Deacon Dan Wright

Recognizing the Presence of Christ Among Us: Welcoming the Stranger

In the scripture from this past weekend we hear stories of hospitality and we consider the various roles that we might take when it comes to being a people who welcomes the stranger and guest among us.

Maybe we're not accustomed to thinking about guests in ways that go beyond the literal meaning of having guests in our homes; say the occasional dinner guest or the mother-in-law visiting from out of town. However, there is a sense where we're called upon to look beyond literal meanings. We've got to ask who the guest is, or who the guests are, that we are called upon to provide hospitality towards and that we are to welcome with a warm embrace.

The first reading from Genesis invites us to focus on those who come to us as strangers. With abundant hospitality Abraham and Sarah greet and welcome three strangers at the oaks of Mamre. In our times the stranger among us can mean different things, but the truest meaning of the stranger has to do with those who may be least like us in some outstanding or noticeable way. Often the stranger is racially, ethnically, or linguistically different from us.

The stranger, whom we are to embrace with hospitality, may be the foreigner, the immigrant or migrant. He or she may be the resident alien, who may or may not have legal status. The stranger may also be those who are different from us in faith, not only Protestants or Evangelicals—some of whom may be sitting among us now—but also non-Christians. The stranger may be Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, or even a non-believer… really the list could go on and on. Muslims come to mind in a special way because in our society there is a growing tendency to hold Islam in suspicion and to reject its presence among us entirely. We do good to keep in mind that we may entertain angels unaware and the mighty God may be hidden in a number of guises.

The lesson may be quite difficult to actualize, but the story from Genesis teaches us to welcome the stranger abundantly. In a rather humorous way Abraham tells his guests, "Let me get you a little food…a little refreshment...a snack." He then prepares a bushel of flour, slaughters a steer, and offers curds and milk as a concrete sign of hospitality to the strangers who, in reality, are the presence of God and his angels. Abraham offers his real and actual embrace and his hospitality returns to him as a blessing.

In the gospel story today we learn the lesson of hospitality from both Mary and Martha, though we may identify with one more than the other. From Martha we learn that providing hospitality may mean looking beyond what we might typically think of as being hospitable. The question for us is, "How might we break the norms to offer ourselves for others?" Martha is constrained by her world and its societal expectations, whereas Mary moves beyond such hindrances and finds a place to sit and listen to Jesus.

In first century Palestine, the norm, or the expectation for a woman would certainly not have been for her to have sat as a disciple at the feet of the master. However, this is precisely Mary's gift of hospitality and it reveals her great courage and love. She went beyond everything telling her to do otherwise and she took a place near Jesus to show him the hospitality of her full attention and open heart. So she teaches us to learn the hospitality of the listener and to focus on that which is ultimately important. Mary teaches us to recognize the presence of Lord in our midst.

In his letter to the Colossians, which we heard from today, St. Paul invites us to joyfully bear the role that God has given us, whether we be an Abraham or a Sarah, or whether we be a Mary or a Martha. In our welcome and embrace of others we become messengers of the mystery of salvation, namely that Christ came to into the world to save people of every race and tongue, or every creed, of every land, and that he gave himself for us completely in love. We receive Jesus as the guest of our home, of our nation, when we embrace both each other, and the stranger among us.

Corpus Christi

Today, on the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, we again hear the familiar gospel story of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes. However, many of us may be familiar with an interpretation, or naturalistic explanation of the event, which claims that in all probability those who were present simply shared with each other what they had already.

Now while it's true that such an interpretation might teach us a good lesson concerning the practical value of generosity or the pragmatic value of our relationship to others, it nevertheless runs the risk of completely missing the point and impact of the true miracle. The story of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes is about God's superabundant goodness toward us. In the story as it is presented to us Jesus feeds five thousand people with five loaves and two fish. He does it out of the sheer power of God to provide for all our needs, but even more out of his desire to share his essential nature with us who, in our spiritual hunger, long for salvation.

We are no more in need of a naturalistic explanation of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes than we are in need of one to explain the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Jesus feeds the multitude in the same manner that God gives us himself totally and completely out of his goodness toward humankind in the Eucharist. He does it miraculously as a sign of his great love.

God loves us and in Jesus he is one of us and one with us. In Jesus God gives humanity the gift of himself. He gives himself totally and with a degree of abandon that can only be described as pure love flowing forth from the inexhaustible fountain of God's own being. In the feeding of the multitude and in the Eucharist Jesus gives us that which is essential about his nature rather what is merely tangible.

