story of Holy Week is a downhill slide from today’s triumph right into the abyss of death, which is the destiny of every human being, rich or poor, powerful or powerless, famous or unknown.

If you would follow Jesus Christ you must know that whatever triumphs our life brings us, there is always the trial of the cross. In the life of our world today, Palm Sunday is behind us. All people of faith carry a cross today. Whether it is from Noah Yuval Hariri or Richard Dawkins, Stephen Hawking, Friedrich Nietzsche or Karl Marx, religion and believers are the objects of derision by popular elites, present and past. The essence of our faith is to look past the illusions of triumph and success today, to look beyond the passion and death coming at us, and to fix our eyes upon the Resurrection. The practice of our faith is look to and keep our eyes focused beyond this world, not easy when we have to live in this world.

Life is short, no matter how old you live to be. I cannot believe how very quickly I arrived at my age of 71; according to actuarial tables, my expiration date was 4 years ago. How quickly the 24 years have passed since I became a monk. A big part of me is still back in high school, but here is the rest of me. If the next 24 years pass as quickly, I’ll be 95 in a short time, the age at which my father passed into eternity. The average life expectancy is increasing, the maximum age limit is reputed to be 125. But the earthly year is still a short 365 days, and a few more years just adds up to some more days. As we think of Jesus triumph on this one day, as we go thru the events of the seven days of Holy Week, we must remember that God has something infinitely better in store for us. But to enjoy that we must not listen to the crowds. We must listen to our heart, our deepest aspirations and there we will hear God and know the way to fully enter into the salvation that Jesus has won and prepared for us.
 

Reflection for Church Assembly, Thursday, March 25, 2021 (The Annunciation)

Human beings like to make plans and plan big things. Over 12,000 years ago, before we humans lived in villages or cities, human beings built a huge temple complex in southern Anatolia, what is now Turkey, and we’ve never stopped, although some of our ambitious plans have had to be put on hold for the moment. 

Today is an important day in the Church. It is the day we celebrate the Annunciation, when an angel announced to Mary a message from God. And so the most significant accomplishment of a human being was made possible by this 14 year old girl Mary who simply said yes, having no real idea what that meant for her life. It was enough for her that it was something God wanted, that God had planned. God plans differently from human beings. From the horror of Jesus’ human passion and death comes human salvation. God can bring amazing good out of what appears to be the mundane or even evil. A month or so after two of our senior students in St Louis were killed in an auto accident, the mother of one of them said she was astounded by how much good had come out of that tragedy. We are in the middle of a worldwide calamity right now. God certainly did not bring this upon us, and yet somehow some great good can come out of it. It is all about how we respond to it, what we learn from it and put into practice. Mary’s response to the angel’s almost unbelievable message was to believe and trust. That was her attitude all through her life, from fleeing into Egypt, from losing and finding her child in the temple, to his leaving her home as a widow to undertake the life of an itinerant healer and preacher, to his presence at a wedding where they ran out of wine, to seeing her son condemned, executed and raised. How could she understand, other than it somehow was God’s will, God’s plan and she had a place in in it. May we understand our place, and may we trust and believe as she did. It’s not easy.

Why do some people stop trusting and believing in God? Often because they think God is not loyal to them. They ask, they pray for things, but they don’t receive. When tragedy occurs, they blame God. How could God let this happen? A good number of Jewish people abandoned God after the Holocaust, and after World War II many Christian Europeans abandoned God. God gets blamed for a lot of the problems we cause. And certainly, as the Old Testament relates, human beings have a propensity for being disloyal to God. Without God, sin is not sin, and one can feel a lot better about doing sinful things. And the Church. Why do some people leave the Church? I asked the students in one of my classes of 17 year-olds not a few years ago., “Do you think you’ll belong to or participate in the Church 10 years from now?” Some said no and I asked why. One said, “The Church always seems to shoot itself in the foot.” Another said, “Because I disagree with some of the teachings.” Metaphorical self-inflicted gunshot wounds to the foot are an age-old human practice. I do it all the time; students do it too, although often they don’t notice the bleeding. All human institutions do it. Husbands, wives, and children do it. But most of the time husbands and wives don’t leave each other over it, and almost never do they abandon their children, nor do children abandon their parents when they discover they are not perfect. Nuns, priests, deacons, bishops, the Pope, The POTUS, the SCOTUS, the Congress, they all shoot themselves in the foot and sometimes and disappoint us. There’s no need to move to Canada; the prime minister and parliament there do the same. No need to leave the Catholic Church or join the Episcopal Church or a mega-church. In America we all have guns and feet that we shoot.