A prayer that we all know, that many, if not most of us pray daily, is the Our Father or the Lord's Prayer. When we look closely at this prayer it reveals something to us about God's gift to us. We all know the words "Give us this day our daily bread." When we look at the original Greek we find that the word translated as "daily" is epiousios. It doesn't have an exact meaning in English, but through the ages it has been interpreted to mean "daily" or "all we need for today." Interestingly there is no other occurrence of the word in Greek literature other than in the Lord's Prayer as found in Matthew and Luke; therefore, the word lacks meaning outside a eucharistic context. Our daily bread, our epiousios bread, which literally translates as "super-substantial" bread is the sustenance that Jesus provides in the Eucharist and in the multiplication of the five loaves and two. It shows us that God is not limited and that it is his will to provide from the depths of his very being for human salvation.

Now there is a practical response on our part. As God gives to us, so we are to return our gifts to God by the giving of ourselves, by giving what we have to give. Though we are undoubtedly to give to others, the starting place for our giving of ourselves must be the gift of ourselves back to God first, just as Abram gave in return, in thanksgiving, that is, in eucharistia, to Melchizedek the King of Salem, we too are to give of ourselves to God, to Jesus, who is the King of Peace.

In faith we offer ourselves in total abandon to God's will. We say with our Blessed Mother, "As it pleases God, so let it be done unto me." In the total outpouring of who we are and all we are we become the imitators of God in Christ, and we find complete fulfillment in his will. We must find that there is no end to which we are not willing to go; we empty ourselves in divine imitation and in doing so we come to a better knowledge of the gift of the Body and Blood of Christ. In our giving of self in the work that is love, we come to know that the gift we give is only that which God has given us already. The gift we give is his essence, his super-substantial gift of himself to us—the gift given at the multiplication of loaves and fishes, the gift given on the cross, and the gift given at the altar.

Sunday Homily: The Work of God, the Love of God

If we were to pick a theme for today from our readings it might be work, though work may not be something we necessarily want to reflect on first thing Sunday morning. So let's look at it from the viewpoint of the work of the Lord, and how he invites us to participate in his work as partners.

During the early days of the Church, at the time of the apostles Paul and Barnabas, the work of the Lord was clearly evident in a powerful way. In our time too, the work of the Lord, the activity of the Holy Spirit, is still evident. God is still powerful and present in our world today.

From the beginning of all things God established a purpose and plan to be carried out. We have the privilege to be part of that plan as God initiates and continues to establish his kingdom here on earth that will someday culminate into the Kingdom of Glory.

After his Resurrection, Jesus empowered the apostles with the Holy Spirit that they might go out and do his work, to carry out the plan for all time. There were several things in the readings today that caught my attention. First, I noticed the work of the apostles in strengthening the spirits of the disciples. The apostles encouraged and bolstered the early Church, while at the same time they made it clear that to enter the kingdom of the Lord "it is necessary to undergo many hardships."

More often than not various hardships are just part of life. I think of the daily work of being part of a family, of raising children and the responsibility of moms and dads. I also think of the daily work that most of us do to make a living and provide for our families. Often it involves certain hardships. Part of the virtue that the Holy Spirit gives us is to patiently endure in life's ordinary hardships; in doing so we remain in the "spirit" of being Christians.

There are also spiritual hardships to endure that are part of being a Christian. We are called to fight against that which stands in opposition to the establishment of the Kingdom of God. Throughout history Christians have often been called to endure ultimate hardships for the faith.

As we move toward Pentecost our readings will more and more prepare us to understand the action of the Holy Spirit among us. In next week's readings we will learn of the action the Holy Spirit working through the apostles as the teacher of the Church. This week we see the Holy Spirit at work in the apostles appointing presbyters or priest-elders preparing for the New Jerusalem, the Kingdom of God come down from heaven and establishing a new order of creation here with us. It is an order in which sin, division, and destruction have passed and we share in the work of bringing it into being.

The chief work of God was, and is still, the work of the Cross—not a thing of the past done and gone into the years immemorial, but a work still present, still effective, and made present to us in the liturgy or the work that done here at the Mass. It is a work in which we share and participate as we experience the sacrifice of the Cross, which is a visible sign of the Kingdom.

There remains a work to consider. It comes to us in the form of a commandment. In the gospel today Jesus says, "Love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another. This is how all will know you are my disciples…" In our world today the meaning of "love" does not always come through clearly. Jesus' commandment is that we love one another as he has loved us.

The example of that love, of course, is the total self-giving sacrifice of the Cross. It is the example above all others of love, and it informs us of the particularities and actions belonging to commandment that we love one another. Love is the work and endurance of faith that we are to accomplish in our daily lives. Love is the substance of the Kingdom of God, and the building material of the new creation. The love required of us by God's commandment is a sacrificial and self-giving love. It is the love that does not seek its own but rather that we give to others. It can take many forms, but most often and most simply it begins with the work of prayer.

Our call today in the world where we live, in the world where there are still many hardships to undergo and new challenges daily, is to meet every one of those challenges with true and real love; that is, we are to go forth with faith and make a total gift of ourselves for the good of others. In doing so we follow the lead of the Holy Spirit, of the apostles and disciples of the past, and we make way for the coming of a new heaven and a new earth.