Loyalty is to who we are, to those to whom we belong. In 1968 my father admitted to me that he personally thought the Church was dead wrong about birth control, but no matter; that was just what he thought, and he belonged to the Church. That made a big impression on me, because when my father thought or believed something, that was no stopping him from acting upon it. I discovered that when I admitted to myself that I was a Christian, I couldn’t help but come back to the Catholic Church to which I belonged. The Church has not ever been perfect and has never had perfect leaders. It’s doctrines and teachings have never been perfectly expressed. It has made mistakes, some big ones. The child abuse scandal is a profound injury not only to the Church but to humanity. But the wounds are not the whole story. In fact, they are just a little part of the whole story of goodness and grace. For 2000 years the Church has cared for the poor and the sick, for orphans and the elderly; has built hospitals and school where no one else would. The Church has God. The Church is us, and we know that, despite any opinions and appearances to the contrary, we are not all bad. Neither God or the Church will leave us. Back in the good old days when I was a DJ, there was a group called Sister Sledge, all members of one family. Their big hit song was “We are Family.” We might keep in mind what they sang. High hopes we have for the future and our goal's in sight. No, we don't get depressed. Here's what we call our golden rule: Have faith in you and the things you do. You won't go wrong. This is our family Jewel. We, all of us here at Portsmouth Abbey School; we, all of us in the Church. We ARE family.

Homily of Wednesday, March 24, 2021

Oscar Romero was born of a very, very poor family, with brothers and sisters. And of those, he showed a very marked ability in studies. His father encouraged him until he was about twelve or thirteen to continue his studies, but then the father said: No more, that’s enough of that. But the mother insisted that he go on, and he did go on. Eventually he decided to be a priest and went on to priestly studies and eventually ended up in Rome. From there he went to working in the normal parish life. It has been said that he left great poverty and entered into a comfortable life which he thoroughly embraced. He did not find that a difficult thing to do. In any case, at the same time, in the history of his country there was beginning a movement (and throughout central and South America), a movement of liberation theology, to encourage the protest against injustice against the poor. And he was ambivalent, I guess, about that about that for some time. But what changed his ambivalence, so I understand, was a friend of his, a priest, who was an outspoken liberation theologian-type, who was on his way to a country village to say Mass one Saturday, and he was accompanied by an old man and a boy, and on the way all three were shot down and killed. Well, that changed Romero‘s point of view. He had always said the priesthood and the cross went together, they were to be identified one with the other. He spoke of the way of the cross as the way to the kingdom. Because of his stance for the poor and his criticism of the powerful, he was himself shot down while saying Mass for a small congregation. 

This is how one essay sums up his life and martyrdom; “We would like to remember Oscar Romero as a priest, a pastor, a shepherd who is main goal was to love his God in the service of his people. He was a traditional priest to the end. He loved the church in Rome, was loyal to the popes under whom he lived, and served, and died serving, the church and people as best he could, and the only way he could. He did not want the church to be the enemy of the government. He wanted to work with the government for the good of the people, but he was not given that gift. The gift he was given was the one he prayed for all his life: he was given the gift of the cross, and he embraced it. If we go back to his writings while he was a seminarian in Rome or his early homilies as a priest in the cathedral in San Miguel, we’ll find the same Oscar Romero we found the day his life was taken from him. The only difference was the situation.” May he, Oscar Romero, pray for us to be true witnesses to Christ.

Homily of Tuesday, March 23, 2021

Like the children of Israel in the Book of Numbers, today’s first reading, we suffer evil. We suffer all sorts of evils. Instead of a bronze serpent to look at on the top of a pole, God sent his son, Jesus Christ our Lord, that by his presence, by his life, by uniting our self and our sufferings and our difficulties and our temptations and so on to Him, we are transformed. These things which are truly negative can become things that are positive things, that transform us, things that make us better, make us happier and more fulfilled. As the great French poet Claudel once said, “God doesn’t send his Son to end suffering or explain it away, but to fill it with His presence.”

Homily of Monday, March 22 (Solemnity of the Transitus of Saint Benedict) 

Saint Benedict formed monasteries at a time when the world was changing. He of course could have had no idea of what a force monasteries would become in Christendom and how they would preserve much of ancient civilization for the future. The world is changing in our time and of course is a more complicated place than it was 1500 years ago. It is probably not possible for the small institutions of monasteries alone to preserve and care for what is best in our civilization. That is now a task for the whole church to perform, a task for all who truly seek God. May Saint Benedict inspire us all to pray and work to bring about what God wills. Only God knows what God wills, and that requires much humility and trust on our part.

Reflection for the Fifth Sunday of Lent (Portsmouth Institute Series; March 21, 2021)

Lent is almost over. Only two weeks left. Since Lent is our time to reconnect with the truth of Jesus, His mission and message, we have only two weeks left to succeed in this task. We are challenged to do this every year because we change. And we need to relearn what Jesus can do in the changing circumstances of our lives. Today is the First Sunday of the that part of Lent which the Church calls Passiontide, and in the Gospel story Jesus is approaching Jerusalem, which he will enter next Sunday. And his apprehension and foreboding grows as he comes closer to his destiny. Perhaps ours should as well. 

God is trying to tell us something in these readings, much as Jeremiah was trying to tell his people, God’s chosen people, something important. Jeremiah was used to failure. He lived in a time of political and moral crisis, yet very few listened to him. Some tried to discredit him, others to kill him. At one point, King Jehoiakim destroyed the scroll of Jeremiah’s prophecy which was being read to him. After each section was read the King sliced it off with a knife and contemptuously threw it in the fire. Jeremiah wrote: I will place my law within them and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer will they have need to teach their friends and relatives how to know the LORD. All, from least to greatest, shall know me, says the LORD, for I will forgive their evildoing and remember their sin no more.

What a hopeful message that was, and yet no one was buying it. 2,500 years later it still appears that, relatively speaking, almost no one is buying it. In March 2012 and again in June 2016 there were rallies of 20,000 atheists on the Mall in Washington DC. There should have been another rally is 2020, but the pandemic thankfully prevented that. They called it a Rally for Reason. The prophet of contemporary atheism, Richard Dawkins, was one of many who addressed this crowd celebrating their unbelief. Unbelief was not enough for him, however. He called on the crowd not only to challenge religious people but to "ridicule and show contempt" for their doctrines and sacraments, including the Eucharist. The President of American Atheists gave a thundering call for "zero tolerance" for anyone who disagrees with or insults atheism,     and he urged the crowd to "Stand your ground!" We know where that leads.

Only God knows what is written on their hearts, but it certainly does not appear to be God’s law. What times we live in. Never mind ISIS or terrorists from over there. It’s bad enough here, as we’ve learned in Portland and in Washington on January 6. What sort of things have we seen in recent times? Parents claiming to be home-schooling their 13 children under-fed them, kept them in squalor and chained them to their beds. A mentally disturbed former student invaded his old high school and killed 17 students and teachers, wounding 17 more. For no apparent reason, a mild mannered 64-year old man opened fire on a music concert in Las Vegas, killing 58 people and injuring 851. A man opened fire in Pittsburgh in an anti-Semitic attack on a synagogue, killing 11 people and injuring six others. At an El Paso Walmart, a gunman shot and killed 23 people and injured 23 others. The police seem to shoot more often than necessary, and now angry civilians shoot at the police. On the news every day some parents kills his or her children, or some child kills his or her parents. During this pandemic, mass shootings are up by 35% over 2019, murders are up 16% and so are domestic violence calls to 911. Everyone’s finger seems to be on some trigger. As militant atheism and agnosticism, rampant consumerism, pessimism, division and anger dig their roots into our country, we are all affected. All of us suffer from the moral decline around us as we all become polarized and return intemperate language for intemperate language. No one seems to listen anymore; there is only posturing. 

God only knows what is written on our hearts, but we can certainly pray along with Jesus Christ: I am troubled now. Yet what should I say? 'Father, save me from this hour?' But it was for this purpose that I came to this hour. Why did God put us here? What is our purpose in our time, this time of growing polarization, mutual hostility and violence. What could our purpose be other than to be a force for truth and reconciliation, to be martyrs in the fundamental meaning of that word of witnesses to the power of truth and love? That must be our purpose, to work for the unity Jesus prayed for, that all may be one. But we the Church, are not all that unified ourselves. There is polarization, hostility, lack of understanding and respect right in the middle of us. At least one cardinal publicly pulls people away from Pope Francis. It is déjà vu all over again with birth control and health insurance. More than half of Catholics support or use contraception
and perceive no attack on their religious freedom, while almost half take the opposite position. We have Latin Mass communities and English Mass communities; Catholic schoolers, public schoolers, home schoolers. Often these groups don’t get along. An alien from another world who watched both Fox News and CNN would think they were reporting on different planets. God help us all as we try to make sense of what is happening in Washington. Can a house divided against itself stand?