Divine Mercy Sunday

On this Sunday, besides celebrating the Second Sunday of Easter, we celebrate Divine Mercy Sunday. This day, in the life of the Church, the reality of the Resurrection comes together with a special focus on God's immeasurable gift of mercy to us.   

In each of the scripture passages this weekend we are given eye-witness testimony to the Resurrection of Jesus. We hear of Jesus appearing in his resurrected glory to the Apostle John who was exiled in his old age on the island of Patmos because of his faith. John reminds us that he is a sharer with us in Jesus. We also hear the retelling of the familiar gospel story in which Jesus comes to the apostles where they were locked away and hidden out of fear of being persecuted. We hear the eye-witness report, again from John, the beloved disciple, of Jesus bestowing the Holy Spirit on the apostles and giving them the authority to share God's mercy by the forgiveness of sins.

All three scripture readings today offer us inspiration by witnessing to the Resurrection of Jesus, which we recall in a special way here in the Easter season. However, what caught my attention the most was the first narrative we heard, from Acts. Perhaps it stood out the most because this is Divine Mercy weekend—a time when we consider the abundance of grace and clemency offered to us.

Like the other two readings, the first one also witnesses to the resurrected Lord. It tells us the story of the merciful work of the early believers as they carried the sick into the streets so that just maybe Peter's shadow might fall on them, and they would be healed.

Though we're separated by a long length of time from the early Church, we share a great deal with them. We are like those who come for healing from the apostles. We come to the Church to receive mercy, healing, and forgiveness. We come to be hear the words of reconciliation, and we come so that we might be empowered to give mercy.

We are like those who hope to be healed because in a deep way each one of us, in some place in our lives, desires the healing touch of God. We come and we present ourselves so that God might fill us, restore us, and make our lives complete and whole in every imaginable way.

As receivers of mercy we are to also be givers of mercy. Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy. A good question for each of us to consider is how we will show mercy to others. Are we willing to take the personal responsibility to be merciful to others? What will it look like? Perhaps it will mean standing up for the weak and vulnerable among us when it is unpopular to do so. Perhaps it will mean taking a stand for an unpopular but merciful cause. Perhaps it will mean forgiving and embracing those whom we know to be in the wrong.

Something for us to consider is that when we allow the Holy Spirit to live and move and have his being within us, mercy comes naturally. It happens automatically and authentically. There is, however, a starting place for us. 

Most often the place we have to begin is in recognizing our own need, in recognizing and perhaps naming the vastness of our need for God. Being able to express our need—to put in words our failures and need for reconciliation—is the starting place for healing and new life. Frankly for many of us this may be the most difficult thing to do. Yet our Lord receives us as we are. He appoints the ministers of reconciliation over us, and, like with Peter passing by, we discover Jesus hidden among us.

This weekend we continue to celebrate the great Easter joy of the risen Lord. In Mercy Sunday we have an opportunity to celebrate the Resurrection in a special and tangible way. In it we may realize forgiveness by receiving it abundantly. In celebrating mercy we know that the Lord walks near us and by the breath of the Holy Spirit he is ministering to us still today, and moreover we hear him calling out to us to be ministers of divine mercy.

Sunday Homily: I Thirst

In the gospel today Jesus, after a long Journey, likely in the heat of the midday, comes to Jacob's well where he happens to meet a Samaritan woman and asks her to get him a drink from the well. He expresses his thirst, his desire for water. There is an interesting parallel in Jesus' asking for water at the well because at later time, from the cross, Jesus will again ask for water. He will say, "I thirst," but rather than water he will be offered vinegar.

Jesus' thirst, on a symbolic level, reflects God's longing for reconciliation with his people, just as thirst in other places in scripture symbolizes our longing or perhaps our need for God, so Jesus' thirst symbolizes God's longing for us. In Jesus it reflects God's desire that we come to him to be saved from the thirst that is sin separating us from him.

Indeed water, in the readings today, may be taken to stand for the reconciling event of salvation. Water, as a symbol, plays an important role in the story of salvation. From the time of Moses, and even before, God was preparing a means by which humanity might enter into a restored relationship with God and be reconciled.

God desires that we come to him and recognize the thirst that is our separation from him. God longs for all people to turn toward him and have our relationship with him set straight. He longs for us to come and have our spiritual thirst quenched, though all too often we don't recognize the need for the living water in our lives, so the scripture gives us some good reminders today.

Recently I've been involved in interviewing groups of teenagers preparing for Confirmation. In that process I've been asked some very good questions, some tough questions in many cases. Just recently a young lady asked how we can become one with God. Now certainly a question like this can mean a lot of different things, and likewise it can have many deep and multi-layered answers, but what I thought was essentially being asked is how can we experience a relationship with God: how can we come to know and experience God in our lives?