After the creation story, the first half of the book of Genesis describes the effect of sin. It is similar to a small crack in a windshield that mile by mile, day by day, spreads out in all directions until it has spread through the entire glass and utterly destroys it. If only we had solutions for the dilemmas of today. We may well feel just like Jeremiah, speaking the truth but not listened to, and like him being attacked for speaking it. When Jeremiah’s land was conquered, and the cynical king was killed and the temple destroyed, according to tradition, the Babylonians spared Jeremiah for speaking the truth, and he went into exile in Egypt where he was martyred for again speaking the truth to power. That was the answer God gave his Chosen People. 600 years later Jesus prayed to be spared from his hour, but acceded to God’s will. Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered. The Gospel tells us that God’s voice spoke from heaven and Jesus tells us this voice “did not come for my sake but for yours.” Now is the time of judgment on this world; God’s time is not our time, which is too close for us to see the future and we are too nearsighted to learn from the past. We have only our now, the present time to work with, and God’s judgment is a fearful thing for any nation or man, sinner or saint. When Jesus says now the ruler of this world will be driven out it is clear that this is a very long “now”, as we measure time. 

We ourselves can only act in the present moment, to choose where we stand, either fearfully behind a fortress wall, or alongside an unlocked door that says: Welcome, Enter…in every language, with our arms spread wide like Jesus’ on the cross. “And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself.” As members of the mystical Body of Christ, as His presence on the earth in our time, now, it is our job is to draw everyone we meet and touch to Jesus Christ. Pope Francis asks us to evangelize… spread the Gospel, the Good News, by attraction, by our joy as we stand alongside that open door. All, from least to greatest, shall know me, says the LORD, for I will forgive their evildoing and remember their sin no more. The gospel today begins with a request put to the apostle Philip, “Sir, we would like to see Jesus.” They were not asking to see a painting of him or a statue. They wanted to see him in the flesh. They speak for the world. The world does realize it is in a mess and it does crave something to save it, to make things right. We really do have the answer, Jesus Christ, and we must find the way to make the world of today notice, listen and see. It is a tough job for us, but fortunately a simple one.

Despite the negative signs of our time, we must be optimists and faith that it will all turn out well because God can take our efforts, in fact, He can even take evil and make good come out of it. Forrest Church, the deceased pastor of a Church on the upper east side of NYC, had a simple way of explaining this way of living. “Want what you have. Do what you can. Be who you are.” What do we have? We have a vocation, a unique personhood, grace, the truth, Jesus Christ and the Church, all of which we should want and cherish. What can we do? We can do wonders with what we have, and for all whose lives touch ours. We can resist evil with our bodies sometimes, with our voices more often, and with our prayer always. And Who are we? We are nothing less than sons and daughters of God; we are other Christs; we are receivers and carriers of the Holy Spirit to broadcast the truly good news of salvation and Jesus’ consoling and calming presence. Our presence as other Christs makes real in our time that which St. Luke tells us Jesus’ promised to his Apostles and to us: Do not be afraid any longer, little flock of mine, for your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom.

Homily of the Fifth Sunday of Lent (March 20-21, 2021)
Readings: Jeremiah 31: 31-34; Hebrews 5; 7-9; John 12: 20-33

In the gospels of the upcoming two weeks, nothing is more striking than the contrast between the growing hatred of Christ’s enemies and Jesus in his greatness as God, Master of events and our Redeemer. In these gospels, leading up to Easter, we’ll follow the events step-by-step which went before and surrounded our Savior’s death, and which were decisive in effecting his salvation of the world. In today’s gospel Greek visitors to Jerusalem ask to see Jesus. He responds to their request with a reflection on his death, a profound exposition really, of its saving meaning.  “I am troubled now.” he says. The Greek word used here, translated “troubled”, means a lot more. It means to experience inward turmoil, to be stirred, disturbed, unsettled, even thrown into confusion. He knows what is going to be asked of him. But he keeps his spiritual composure. He also knows that his approaching sacrifice is the fundamental reason why he was born to come to “this hour”, the hour that will require of him perfect obedience to the Father. It marks the very pinnacle of his life on earth. He is also aware that in this hour he will be glorified and God will be glorified with him. The word “glory” here does not mean human praise. “Glory” in the scriptures always indicates the clear and awesome revelation of God’s presence. Coming events will be absolutely saturated with this glory.

Jesus gives us an example of how his death will lead to our salvation. It’s the image of a grain of wheat that must die in order to produce new growth. The “death” of a grain of wheat is actually a process of releasing life and transforming the single grain into a source of life for many other grains. So also the death of Christ was how he became a source of spiritual life and that produces “much fruit.” The fruit, of course, is us, those who serve him as members of his Mystical Body. He tells us, “Where I am, there also will my servant be.” Like him we all face death. But following him involves death to selfishness and sin. This death is for us the portal that opens to eternal life. Those who see death as the end of everything are missing the point completely. Our first reading today is about a new covenant.  It’s with his blood that Jesus makes a covenant with us in which he calls us to be faithful to him as he promises us a place with him in eternity.

In the Holy Rule, St. Benedict reminds us that we ought to begin every good work with an earnest prayer that God help us to bring it to perfection. In today’s gospel we hear Jesus doing exactly that. This is his crucial first step and it’s the signal that his “hour” has arrived. Immediately a response comes in the form of a “voice from heaven”. This voice was not understood by those nearby. But they understood its meaning: that the Father was with Jesus and for Jesus. But that voice from above was also signaling total victory. “Now the ruler of this world will be driven out”, Christ tells us. As members of his Mystical body, his victory is our victory; his cross is our cross. Jesus did not intend to carry through his work of salvation alone. Quite the opposite: He has set aside and left free a space on his cross for us. We’re not just spectators. We’re called to suffer with him, each in our own way and to our own degree. This is confirmed by St. Paul in his renowned expression: “In my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body the Church (Col 1:24)

As the end of our long retreat of Lent approaches, we should look forward to the Paschal events as a source of consolation. We know that our suffering, our Lenten efforts at self-correction, are of great value because we have united them Christ in his passion. Accompanying Jesus step by step for the next two weeks, we are about to begin a very good and a very important work. As we begin, let’s pray most earnestly that Our Lord help us to bring it to perfection. In this way his ‘hour’ will be our ‘hour’ as well. Let us hold to him closely as he dies our death of sin while we obtain from him, in this death, his gift of salvation given us first in our Baptism (Rom 6: 3-11) and now in the Eucharist which we are about to share (1 Cor 11:26).

Homily of Friday, March 19, 2021 (Solemnity of Saint Joseph, husband of the Blessed Virgin Mary)

This is the year of Saint Joseph. On December 20, 2020, Pope Francis issued an Apostolic Letter with the title "With a Father's Heart," expounding on St. Joseph’s role in the Church and the history of Salvation. I would like to share some thoughts from that.

Pope Francis says: “After Mary, the Mother of God, no saint is mentioned more frequently in the papal magisterium than Joseph, her spouse. Blessed Pius IX declared him “Patron of the Catholic Church”, Venerable Pius XII proposed him as “Patron of Workers” and Saint John Paul II as “Guardian of the Redeemer”. Saint Joseph is universally invoked as the 'patron of a happy death.’” Pope Francis continues: “I would like to share some personal reflections on this extraordinary figure, so close to our own human experience. For, as Jesus says, “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks” (Mt 12:34). My desire to do so increased during these months of pandemic, when we experienced, amid the crisis, how “our lives are woven together and sustained by ordinary people, people often overlooked. People who do not appear in newspaper and magazine headlines, or on the latest television show, yet in these very days are surely shaping the decisive events of our history. Doctors, nurses, storekeepers and supermarket workers, cleaning personnel, caregivers, transport workers, men and women working to provide essential services and public safety, volunteers, priests, men and women religious, and so very many others. They understood that no one is saved alone… How many people daily exercise patience and offer hope, taking care to spread not panic, but shared responsibility. How many fathers, mothers, grandparents and teachers are showing our children, in small everyday ways, how to accept and deal with a crisis by adjusting their routines, looking ahead and encouraging the practice of prayer. How many are praying, making sacrifices and interceding for the good of all”. Each of us can discover in Joseph – the man who goes unnoticed, a daily, discreet and hidden presence – an intercessor, a support and a guide in times of trouble. Saint Joseph reminds us that those who appear hidden or in the shadows can play an incomparable role in the history of salvation. A word of recognition and of gratitude is due to them all.” Pope Francis concludes his letter with a prayer we can make our own: Blessed Joseph, to us too, show yourself a father and guide us in the path of life. Obtain for us grace, mercy and courage, and defend us from every evil. Amen.

Homily of Thursday, March 18, 2021

Cyril of Jerusalem lived in the fourth century; the dates they give are about 313-387 AD. He is famous for the catechetical sermons that he gave to the adults, of whom there were a number at that time, who would be baptized and received into the church at Easter. The sermons that he gave before their baptism are undoubtedly his. The so-called “Instructions on the Mysteries,” they say, are disputed, but they also say they represent the teaching on the eucharist in the church of Jerusalem in the fourth century. Here are some quotations from them. “Since, then, Christ himself clearly described the bread to us in the words, “this is my body,” who will dare henceforward to dispute it? [well, since then lots of people have, but nonetheless, he said:] And since he has emphatically said, “This is my blood,” who will waver in the slightest and say it is not his blood? So let us partake with the fullest confidence that it is the body and blood of Christ. For his body has been bestowed on you under the figure of bread, and his blood under the figure of wine, so that by partaking of Christ’s body and blood you may become one body and blood with him. This is how we become Christ bearers, since his body and blood spreads throughout our limbs; this is how, in the blessed Peter’s words, ‘we become partakers of the divine nature’… Do not, then, regard the bread and wine as nothing but bread and wine, for they are the body and blood of Christ as the master himself has proclaimed, though our senses suggest otherwise, let faith reassure [us].”