The readings for this weekend came to my mind, but also the words of the psalmist who sings, "As the deer longs for streams of water so my soul longs for you O God." God creates a thirst in us such that it can only be satisfied by that which our hearts were made to hold. God desires a relationship that involves our pouring out ourselves to him just as he pours out himself to us. God longs for reciprocity with humanity. Often we experience the absence of God as emptiness in our lives that we try to fill with everything except what will actually satisfy. We can become like the Samaritan woman with her five husbands.

God created human beings to be in relationship with him. He made the human soul to have the capacity to hold his presence within. Each person is born with an innate desire and longing for God. There is a God-shaped place in the heart of every human being. It is only sin that clouds this desire and separates us from God to the point that we are blind to our need, our longing, and our thirst for communion with God.

In the first reading from Exodus today we heard that in their thirst the people grumbled. On a simple level we have a story of a people wandering in the desert and having their physical need for water miraculously met. On a much deeper level we have a story of a people in need of reconciliation. It is a story of a people lost in their sins, lost in their separation from God, blind to their need, and yet still in their sin, in their separation and hardness of heart, God instructs Moses to strike the rock with a staff so that water might flow from it. Again there is a parallel because at a later time the rock of our salvation, Jesus, will be stuck on the Cross with a staff and water and blood will flow from his side as a sign of the definitive reconciliation between God and humanity.

The story of the woman at the well presents an informative scenario for us to consider at Lent. All of the right symbols are present to allow it to tell us about our need and about how we might come to be reconciled. Jesus asks the woman for water but tells her that if she knew who he was she would ask him for water and he would give her the living water of eternal life.

The Samaritan woman goes on to confess to Jesus. She doesn't hide her sin, nor does she shy away from her separation that comes from merely being a Samaritan. Rather she presents herself authentically to Jesus—she doesn't hide that she is a sinner. She pours out her soul to him not holding back anything. In her meeting with Jesus she experiences true reciprocity. There is an exchange between Jesus and her and she receives a spiritual good in it. She receives the gracious gift of being reconciled with God.

Unlike the self-righteous Pharisees in Jerusalem the Samaritan woman recognizes her spiritual thirst. Also unlike in his dealings with the people of Jerusalem, Jesus doesn't hide his identify from the Samaritan woman. He tells her outright who he is and he offers her the living water, which she doesn't immediately grasp the meaning of fully. To woman at the well Jesus becomes a sign and an offering of reconciliation. God chooses to reveal the Christ to a woman of Samaria who is living in sin. Yet she recognizes her separation and confesses her need.

Fortunately we have ample opportunities here in our parish to take advantage of the Sacrament of Penance or Reconciliation. We have the opportunity to step into the shoes of the woman at the well and open our hearts to God leaving nothing hidden. This coming Wednesday morning, March 10^th we will have priests available for confession from 9 AM until noon. It's a great Lenten opportunity pause along the way and drink water from the Rock.

Being one with God, having a restored relationship with our creator involves recognizing our need and letting God know it. He wants us to say "I thirst." When we come to terms with what separates us from God, when we recognize our need, and when we present ourselves authentically for reconciliation, we may then rest assured in blessed hope that God will pour out the quenching water of life filling our souls to overflowing.

 

Sunday Homily: Blessed Are Those Who Hope in the Lord

The readings this weekend present us with several comparisons regarding the way of life that we might choose to live. The biblical writers make their point by laying out stark contrasts. They give us the comparison and contrast of blessing and curse; of eternal life and ephemeral existence; of beatitude and woe. It's clear that we're given a choice; that the path for us to take is within our freedom. Clearly, God is asking us, "Which way will you choose to go? Where do you put your hope? Is there anything greater?"

Something that I've noticed reading the gospels over the years is that many people of Jesus' time seem to have been looking for a king in whom they could place their hope for the world. They were looking for a messiah who would free them from the bonds of foreign rule and oppression. They may have been looking for a king who would restore their state to its former glory. They may have even been looking for the kingdom of God on earth. Surely Jesus knew their woes; sure he knew their need and their cries of desperation and their pain-- their longing for justice--and just as surely he desired to teach them the way of blessing.

Just last week I had an opportunity in my work as a high school teacher to talk to my students about hope and blessing. Actually, my discussion was geared toward tomorrow's observance of Presidents Day. With my class I explored what we each have right now, in the context of everyday life, which we can count as a blessing, and what there is that gives each of us hope. We went on to discuss how having hope can lead people to achieve great things in their lives. We also talked about how we learn to listen to the voice of hope from the example of others. Indeed most people, even those who may have little cause to put hope in this life, will say there is always some reason to hope. The voice of hope is often heard in the darkest of nights.

The thing about true hope is that when it's genuine it will lead us to its real source. True hope doesn't lie so much in looking to presidents and kings, though they can offer us hope for the moment and we should, in fact, look to them as a source of hope and inspiration for our lives. I wouldn't want to deny anyone the hope he or she places in another, the hope that one places in a president or in a spiritual leader, especially if that hope seems that it might heal the many mistakes of the past or the problems of the present. Hope looks both to what there is now and to the future for something better.

In the contrasts that scripture presents us today we might find ourselves feeling somehow between heaven and earth. We might feel at a loss for a place to stand spiritually. Where is one to place his or her energy and concerns? Are we to place our trust in the world of human affairs or in that which is purely spiritual? Where is our allegiance to be? It's likely that our focus is fixed on the needs of our family or on being a success at our workplace, or pleasing our employer, and or providing for the needs of our spouses and children. Certainly these are not things to consider lightly.

Indeed, we do live in the real world, and when we look beyond our most immediate personal needs, as we should, we find that there are a multitude of real life issues that call out for hope--and something more--in this world. The New Testament teaches us that we have faith, hope, and love, and that love greatest of these.

While we look to the time of fulfillment and completion, there is still a world challenged by poverty, hunger, injustice, hate, and discrimination. I recently had young person ask how the Lord could say blessed are the poor or blessed are the hungry. "Aren't these the things we consider to be a curse?" Indeed the Lord teaches us to look beyond this life, but never should we give up hope, never should we cease to love.

While we stand with our feet grounded in this life, we still hope somehow to make it a better place for ourselves and for the generations to come. We have solidarity with each other and we look to the needs of world in which we live, and woe to us—Jesus says—if we do not. So we stand with others and we stand with our trust and hope in the Lord. We hope for the world now and we hope in the world to come. We hope in the reality of the Resurrection.

As I read today's reading for the first time I was reminded of the traditional American folksong that sings "We shall not be moved, we shall not be moved, like a tree that's planted by the water, we shall not be moved." As we enter into Lent this week, with the celebration of Ash Wednesday beyond, it's a good time to consider where we stand and with whom we stand. It's a good time to consider where our hope truly lies and in whom we may have true hope. It's also a time for us to step back and consider the blessings that we have and to ask ourselves what it means to be blessed. It's a good time to consider those who have less of a blessing and not as much hope.

Lent is a good time to consider the choices we make; where we stand between heaven and earth and to consider the contrast between an eternity of blessing and an eternity of naught. Blessed are you who hope in the Lord, for like trees planted by the waters you will stretch out your roots to the stream. You will have no fear of what may come; you will bear fruit; you will hear the voice of hope, and you will be blessed.

Epiphany Homily: The Essential Gospel

In Epiphany we joyously celebrate the sudden appearance and perception of God entering our world. In it we recall what is most essential about our faith, and about our humanity in relation to God and each other. In Epiphany we celebrate the light that is Jesus, and we consider what is most pertinent and most essential to us in our lives today. This is the meaning of epiphany: to see what is what is most essential in a thing—to see what is most essential in our faith.

This last Friday, New Year's Day, my wife pointed out an article to me in the faith section of the Austin American Statesman. The title was, "Lubbock pastor seeks to strip away 'added' rules from Gospel". Perhaps you read it too. The purpose of the article was to highlight a book entitled The Naked Gospel in which the author, a non-denominational Evangelical pastor, advocates a "Jesus plus nothing" approach. In the Statesman article the author says that his book is about "God's grace without the poison of 'religion.'" He says that his intention is to strip away the rules that people have added to Christianity, rules like the 10 Commandments and having to ask God to forgive our sins, which he claims are unnecessary and even harmful.

In the article he recounts his own experience. He says "I found myself lying on the floor of my apartment, begging God for answers: 'God, I'm doing everything they say to do. I'm reading my Bible four or five hours a day. I'm sharing my faith with everybody I meet. I'm at church every time the doors are open. But I still don't feel like I'm growing spiritually. I'm stalled, and I can't explain why. You say the truth will set me free. I'm anything but free!'"

Now certainly this was on my mind as I was driving to confession yesterday. However, I took more than a little comfort in recognizing that what the pastor was presenting was a version of the "faith only" approach, which is nothing new. Actually it's been around for better than 500 years, from the time of Martin Luther, and furthermore it's anything but free from the so-called taint of religion.

So, while it didn't take me long to respond to the article with a clear "no" based on my Catholic formation, I do think that it presents something important to reflect on here at Epiphany. Especially this seems true in light of our reading today from Ephesians in which St. Paul talks about his stewardship of God's grace. People today are hungry for what is essential in a relationship with God. We desire grace because we recognize that grace is essential. What happens is that we as Catholic Christians who are decided and committed in our faith have the responsibility of pointing the way to God's grace in all that we say and do.