Homily of Wednesday, March 17, 2021

Much of what we know about Saint Patrick is legendary. Much of what we know about Saint Patrick is disputed. Much of what we know about Saint Patrick is conjecture. That being said, we do know certain facts. We know that at the age of sixteen he was kidnapped by Irish pirates. He spent five years in Ireland as a slave. He escaped, returning to his homeland, Roman Britain – Christian Roman Britain, one should say, until he had a vision of returning to Ireland to bring Christianity – well there was already Christianity there, but more Christianity, or better Christianity, of whatever you want to call it, to Ireland. We know that despite the fact that his father was a deacon and his grandfather a priest, he was not particularly religious. We know many things, despite legendary matters, about the life of Saint Patrick, whose feast is today. One thing he certainly knew, a thing that we have to learn, and be more and more transformed by, is the life of Christ, the life Our Lord speaks about in today’s gospel. We are called to life; all missionaries are called to give life. If we cannot give the life of Christ, if our lives are not themselves at least attempting to be transformed by the life of Christ, not trying to live the life of Christ however imperfectly we may do so, then our life is a failure, we have nothing to give – missionaries that have nothing to give. So we are called in this season of Lent, on this feast of Saint Patrick, to celebrate what the life of Christ can do in us, how he can transform our difficulties, our trials, our imperfections, etc., as best we can – we try our best – into something more, something better, something that truly gives life. Otherwise we have nothing to give anybody, including ourselves. Let us use this Lent well. Let us use this feast day well. Let us celebrate the transformation of Christ in the person of Saint Patrick; the transformation of Saint Patrick in the life of Christ, and we will know eternal happiness, and know eternal life.

Homily of Sunday (Lent IV), March 14, 2021

As has been said this is Laetare Sunday, that is, “Rejoice Sunday.” The church rejoices because it is halfway through Lent; only three more weeks to go now, and so for whatever mortifications we have taken upon ourselves. And we look forward to the great feast of Easter. To mark this halfway point, we put aside the purple vestments for this, and the texts of the Mass that are sung are joyful in tone. Here is a prayer which some of you have heard me speak about, called the Lenten Prayer of Saint Ephraim the Syrian. Ephraim was a monk and a deacon in Syria. He died in 373. And this is a reminder to us: Syria, Egypt, North Africa, what we now call Turkey, were once great Catholic, Christian civilizations. The pope has reminded us of that by going to Iraq, which also was at that time a Christian center. All of that was wiped out, has been wiped out, and if you asked people (sort of the right thinking people in those days) why, it was because of the sins of Christians, like the sins of the Jews in the first reading. What about ourselves? Something to think about. 

In any case, Ephraim the Syrian, the deacon, was a great teacher of the faith, a great poet, and he wrote a lot about the faith which has become part of the Christian tradition, Christian literature, and he is a Doctor of the Church, that is, he is considered one of the eminent teachers of the Christian church. His prayer, which is called a Lenten prayer, is used in the Eastern Rite churches (that is Greece, Russia, Syria) during the liturgies of Lent. It goes: “Lord and master of my life, take from me the spirit of sloth (laziness), faintheartedness, lust of power, and idle talk. But give rather the spirit of chastity, humility, patience, and love to your servant. Yes, O Lord and King, grant me to see my own errors, my own sins, and not to judge my brothers and sisters. For thou art blessed for ages and ages. Amen.” It seems to me that is a prayer that breeds the very essence of our Lord’s teaching in the gospel. That’s a rather well-known prayer. Dorothy Day used to carry it all the time in her wallet. 

Here is another prayer by Saint Ephraim that we could all probably consider saying halfway through Lent. “Sorrow on me, Beloved (the beloved is God, Jesus), that I who am slow to learn and reluctant in my will, that I continue. Behold winter has come upon me and the infinite storm has found me naked and spoiled, and with no perfecting of good in me. I marvel at myself, O my Beloved, how daily I fail and daily do repent. I build up for an hour and an hour overthrows what I have built. At evening I say, tomorrow I will repent, but when morning comes, joyous I waste the day. Again at evening I say I shall keep vigil all night and I shall entreat the Lord to have mercy on my sins it. When the night is come, I go to sleep. Behold, those who receive their talent along with me strive by day and night to trade with it. They may win the word of praise and rule ten cities. But I, in my sloth (in my laziness), hid my talent in the earth and my Lord makes haste to come. And behold, my heart trembles. I weep the day of my negligence and know not what excuse to bring. Have mercy upon me, Thou who alone art without sin, and save me, Who alone art pitiful and kind.”



 

Homily of Friday, March 12, 2021

“And no one dared asked him any more questions.” That is an odd way to end the gospel. Why? Because he had become close to the kingdom of God? The questions would have been challenging – things you didn’t want to here. Like, “Come follow me; sell all your goods,” and so forth. Or: "Acknowledge me as savior, the Son of God." I think one of the big reasons they did not dare ask him any more questions is they didn’t want to hear the result. It would have challenged them too deeply, too profoundly; it would have been too difficult, to acknowledge him as savior or to follow him and sell everything they have. That is a question we must ask ourselves at Lent. What do we do? Do we dare to follow Christ? Or do we prefer our mediocrity, do we prefer our middle level of observance? We do enough to get by. Because what does not mean our advance means our regression. That is certainly true of the spiritual life. Not to advance is to fall back. We are called in Lent to go all the way. Not just because God asks us; because we are made for that reality. We are made for the fullness of life, not just mediocrity. Not just enough to get by; sufficient to pass the degree, etc., to fill the boxes. So much of the church is just filling the boxes, which is why it is in the terrible state it is. If we truly tried to follow Christ – which is very difficult, I admit this is very difficult; easy to say, hard to do – it would transform us and transform the world around us, and transform the church itself, his living body. So let’s at least attempt, in this season of Lent, to ask the question: What should I do next? Should I follow you; should I do this, should I do that? Should I go all the way? Instead of being afraid of the answer he would give us, let’s anticipate the answer he would give us. Let us follow him in the fullness of life. And we will find our happiness. We will find difficulty and challenge, and lots of other things we don’t want to find, to be sure. But we will also find our fullness, and fullness of happiness, which is the essential reality. Because life is short.

Homly of Tuesday, March 9, 2021

This is what Donald Atwater says about Saint Frances of Rome. She was born 1384 in Rome, “the daughter of the Rome in aristocracy, and at the age of thirteen married Lorenzo de’ Ponziani; they had several children, two at least of whom died young. From an early age Frances was of an ascetic disposition, with a strong feeling for the sufferings of others, and recurring epidemics of plague and civil war give ample scope for her charitable activities. The Ponziani mansion was pillaged by the troops of Ladislas of Naples in 1409, and Lorenzo [her husband] had soon to seek refuge elsewhere, leaving Frances in charge; when at least he could return from exile in 1414 he was a broken man, whose care was cheerfully added to his wife’s other responsibilities. A number of Roman ladies shared her ideal of a life of self-denial and good works ‘in the world’, and these are organized into a society in 1425. Eight years later she established a community, in association with the Benedictine monks of Monte Oliveto; its members came to be known as the oblates of Tor de’ Specchi, from the house in which they lived. In 1436 Lorenzo died, after a married life of forty years without a quarrel. Saint Frances was now without family ties, and she withdrew to the Tor de’ Specchi, where she directed the community for her remaining four years. Her biographers record many particulars of her life – mystical experiences, revelations, angelic dissertations – some of which pose historical and theological problems of no little difficulty. [She was on very good terms with her guardian angel; they conversed, and the guardian angel was a great help to her in various ways.] She had unquestionably been a religious power in Rome [and I imagine there it is a big feast of some sort], and Pope Eugenius IV in particular had great respect for her. [By the way, the reason they remained oblates of St. Benedict was because if they were nuns, they were confined to the monastery and couldn’t go abroad to do good works. But as oblates, they were technically laywomen and so they could do that. And they remained oblates until the 20th century. Pope John said to them, ‘Well, now, if you want to take vows you may do so’, and that’s what they did – they became vowed nuns. But they continued, of course, their work with the poor.] The community which she found it still flourishes and the former Palazzo Ponziano is a place of pilgrimage.” Saint Frances of Rome pray for us; pray for our oblates.