Really, in the sense of our longing for communion with God, things haven't changed all that much over the vast centuries from the time of the prophet Isaiah, whom we heard from in the first reading, up to now. We desire that which has the power to bring peace to our lives. However, we should be mindful that discovering the essence of something doesn't involve stripping away and ignoring the details or rules, rather it requires that we take the time to explore the depths of the many facets of our faith. We can do this by reading the bible or by reading the Catechism of the Catholic Church, or perhaps by attending an adult education class. If you're the type to make New Year's resolutions, there would be few better resolutions than to do something in order to learn more about the Catholic faith.

Giving the newspaper pastor his due recognition, it's probably true that there is something unhealthy about becoming overly concerned with our personal sinfulness or perhaps always feeling like no matter what we do we can't please God. It doesn't take a book to teach us that. Actually, if we are concerned with sin or failure the solution is simple. Scripture teaches us to confess our sins. I'm thankful that we have ample opportunities to do this.

While being at inner peace is important, having true religion isn't necessarily so much about looking within oneself as it is about reaching out to others. Again, this is something that scripture teaches clearly. Probably the more we reach out, the more concern we show for others, the less we will have to confess in terms of failure. The outward reach of peacemaking is where the true light lies. Where do we find the essential Jesus? We find him when we work with one another to bring truth, justice, and healing to our world.

On January 1 this year the Catholic Church celebrated the 43^rd World Day of Peace. On the Catholic Bishop's website, usccb.org, there are ample suggestions on how you can help bring peace to the world in 2010. A great resolution this year would be that you will do something to bring about peace in the world.

As the light of Epiphany shines on us we should consider that God really wants us to be happy. God really wants salvation to be easily accessible. In this we thank him for the great gift that the Church is, and for everything that our faith—our religion—is in its fullness. We also recognize that God has invited us into a partnership in which we work to bring the peace and presence of Christ to the entire world.

The Second Sunday of Advent: The In-Breaking Kingdom of God

The readings for today, the second Sunday of Advent, convey a message of fulfillment, completion, and restoration. We are reminded that God's love for us is such that his kingdom, the completed kingdom of Jesus Christ, breaks forth into the world of our everyday experiences, into the personal here and now of each of us, and has the power to make everything entirely new.

Rather than being a message that serves only as a mere reminder that if we could just somehow believe things would be better, it is a message that goes much further and has real meaning for people who live real lives. The message for today is one that assures us of in-breaking of kingdom of God into our present.

Too often the situations of life can tempt our faith—the best we can do with life, we may feel, is to be stoic about it. Perhaps we may be tempted to say, "Fine, go ahead and put on all the trappings of the season, but does anything really make a difference? Does anything really change at all?" Today's message is for the realists among us. It is for those whose ability to believe has been tempted by the events of life. Nevertheless, it's also a reminder both of the glory to come and that which has been given to us already.

The first reading today, which is actually the entire fifth chapter of Baruch, is set against the background of Babylonian exile and the fall of Jerusalem. Certainly it was a situation in which a mere admonition—a few words of encouragement—only to believe or to understand that all things are surely serving a purpose, would not have been taken well. The people to whom Baruch was written had lost everything—their enemies had triumphed over them and they were led away in defeat. It's doubtful that they would have been open to being told that all they need is to have a better attitude about the whole thing. It's doubtful that they would have accepted a message of "just believe."

Nevertheless, they do receive a message of God's love—it is a message of the power of God to enter into the world of existence and to transform it in real way. It is a message that speaks to the now of individuals and to the now of a nation of people. It points us simultaneously to the time of completion and to the in-breaking of God into our world. Therefore, today's is a message of incarnation: of what is hoped and longed for being made present in a real and substantial way. It's the message of a gift to us and looking forward a little we might see that it's also a message of a sacrifice that frees us from an even greater captivity, which is at the root of all spiritual exile.

We too may look for God's real in-breaking kingdom to be revealed among us in our lives individually and as a whole, as a Church and as a human family whose divisions long—and even cry out—to disappear. The kingdom of God is such that we learn by observation that it comes into our world in every period of human history. The kingdom comes to us from the time of completion of all things to somehow be made present to us in a real way, in a way that has the power to affect our lives and our world. It is the power of a reconciling God making the central event in reconciliation—the coming of Christ and his sacrifice—always present to us.

The message for today is indeed one of the love of God who is able to do all things, and it's also a message filled with hope. The Advent season in itself teaches us to be forward-looking to the day of the Lord's coming, to the last day, but also teaches us to look to the here and now for the kingdom of God. The present itself must hold the seeds of hope, else wise we are left with emptiness and void of hope. In a real and concrete way the present must yield to that power that makes every lofty mountain low and fills the deepest age-old depths.

Five hundred years—more or less—had passed from the time of the writing of Baruch to the birth of the Lord. The people were told to put away their misery and to expect the desert to bloom, and to know with certitude that the angels of mercy and justice were leading and lighting the way. Rather than being a given a hope to be long-delayed, the people to whom Baruch wrote experienced the kingdom of God entering their world—their here and now—from the time of final completion. They were given a vision and accompanying hope, but more they were given the ability to realize that God was at work among them in their situation of exile.