Homily of the Third Sunday of Lent (March 7, 2021)

The Jews demand signs and the Greeks seek after wisdom, but we proclaim – we preach – Christ crucified: a stumbling block to the Jews, and foolishness to the Gentiles. This we heard in today’s second reading. It is true; it is true. In the season of Lent we are called to do many things, to do much penance, etc. The thing we’re called primarily is to make the one thing necessary, the one thing necessary, and to remove all idols, all impediments to belief in Christ, Christ crucified. He is the one thing necessary. And that’s difficult, because we are natural idol worshipers; we are natural idolaters. We seek to worship and stand before something and bow. That’s who we are. We are made to be adorers, worshippers. But it’s easy to make false worship, idolatry, the worship of idols. The most obvious ones are power and money and control. We often fool ourselves and say: For the best reason, I sue this power; for the best reason I use this control; for the best reason. It’s always a great danger. For some, it’s conformity, we see in today’s gospel. It’s always good to be with everybody else, always safer to be with everybody else. Conformity is always a good way to go – not always, but frequently. And that could be true. Power, wealth, control, conformity – could be good things, if properly appreciated or properly utilized. For me, the great temptation is difficulty. If something is repulsive, if something is difficult, if something is hard to do, contrary to my temperament, my nature – then probably I should do it, because I don’t like it. I wouldn’t choose something I don’t like, and that’s a temptation for me, that’s my idol: something that’s difficult that I would not want to do, I would never want to do, but it there and obviously I must do it, at least I say that to myself. 

So the season of Lent is to remove all idols, and that’s very, very difficult. Our true worship, our true center of life, should be Christ crucified, who we celebrate particularly in this Lenten season, and at the culmination at Easter we celebrate his triumph over suffering, his triumph over death, even over futility. And that’s important. It’s important for us; it is for our happiness. If we don’t make the one thing necessary, the one thing necessary, we will never find real happiness, real substance, real anything. We will live always in the shadows, always in the margins, always without real life. And we’re called to supernatural life, because the power of God is not like any other power. The wisdom of God is like no other wisdom we have experienced. Supernatural reality – to this worship of the crucified Christ, the crucified savior. Which makes no sense logically. It’s reality, experience, proves and shows everything. And we have this season to do so. We have this season to destroy all these idols. We have this season to put things in proper perspective. We have this season to make Christ crucified the center of our existence. 

It was once said by an author that the frame is the most important part of any painting. I think that’s true, at least up to a certain point. Because the frame puts the painting in perspective. It tells what to look at, and how to look at it. If we made Christ crucified the center of our existence, if we live the life of Christ crucified, then everything is put in proper perspective. And the power of God, and the wisdom of God, comes to us. The supernatural, it is supernatural reality, comes to us, which makes all things better. Life is difficult. I am sure you already know that and I do not have to tell you. Life is very difficult. Sometimes you wonder if life is worth it, and God knows sometimes it feels that way. But God offers through His son, through His crucified son, our savior Jesus Christ – through his passion, and through his triumph over passion, over suffering and death. Life that’s greater life, supernatural life: an answer to all these realities. Because left to itself, life is inherently tragic. It must end for the best of us as well as for the worst of us. It must end sadly, for the best of us as for the worst of us. But it does not have to be, it does not have to be. 

Use this Lent to make central to our existence Christ crucified, to put things in proper perspective. To see our life not as this, that, or whatever, but as following the crucified savior, of imitating his life, of being transformed by his power and wisdom. And then we will find happiness. We should always do something in Lent, which is always good. You hear about this – you know: almsgiving, and fasting, etc. All those are vey good. But I think probably the most powerful, the most useful, is the meditation on the passion of Christ. We have the five mysteries of the rosary, the sorrowful mysteries. Particularly, they are focused by their prayer, etc. It’s a good way to make every day as a day to transform ourselves. To make each day of Lent something transformative, something special, something that is more true to life. Let us use this season, let us use this devotion. Let us use this time to put things in proper perspective and find our true happiness, to follow Christ crucified, who is the true wisdom and power of God.

Homily of Thursday, March 4, 2021

This is the text of Jeremiah that we just heard, in a translation with which I am more familiar: “The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately corrupt. Who can understand it? I, the Lord, search the mind and try the heart to give to every man according to his ways, according to the fruit of his doing.” “Deceitful”; “corrupt”; “desperately corrupt”: that is you and I – there is no distinction to be made here. And that’s a good text to keep in mind as we examine our consciences, especially during this holy season of Lent. You might think that that is a bit extreme. But if you read the newspapers, it’s not so extreme. But maybe it’s extreme for you and me? Saint Therese of Lisieux, whose observations of humanity were confined mainly to her convent and to her 19th-century bourgeois family and friends – this was her assessment of our situation: “Only God can see what is in the bottom of our hearts. We are half-blind.” That is you and I – half-blind. We don’t know what’s really in the depths of our heart.