While we too look with faith to the future completion of God's work on earth, we must also look to the past, to a time when God broke into the world of human affairs with the birth of the infant Jesus at Bethlehem. We also look, perhaps in a way that some may consider to be more realistic, to our present lives because our everyday lives are where we experience our truest struggles. It is also in the here and now where past and future collide and where we take our beliefs into consideration and make decisions that are ultimately important for us.

The lesson of the in-breaking of the kingdom of God into our world, into all times of human affairs, is that we are not left alone. The power of God is at work always and at all times reconciling, healing, and loving us. He whom we call God, our Lord Jesus, is present before us inviting us to partake in his presence and in the love that has the power to transform us. We keep in mind that he transforms real lives, lives that struggle in the here and now, and perhaps struggle even to begin to believe. His kingdom enters our world and does something so wonderful that it can only be approximated in the language of metaphor.

He comes to us to, to move the mountains and fill the valleys, to populate the seeming wastelands of our lives with forests of fragrant evergreens. He breaks forth into the world of personal longings to bring us his kingdom of peace, mercy, and justice in a real and lasting way.

All Saints Day

If you have ever had the opportunity to attend a retreat at the Cedarbrake Retreat Center of the Diocese of Austin, you may recall that on the grounds there is an area for meditation built on a small elevated mound with a few benches positioned around a metal tree that has ornaments hanging on it, each with one of the beatitudes. Undoubtedly it's meant to inspire thoughts of the Sermon on the Mount, which we heard in the gospel reading today.

For several years I have attended October retreats at Cedarbrake, and when time allowed I took the opportunity to pause for a moment or two and consider the meaning of beatitude or blessedness. It's really the blessedness of the life in Christ that we celebrate on All Saints Day. What truly makes a saint is his or her participation in the holiness of God, but I've found that needs to be unpacked a little—as does All Saints Day.

The celebration of All Saints Day has been a part of the Church's worship for a long time. The date of November 1 was officially adopted as a "day of obligation" in the ninth century. However, there were already other culturally important November 1^st celebrations in place dating from pre-Christian times. As with other Christian celebrations All Saints Day is situated so that it coincides, and offers an alternative, to the pagan harvest festival. Personally I find it interesting that many non-Catholic Christian communities, and perhaps some Catholic churches and schools, have begun to have a harvest festival in place of celebrating the vigil of "All Hallows", or Halloween, in a Christian context.

Where I'm headed with this has to do with the importance of reclaiming and celebrating true Christian holiness in every situation, time, and place—not just All Saints or the preceding evening. There's no better place to look for the true meaning of holiness in life than the words of the Lord in the Sermon on the Mount—the Beatitudes.

As with many previous years, last week I returned to Cedarbrake for the annual deacon's retreat. While this year I didn't venture out to the Beatitudes mound for prayer and meditation, another kind of beatitude or blessing was definitely on my mind, and I think it fits in perfectly with our celebration and our readings for today.

There were actually two great blessings that became clear to me on my retreat this year. The first, and perhaps the most important to consider on All Saints Day, has to do the degree of our solidarity with the poor and marginal people of the world, which I'll say more about momentarily. The second has to do with the profound reconciliation and grace that we experience—that the whole world experiences—through the God's gift to us of his Son, Jesus Christ.

When we look at the list of those who are called blessed in the Lord's sermon it is not rich, the powerful, and the popular who are named as blessed—rather it is the marginal people of the world. The Lord pronounces that hallowed are the poor, the mournful, the meek and the hungry. It is the poor little ones on the outside who stand to receive the greatest blessing. It is they who are blessed out of their need and capacity to receive. Along with them are the merciful, the pure, the peacemakers, and those who suffer on account of making a stand for just such holiness. In other words, those who somehow stand with God to fill the world's needs are also equally blessed.

Being among the saints, then, is all about receiving a blessing and being a blessing. To be a blessing, and to live as a blessing, that is, to be holy and to live as one destined for heaven means taking upon ourselves qualities that may be foreign to we have previously consider as blessedness.

To be holy we must turn to those who cry out for the mercy of God, stepping into their shoes and their lives. True saints take on meekness and gentleness, a spirit of oneness with the poor and the suffering. Saints understand that the essential feature of humanity remains untouched when all other things are laid bare.

Being a holy one takes a commitment to healing and peace in our world today. True peace is not a mere feeling of well being but it is the cessation of the atrocities of conflict. It is the healing of disease, poverty, hunger, and prejudice. It is the eradication of that which puts us in opposition to others. The true victims of that which is opposed to peace are those who have the least power—most typically it is the children. Being among the saints means acting decisively to bring about change in our world. To be holy requires the courage to be merciful and to understand the hunger and fear of those who are least wanted, least accepted, and least loved.

In a big way All Saints Day is a celebration of the true Christian identity—of our identity as partners in the work of God. All Saints is a celebration that we are indeed among the Communion of Saints, surrounded by great cloud of witnesses, and that we share in common calling and a common mission to be radically for every human being. Especially we are to be for those in the greatest need of God's mercy because God sent his Son to those cried out with the greatest need, to those whose hearts longed for justice.

Perhaps the greatest justice to consider is the gift of God's reconciling power. The gift of reconciliation: it's the gift of healing and hope common to the experience of the sanctified. We gather with one another to hear the words of reconciliation and to recall and participate in the central reconciling event in salvation—the gift and sacrifice of the Son of God. Because Eucharist is the re-presentation and memorial of the sacrifice of the cross, it is the central reconciling event for us. It is the source and summit of lives we are taught.

In our failures in being holy or blessed, whatever those failures may be but especially in our failure to live a life that reflects the Beatitudes, in our failure to live a life of solidarity with the poor of God, we find grace. It isn't only the grace of total forgiveness but the gift of total reconciliation that empowers us to be one with the blessed and to participate in this seasonal celebration of sainthood.

 

Homily for Respect Life Sunday

Today both the Old Testament reading and the gospel speak to us of marriage. Genesis speaks of the divine origin of the man and the woman, who are made male and female for one another, made to be one in a lasting union. From the joining together of male and female the generation of human life comes forth, sacred and blessed, instituted by the very will of God.

Our readings on the theme of marriage today are indeed fitting for this Sunday, which is Respect Life Sunday. In our gospel, we are not only reminded of the origin and sacred nature of the joining of man and woman in marriage, we recall also that the Lord invited those who come forth from that sacred union, the little children, to gather around him and pronounced them blessed saying that unless we accept the kingdom of God like a little child, unless we somehow become like them, we cannot enter the kingdom.

Certainly on Respect Life Sunday we are to reflect upon the sacred nature of every human life—we recall the reasons that we are to promote God's gift of life by taking a stand against the evils that belong to the culture of death. We remember that we stand against abominations such as abortion, euthanasia, capital punishment, and unjust war. Indeed to hold a consistent ethic of life we must stand against whatever there is that threatens life, whatever challenges the sacred nature of that which God has made. If our reflection is complete and our logic is sound, if our ethic of life is truly consistent, then there will be many other challenges to the sacred nature of life that we must add to the list.

We may not always consider it, but to be for life—that is to hold that all human life is sacred—means much more than simply being against something. It means that in action and in attitude we must be for those whom the culture of death threatens the most.

Too often in our world it is the children who suffer at the hand of our decisions and attitudes. Is it really being pro-life of us to say that we are against abortion but then take a stand, based perhaps on economic fears or political ideology, to deny children their right to basic things like healthcare, food, clothing, or even education? Are we truly being pro-life when we ignore the innocent victims of guns and bombs? Are we being truly pro-life when we put a claim to personal security in front of well-being of any child on this planet?

To be truly pro-life we must begin to ensure and establish the existence of a pro-human world where poverty, disease, hunger, war, and killing are no longer acceptable in any way whatsoever. We must make the world a welcoming place for the newborn as well as for every person.

Frankly it comes down to something extraordinarily simple. We are asked to love—no less than this really—but true love demands a giving on our part that is such that we empty ourselves heart and soul for others. Love demands that we give not only to our own but that we love the stranger among us and the stranger far away.

Giving of ourselves and loving completely far from being easy tasks—perhaps for many it might be impossible to even fathom the thought. Our truly accepting all human life as sacred demands sacrifice. It may also mean that in some way we learn to embrace suffering, that is, that we learn to be healers by sharing our lives with those who experience pain and agony in life.

Several years ago I was acquainted with a gentleman in his early 80s who would volunteer in special education classrooms for children with mental and physical disabilities. One day he asked me why I thought God would allow children to suffer in this way. I wasn't able to answer really, but I did tell him that I thought it was his opportunity, and mine, to love more perfectly.

The epistle to the Hebrews reminds us that in the suffering of our Lord Jesus perfection came about. In considering the gift that Jesus made of himself to us through his suffering, in considering his perfect giving, we must also consider that he gave himself for all human beings.

Jesus offered himself that we might learn to forgive and to be forgiven. He suffered and died so that suffering and death would no longer mean condemnation, rather that salvation might come about instead. Our call today is to come to Jesus and embrace him as our savior—and to bring the children of the world along with us.

When we approach Jesus we bring with us the unborn and those born in poverty. We bring with us those who are racially and ethnically different from ourselves. We bring the children of our enemies and those of our neighbors. We bring those condemned to die. We bring man and woman, sinner and saint; we never stand alone because we are part of something bigger. We stand at the Cross with the children of the world and we ask to be judged for we have called sacred the life that he created, that he gave to us in creation. We asked to be judged for what we do, in both attitude and action, with his sacred gift.